#but i’ll talk in a very passive aggressive way that lets them know they’re stupid as fuck

[rintoki]

Six i saw you love kaveh too!! He is apple of my eye istg. Descendant of the sun itself, he is so beautiful. Would lay my life for him. Plus I am sure he would be the kinda guy to annoy the fuck out of us but when we are down or upset, would stay with us all night long to soothe our nerves down.

Pretty baby boy😭😭

SO TRUEEE HES MY PRETTY BOYYY 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I LOVE HIMM

i did his hangout quest recently he’s literally so perfect im sobbing brlbrlrbfkdnckdnckns AAAAAAAAA

[phantomram-b00]

Okay I wasn’t going to be active today, but I saw this post about Crowley, and I do recommend you check it out it bring up many good points. It does inspire me to make a post about something I’m kinda surprised no one talks about exactly (or maybe they did idk.)

Now keep in mind, I do love Crowley and Aziraphale, they’re both my favorite characters and also my comfort characters/ship. Not just for their good deeds and characterization but also because they flawed. Or as they said in the blitz episode, they shade of grey. 🩶 I just feel like Crowley behaving a bit stupidly here. (But here might have more validity but still felt it was unwarranted)

Now onto the post, probably wondering what I could be talking about The Jim Situation all the way back in season 2 episode 1

So I’ve been meaning to talk about this, but I wasn’t exactly sure if it would be well received or wouldn’t make sense. But I think the post I linked help me have some confidence, as I do feel that people when talking about it forgot that, Aziraphale DID NOT want to help Gabriel at all. He never wanted to see him again after 2019; why would he, he not only approve of the first armageddon but also wanted to execute him (specially but also crowley) and overall was passive aggressive asshole towards him. Why would he ever want to help his toxic ex-boss? He kinda didn’t have a choice here, now he did say no at first when Gabriel asked to come in (I mean— idk about you but your ex-boss who’s naked want to come into my house I wouldn’t let them inside neither just no-) but he did bring him inside because he felt obligated because everyone is looking at him and the naked man friend, I think if things were different I think Aziraphale wouldn’t even think about helping him as another thing, Aziraphale moved on from everything that happen, he’s living his life, he even said so to Crowley when talking how he doesn’t report to them anymore. So the have this happen, just felt like ABBA song “Mama Mia here I go again”.

But another thing is that, Aziraphale also (while hesitantly) want to know what happen to Gabriel? Why has he forgotten about himself or really everything? And asking him or the empty box didn’t solve anything at all. As patient as aziraphale is, even his was running really thin as he talk to Gabriel. Not to mention of the fact Gabriel revealed that something terrible might happen which understandably terrifies Aziraphale. So, he turns to Crowley, which gifted us Nina asked about the naked man friend (Sorry I love his face when she drop that, the expression speaks so much volume I love it! XD)

Okay back to my ramble, now at first I’ll give the benefit of the doubt of why Crowley was kinda suspicious at first, Aziraphale wasn’t being up front about it at first (though to be fair, trying to tell someone “hey my naked ex-boss is in my bookshop and doesn’t know who he even is” is probably the most bizarre to even try to explain or tell anyone). And then as they go inside the bookshop, he got spooked rightfully so, this was the same person who wanted to kill Aziraphale, even saying the worse thing he can ever say: “shut your stupid mouth and die”. So to see him again, yeah, being scared is a valid response even as well as being showing keep resentment.

But, as they went to the very Va-Va-vroom yellow backroom, Crowley first idea was to take Gabriel somewhere far away, which if you really think about, wouldn’t solve any of their problem. It like putting a bandage or tape on a crack, sure it might help for now but more cracks will come up and will eventually break (I’ll get back to this later). What aziraphale said kinda valid, Gabriel does need them because who knows if this something terrible would only affect Gabriel, it could very well affect him or even Crowley or earth, so in Aziraphale’s view helping him out might neutralize whatever’s going on or will happen and taking him to dartmoor as Crowley stated do anything.

Now okay to give more benefit of the doubt, again, I do understand why Crowley was acting this way, and Aziraphale selflessly helping Gabriel is infuriating for him. As Crowley seeing this as “how can you help the person who want to murder you? How can you look past and forgive them this easily? How can you possible find it in your heart to help him after everything?”, which is pointing out Aziraphale’s flaws, him being selfless and need to help. Gabriel could’ve curse him out or bring him down to his lowest yet he still want to help. Now, there nothing wrong with being selfless, it an honorable thing to do, however, it become an issue when your selfless without thinking how it’ll affect you or the person involve. But, as I mention before, Aziraphale never wanted to help Gabriel, the only reason Aziraphale’s want to even do far as help this angel is because 1) he was obligated to as who else could possible help an amnesiac angel? 2) Gabriel mention something terrible will happen, so aziraphale want to know what can that be to prevent it. And 3) he’s pushing away his qualms against gabriel aside just so he can help him. So I don’t think Aziraphale’s exactly wrong for not wanting to sent Gabriel away as it wouldn’t solve the something terrible.

But Crowley doesn’t want to help (at first), so Aziraphale despite desperately loving nothing more but for Crowley to help him; said he’s welcome to go. He’s at least giving Crowley the opportunity to choose. Even though, Aziraphale want his help more than anything as the one thing both of them share is that, they don’t want to see Gabriel anymore. However, with aziraphale telling him he can go, Crowley well leaves. But not before (granted he did try to calm down though):

Aziraphale while most likely understands why Crowley left, I feel given his expression just wished Crowley tried a little harder rather than just walking away that easily. I almost said maybe he also feels envious that Crowley got the choice to walk away from this but I don’t see Aziraphale as someone who’s envious to that degree, but I feel Aziraphale wasn’t at least wishful he could avoid this whole Gabriel thing more than Crowley. But it just their luck.

Okay back to Crowley again, so we back to see him inside the car and then he is teleported back to hell by Beelzebub, there Ze tell Crowley what Shax mentioned before that Gabriel is gone and try to bribe Crowley by saying he can name his own price and even get his job back. Then tells Crowley that heaven up and arms about the disappearance and will dealt with anyone who’s helping Gabriel with extremes sanctions. Which absolutely mortified him because then there that possibility of being erased from the book of life.

And no, I don’t think Crowley’s original plan would’ve solved anything because in a way, that’s still helping Gabriel in some way. Does it more or less benefit Crowley and aziraphale yes but not by the long run. Like I said, it’s putting a bandage/tape on a crack, it could hold but not for long as it will ultimately fall apart and they would still be punished by doing this. So I think that’s why I never got why he still said “no no no aziraphale what have you done!?” Like sure even though I said my benefit of the doubt, I feel he should’ve at least understand this wasn’t Aziraphale’s choice neither, or even that this isn’t all on aziraphale anyway. It was Gabriel that just showed up and came to Aziraphale’s bookshop in the first place, so this was sprung on him. So I felt this was kinda irrational for him to think this way as Aziraphale never wanted this at all.

So Crowley comes back and Aziraphale decides to play petty (which sure valid since he did walk away but he did give him a choice? Idk it complicated), and Crowley goes on to say he was right which prompted to aziraphale wanting the apology dance from him (which okay imma be real, I have a headcanon where I think Aziraphale was dying to see this day. Been waiting until they first invented it which— I’m curious who idea was this.)

Now, you can debate if this thing was apology dance worthy but frankly, to see the dance, peak performance. But this isn’t about the dance, it about the grey heroes so let get back into it. Now Crowley does decide to help after all, and they decide to do what it seem to be the most powerful miracle anyone probably have ever seen or ranked. And it was only a half miracle. Which is really interesting. But I think even though Crowley does decide to help, I felt his earlier action was not exactly stupid but was unfair toward Aziraphale but at the same time it valid because of what I’ve stated and his underline trauma towards heaven period, so I can’t really call him stupid for this, but more or less deeply flawed here. However while the situation itself was unfair for Aziraphale as he want to help whatever going on I felt he should’ve also been more considerate about Crowley’s feeling with this whole ordeal as was equally unfair to Crowley in a way too. But I think the most common thing is that they don’t want to do this and want this thing to be resolved so they can move on with their lives. And even if Crowley did what he did, at least Aziraphale foot at forgiveness :) (I hate myself for making that joke— someone sedate me)

Now that’s my thought, this probably is controversial, so you’re welcome and valid if you disagree or even agree with this. Tell me what you think or if you agree/disagree tell me why? If you guys do have good omens question or question in general you can ask me on the AMA. But if you have any commentary on this blog you can unleash them, just please be mindful that’s all I ask. I have more analysis I got plan but for now, imma head to bed and relax. I’ll go haunt with you guys later but for now I’ll go haunt somewhere else. Hope you enjoy this blog and please check out the post I link on here, it was an interesting take and help me inspire me to make this one ^v^ so hope you enjoy that post too.

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

***

Masterlist

[diavolosthots]

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all. 

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?” 

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness. 

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying. 

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now. 

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes 

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…” 

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin. 

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?” 

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought… 

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first… 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.” 

[stay-midnight]

Royals. I

Hyunjin x Male Reader

(Late Hyunjin Day Special)

a/n: Look at me and my late ass post again 💀, Anyways, this would be split up into two or tbree parts cause it’s gonna be a bit long than my other fics. So enjoy this for now 🤧 Smut would be on the second part which would be posted in a week or two (No promises though cuz 🤡)

Things to note: Royal AU!, Insult Fight, Implied Changsung (BinxSung), All of skz is here/mentioned, Implied Hookups, TXT is mentioned, Y/N’s a bit of a dick, Hyunjin is barely mentioned here yet, Minho is also a bit of dick, flirty Minho, Minho and Y/N tension, maybe some Seungmin x Y/N here and there too-. Prince! Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Y/N and Knights! Minho and Chan. Y/N’s last name here is "Hyangsu"

W.C - 2.9K

A prince of the Hwang Kingdom is having their 21st birthday and you were invited, you were a bit salty about this since you really just wanted to relax after these past weeks of taking different lessons from your oh-so-called studious teacher.

As a prince of Hyangsu Kingdom, you were called to attend the Hwang Prince’s birthday ball, and attending this party was of your at most displeasure since you just wanted to have a relaxing break from your studies.

It was a 21st birthday after all, the age where you’re supposed to find a possible suitor and you just didn’t want to see girls fawning over someone.

You sighed in annoyance as your butler comes rushing with different clothes from your wardrobe, ranging from the royal-tailored attire, elegant clothing to a more casual one.

“Just pick me something that looks presentable as Prince, please.” you mumble to him as you glared him down causing him to tremble at your passive-aggressive tone.

You didn’t even know why they’re so serious about this, you’ve went to many royal banquet and events before, and none of them have ever got your parents or workers so.... worked up.

Is it because the Hwang Kingdom was one of the most powerful in the continent? You wanted to scoff at that thought but you may not be wrong.

In the end of playing a game of picking clothes with your butler, he picked a white suit with gold lines tattered over it, it had a gold plating at the shoulder, a red silk belt matching with the red silk long half-blouse, and white pants accompanied by white boots with a red sole.

After getting dressed you walked down to the lounge, waiting for the caravan to arrive.

You were a bit rude and snappy to people, you hated if they interrupted you one bit, not to mention you were sarcastic and people find it hard to win arguments about you. The only things people really liked about you are your looks and brains, you actually had a brain, unlike those snobby rich prince and princesses — who thinks they own the whole world, and the only aspect that are important to them are looks and money.

You sigh as you wait for the royal caravan to arrive.

. . . .

After minutes and minutes of waiting, “Sire?! The caravan is here, the carriage you are going to stay in is ready outside the palace gates.” your butler said fast, fixing his tie and cleaning his monocle afterwards.

You nodded and stood up to walk over to the gates, without command or words exchanged — the guards opened it as soon as they saw you walk down the path. Bowing respectfully at your presence which you answered with a simple “Thank you.”

You hum at the sight of the royal carriage — colored white with intricate designs and patterns made with real gold and of course, the family crest at the side of it.

A knight in a silver suddenly came out of the royal carriage, removing his helmet and smiling as he waved at you.

You let out a small smile back to him, Ah, the one and only Lee Minho, “Minho.” you spoke, reaching out to shake his hand, to which he gladly obliged.

“Y/N. Always a pleasure to see the prince. Well, if you were a bit more excited about this.” He teased, letting out a few snorts. Petting your head while constantly laughing amusedly.

“I’ll stick a fork in your eye one of these days, you stupid knight.” You gave him a death glare as a warning.

“Ah, Prince, you’re so kind~” he grinned, winking at you too, you rolled your eyes at his behaviour. He was always like this, flirty and sometimes egotistic. You didn’t mind it though since he is an amazing duelist and mentor. He isn’t a King’s guard for no reason.

But one day, his cocky attitude is gonna bite him in the ass.

You grumbled and moved forward to the royal carriage, “Lino, you should move, we can’t be late remember?” You tsked, giving Minho a smirk.

“Whatever.” He spoke up in an sassy tone, you snorted at him, to which he glared at you.

He entered inside the carriage, with you slowly following right after.

After entering inside, you sat down at one side while Minho sat near you. It was spacious inside as expected and a small window was also in place.

You had no interest in staying awake for 3 hours during the ride so you decided to take a nap.

~

“You could use my shoulder, you know?” He teased, patting his shoulder while smirking at you.

“Shut up.” you mumble as you shifted a bit so your head could rest more comfortably against the wall.

As much as you wanted to just sleep laying down at the long couch-like thingy where you’re sat at, you can’t because this stupid knight is watching you.

And the last thing you want is him, teasing you for being less than ‘formal’.

Slowly, the sounds around you seem to deafen itself out causing you to relax your shoulders and fall asleep regardless whether Minho is there watching your every move.

~

Opening your eyes as you felt someone poke your cheek, your eyes drifted slowly to the side. You were eye to eye with the knight, faces inches apart.

Your recently droopy eyes from sleeping — shot open in panic, “W-What are you doing!” you stuttered, leaning back from him which made him grin.

“We’re at the city, prince~” He pets your hair, running his hand through it softly.

You glowered and slapped his hand away, “Ugh, keep your hands to yourself, Lino.” you tried to glare the knight down.

“Ah, Feisty.” he smiled back at you to which you responded with a scowl making him laugh loudly.

“No need to be so aggressive~” Minho winked making you just look away and give up, you ignored him and looked out through the window, finding the surrounding endearing.

The loud chattering from the outside is muffled by the walls of the carriage, from at first glance, this was a very happy city.

It has a warm and vibrant tone to it.

. . .

The carriage comes to a sudden halt after riding in what seems to be a hill due to how it felt riding it earlier, the ground was sloped upwards.

The coachman driving the carriage suddenly spoke up, “We’re here, sire.” he spoke up, muffled by the wooden walls but you caught it.

With a sigh, you opened the door and slowly stepped down — your eyes widening at the sight of the towering castle.

It had a wonderful structure, the stone bricks perfectly fit into one another and of course the Hwang family crest adorned the flags that were raised.

Your kingdom’s castle was in no means small but it pales in comparison to that.

Looking around at the surroundings, you saw that a lot of royals were around, some you recognized and some that you had no idea where they came from.

You looked far and noticed the view of the capital at the city which you saw while taking a ride.

.

“...Prince Y/N.” After getting lost in a little bubble after staring at the refreshing view, Minho was nudging your shoulder.

“Hm? What is it?” you said, looking at him with raised eyebrows as you fixed the tie of your suit.

He rolled his eyes, “Did you even hear what I said?” he glared, tapping his foot on the ground multiple times.

“Would I be asking you if I did?” you shot back, clicking your tongue in annoyance as you waited for his answer.

He groaned at your attitude, “You have to sign up to enter the castle. Lose the attitude too, prince.” he said in a careless tone, looking at you with his icy glare.

“Who are you to talk like that to me, knight..?” you scowled at him as you stood your ground firmly.

What was happening now was in contrast to earlier, this was a more serious battle between you and Minho. These were times were usually one of the houseworkers back at your kingdom, steps in to stop both of you and succeeded most of the time.

To be honest though, this fight shouldn't escalate at all.

. . .

From the distance though, someone was watching both of you in amusement, “The party hasn’t even started and they’re bickering all ready.”

“Chan if you could stop them, please?” The man with long black hair commanded to the person next to him.

The knight fixed his posture and nodded, “Of course, my prince.”

“You can call me by my name, you know? We’ve been friends for a long time.” the long-haired man chuckled.

“Still need to use honorifics, sire.” the shorter smiled at the taller before leaving to stop the heated glare-down and exchange of insults at the entrance.

He took one last glance at the royal that was bickering with a knight, finding him amusing but at the same time, he found him interesting.

“Might need to keep an eye on that one.” he hummed to himself before going back inside the castle.

. . .

Minho just recently called you a brat and undeserving of being called a prince of your kingdom, he even mentioned your brother, the crown prince — next in line to the throne — he says of how your brother is just better than you in every way. This sends a devastating pang to your heart as this was not only hurtful to your pride but in a way, he also disregards all your hard work.

“Fuck you. You have no rights to tell me this. You are not my brother nor my parents. You are merely a fucking knight!” you said, shouting the last part.

Your own eyes are tinted with anger, wanting to choke the life out of your escorting knight.

“What, isn’t what all I said was t—”

An applaud was heard from the near distance, cutting Lino off and causing your head to turn to the source of sound.

The man with the curly locks and a pretty face bowed to your direction, “The opening ceremony of the party is starting soon, Prince Hyangsu Y/N. I suggest you sign the guest book and head on inside.” he smiles at you, dimples shown causing you go soften your look.

“While you,” he said sighing after, pointing to Minho with a finger.

“...Fellow knight, let’s chit chat for a bit.” he coughed and grabbed Minho’s hand — dragging him away despites the struggling knight's protest.

You looked around and noticed some of the royals still outside, staring at you with a hint of disappointment probably because of your fight with Minho.

You grumbled, annoyed and angry at the disrespectful knight — you'll most likely have to talk with Minho after this god-forsaken party.

. . .

A yawn almost slipped out of your mouth as the host of the party or ball, at this point you question which is it. The speech lacked any entertainment of the sorts causing you to just listen with half-lidded eyes.

Then came the introduction of the Prince that is having their born day.

A tall man suddenly came out of the curtains, aura filled with confidence and pride, gleaming and filling the room. You inspected his face and not gonna lie, he was indeed pretty, prettier than most princes you have seen — Long black locks neatly tied up in a ponytail, alluring eyes, thick and kissable li— You snapped out of your little bubble after noticing that you were checking the Hwang, this is not good.

You turned away from the center of attention and looked for your small group of friends but felt as if someone was boring holes into your skull.

Turning back, only to see no one staring at you but instead just the continuous blah blah blah’s by the Hwang Prince.

Sighing, you continue to scout the palace room for any signs of a certain fox-eyed brat, someone who dressed too dark and a ray of sunshine.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance when you still haven’t spotted the trio.

. . .

The Prince finally stopped talking and just announced that the dance will start in about an hour, giving his guests — free time to converse with one another.

After going through a sea of screaming princesses that want to marry him, you sighed in relief and just wished to leave this place. That is, until you finally caught a glimpse of a familiar royal. Finally.

.

You poked the shoulder of the foxy prince which startled him, almost causing him to spill his red drink over his royal wear. “God, Y/N, couldn’t you just approach me like a normal person.” he tutted.

Then returned his dimpled smile, he hugged you with one hand unable to engulf with his arms due to the drink he was holding.

“I thought you didn’t go to this clownfest.” you sighed, your words having a sarcastic tone.

“Me? Yang Jeongin wouldn’t miss a ball, especially one that is hosted by one of the richest kingdoms.” he laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

“Is that wine or juice? Also, why are you talking in third person?” you stared at him with confusion.

“This is red water.” he sassed mockingly causing you to roll your eyes and flick his forehead a bit too hard with your index finger.

“Ow!” Jeongin squinted his eyes at you.

He pulls on your ear at payback which you took easily before yawning and looking at the clock impatiently. You wanted to return home and sleep, and also give Minho a lecture.

“Where’s Bin and Lix?” you piped up before taking a seat at the small seat near a pillar, curiously scouting the again for signs of them.

He sighed and sat down right next to you, “Felix-hyung is hunting for more exotic food, since he liked the Shark meat a bit too much and well...” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink and clearing his throat.

“Bin-hyung is getting flirted slash hitted on again by Prince Jisung of the Han Kingdom. I thought the he already gave up but nope. He still pursuing the Bin booty.” Jeongin chuckled, calling over a roaming waiter for a refill to which the worker happily obliged

You laughed at that since Han has been shooting hearts at Changbin for a long time and always had flirted with him at different parties. Changbin had always rejected his advances though.

“Also they sent a new representative from the Kim kingdom. I’ve never seen him before. Looks cute though, might be your type.” Jeongin said, nudging your shoulders and pointing at a specific direction. Your eyes raked over the prince’s form, charming and handsome but at the same time cute — He was leaning back at the wall, also drinking something.

You grumbled though, this is once again Jeongin trying to hook you up with someone again. It didn’t end well last time — The last prince, Jeongin hooked you up was Prince Yeonjun — All he wanted was sex though, causing you to immediately cut off ties with said prince, leaving a bit heartbroken at that since he only said that he wanted sex after you already spent the night together.

“Not this again, Innie.” you tsked, crossing your arms around your chest.

“Come onnn~.. I thought Yeonjun liked you a lot, he stared at you a lot during Taehyun’s party” Jeongin mumbles since he knows, that you don't like fooling around with people who didn’t even have a single interest on being on an actual relationship.

He felt bad matching you up with him, since he thought that was time you actually would get out of the singles’ list.

He nudged you and tilted his head to the Kim prince’s direction, “He’s walking over here.”

Your head immediately snapped to him, “Did he notice me staring at him earlier?!” you whispered nervously.

He raised his shoulders as he doesn’t know but you could already hear his evil mind spouting not-so-good ideas when he let out a grim grin.

“Well.....~ Y/N, I have to go find Felix, I kinda wanna try the shark meat, Ok byeeeee~” he said as if he was in a rush but this was just a part of his scheme.

“Jeongin, wait, don’t lea—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was out of sight, the man was already extremely near you, his eyes never leaving your own.

You gulp, not knowing what to do in this situation.

In a mere second, you were face to face with the unfamiliar prince. He looked down at you with a emotionless face before sitting down next to you.

“My name is Kim Seungmin, yours?” He spoke with a honey-laced voice crossing his legs as he looked at you with curious eyes.

A smirk was starting to form at the corner of his lips before you opened your mouth to speak.

But nothing came out

He was attractive but he had soft features and an aura that resonates well with his features. He had this cute puppy-look to him but by that smirk he isn’t all that rainbows and sunshines.

Now, this is totally not good.

Little did Y/N know someone was watching this interaction in the distance, a prince than seems to be allured to you ever since he saw you within the crowd. He doesn't seem happy though~

~ tbc

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS III | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 2.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Closure - Taylor Swift

Demolition Lovers - My Chemical Romance

Bang the Doldrums - Fall Out Boy

It’s a cliché.

Your life, certainly.

And the saying, as it goes, that the show must go on.

You’re blindsided. You’re a little nauseated, and irritated. You’re looking at Matthew, you’re thinking no one’s told him what’s going on, either.

But the two of you make eye contact, for just a few seconds, then his eyes rake down your body, pausing to take you in. Your dress, black against your skin, tight against your body. You hold his gaze as it returns to your face — your lips, your cheekbones, your eyes.

And a mutual understanding is formed. Silently, through nothing but an exchange of looks.

“After you,” Matthew smiles, politely, holding his arm out in front of his torso.

“Wow,” you smile, your voice kind, formal, as you pass him by. “How professional of you.”

He can’t help but chuckle to himself. He looks down, shakes his head, and he puts his hands in his pockets. You can feel his eyes running over your skin like a laser, tracing the shape of your spine, and you nearly tip over in your heels.

Ramona goes to follow you, and Matthew’s aligns beside her, working up the urge to speak.

“[y/n] didn’t . . .” he whispers, pausing to lick his lips, point up ahead at you you trailing down the hall. “She didn’t agree to this, did she?” he asks Ramona.

“Look,” Ramona stops, turns to Matthew, holds her palm up to silence him. It works. He stops, his words, his footsteps, come to halt. “I don’t know the story, but . . . I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you. So . . . anything you want to . . . ask about or say to [y/n], then — then, you can say it to her yourself.”

And she quickly scurries away to catch up with you. She pauses, turns around, tells him, “I love Criminal Minds, by the way.” And she continues on her way.

Matthew laughs.

You’re already standing, set and center, ready to walk on stage on command. You look out at the crowd, each individual face. The bright lights. And you hate to be dramatic, but you’d give anything to not be here right now. Seriously, anything.

“Hey,” Ramona murmurs, walking up behind you. “You alright?”

“It’s too late for me to get out of this, isn’t it?” You ask.

“. . . a little bit,” she nods.

Matthew joins, taking his place behind the curtain, waiting to go on stage. You look over at him, let out a deep sigh.

“Okay,” you shrug, look forward. “Let’s do this, then.”

There’s an art to every interview. To being a polite, and attentive, and humble guest. For 30 minutes, for an hour, forever. It seems to be muscle memory for both you and Matthew. You flash your smiles, and they’re wide, they’re bright, they’re pretty, and completely, utterly inauthentic.

You put on a show for the crowd. You’re not an actress, but anyone who thinks you’re enjoying yourself has been fooled. And that’s enough for you.

You laugh along as questions bounce back and forth, the interviewer leaned over his desk as he speaks to the both you. There’s a gravitational pull that fights and fights to make you look at Matthew. It catches you once, and the two of you awkwardly avoid eye contact by averting your heads from one another.

Your eyes flicker over to the timer offstage, counting down the minutes until the interview was officially off air. It wasn’t until twenty minutes were left on the clock, that the questions became, a bit . . . pushy, to say the least.

“So, you and Matthew went to college together, is that right?”

“Yes,” you nodded, only looking to Matthew for a second of acknowledgement, before returning your glimmering smile to the host. “Yes, we did.”

“Were you two friends?” he asks. “Now, I don’t know why, but I see you both being in very different cliques,” he laughs, the audience joining.

You giggle, nodding, “Um, yeah, yes, I would say we were friends.”

“And what would you say, Matthew?”

“Eh, I’d say we were acquaintances,” he jokes, giving a shrug in response.

Everyone but you finds it funny. You cross your legs, passive aggressively, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Oh, so she was in with the cool crowd, is that what it was?”

“Hm . . .” Matthew hums. “Define cool?”

Your laugh is dry, quiet, drowned out by the laughter of the crowd. Your eyes are glued to your shoes, your feet swaying back and forth on your heel.

“But in all honesty . . .” Matthew adds. He leans over, puts his arm around you. It was the one thing to make you lose all sense of clairty, lose your solid ground. You shuffled in your seat, awkwardly, straining your face just to keep your smile in place. “If I could describe knowing [y/n] in college, in one, single word, it’d probably be . . .” he turns his head to you, slowly, “. . . exhausting.”

His voice comes out in a joking manner, and it prompts another uproar of laughter, which drowns in your ears as you gaze at Matthew. Your face is laced with a numb, distant kind of hurt.

Fifteen more minutes on the clock.

And you spend every one of them with a fire burning in your belly. Burning, and burning, until it filled your entire body.

Ramona runs up to you the second you step off stage, happy, beaming, “That went well! You were composed, funny, you handled his nosey ass questions with, like, no visible reaction.”

Continuing down the hallway, you focus on the steps ahead of you, counting down to the moment you return to the sanctuary of your dressing room.

“And the way you subtly promoted the show without being too pretentious, I mean, very well done. I — oh —“

She’s cut off by the door slamming in her face, as you disappear into the private room, leaving yourself to find peace. Stability.

“. . . I’m still proud of you!” Ramona shouts through the barrier. You sigh, close your eyes, rest your back against the cold wood. “I’m going to call you a car, I’ll be back!”

It’s not until you hear her retreating footsteps, that you take a seat at the vanity set to the side of the room. You put your head in your hands, unable to look at yourself in the mirror. Unable to do anything but sit, and feel.

Ramona weighs on your mind, and you can’t seem to shake the guilt of sending her away, so cold, so unfair. You huff, and rise to your feet. They’re swollen, and achey, from the pair of heels encapsulating them, but you push through. You march up to the door, and as soon as you swing it open, you walk down the hallway.

“Ro?” you call. “Ramona!”

And as if an invisible force knocked you back, jilted you in your steps, you stop. You turn your body, looking to the door at your left. It’s a magnetic attraction. You know he’s in there. Hell, you know he could walk out at any moment. But you stay, stuck in front of the barrier like a deer in headlights.

“No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “No . . . “

You walk away. You make the decision to walk away. But you only manage to make it a few feet . . . before you’re turning back around.

Your knuckles rasp on the wooden door, and you cross your arms as you await an answer. When Matthew comes to the door, the first thing you notice is that his tie has been removed, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Your breath catches in your throat, but only for a moment.

He exhales, “Haven’t we used all of our time for today?” he quips, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“I just want you to know that this is not . . . fair,” you tell him. “I have been polite and understanding, and you have been . . . a dick.”

He stands up straight, physically taken aback by your words, and the venom with which you speak them. “Have I?”

“Yes. You are being petty, and mean, and dragging this out for no, damn, reason, Matthew Gubler.”

“I didn’t know there was anything to drag out,” he shrugs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he goes to close the door, right in your face. But you catch it with your elbow, force your way in.

You slam the door behind you, standing firm on your feet, firm in your anger. “No, no. You don’t get to treat me like this. Whatever is bothering you, whatever issue you have with me, that doesn’t give you the right to slam the door in my face, and disregard the fact that you have been an utter asshole!”

“Oh,” he backs away, snidely clicking his tongue at you. “We’re getting into a screaming match now?”

“What the fuck is your deal, Matthew?” you seeth. “You’re mad, you’re hurt, I get it —“

“I’m not mad, I’m not hurt. I’m . . . annoyed, more than anything.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “The way I see it, there’s two options, here. Either, you’re still mad, and you want to hurt me. Or, you want to fuck me so badly, you’re just making yourself look stupid!”

A lot has changed. Too many things to count on one hand.

But the way Matthew’s eyes darken . . .

The way the wire snaps.

It hasn’t changed, at all. His irises are still as dark and intense, as they always were when they were focused on you. Dreamy, and powerful. Almost, hypnotic.

It’s hard to tell exactly who kisses who, first.

So, we’ll call it a mutual decision.

Your bodies collide, fall in sync with one another almost automatically, as you hold his face in your hands. His skin feels different, covered by a layer of scruff. But his mouth tastes the same.

Addicting.

You drop your jaw, let his tongue slide between your lips. He moans into the kiss, and his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you closer. Closer. Until you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. You offer no resistance as he sweeps you off your feet, instead wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your back slams into the wall, and you gasp, tangle your hands in Matthew’s hair. It curls around your fingers, and he hums at the sensation of your fingertips grazing his scalp. His hands make their way underneath the hem of your dress, maneuvering up your thighs, onto your ass.

He pauses to put his forehead against yours, watch the drool drip down your lips. “You want it as badly as I do . . .” he whispers, heaving as his breath reels from the kiss.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t you?”

“You’re ruining it, jackass,” you spit.

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” he grins into another kiss, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. His hand wraps around the elastic band of your panties, tightly, and he uses minimal strength to rip the fabric apart. It pops against your leg, and you squeak out loud, causing Matthew to chuckle against your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs, bunching up around your waist, while your hands work quickly to undo Matthew’s belt. His stomach is flushed, and warm under the thin material of his shirt.

He grunts into his mouth as you free him from his boxers, stroke him in your palm with a familiar and steady rhythm. He could’ve fallen to his knees right then, right there. But he didn’t. Because, God, he’s going to fuck you if it was the last thing he ever does. He’s going to do it well, and he’s going to make it quick.

Pinning you to the wall, he spits on her fingers, covering them in his saliva and reaching down to touch you between your legs. You whimper into his mouth, pleading, begging for it.

Matthew pulls away from the kiss only to watch your face, to see your eyes roll back as he pushes into you. Again. For the first time in so long. Your entire body, just, relaxes, and you melt into each other, weak already.

His hips push forward, forcefully, until he’s buried inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a loud whine. He puts a hand over your mouth, his forehead against yours, and begins to move your bodies in this slow, steady rhythm. Your back is moving up and down against the wall, and your moans are aligning with every one that comes from Matthew’s mouth.

The two of you can’t keep your eyes off each other, as though neither of you can believe this is happening. That you’re here. With each other. Bonded. Chained. Like there was no amount of fate, or time, or distance that could keep you apart.

Matthew buries his face in your neck, trying to contain his high pitched groans. He absentmindedly starts to increase his pace, encouraged by the way your nails rake down his back. You rest your head back against the wall, you eyes screwed shut and your mouth wide open. His fingers slide between your lips, and muffle the loud squeaks that won’t seem to stop.

And you’re not sure if it’s him, the way he’s only gotten better, and manages to hit a golden spot inside of you with every thrust. Or, if it’s the fact that you haven’t gotten laid in a while. But when Matthew takes his hand away from his mouth, starts to rub your clit, you yelp.

“Shhh,” he cooes, but follows his soft order with a roll of his hips.

Your body is completely rested, dependent, on his. He cradles you in his arms as his hips contain to move, his fingers work tirelessly on your clit, and he moans in your ear.

You don’t have to tell him. He already knows. He remembers. How your thighs tighten around his waist when you’re close. How you mumble incoherently, and try to catch your breath but it only comes out at jumbled gasps. He feels you tighten around his cock, your nails digging into his back and your fingers pulling at his hair.

He supports you as your body crumbles from the pressure, releases it all in one big, intense rush of energy that leaves your body tense and on edge. You hold him close as you tremble, muffle your whimpers against his shoulder. Sliding out of you, he uses your inner thighs to bring himself there with you. You have to lay against the wall, as you watch him in a daze. Your vision blurry, blurry, until you focused on him.

Sweat beads on his forehead, soaking the hair on his face, and the collar of his shirt. He bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. And when he comes, his jaw drops, but no noise comes out. He’s silent, and beautiful, and his face scrunches up in the exact same way it always did. He makes a mess on your thighs, your stomach, and stares you in the eye while he does it.

Matthew lowers you to the ground, holding your hips as you plant your feet on the floor. You stare at each other for a moment, out of breath, and strangely calm, both of you fixing your clothes.

You advert your eyes, distracting yourself by correcting the wrinkles in your dress. You reach over, grab some tissues to wipe yourself off with. Silence fills the room, and it’s deafening.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s different. The past is still the past, you’re still you, Matthew’s still him. And the remnants of who you two used to be still hang in the air, haunting. Dangerous.

You push your hair out of your face, clear your throat as you toss the tissues into the trash, look Matthew in the face, “We done here?”

You move around him, heading to the door without looking back.

“[y/n],” he calls. You turn around, your hand on the door knob. Matthew steps towards you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to treat me like, some situation that needs to be handled . . .” he purses his lips, “I’ll be alright.”

You sigh at him, at a loss for words. And you leave.

Ramona nearly collides into you as she rushes down the hall, exclaiming as she stops in her tracks. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” She catches a glimpse of Matthew’s door, her jaw dropping as she connects the dots. “I —“ she stutters. “Did you —?”

“Let’s go,” you command.

“But, I —“

“Let’s go.”

So you went. It felt cowardly, and . . . wrong. Wrong, simply because of Matthew. His broken voice. The memory of his eyes, and the sadness that glossed over them as you left.

After situating yourself in the backseat, you lock the car door. Out of some irrational fear . . . that, if given the chance, you’ll hop out. Rush back to Matthew, take him in your arms, and never let him go. Never is a long time, but not enough to make up for the years that have gone by.

You sigh to yourself, rub your tired eyes as the car begins to move, begins on its journey to take you home. “Actually . . .” you say to the driver., leaning forward. “Can you take me somewhere else, instead?”

You knock, forcefully, on the door in front of you, after trekking up the stairs to the luxury apartment. Out of breath, you huff, and add another tireless knock upon the door.

“It’s open!”

You furrow your eyebrows, walk in to see Claire and Roni sitting on the couch. They give you welcoming smiles, popping snacks into their mouth.

“Are you trying to wake the kid, dude?” Claire asks you, causing Roni to chuckle under her breath.

“Sorry, I . . .” you apologize. “I thought you guys were asleep.”

“We’re up,”Claire shrugs. “Want a snack? We’ve got those tropical gummies that you really like.”

You stare for a moment, inhale, exhale, look to Claire, “You knew I was coming . . .”

“Oh, yeah,” she nods. “We saw the interview. You were expected.”

“Ugh,” you groan, putting your face in your hands, out of nothing but pure exhaustion.

Claire sighs, sadly, knowing you so well, that it’s evident to her just how much your struggling. How, once again, your body is being weighed down by a heavy heart.

“You said you’re alright here, babe?” Roni whispers to her, and Claire responds with a gentle nod.

“We’re fine, mama,” she tells her, following her words with a soft kiss on the lips. “I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay,” and with that, Roni leaves the two best friends to themselves, occupying herself by going to check on Dorthy.

Claire pats the newly available spot beside her, and you shuffle your feet over the couch, plopping down with a hum of relief.

“Here,” Claire says, picking up a pack of gummies, handing them to you, “Have a snack.”

You take the packet, and tear it open, not hesitating to pop the candy in your mouth. You chew anxiously, obnoxiously.

Claire is patient. Of all things, Claire is kind. And she waits for you to process. Your feelings, your thoughts, your words, and when you finally, finally open your mouth to speak, she just smiles. It’s as though everything comes out in one breathe. A film made in one take. You use all your energy to rant and mumble and whine tonight’s events.

Even the dirty details. They’re important to the story.

“And I just left . . .” you trail off. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Claire looks at you for a long time. She goes to speak. She stops herself. She puts her finger to her lips, contemplating. Goes to speak again. Stops herself, again.

You furrow your eyebrows at her, “Is this like, charades or something?” you ask.

“No . . . I . . .” she stutters. “I . . . you fucked him?”

“It was, more mutual,” you shrug.

“So, now what?”

“I, I don’t know? I have no clue.”

“But you want to be with Matthew?”

“No . . . I . . . I don’t know.”

“Well, does he want to be with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“[y/n] . . .” she sighs. “Don’t you think . . . maybe, you and Matthew are a little too . . . big . . . for this?”

You tilt your head, “Big?”

“Old!” Claire shouts. “Old! You’re old! You’re too old for this!”

“Wha —“ you stutter. “I —“

“Look,” she pauses, turns her body to you, and takes your hands in her grasp. “I was here before Matthew, I was here after Matthew. So . . . I’m, I’m telling you, as the person who watched it happen once . . . don’t drag yourself through hell again. If Matthew’s the one, if he’s who you’ve been waiting for, if it’s always been him, then go. Run to him. He’s here.”

And for no reason at all, you could’ve cried. Tears brim your eyes, and you have to blink them away. “Um . . .” you reply. “Can I crash here tonight.”

Claire sighs, rests her chin on her hand. “Of course.”

“Cool . . . can I borrow some pajamas?”

“Yes.”

You nod, rise from the couch, prepared to walk yourself to the guest room. You turn, nervously, back to Claire and she looks up at you. “Do you, um, do you have any underwear I can borrow, too?”

She purses her lips at you.

“Okay, yeah, nevermind, I’ll go commando.”

So you slept without any underwear. And you forced yourself not to dream of him. Not to allow yourself to be haunted by memories, by pain.

But when you closed your eyes, he was all you could see. The way he looked, and talked, and smelled fifteen years ago. The way you slept beside him for the very last time, and had convinced yourself it would not be the last time.

It would not be the last time.

He made you laugh so hard in your dream that you woke up, and your heart broke as you awake in a dark and empty room. You reach over, turn on the bedside lamp, and rub your tired eyes. You only managed to sleep until three in the morning. And Matthew, and Claire’s words, were the first thing on your mind.

He wasn’t hard to find.

You have your strings. And you, sneakily, tiredly, in a haze of exhaustion, pull all of them. It’s insane, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you ask yourself what you’re doing. Why you’re doing it. What is the point?

But it’s him. And he’s here. And he won’t be for much longer, and he’s only ten minutes away.

The car is able to pick you up and get you to the hotel in under twenty minutes. You’re dressed in a pair of sweats and a cozy sweatshirt, well aware of how crazy you look, well aware of how crazy you’re behaving. And unable to stop yourself.

You march into the building, your feet moving on autopilot to guide you to the elevator, up to the ninth floor. You catch your breath as you move up each level, and lose it again the moment the doors open. You push yourself forward, follow the arrows to his room.

You round the corner, and he calls out, “Hey!”

You smile. Matthew happy to see you.

No.

Not you.

You step back, stopped in your tracks as the girl giggles in his face, holds onto his waist.

“Surprise!” she exclaims, the two of them standing outside his hotel door.

“What are you doing here? I was going to pick you up,” he says.

“Call me impatient, but I couldn’t wait to see you,” she places a soft kiss to his lips, smiles at Matthew. He smiles back.

But that smiles quickly fades when he turns his head, sees you standing there. Matthew is not happy to see you.

“[y/n] . . .”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

@calm-and-doctor

@spencerreid-mgg

@reidsconverse

@reidemandweep

[shelbywanders]

“Dear pregnant, glowing, happy friend,

Let’s cut to the chase: Yes I did ignore the scan photo, the maternity pictures where I’m sure you’re gently holding your swelling bump & gazing wistfully into the distance (I haven’t looked to be honest) and your invitation to the baby shower. There are no hearts or comments from me on those. I’ve put you on mute.

You have plenty of friends, half of whom are pregnant like you so I hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you clearly have. I hear you’re a bit upset with me over this. I’m honestly not a horrible person, so here’s why you’re suddenly dead to me, and I hope that you can try to understand:

I can’t stand looking at pregnant women at the moment, and unfortunately I can’t make an exception for you. Yes, you’re more than a walking womb – you’re my friend & we’ve got history, so how dare I ignore you just because you got pregnant, right? What kind of evil witch does that?

This cuts both ways though – as my friend you know exactly what I’ve been through trying to get pregnant. You see, I’m currently an infertile woman and you’re a pregnant woman, and absolutely everyone is happy to throw my mental health under a bus to make a fuss of you. Including you. I’m expected to suck it up for you, but it’s the end of the world if I expect the same consideration. That’s just the way it is apparently – I don’t make the rules.

We have all said “Be kind!” but do we mean it?

It doesn’t matter how much we say “be kind!” and “mental health is important!” when you’re a woman that’s not able to make babies. My mental health matters less than a like on a picture of a scan to some people – and definitely less than a party. You can withdraw our friendship because you think that I owe you the appropriate amount of fawning over your baby shower, even though you know I’m in the middle of IVF. Yes, that sounds appalling, I’m not proud of saying that, but as I will continue to mention – this is a mental health issue – it’s not about manners.

It is not your fault that you don’t understand what’s going on with women like me, and I’m not actually mad with you for that. I’m mad with a society that treats infertile women like they’re selfishly making a fuss, if they dare to try and excuse themselves from the carnival of joy that follows a pregnant woman into the office and beyond. That seems to forget about us & then gets annoyed when it’s reminded that we do exist. That can laugh kindly and be understanding about the emotional behaviour of a pregnant woman, but is quick to label us selfish or drama queens or jealous, if we are sensitive about trauma triggers such as pregnancy. It feels like we’re pitted against each other somehow, and it’s so unfair. We have phrases like “hormones” and “baby brain” to ensure that we make space for a pregnant woman’s reactions and emotions, but we don’t have a way to tactfully say to pregnant women “Hey, maybe you should give your friend with fertility struggles some space and not shove that big old pretty bump in her face right now!”

Of course pregnant women are in a vulnerable and unique position, and pregnancy is hard and of course we should all look out for them. I’m just saying – anonymously, because I know how deep this goes in society, that maybe we don’t have to routinely disregard the mental health of infertility sufferers, for the sake of special parties and social niceties? Those things could take place without us. You could graciously excuse us from all of that, if you knew how deep our suffering runs.

Instead we’re expected to fawn over people who (innocently) trigger our deepest feelings of sadness and anger, with a fake smile on our face and a congratulations card – and I’m sick of it. We’re all sick of it, but I’m just especially sick of it at the moment. I don’t deserve it – and you don’t deserve this bitter version of me that exists at the moment. What if I could just say hey – congratulations but I’m just having a hard time with this because I can’t get pregnant myself. You could say “OK, good luck with that. Not going to be offended if you don’t get involved right now, but you’re always welcome in the future!”

What if we could handle infertility vs pregnancy better?

So we don’t currently handle it that well, and I’m going to miss your whole pregnancy, and that’s obviously a big deal, right? I don’t actually want to miss a huge chunk of your life, but here’s the kicker – I have to. For my mental health. Because it’s just as important as your mental health. You, as a woman who hasn’t had fertility issues, and apparently got pregnant just by glancing at your husband’s penis in the shower- have no idea what’s happening to me. You will think – as society tells you to, that I am being bitter and uncaring and mean because it’s just in my nature to be like that. That I’m making it “all about me”, when I actually just want to slink away unnoticed. But why would you know any better if no-one ever tells you this stuff or talks about it? Can we just bloody stop this merry-go-round and get real about it please? I’m not mean or uncaring – I’m just struggling with pregnancy. Including yours.

Give me a pass for heaven’s sake. I couldn’t even cope if my cat got pregnant right now, never mind someone I went shopping at Tammy Girl with. Pregnancy is deeply, horribly triggering when you desperately wanted a baby and tried your hardest, but instead you had a miscarriage, a chemical pregnancy, a failed embryo implant, an ectopic pregnancy, a termination for medical reasons or a stillbirth. Show me a woman with fertility struggles who hasn’t had at least one of those. A scan is the very last thing you want to look at. A baby shower is the last place in the universe you want to be. But I’m not allowed to simply say “Thanks so much for the invite, truly happy for you but can’t deal with pregnancy RN because I’m doing IVF again” in case it impinges for five seconds upon your fairy-tale. I wonder if I’ll be the same if I ever get pregnant. Probably not, knowing what I know now.

Fertility struggles have given me a new perspective

So what is it that I know now? That infertility is traumatic. That IVF is mentally and physically hard, and it doesn’t always work. That it can cause relationship strain and feelings of inadequacy and mental health challenges galore. Financial struggles. Hormonal drugs. Constant stupid comments from people who don’t understand. There’s something else too.

Women with fertility issues have to track everything – periods, ovulations and appointments. They are often acutely aware of how old their own lost and maybe-babies would have been at any given time, as well as the ongoing sense of loss they experience from not being able to have a baby. Nature has a really cruddy way of timing baby showers in the same month as our due-dates that never were. Your baby shower is two weeks after my due date 2 years ago. I should be bringing my nearly 2 year old with me. See, I told you we track everything.

Do you really want me to explain that I’d be bringing the baggage of my lost child with me to this party? Do I owe you that? Or could you, you know, just be understanding that baby showers might just be a little bit hard for someone that’s been trying to get pregnant for longer than you’ve known your husband?

So that’s my confession, and I’m going to passive-aggressively post it on my wall and hope that you read it. I can’t come to you with my truth, because I’d risk “stressing you out” and “making it all about me” if I did. I can’t just suck it up, because my mental health is too fragile for that right now. So here I am as a woman with fertility struggles, asking for a little understanding from my friends. Can we call a truce? Can we be more honest with each other? Can we accept that pregnancy is wonderful for you but hard for others? As a woman trying so hard for a baby, I live in hope.”

https://bestfertility-now.com/letter-to-my-pregnant-friend-your-happiness-and-my-mental-health-are-not-compatible/?fbclid=IwAR2YARsPG6r_GLntyasTkwhf_fVJ_XTfG6YbMX6BEdpa6BGOlh9jR1EaB5g

[shreddedparchment]

Tamales and Christmas Lights

12/21/2020

Pairing: Steve x Mexican American Reader          Word Count: 6,838

Warnings: light smut, talks of having kids, language, drinking

A/N: This is the first time I have ever written anything for a specific type of reader. I don’t usually write for a specific race or ethnicity because I can’t speak as to the intimacy of living in that person’s shoes. By this I mean more of a family life. I’m eager to learn but for now, I will write what I know and that is a reader of my own background. I hope I don’t alienate anyone too much and that you all enjoy the story for what it is. There is a bit of Spanish in this one, but so long as you read all of the dialogue what is said is explained in English shortly after. Anyway, I’m SUPER nervous about this one, and it’s a little on the short side but I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for your support! xoxo

“What do you do for the Holidays?”

Steve stiffens for a moment beneath you, bringing your gaze up to his sleepy face.

It’s so late and he’d only just got in an hour ago. Probably on the verge of sleep when you’d asked your quests.

“What?” There’s stress in his eyes and you’re sorry to interrupt the peace of the moment.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He rubs your shoulder, large hands trying to coax you back down onto his chest where you’d been laying with your head cradled underneath his chin.

“You’re lying. And you haven’t answered my question.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, “Nothing. That’s what I do for the Holidays. I don’t do anything. I should probably change that since Buck is finally back. But I think I overheard Sam making plans to drag him to some party and I’m not up for that.”

“Oh…” You deflate, laying your head back on his chest but he notices the disappointment in your voice and he pushes you up again.

When you don’t move, he forces himself up, pulling back until he can rest against the headboard of your bed. You’re also made to sit up but Steve leans forward to guide you close to his body so that you’re practically straddling him.

“What did you have in mind? That wasn’t an empty oh.” He notices.

You shake your head, suddenly terrified to bring it up.

“Come on, baby, don’t leave me wondering. I’ll assume the worst.” He reminds you.

You smile, appreciating the way he reaches up to grab your chin and give your head a little shake. You probably shouldn’t like it but you love the way he makes these small gestures of possessiveness over you.

There’s something feral within you that purrs into submission when he claims you so openly. You’re his. Heart and soul. He knows it already even though it’s only been a few months of being together.

You fist his white shirt, wrinkling it as you pull him closer and kiss him sweetly despite the aggression in your hands.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to just squeeze him! Like that feeling you get when you see a tiny puppy or kitty and you just wanna hug it and squeeze it and love it to death.

He huffs a small laugh at your reaction, though he doesn’t understand it.

“What was that for?”

You lick your lips, kissing him once more before leaning back and releasing his poor shirt.

“You know you’re mine, right?” You ask him, eyes fixed on his pretty face.

You’re not a fan of the bruising around his left cheekbone, but the rest of him is just as perfect as ever.

“And you’re mine,” he assures you. “And if anyone tries to take you away…”

The implications are tantalizing but you don’t linger there. You laugh and shake your head, turning to the windows of his room to watch the heavy snowfall.

It’s freezing outside. It makes you shiver and you pull yourself closer to Steve, wrapping your arms around him by hooking them underneath his own. You ball yourself up in his lap as best you can and rest your head against his chest again as his own arms come back around you, large hands splayed out on your back as he rubs it to give you warmth and comfort.

“Why did you ask me about the holidays, babe?” he presses.

“I want to take you home with me,” that’s the truth. “My grandma has been asking me when I’m going to get married and maybe if they see I have a big strong boyfriend she and the rest of my aunts will leave me alone.”

Steve huffs another laugh, “Are they seriously asking you when you’re getting married?”

“Yeah,” with a nod, you push up again despite being completely at peace in Steve’s arms. “They’ve been asking since I graduated high school.”

“That’s odd,” he observes and you can see how it might be to others. “It’s always been like that in my family. My grandma got married when she was seventeen. Same for my mom. Had kids pretty quickly too. So, they’re kinda waiting for me to do the same. Because getting married and having kids is what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do you want to get married and have kids?” Steve’s hands stroke your hips, a small movement of passive affection.

He’s eager to give you all the touch you want in private but you know to keep things a little more tame in front of others. Steve isn’t big into the P.D.A.

“Eventually I guess. I don’t know. It’s not a question I feel like I need to answer right now. I’m a little more sure about the marriage than the kids but I’ve got lots of time to think about it.” you shrug.

“Yeah, we’ve got lots of time,” he asserts and your heart shoots into your throat, stomach twisting with fluttering wings that make it feel like you’re doing somersaults.

“We?” you smile, despite yourself.

“I wanna marry you eventually, I thought you knew that?”

“No,” you laugh.

“Oh, well now you know.”

“You can’t just spring that on me, Steve!”

He laughs now, hooking his hands behind your knees and yanks you closer. You’re right on him, and as you settle, you feel a familiar stirring between your bodies as the exhaustion of the mission wears off and his eagerness to show you how much he missed you becomes obvious.

“I think I just did,” he teases. “If you want to take me to meet your family, I am more than happy to come along. We have been together almost a year, it’s about time I think.”

“A year?” you gasp, realizing that it hasn’t been a few months after all.

Time with Steve is so much like a dream that it feels like it’s passed in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, we hooked up in that closet off the shooting range on New Year’s Eve, remember?”

“Okay, first of all, hooked up? You’re spending too much time with Sam and Bucky.”

Your face heats up, neck burning and ears probably hot to the touch as the memory of you half drunk finding Steve alone in that shooting range.

You’d confessed recklessly and Steve had practically tackled you into the wall when he’d realized you were serious, despite being tipsy.

The frenzy that had followed that first kiss had been uncontrollable and he’d maneuvered you both into the bathroom and then pounded into you with you pinned between him and the counter.

You can still remember the shock of cold smooth concrete under your naked butt.

The next day, Steve had sought you out to tell you that he liked you too and that he wanted to take you out properly and that he was sorry for letting himself get out of hand the night before.

You responded by accepting his invitation but then luring him into your bedroom to ride him until he was breathless and groaning with satisfaction and you were twitching from reaching a third climax.

Your love with Steve has always been rooted in a very physical connection but over time, the emotional depth has increased exponentially and you’re best friends now, as well as lovers.

Now he’s here, remind you of that very beginning and telling you that it’s time to meet your family?

“You don’t have to go, Steve. My grandma will probably ask you a million questions and the rest of my family will be just as nosy and loud. We can get kind of rowdy when we get all together.”

The last thing you want to do is chas him off with an overbearing family, but at the same time...you love them! If he’s going to be in your life, he needs to accept them too, right?

What if he can’t? What will that mean for the two of you?

“Growing up it was just me and my mom,” Steve explains, stroking the length of your arms. “A big family is just what I need, I think.”

You watch him as he leans forward, his lips finding that stupid spot on your neck that always makes you melt.

As his tongue darts out, tracing a small circle, you absolutely collapse against him, arms wrapping up around his shoulders loosely, eyes very slightly rolling into the back of your head.

“Are you sure?”

“So sure,” he whispers, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

He pulls you down against his stiffened cock and you moan as he throws you back onto the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Steve urges, reaching over to place his hand in yours so that you can stop pulling and tugging at your own fingers.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, staring at the peach colored house with bright red trimming around every window and the bright red doorway. It’s absolutely covered in lights, twinkling in different colors. Traditional tiny lights but then around the tree in the front yard are huge bulbs, green, blue, yellow, and red.

They’re novelty lights? You’re not sure if that’s what they are, but you find them silly. Your grandpa’s idea probably.

Your grandmother’s house hasn’t changed one bit since you were little. The only thing that changes are the cars parked along the street, the large rose bushes along the front porch are bare.

Several green hard plastic chairs line the front wall angled oddly as someone had most likely been sitting there last night. Aunts and uncles, your mom and dad probably talking late into the night.

Even sitting in the car, with the engine idling, doors shut tight, you can already hear one of your aunts laughing her head off inside the house. The shouts of kids playing also reach your very normal ears. Steve must be able to hear everything.

“Do you think they won’t like me?” Steve worries, and now it’s your turn to turn and soothe his nerves.

“Oh, no, Steve. That’s not why. I know they’ll love you. I’m just afraid of what they’ll say. Or that they’ll smother you. I haven’t exactly told anyone in my family that I’m dating anyone much less…”

The two of you never talk about his official title. Who he is. Even though he’s retired in many ways, he’s still the first. Sam might be Captain America now, but everyone knows Steve as the original Captain America. There isn’t a person on this planet that doesn’t know who he is.

Normally, it doesn’t matter. To you, he’s just Steve Rogers. Super soldier, for sure, but just a man that swept you off your feet with his sweetness and kindness and okay, those damn shoulders and his ass is biteable. But he’s just Steve!

Your family will see the title first, you’re sure of it. They’ll see Captain America.

“Are they not big Captain America fans?” his teasing is gentle and innocent.

“Steve!” you shut your eyes and chuckle, “ I’m seriously so worried.”

“I can take it, hon. I’m a big boy. Come on, let’s get in there. I wanna meet your grandma.”

Suddenly he throws his door open and steps out of the car, shutting it off as he goes.

“Wait!” you gasp, scurrying to get out with him. 

You scamper around the car until you’re beside him and take hold of his hand. He pulls you towards the door confidently but you let go of his hand and rush forward before he can reach it.

Fixing your hair, you push the door open and are immediately assaulted by the smell of spicy menudo. It makes your mouth water. The smell of spices and pine sol. Fabuloso is mixed in there too, your mom’s idea to mix the two cleansers together and use them to make a unique smelling concoction that gets the linoleum floors cleaner than if you used one or the other.

The low sofas are covered in shining clear plastic, no doubt put in place by your grandma just before all the family began to arrive. The flat screen is decorated with a simple green garland, beside the TV console is a low table where the remote sits on a lace doily, underneath in a wooden pocket are several magazines and underneath the pocket on the base of the table sits a blue round tin of butter cookies that no doubt has all of your grandma’s sewing things instead of the treats it promises.

The house isn’t big. In fact, it’s on the small side. The large master bedroom is situated at the back of the house along with the bathroom, past the kitchen where you can see the light on all of your aunts sitting around the table exchanging their respective chisme and keeping their hands busy with something you can’t see.

From the hallway to your right where the only two guest rooms are located along with a second half bath come running two of your younger cousins. They’re children still, your youngest Tia’s kids.

They don’t even notice you as you stop walking, choosing to run instead towards the back door in the distance past the kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom.

One of your other aunts, the second oldest, turns her head as they run behind her.

“Que chingaos les dije?! Stop running in and out or I’m gonna kick your asses!” She yells at them, but the kids ignore her and disappear through the door. It slams shut behind them.

“Lulu, no les puedes decir algo?! They keep running in and out of here like wild animals.” Your second eldest aunt demands.

“They’re just playing, leave them alone.” Your Tia Lulu waves her sister off.

To your right you finally notice the centerpiece of the living room, a huge christmas tree with red, blue, and green glass ornaments. The lights are white, twinkling in different patterns, tinsel covering every branch to an obscene amount. At the top sits an old porcelain angel that your grandmother had once told you she’d received from her own grandmother and had actually been made in Mexico by some nun at an old church that had been knocked down a long time ago to make room for a cattle ranch.

The base of the tree is almost completely obscured by the dozens and dozens of presents from very large to very small. Each one is addressed to one or other member of the family. The kids especially all get gifts from each of your uncles and aunts.

You take another step towards the kitchen only to be stopped again as the restroom in the hallway to your right flushes and from inside it emerges your grandfather, buckling his belt as he lumbers out.

“Grandpa,” you call to him excitedly and he whips his head up then beams at the sight of you.

“Mijita bonita, cuando llegaste? Aye, chula…” His words fade out as he reaches you with his arms outstretched and pulls you into a quick tight hug.

His large hands pat you on the back several times before he kisses your cheek. He brings his hands to your shoulders and pushes you back a little to get a look at you.

“When did you get here?” he repeats, and gives your arms a squeeze.

“Just now,” you begin, but as you’d hugged your grandpa had turned you around and Steve moves in behind him.

He meets your eyes, shrinking a little, drawing his shoulders in to make himself smaller in the very normal person sized house.

“Grandpa, uh, I have um...this is my boyfriend, Steve,” with one arm extended you gesture towards the super soldier standing by the door.

“Steve?! ¿Trajiste un gringo?”

Your grandpa whips around, searching at average height level for the white boy you’ve brought and finds himself face to face with Steve’s chest.

He adjusts quickly, finding Steve’s face and with a gasp, he slams his hand over his heart and laughs.

“That’s Captain America!” he laughs.

The declaration brings the kitchen to a pause and like dominoes all of your aunts rise one by one, moving into the doorway of the kitchen to catch a glimpse at the commotion in the living room.

More gasps follow and soon you can’t hear yourself think as they all break into a cacophony of excited chatter.

Your Tia Lulu is the first to shove her way through, as she’s the youngest, she smiles at Steve flirtatiously before shoving your grandpa out of the way.

“Move aside, dad! Hello, hi. I’m Consuela but everyone calls me Lulu. You can call me sweetheart.” She throws out her tongue as she laughs, a clear joke but Steve good naturedly takes her hand and shakes it, a shy but kind smile on his handsome face.

“Oh my God, Tia, stop,” you plead.

“I’m just kidding, werca fregada. Don’t get your panties all in a twist.” She swats at you while your grandpa retreats to the sofa where he must have been sitting before, stuffing fives, tens, and twenties into envelopes for the kids.

Grandma and Grandpa never get anyone anything. They just put money in envelopes for the kids.

As your aunts file in, all five of them, you wait until Steve looks at you to bite your bottom lip and mouth a quick apology.

He shakes his head, setting your heart at ease as your aunts circle around him talking fast and occasionally asking him a question or two which he answers readily.

“A year.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m not Captain America anymore.”

“Consulting mostly.”

“Yeah, I-I have my own place.”

“It’s a rental.”

Your aunts gasp at that in particular, “Ooh, it’s a rental. Those can be so expensive. Did you get the insurance?”

“Uh, well, no. I didn’t mean, it’s actually one of Tony’s-Stark. He had it set aside for us when he found out we were coming to visit.”

The madness reignites at the mention of Iron Man and as they plunge into more questions, your turn just in time as your mom makes her way over to you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she wraps you up in her arms and you hug her back, holding it for a little longer than you normally would but you’ve been so stressed with bringing Steve here that you feel a relief wash over you not only because she’s there to help you, but to finally have it happening means you can stop the anticipation.

“I’m sorry, mom. I decided to get him down here super last minute and I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Where’s dad?”

“He’s out back with your tios. Drinking already,” she shakes her head but there’s no surprise there from anyone. “They’ve got the pit going. Chicken and fajitas to go with the menudo.”

“It smells so freaking good,” you laugh.

“Is he really your boyfriend? How long has this been going on? How come you haven’t told me?”

The hurt in your mom’s voice is subtle but you hear it and lament it.

“I was going to tell you. Every time I called. But at first it was too new and then after that I just didn’t know how to explain it to you. I know you hate my job. Now I’m dating a former Avenger?”

It’s her turn to look apologetic.

“Mija, you could have told me. I do hate that you put yourself in harm’s way, but that’s your job. No mom is going to like that.”

She takes a moment to glance at Steve, then with a flick of her eyebrows and a quick nod in his direction, she scoots closer, “Isn’t he like super old?”

You laugh and nod.

“He’s older than grandpa,” She laughs with you as you whisper, Steve giving you two a quick glance.

“He doesn’t look it,” your mom admits.

A tiny upturn to the corner of his lip tells you he can hear everything you’re saying.

“Is it serious?” She asks, letting you steer her towards the kitchen as her probing continues.

Inside the kitchen you find the entire kitchen table cleared of the usual place mats and ceramic Jesus centerpiece to make room for the bowls of masa, cooked seasoned pork and chicken for the filling of what will be tomorrow’s tamales.

At the stove you see your grandma a well worn lime green apron tied tightly around her waist and neck, huddled over the very tall and large pot, stirring and adding seasoning to the murky russet soup inside.

“I hope that has lots of posole!”

Your grandma turns at your voice and her face lights up.

“Mijita, chula!” she gushes, rushing forward to wrap her arms around you and kiss your cheek with a loud smack.

“Hi, grandma, I missed you so much,” you realize, hugging her tight.

“Por qué no nos dijiste que ibas a venir? Werca, cabrona!” she smacks you hard and you laugh, holding her hands as she pulls back to look at you. “You need to eat more.”

“Grandma, I’m eating fine,” you laugh, amused by the direction her thoughts go.

“She brought a boy home, mom,” your mom gives you away, then sticks her tongue out at you as she replaces her mother’s place at the pot.

“Mom!”

“You brought a boy?” she’s ecstatic! “A boyfriend?”

“Yes, he’s a boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?” she starts wiping her hands on her apron, cleaning them up to meet Steve.

“His name is Steve.”

“Es un gringo?!” her exclamation of surprise is just like grandpa’s.

“Yes, he’s white, does it matter?”

“Pos, no. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s nice to you. Is he good to you?”

“He’s the best, grandma. He insists on taking me out every Friday to eat and watch a movie.”

Well, every Friday that you or he aren’t on mission. And it’s such a small thing but you know it’ll make her happy to know that he takes you out.

“Ooh, that’s good,” she approves. “Does he have a good job?”

“He’s a consultant where I work.”

“With the Avengers?” she gasps.

“Yeah.”

“A consultant? What does that mean? Is he a nerd?”

You laugh, throwing your head back, “He’s the biggest nerd, though he’ll never admit it.”

“Well, andale, let’s go meet your boyfriend,” she pushes you towards the doorway and you make to lead the way. “Is it serious?”

She whispers the second question, though you know that Steve will be able to hear.

Is it serious? “I uh…”

“Ayt! Don’t you all have husbands?”

Saving Steve from your aunts, your grandma moves forward and pushes and pulls and slaps them away from him, shoving them back towards the kitchen.

“Esos tamales no se van hacer solos.”

“Ow, mom! Stop hitting us,” your eldest aunt Margarita frowns.

“Magge, no te da verguenza?”

“Why should I be embarrassed?! Have you seen her boyfriend? Steve, do you like older women?” your Tia throws back at him as your other aunts push past you, patting you in the back and whispering congratulations at your luck.

“Technically I’m older,” he calls and everyone looks at him, not talking, apparently in shock at the fact that he truly is over a hundred years old.

“Oh my God, your boyfriend is Captain America?!” your grandma realizes, turning to slap your shoulder lightly for not explaining yourself.

Everyone bursts into laughter, the chatter moving into the kitchen as you join the laughter, Steve smiling from ear to ear as your mom rushes back out, eager to meet him.

Grandma pulls him into a hug and he gently returns it, smiling politely as she gushes over how handsome he is and how tall and then getting angry at you for not feeding him before admiring the exquisite shape of his body.

“Your grandpa had a body like this when he was young, mija,” grandma assures you. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Probably all the tamales,” you tease and she smacks you gently again before laughing in genuine amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~

You can’t find Steve anywhere. The kids are all inside, watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the living room, crowded around the flat screen with expressions that range from amusement to boredom.

Mostly it’s the older kids that are tired of the claymation film. They’ve seen it every year since they were old enough to sit up.

“Should I change it?” you wander in from the front, your Tias laughing as the door shuts behind you cutting the sound off.

One of the things you’d missed was the happiness that filled the house this time of year. Even though they fight like cats, it’s cats that are sisters and love each other deep down.

They always end up laughing again eventually. 

Your cousin Claudia sits up at your offer, “Yes! Put something else on!”

“No!” the littler ones revolt.

“Even if it’s Elf?”

You stop by the TV, remote already in hand and all of their eyes light right up.

“Okay, okay, put Elf!”

Their accents make you smile. Like you, they’d probably grown up speaking mostly spanish as a toddler and then as you’d started school, English had begun to push in as your default leaving you with a heavy accent for a few years.

Now it’s almost completely gone and only emerges when you shout angrily, or so Steve says.

As the opening narration begins, you catch Claudia’s eyes and give her the remote, “Have you seen Steve?”

“Captain America?” she smirks, getting a serious kick out of your choice of boyfriend.

But you’d also seen her all flustered when she’d met him. She thinks he’s hot and honestly, he is so you can’t blame her. At sixteen, she’s lost almost all of her bashfulness.

“Yes, Steve. Have you seen him?”

“He went out back with Tio, I think.”

“My dad?!” you gasp, already terrified of what they might be talking about.

“Yeah, he looked nervous. You should probably go save him from Tio’s interrogation.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you throw at her, already moving towards the back door in a hurry.

The inside of the house is toasty warm, especially with the tamales cooking and the menudo on low heat to keep it warm in case anyone wants thirds or fourths.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks as you pass by.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, across from your grandma talking in hushed tones.

“To get Steve, Claudia said he was with dad.”

“Well, leave them alone, I’m sure he’s being nice.”

Your grandma laughs and you shove the door open and disappear back out into the chilly winter night.

Wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the chill that begins to set in, you scan the backyard and move past your tios sitting around the clearly diy firepit one of them had built for your grandparents, each one knocking back a beer in either bottle or can.

They’re not as loud as your tias but they’re still talking loudly, laughing and then arguing over the superbowl.

“No manches, guey. That linebacker doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He should have stayed in Atlanta.”

You tune them out as you spot Steve and your dad standing by the table of barbecue a little further out by the back corner of the chain link fence.

Steve is standing with one hand on the tongs, flipping over some of the leftover chicken your grandma asked your dad to cook since someone will eat it eventually.

They’re talking, both in deep conversation until Steve smiles and seems to relax. Your dad, who stands at five feet, nine inches in height, has to reach up to clap Steve on the shoulder then smiles too, both of them turning their focus on the chicken.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, moving towards them with purposeful steps.

Both of them look up as you approach and immediately Steve hands your dad the tongs before moving towards you and peeling off his black leather jacket.

“Hon, why are you out here without a coat? It’s cold.” he says sweetly.

He can’t feel the temperature like you can but he can tell when you’re cold.

“Dad? What are you two doing out here?”

You’re so suspicious of your dad, worried he might be saying things to hurt Steve, but both of them look happy even.

“I’m showing him how we make the chicken,” your dad says innocently.

“Uh huh...sure you are.”

“He was,” Steve promises.

“I don’t trust you,” you say sternly, using one finger to point up into Steve’s ridiculously handsome face. “You’re just trying to suck up to my family.”

“Me?” he gasps, forced innocence on his face now too.

You narrow your eyes at both of them in turn, wrapping your arms around yourself again as Steve rubs them to try and warm you up.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” Steve urges you, then turns to look at your dad. “Thanks for the lesson, Hector, I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

“What lesson?”

“Never you mind, nosy. Come on, before you catch a cold.”

Steve sits you on the sofa once he’s got you inside and settles in pulling you against his side then kissing your temple before turning his focus on Buddy the Elf sitting in a bathroom singing with Zoey Deschanel as she showers.

“When did you sneak off to talk to my dad?”

Eyes narrowed, you watch him for any of his usual tells that he might be lying or hiding something from you.

So far, nothing.

“I didn’t sneak off. You were busy talking to your aunt and your dad invited to show me how to make the chicken. He was nice, serious about you. He wanted me to know that he’s got his eyes on me and if I hurt you all of your uncles will come find me and castrate me.”

He smiles wide, amused by this for some reason.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt fear like that. Your dad really meant it.”

You’re not convinced but he reaches down to take hold of your chin and force you to look at him.

“Give me a kiss, pouty.” he requests.

How can you resist? You lean up and give him a quick kiss but then the kids say, “Ooooooh.”

You turn to them and throw Claudia a pillow but she laughs and catches it, leading the rest of them into giggles.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night grows older and everyone comes inside. As midnight approaches, the kids filter into their usual seats at the feet of their respective parents. Your six aunts and their husbands pile onto the sofas or linger in doorways, all attention diverted to the Christmas tree and the piles of presents underneath.

Your grandma and grandpa get center seating on the longest sofa, both of them ready with cash envelopes in hand for giving out as soon as the time comes.

Your dad on the other hand sits himself by the tree and while all of the adults talk amongst themselves, the kids are as quiet as they will ever be, little to teen eyes all trained on the pile of gifts.

“Mija, ven siéntate aqui. Magge, dale el asiento a tu sobrina,” your grandmother calls, waving you over to sit beside her.

Your aunt looks from your grandmother to you and then back, looking almost affronted by the request until your grandma gives her a face of deep annoyance.

Your aunt has a moment of realization, then sighs but begins to get up.

“No! Tia, it’s okay. I’ll stand. I’m alright here.”

“Don’t argue with me and get your butt over here,” your grandmother interrupts.

“She never sees you,” your tia reminds you. “Come sit here, I’ll sit on your tio’s lap.”

“Like hell you will, you wanna break my legs?”

“Callate lo sico, estupido imbecil,” she smacks him in the arm but then sits in his lap and he smirks as he wraps his arms around her waist.

Steve pushes you towards her, then leans down to kiss your cheek.

He knows you hate to leave him standing there.

“Go, sit with your grandma.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course babe. Go.” He kisses your cheek again then pushes you towards the sofa.

As you settle in, giving him another look of consideration, your grandma takes your hand and holds it gently plucking a smile from your worried expression.

“He’s okay, no one is going to take him from you.”

Not that you think anyone would, but it’s a common phrase among couples who are glued at the hip.

As your grandma’s old cuckoo clock chimes in midnight, your dad points at your cousin Claudia who gets up and quickly shuts off the living room light leaving all of you in the glow of the white twinkle lights.

As your dad begins to call out names, the kids scoot closer in excitement and watch as they’re each handed gifts after gifts.

Eventually the floor begins to fill with crumpled up wrapping paper and colorful bows and ribbon. Toys are yanked from boxes and the laughter begins to fill the room again.

Your aunts and uncles also get their names called and you don’t feel bad that your name is never called.

They had no idea you were coming and your Tia Magge leans towards you, “I’m sorry we didn’t get you anything, Mija. We didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, I know, Tia. It’s okay. I just wanted to see you all and bring Steve to meet you.”

As you gesture towards where you left him standing, you find him missing but think nothing of it as he might have just gone to the bathroom.

There are only two gifts left under the tree, one very large one which your dad calls out for your grandpa, and then he pulls a shoe sized box, wrapped in silver paper onto his lap but gestures at your grandma who lets go of your hand and begins to call names out and pass the envelopes with money to the kids.

Because you can’t stand sitting there any longer, the mess on the floor still growing, you get up and move into the kitchen.

Trash bag in hand you move back out to the living room and begin to stoop over and pick up the wrappings of all the presents exchanged tonight.

Your grandma calls out Claudia’s name and as the teen sits back down, your dad clears his throat.

“We have one more gift, and it’s for my beautiful daughter,” he says, shocking you into standing as he calls your name.

“Me?!” you gasp, completely in shock.

You hadn’t been expecting anything though you and Steve had definitely brought gifts for everyone.

Your gift had been the ability to see such bright smiles as they opened said presents.

“Here,” your dad holds it out and you let go of the trash bag as Claudia takes it from you.

With a quick wipe of your brow, you take the gift and look for a name so that you’ll know who to thank, but there’s no name.

“Open it!” One of the younger kids says with excitement.

“Yeah, rip it!” another urges.

“Rip it?” you chuckle, and rip it.

It is indeed a shoebox, but as you lift the lid and place it underneath, you find in the shoebox another box, slightly smaller, also sealed up tight this time in pink shiny wrapping paper..

“Oh my God,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

You open that box too, tossing the wrapping paper to Claudia who tosses it for you as you find yourself staring at yet another box, wrapped in green snowflake paper.

“What the hell is going on here?” you laugh again, tearing it open and finding a smaller one.

This goes on and your family laughs at you as you open box after box after box, until finally the smallest box is the size of laptop charging block.

“How the hell does anyone even find a box this small?!” you gasp, shaking your head as your shoulders shake with laughter.

You tear the last box open, discarding the bright red paper then open the top to find a small black velvet bag with a drawstring pulled shut.

“Finally!”

Your exclamation brings laughter from the room and as you pull the bag open, you turn it over since the room is in semi-darkness and you can’t see in.

Onto your palm tumbles a silver ring. Sitting on top is an emerald cut diamond, solitaire, that glimmers in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

“What the-?” you start, but from the hallway behind your mom emerges Steve, looking nervous as fuck.

He swallows hard as he walks towards you, stopping only when he’s right in front of you then slowly, as butterflies tumble violently in your lower belly, he kneels.

“Oh my God…” you whisper, too shocked to speak any louder.

He says your name, clears his throat because his voice shakes, and you smile, on the verge of laughing or crying. You’re not sure which.

“In just about a week we’ll have been together for exactly one year, but I’ve known since you pulled that bullet out of my a-my backside and called me a big baby for whining about it that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

“Both of us work in a very dangerous job but I don’t think I know anyone else who is as brave or strong or sure of themselves as you. I wasn’t sure what to expect from life after I gave up being Captain America.

“Suddenly there were an infinite amount of possibilities ahead of me and yet, not once did I think that marrying anyone would be the path I’d take. I’d given up on love, on the chance of a normal life, but you’ve woken me up. You’ve pulled me out of my past and with you I can see that future we talked about the other morning.

“I see my life as your husband and father to our kids laid out in front of us and I can’t wait to get started. So, I guess, I just need to ask?”

Your family laughs, reminding you that you two are not alone.

“You’ve always said that if someone proposed to you, you wouldn’t want it to be in public and well, these people are your family so they’re not public. They represent a life I would very much like to be a part of. I’ve had no one for so long, I want this family, so will you marry me? Will you let me be a part of your family?”

You’re in shambles. You’re sobbing, smiling through the waterworks as your heart pounds so hard in your chest and all of the oxygen threatens to leave your brain.

“Yes!” you gasp, and the room explodes with cheers and applause.

Steve takes the ring and quickly slips it onto your finger before rising and pulling you flush against his body. He kisses you eagerly, laughing against your own lips as you kiss him back just as passionately.

As he pulls back, an audible smack snuffed out by the roar of excitement in the room, you search his eyes for any form of doubt.

There’s none.

“Is this what you were talking to daddy about? Asking me to marry you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Steve explains, and you feel vindicated in your earlier suspicions.

“Jerk!” you smack his chest but he pulls you in for another kiss.

The two of you share in the moment for only one more second before your grandmother is pulling you two apart so that she can hug you and kiss Steve’s cheek. Your mom is also in tears, hugging you tight as your dad hugs you both, then shakes Steve’s hand before pulling him in for a quick hug.

There’s a terrifying POP that sends you and Steve ducking from instinct, but you find your grandpa holding up a bottle of champagne.

“¿Dónde está la música? Turn on the radio! Let’s celebrate!” He shouts, lifting the bottle to his lips.

As the kids spring up and split up throughout the household to play with their toys, your aunts and uncles begin to pair off, swaying and singing at the very top of their lungs as Feliz Navidad fills the room.

Steve makes his way back towards you, swerving past your excited family until he has his arms around you again, pulling you in close until he can sway you to the beat of the music.

“I’m guessing the party is just getting started?”

“Oh, babe, you just gave them the fuel to go until the sun comes up.”

Steve chuckles leans down to kiss you again, summoning an encore of cheers.

[arcadejohn127-9]

Can you do a headcannon with the undateables now dateables please?? 😁 with an mc that wears a ton of make up and one day she doesn't cuz she forgot and they are like astounded by mcs looks and compliment them and tell them they don't need to wear so much cuz they are beautiful! Thank you!!!

I'm sure you didn't mean it for it to be like this, but this ask has a "I got stuff that's internalised" vibes and so I'm going to make this a teaching moment.

To Everyone who follows, wearing makeup or not is up to you - how much you wear is your bussiness. Besides, what is considered 'alot' could be a natural look depending on how many products you use.

I personally don't use foundation or concealer, my face is spotless and smooth and I incorporate my eyebags into my eye looks. But there's still the amount of eyeshadow I use as contour, actual eyeshadow, eyeliner guide and even to add more vibrance or odd colours to my lips. I also use eyeliner. Which doesn't seem like alot but its full face look.

Your makeup is your business and you shouldn't shame those who do wear it or those who don't nor should you rely on a man or woman to tell you when you look good. Your always look good, period. The trope of girls who stops wearing loads of makeup turns out to be naturally pretty just links to a mindset that people who do wear makeup only wear it because their ugly or trying to hide their true appearance.

Which is stupid because unless you're going out your way to do face morph looks, makeup is used to enhance features you already have. It just helps to bring attention to how pretty your features are.

"they don't need to wear so much because they're beautiful!" You don't stop being beautiful when you put makeup on. Again how much you wear and what you do with your appearance is your bussiness.

But I think that's enough of me going on, let's actually get into this.

Diavolo:

"ah, what a surprise, you're not wearing your makeup today, did something happen?"

He looked at your curiously

You dissmivley waved your hand, smiling

"Oh-! Yeah- I forgot to do it this morning and didn't want to run late for class, that's all."

"you look stunning might I add without it, it's a refreshing change - that sounded rude...I didn't mean for it come out like that."

He immediately looked guilty

Hand over his mouth realizing his words, he his lips pursed

It looked like he was internally beating himself up about it

You decided to be nice, patting his shoulder, seeing he didn't mean for it come out like that

"You're right, I am stunning but yeah, I get what you mean, it's new and I look good without it but I also good in it! It makes me feel good and lets me show off my favourite features."

You used your hands to shape and point out said features

Diavolo intently watched your hands but still had a guilty and apologetic expression

"I see, forgive my rudeness I never intended to imply anything, I'm glad you have something that makes you feel confident and happy."

"it's okay, Dia, perhaps I can do a look on you aswell? Show you the appeal."

Diavolo could be a child at heart and he almost squealed

He has been interested by your makeup ever since you've arrived

But instead of letting himself show his full excitement he nodded, grinning

He was aware of his butler's eyes on him aswell as Lucifer's

"I'd be delighted to."

Barbatos:

"I had a feeling I'd see a surprise today, it appears it was you, is there a reason you've decided to not do your usual look?"

"it sounds silly but just forgot, I was so tired this morning I'm pretty sure I dreamed doing my routine and couldn't tell the difference."

You laughed at yourself, gently scratching your cheek

You were embarassed by how easily tricked you were by your tired mind but you couldn't really blame yourself

You haven't been sleeping much so after finally getting the best sleep in your life you were bound to get groggy

He smiled, tilting his head to the side

His eyes looked as if he was scolding you

"thats abit alarming, get your needed sleep though the change isn't uninvited, you're very pretty."

You could tell he meant no harm by his words

But you've dealt with situations similar to this where the person was being very passive aggressive

It made you feel bitter and have a need to explain yourself

"I'll be sure to sleep, thanks but this isn't going to be a permanent thing, I'm very much happy with my usual look! Makes me feel more pretty~ I don't think there's such a thing as being too pretty."

You both chuckled at your end statement

"Fair, I do not control what you do but I advise you stop spending so much with asmodeus, you're starting to sound like him - I have actually done makeup myself, perhaps you'd like to see some examples? I'm intrigued if you have any feedback or tips I could use."

"asmo is just truthful! But on a serious note, I'd actually love to see that and feel honoured you'd want my feedback! You better not back out on this."

Solomon:

"I almost didn't recognize you, what a stray from your usual look, it's very off brand - I'm afraid viewers might be displeased."

You couldn't help but smile

He was using an inside joke you two made

After refering to one of the years as a season you two started making a few jokes about it

But it became a habit and now you two just had a thing were you pretended you were self aware TV characters

"Oh no! We can't have the ratings go down! Haha- I don't look that different, don't be ridiculous, I think it's just your eyes old man."

You poked the side of his face, near his eye

He frowned, he let you have passes on calling him old due to favouritism

But still got grumpy when you joked and brought him his age

You did only say it to tease and if he got genuinely upset or mad about it you'd immediately stop

"I'm not old, just wise - just for that your fanbase has shrunk but sadly, your good looks will bring them back."

You had a light blush on your cheeks, waving your hand

Acting as if you've swooned for him you leaned against his shoulder

"you're so kind yet so mean~ but I'm sure they'll prefer my normal form than this one, I kinda feel naked without my makeup - it's almost shameful."

"don't say that so loud, who knows who'll turn up naked, I'd rather not experience that today."

You bursted out laughing

Meanwhile he looked like he was experiencing Flashback'

Simeon:

"I like the new look, it's very natural! but is that makeup or your actual-"

"My face is bare, I forgot to put it on, not really bothered today."

His slender finger was pointed to your face, squinting to see if he could see

You almost wanted to laugh but you just lazily shrugged your shoulders

"oh! You're still look just as beautiful, I can't believe I couldn't tell, ever since I saw your more extra looks I've been looking into makeup and I saw people could make it look like they weren't wearing any."

"Thanks but don't worry, I'm not Insecure without it or anything, just really enjoy it! - oh? You're looking into it? Is there any looks you like specially, some people are really amazing at looking extremely natural or being really artistic - it's amazing."

He nodded

"pardon me then, I didn't mean to imply anything I just saw how much bad press was around it all and wanted to say incase but yes, I'm extremely intrigued by high light! It's so sparkly!"

He looked apologetic before his expression turned into one of awe and inspiration

You smiled, happy to see he was interested in something you were already passionate about

It was good to see him wanting to learn and gain interest

"You're sweet Simeon but this human is very happy! I see~ let me do your makeup later or a day you're free, I can give you my extra shimmery high light to really make those cheekbones of yours pop!"

His eyes were sparkling so brightly

Grinning from ear to ear with excitement

"I'd love to! Please, I want you to show me all your amazing ideas."

Luke:

"Your face is different, you're not wearing makeup!"

"And your face is still childlike, you're correct though, I forgot to do it."

You both pouted at each other, glaring

The moment quickly ended as soon as he started to speak

"oh, I thought this was going to be a thing now....you're pretty, why do you wear it? You don't need to especially the amount you normally wear."

You frowned

Annoyed no one has taught him about this kind of thing and how what he was saying was rude

Mentally noting to speak to Solomon and Simeon about this

But you couldn't be too mad, he was a child

You decided to make this a reaching moment for the young angel

"Well you see Luke, anyone can wear makeup even if they're super confident with their features or super Insecure, it makes people feel good and extra attractive or it can make you look dead and gross - really up to the person - and I'm just someone who really likes wearing makeup and alot of it, what may seem like alot to others could be basic to others, it's all about your personal touch and wants."

"I see....I'm sorry I didn't really understand-"

He looked absolutely devastated

Ashamed and guilty and extremely apologetic

"It's okay, I know you're still learning about these things - hey, how about I do your makeup and we can see what you like?"

You lifted his puffy hat, ruffling the messy hair beneath it

He didn't even swat your hand away

He was too excited and relieved by what you were saying, he jumped up and down as his hands turned into fists

"Really?! I'd- I'd like that, I'll go ask Simeon if you can come over and do it for me! Maybe we can try out your kind of style?"

"Sounds perfect, now go ask~"

He hastily rushed off to find the older demon

You watched from slight afar him asking permission but gave simeon a 'we need to talk' look

[goldentournesol]

Green Eyed Monster

Spencer Reid x FemReader

“Could you write a fic where Spencer sees his girlfriend reader chatting to another guy, flirting with him and assumes she's cheating? But she's just chatting to him, and he's gay.”

masterlist

Spencer wasn’t the type to get jealous, he just wasn’t. He trusted his girlfriend with his entire being, but for some reason watching her get on so well with one of the cops was absolutely taking its toll on him. It doesn’t help that they’re currently in her hometown, either. Spencer watched as she laughed with the tall, muscular Sergeant outside the conference room where he and his geographical profile were. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t help but stare, especially when she began to brush up against his arm.

“Woah, careful, genius. The glass might break if you keep staring at it like that.” Rossi snickered as he took a seat at the table, snapping Spencer out of his trance. He huffed and rolled his eyes at the actions of his girlfriend, but tried to focus on the geographical profile again. It wasn’t until 10 minutes later when he heard her footsteps entering the room.

“Hey, guys. Anything new?” She asked, sipping on her fresh coffee. She set the cup she made for Spencer down on the desk. Rossi refrained from answering just for the hell of it, leaving quite the awkward silence as Spencer took his usual passive aggressive route.

“Okay...so anyway, Sergeant Hansen just told me he was able to get access to those files we were talking about. Isn’t that awesome?”

“Mhm, great. Thanks for doing your job.” Spencer snapped under his breath, still facing the board. Y/N’s brows furrowed and she looked inquisitively at Rossi who held his hands up in feigned ignorance. Y/N decided to brush it off and took a seat anyway. They worked in silence until Emily and JJ made their way back from the ME, swinging the door open.

“Hey, woah--it’s a little chilly in here.” JJ joked and they both took their seats, “Everything alright?” She glanced towards Spencer who had a permanent furrow in his brow as he scanned the files Emily just gave him. 

Y/N shrugged, “Yup, just fine.”

“Oh, Y/N, Sergeant Hansen told me to give you this.” Emily said, handing her a small piece of paper. Spencer watched as Y/N took it and laughed at whatever was on it, making his blood boil further.

“What’s...that?” Spencer tried to ask as casually as possible but was sure his jealousy was seeping through every crevice of his body.

“Nothing, it’s silly.” Y/N grinned slightly as she pocketed the paper, “So what did the ME tell you?” 

The case went on, team members filing in and out of the conference room as the daytime turned into nighttime, leaving just Spencer and Y/N now. Y/N yawned loudly and attempted to stretch her legs, standing from her chair and walking over to Spencer’s, where he was hunched over some files. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began to squeeze lightly just as he tensed under her touch.

“Babe, it’s almost 1 am, we should get back to the hotel and get some sleep.” She moved her hands to start combing through his hair with her fingers, nails slightly scratching the scalp, just how he liked. Despite the action doing its job of relaxing him, he remembered that he was still upset and shrugged her hands off his body.

“I can’t. I’ve got to go through all these old files.” Spencer scowled, flipping through the files. She took half a step back, trying not to feel hurt by him rejecting her affection.

“Um, okay. Guess I’ll head back on my own then.” She began to pack her things.

“You should ask Sergeant Hansen to give you a ride.” He said bitterly, a slight quirk to his brow.

She let out a laugh, but not one that was a normal response to humor, “So that’s what this is about?” She stopped to stare at him.

“That’s what what’s about?” Spencer asked impatiently, finally looking up at her.

“That’s why you’ve been acting cagey all day? You didn’t even drink the cup of coffee I made you seven hours ago, so I know for a fact that you’re exhausted by now.” She gestured with her hand to the mug that was still full to the brim.

“I didn’t feel like coffee.” He lied, shrugging like it was nothing. 

She rolled her eyes, beyond exhausted to deal with this after the long day they’ve had, “Whatever, Spencer. I’m back going to the hotel.” She frowned, packing up the rest of her stuff. Spencer could tell that she was genuinely upset and it made him feel kind of bad, but he was too proud to say anything about it.

About an hour later, Spencer made his way back to the hotel room and saw that she had fallen asleep on the far side of the bed, leaving him enough space to get in without touching her. He grimaced at the thought of her going to bed upset with him. He quickly changed out of his work clothes and crawled into bed with her. He attempted to wrap an arm around her waist but she’d pushed it away in her half-asleep state. Spencer sighed and fell asleep on the other side of the bed.

The next morning, they’d gotten ready and gone to the precinct separately. The whole team knew something was off between them. 

“Y/N and Emily, coordinate with Sergeant Hansen and get me all the information you can on the local cleaning companies.” Hotch spoke.

“Of course, sir.” Y/N replied. 

“Provided Spencer doesn’t rip his head off first.” Morgan teased, sending the entire team chuckling.

Spencer snapped his head up quickly, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He said shortly.

“C’mon man, did you really think we wouldn’t notice the daggers you shoot at him after he leaves the room?” Morgan laughed and Spencer denied it immediately.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He blinked, shaking his head.

“Wait, that’s what this is about?” JJ laughed, looking between Emily and Y/N.

“Wait, Reid, are you jealous of the Sergeant?” Emily asked, almost in disbelief. Spencer threw his head back and groaned in frustration.

“In what way is this relevant to the case?!” He practically shrieked.

“So you are!” JJ and Emily burst out laughing, leaving Y/N grinning at her flustered boyfriend.

“Why is everyone laughing?!” Spencer almost flailed his arms around, frustrated.

“Spence! Sergeant Hansen is so obviously not into me!” Y/N exclaimed, a slight laugh following.

“If you’d actually listened to a word he said, you’d find out about his very loving husband, Brendon.” Morgan teased and Spencer’s cheeks immediately began to burn.

“Wait--what? He’s gay?” He pulled a face of utter confusion, “and he wasn’t flirting with you?”

Y/N shook her head, giggling at the sight of her dumbfounded boyfriend.

“Then what was with that paper thing?! I thought he was giving you his number.” 

“No, it’s this stupid game we used to play in high school. We used to write down lame jokes on notes and pass them in class. See? It’s a knock knock joke.” She pulled the paper from her pocket and gave it to him. Spencer stared at it with wild, disbelieving eyes.

Hotch was biting back a smile, “Alright, alright, let’s get back to work.”

Y/N smiled and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek before leaving the conference room with Emily. On their way out, Spencer heard Emily talking about how the first thing Sergeant Hansen told her was how much he’d loved her shoes. For a top-tier profiler, he’d totally missed the clues on this one.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, part 14

Aaaaaaannnnnnd we're done! I literally decided on this ending today and I'm posting it before I start to get THE DOUBTS. I hope you enjoy it and thank you so, so, so much to everyone who's liked/ commented/ messaged along the way.

There's mention in here of an interview that did actually happen a couple of days ago and what's included is pretty much what I've read online. That said, I've embellished some for the purpose of the story, so I'm not claiming to know anything.

Previous sections are on the Master List.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 2,767

Content advisory: other than the usual language, nothing really. Should I be cautioning people about angstiness? Because there's angst.

Thought you should see this.

The toneless message with its link is ruining your day. You can’t stop looking at it, but you don’t want to open the link again because you don’t want David to see it. Not that you have any reason to feel guilty. If anything, he’s the one who has some explaining to do but he also has the biggest match of his life tonight, the one where he can finally put the years of tension and rivalry with Jay behind him. You want to be supportive but you also want some answers.

It can wait, you tell yourself for the hundredth time. You’ll talk about it tomorrow. Or next week. All the time in the world. At least, that’s what you hope.

The whole day, the two of you are together but you have to keep a little bit of distance. Don’t want to get distracted and he has to conserve all the energy he can. Doesn’t stop you from touching each other, of course, but even when you do, it feels like you’re still at a distance. He’s trying not to think about anything except tonight. Or maybe it just looks that way. Maybe he’s thinking about his future beyond tonight, when he moves on. It would be nice to know if he wanted you to move on with him but he’s not letting you in on his plans. Hell, if it were up to him, you wouldn’t even know that there were plans.

You’d expected Jay to have some sort of mocking comments. How come the boyfriend you’re so in love with is giving interviews talking about signing with another company, moving to another state, changing everything about his life, and you don’t know anything about it? How Jay had looked at that interview and immediately known that you weren’t aware of it is beyond you. It’s unnerving sometimes, his ability to figure things out when it comes to you. You suppose it’s one of the reasons he’s always been able to get under your skin and make you do what he wants.

But aside from the initial message, he doesn’t say anything. You think that maybe it was a ploy to see if you’d confront David and start a fight before their match, because that’s exactly the kind of ugly trick Jay loves. When you arrive at the venue, though, you see him getting out of a car at the same time. He doesn’t look scornful, doesn’t shout something insulting, doesn’t strut like a damn peacock in mating season, nothing that you would normally expect from him. He looks straight at you and doesn’t smirk or sneer. On anyone other than Jay White, the look might be interpreted as concern.

Technically, you’re supposed to be there for all the performers but at this point, there’s very little left for you to do. It’s all on them now and if everything turns out to be a garbage fire, it won’t be because of any failings on your part. So you do your rounds to make sure everyone has what they need, knows their cues, gets any questions answered. But you always circle back to where David is and stay for as long as you can before your nerves get the better of you.

And then there’s the one person you should check on, but don’t. You aren’t completely derelict. You check with the people he has around him, you even lower yourself to telling Chris Bey that he can text you if his majesty needs anything. Strangely, you don’t hear anything. You text Jay once to say that you’re available to help. You keep it professional and don’t mention anything about the link he sent earlier, so you’re expecting him to needle you about it, or at least act like you’re useless because you aren’t spending your entire day catering to him. Nothing. You’re almost tempted to go check to make sure he’s not sick because one thing Jay White has never been is one to stay quiet when something is bothering him. Maybe he feels sorry for you, in which case you’d rather he yelled.

You enjoy as much of the show as you can but you spend the last minutes before his match with David, largely quiet, just holding each other’s hands. You walk as far as you can with him and, as his music hits, squeeze his hand extra tight. He turns and gives you a soft, quick kiss before leaning back and doing it again, deeper.

“I love you,” he says, cupping your face in his hand.

“I love you too.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of something. You sound like you’re calling after a train that’s already left the station.

Against your better judgment, you stay where you are. Jay arrives, already acting his part, hands tapping idly on the belt that, in theory, is the reason they’re fighting. You stare at him waiting for him to acknowledge you but there’s nothing. His music swells and he heads out like you’re not even there.

“Just like old times,” you mutter to yourself.

And still.

You watch from backstage as Jay holds his belt up, grinning and preening like he never had a moment’s doubt. You know him well enough to know that’s not true. He keeps cutting looks back at David as if he’s expecting to have to defend himself again, as if he doesn’t believe that he’s truly vanquished him.

The audience doesn’t share his insecurity, cheering him on like he was the hero and David the villain. He’s obnoxious and self-centred but they love him anyway. It makes you feel a little less stupid for the years you’d spent doing the same.

A couple of assistants help David backstage, holding ice to his neck and making sure he doesn’t collapse on the way to the locker room. He looks angry, sullen, and bitter, but not injured, which is a relief. You turn away from the scene in the ring and follow him back to his dressing room, taking over from the dojo students on ice duty when you get there. You don’t speak. You figure it’s better to let him decide when he’s ready.

You’d love to, of course, because despite the fact that you don’t want to make his night worse, it’s becoming unbearable to keep everything inside.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask quietly, picking up a new cold pack.

“Everywhere,” he mumbles.

You hold the ice against his lower back, remembering the awful hit he’d taken on the ring apron.

“You looked great out there.”

“Didn’t feel so great.” He gives you a little smile. “Onward and upward, right?”

“Or southward?” You don’t even mean to say it out loud because this is absolutely not the time to bring it up and certainly not in this passive aggressive way.

“Southward?” He raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about but you can see immediately that he does.

“Nothing, it’s ok.”

He sighs. “What’s southward?”

“Do you need another ice pack?”

“Uh oh, sounds like someone’s been reading the dirt sheets.”

“Just making a joke.” You wish you hadn’t brought this up because now you have to try to cram it back into its hiding space in your brain. And you have to suppress the fact that you’re actually kind of angry.

He watches you, trying to gage your state of mind. “Shouldn’t listen to idle gossip.”

That hits like a slap across the face.

“It’s not gossip, David. You did an interview with Wrestling Observer. If people are speculating or have questions, it’s because of what you said yourself.”

“It’s just talking. I didn’t confirm anything.”

He seems a little proud of this, like he’s very clever for getting people talking about what they don’t know. He doesn’t seem to have an issue with the fact that you’re one of those people.

“It’s all there, though,” you murmur. “Talking about how much you want to work in the States, that you want to try somewhere new, that you’re moving to Florida. You’re going to NXT, right?”

He shrugs and avoids your eyes.

“Were you ever going to tell me about any of this or did you figure I’d be able to piece together where you’d gone from news clippings and Reddit posts?”

“Of course I was going to talk to you. Nothing’s final yet.”

“So you were waiting until you bought a house in Florida and signed a contract with another company? Then what? You’d wake me up one morning and just say ‘bye babe, I’ll be living in another state from now on?’”

“The opportunity came up. This,” he gestures to the two of you, “is still really new. I didn’t want to introduce all these complications.”

“David, I’m not some girl you picked up in a bar. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve talked to me before about your contract renewals. Seems like you could have told me something.”

“I was going to tell you something. When I had a better idea of what I wanted to do.”

“You told a journalist, a ‘dirt sheet’ in your own words, that you’re in the process of moving to Florida. That seems like you have a pretty clear idea.”

“Ok, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out. You don’t even read that stuff normally.”

“You’re aware people are talking about this on social media, right?”

He grunts but doesn’t say anything more. It’s infuriating. He looks resentful that he has to explain himself, like he didn’t think this was going to be an issue for you. Finally, he meets your eyes, guilt very clearly evident now.

“I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I’m an idiot, I could have figured out that you’d see something, or that someone would tell you.”

“It is my job to know stuff like this, all other considerations aside.”

“Believe me, I did not want you getting this from some random dweeb on Twitter.”

“I wish it had been a random dweeb on Twitter.”

He looks surprised and then it’s like part of him collapses when he realizes what you mean.

“Got up this morning to a one line text and a link to the article from our old pal. You know, making sure I’m not out of the loop.”

“Asshole.”

“In this case no. Somehow, you managed to cede the high moral ground to a man whose morals are generally nonexistent.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, this is hardly the ideal moment to have this conversation, but I want to know if and how you see me fitting into this new life you’re going to have.”

He shrugs a little. “How do you want to fit in?”

The realization hits you hard. “You don’t think this is going to last, do you? You didn’t think I was serious.”

“Wanting is a lot easier than having.”

“Maybe for you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just that I… You’re right. I didn’t think I needed to consider you. It wasn’t part of my decision-making process.”

“You’ve been setting this up for weeks. All this has come together at the same time you’ve been with me almost every day. If I wasn’t part of your process, that was the decision right there.”

The two of you stare each other down but there seems to be nothing left to say.

Eventually, you rise to your feet and stammer, “I’m just going to… I need to take a walk or something.”

You wander around the place, watching the crew rushing to pack up. Eventually, you find yourself outside, where the ring still stands, bathed in the glow of the safety lights. It seems forlorn in front of the empty seats but there is still a kind of magic about it. That’s what draws people to this business, you suppose, the feeling of magic.

Since no one else is around, you climb up and through the ropes, kicking off your shoes. You’ve been in one before, but always just to set it up or break it down. You’ve never had an in-ring moment. And there’s a reason for that, which is that you can barely wrestle your way out of your winter coat. But as long as you’re here and you need to do something to take your mind off the sensation that your chest is about to rip.

You run, or jog, from one side to the other, bouncing off the ropes as you do, the way you’ve watched dozens of men doing for years. Although you know the “ropes” are actually steel cables with a plastic coating and you’ve handled them before, it surprises you how much it hurts when you hit them too hard. It’s not the worst pain you have right now.

You pick up speed a little and then practice letting yourself “bump”, a fancy way of saying fall flat on your back. Each time, you knock the wind out of yourself a little but you get right back up and continue your running. Finally, you have enough momentum that you’re able to just roll yourself into a somersault, and sure, it’s not the most perfectly executed thing, but you keep your body straight and you pop right back up. Just like a pro.

“Ta-da!” you say to yourself.

That’s when the tears come. It’s not falling to pieces, but the stew of emotions inside you just starts to leak out. What the hell do you do now?

There are some footsteps behind you, echoing a little in the empty arena, and you see a man’s approaching shadow loom behind you, pushing his long hair back from his face as he crouches down. So you’re not startled when a thick pair of arms wraps around you and you feel his face pressed against your neck.

“Come home.”

You give an unhappy laugh. “Home is kind of a weird concept right now, Jay.”

“You’re always home for me. I guess I was hoping you felt the same way.”

You snap your head to look at him, pulling back enough so that you can focus on his eyes. In all the time you’ve known him, you don’t think he’s ever looked as calm as he does in this moment.

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Yeah, I get to be a target for a while longer.”

“Stop pretending you don’t love it.”

“Sure, I love it. It’s nice. There are other things I love more.” He runs his fingers over your cheeks, cleaning away the remains of your tears. “I’m sorry about sending you that story earlier.”

“All the shit you’ve pulled over the years and that’s the thing you apologize for?”

“Oh I meant I’m sorry that I had to be the one to send it. I don’t want you to shoot the messenger or anything.”

“If I haven’t shot you by now, I think you’re safe.”

He laughs and pulls you back against his chest, kissing down your cheek and neck. Then he stands, pulling you right up with him and letting his lips trail over the crown of your head.

“Come on.” he whispers, taking your hand.

“Wait, I need my shoes.”

You dart over to pick them up and he’s right there to help you into them and to lead you through the ropes and down the stairs. That’s when he plants his lips on yours, firmly, so that you can feel it in your knees.

“I need to go get my suitcase inside.”

“Do you always carry everything with you wherever you go?”

“I’m headed straight to the airport from here. Catching a red eye back.”

“Skip it. Leave tomorrow.”

“Just like that?”

“Sure. I have a really nice room.”

“I know you do, I booked it.”

“Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

“Oh wow, he noticed.”

He kisses you again, a little longer, digging his fingers into your back, and your body melts against him of its own volition.

“I’m not coming back if everything is just going to go back to the way it was, Jay.”

“I didn’t come running after you because you’re good at managing my schedule.”

You give him a sceptical look but you can't entirely keep from smiling.

“Look at me,” he grins, “I’m a god. Any woman would want me and you have me. You should feel like you won the lottery.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, letting him wrap an arm around you as you walk away together, “I won.”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Oh great, McGonagall’s back to being a bitch again in this new TLSQ 🙄

Is anyone ready for another rant? Because I've got another rant.

My friend messaged me after this quest came out and simply said "Tell me this quest pissed you off too." I hadn't seen it yet, so I went to watch the footage. Having just finished...oh god.

Going into the quest, I wasn't angry. At first, I was mostly bewildered. Unlike the Torvus TLSQ, this one doesn't really beat you over the head with mean-spirited guilt-tripping. But it does follow the interpretation that MC is to blame for the chaos. And that idea is so ludicrous that I was genuinely laughing. To hear McGonagall say "Be that as it may, your actions have caused this." Was unintentionally hilarious. What actions? MC was a bystander. They were just hanging out with their friends. Badeea is the one who painted the Portrait, and it was painted for Jae. MC didn't do anything. But the rest of this quest will send them on a wild goose chase to appease everyone else.

Here's a question. Why does Badeea all but disappear from the plot when she arguably had the most agency in this problem? Why do Jae and MC get threatened with detention...and not Badeea? She literally painted the offending Portrait. That's not even getting into how silly it is to blame the students for this fiasco in the first place, but as long as you're going to...why hold Jae and MC accountable, but not Badeea? Why does MC have to paint the portrait that will be used to distract Sir Cadogan? Badeea says that it's because her paintings are what started this mess, and she's afraid of causing more trouble. Fair enough, but that doesn't really change the fact that she is the only character who knows how to paint enchanted portraits. She is the only one with any skill in this. That said, I wouldn't change this for the world because the fanged puffskein is adorable. Let me hug him. Let me hug him! He reminds me of my kitty.

The Portraits are to blame for this mess. That much is as clear as day. And yet no one is willing to hold them accountable. No one voices the idea that maybe this is their fault, and that maybe we shouldn't be prioritizing their wishes. This is the Peeves Arc of Year 5 all over again, and people didn't just hate that arc for being filler. Why is the Fat Lady not chastised for leaving her post? Why must we cater to her demands? Why must we go on a scavenger hunt that takes all day, why do we have to play by their rules? Pick up the damn portrait and shake it until the Fat Lady and the others take the hint. Hold the damn thing over a fire if you want to really scare them. (Ruthless? Perhaps, but Gail would do that. She wouldn't actually burn the Portrait but the Fat Lady doesn't know that.) Better yet, McGonagall could solve this pretty easily by invoking teacher authority. Even if that failed, at least she couldn't very well expect two students to solve the problem that she couldn't solve...which uh, why were MC and Jae expected to solve this again?

There are countless Portraits in t his castle. Why did the Fat Lady and others decide out of the blue to leave their posts for Badeea's latest painting? This is far from the first time she's made one. This can't be the first time a painting of the Three Broomsticks has crossed Hogwarts' halls. The Three Broomsticks also isn't that exciting considering that you can paint just about anything. Why is Gryffindor Tower sealed like a Cursed Vault without the Fat Lady? Can't Dumbledore open it with magic? Can't they get another Portrait to stand in? Y'know, like they did in POA when the Fat Lady left her post? There are obvious solutions here, and unlike POA, the Fat Lady isn't exactly fearing for her safety. She's just throwing a tantrum. Couldn't McGonagall dismiss her, or at least threaten to, over something like this? The question that burns in my throat again and again is "Why is this our problem?" The quest tries to create a justification, but mostly it doesn't really care to. The reason we have to help isn't because it's our fault, it's because McGonagall will punish us if we don't.

The Portraits are whiny and entitled in this quest, but that's not even the worst part. Holy uncanny valley, Batman, what in god's name was up with that art style? Violet and the Fat Lady look genuinely disturbing, like they came out of a horror game. And you have to spend extended periods of time talking to them. I won't lie, I got uncomfortable. At least it was a distraction from the madness that was this plot. Once it got to the part where MC had to recite a poem to "Percival the Prat" I just kind of put my tea down and had a moment of reflection on how far this quest had taken us, and all of the stupid nonsense that MC was doing to appease these portraits. And all because they were threatened with detention if they didn't sort all this out, even though it wasn't their problem...deep sigh. There's a theme in this quest about listening to your friends and respecting their wishes...but this is not realized well at all. MC tried to do a nice thing for Jae and had no way of knowing it would all collapse. This situation did not arise because they failed to specifically ask Jae if he wanted their help. (He kind of hinted that he did, in the first place.)

Jae. Oh Jae. You were pretty whiny in this quest, yourself. Moping about at the start and then blaming everything on the person who checked in on you. Look, on one hand, I felt genuinely bad for him. McGonagall threatening him with detention on his damn birthday when he's always in detention and specifically opened up about how this was the one day of the year that he didn't want to be stuck there...and what he do, exactly? Not what did he do that was wrong, what did he do, at all? He was given a present. He didn't ask for it. He was simply given a present, that happened to go extremely wrong. McGonagall, what on earth are you playing at? Jae literally did not do anything, and he's a Gryffindor, so he's just as screwed by the Fat Lady's desertion as the others. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but wouldn't it have made far more sense for the teacher in this quest to be Snape? Might have taken a bit of tweaking, but it would have been worth it. Speaking of, they had the nerve to reference not only the Dragon Club quest, but the Torvus quest. Trying my patience, game...

But even though I felt bad for Jae at first, my sympathy evaporated when he was passive aggressive, and later directly aggressive toward MC. As if any of this was their fault. Okay, so they had the idea to try and help Jae on his birthday. So? What does that have to do with the Fat Lady abandoning her post, or the other Portraits refusing to play ball? What does that have to do with the obscenely unreasonable terms that McGonagall issued? She didn't just stick this task on Jae's shoulders, MC was roped in as well. They're in this boat together and Jae blaming MC, even in the low-energy way he goes about it...just rubbed me the wrong way. I know this day was important to him...and maybe my personal opinions are shining through, but...it's only a birthday. You can celebrate your traditions tomorrow, or the next day, just as easily.

Wasn't a fan of the ending either. I couldn't believe my eyes when McGonagall asked MC to describe "what they had learned" and that she would listen, and then "decide their fate." I beg your pardon but what?! That was not the deal we made. At all. By this point MC has been running about the castle, working their ass off, just to fix this problem that has nothing to do with them. They did everything McGonagall demanded of them. They actually succeeded at this fool's task. After all of that, McGonagall is still considering detention? I could ramble about how unreasonable that is, but I think that's pretty obvious. So instead I'll just ask...aren't Gryffindors supposed to be honorable? Isn't McGonagall the Head of Gryffindor? She's still claiming the moral high-ground as she breaks her word?

Beyond that, I hate this. I hate being told to kneel and kiss the ring. Might be taking this a bit too seriously, but it's the same nonsense as the Torvus TLSQ. The same final insult, where MC is forced to write up an essay about what they learned, about why they were in the wrong, and the asshole who started all this was in the right. Not only did MC have to put up with this endless nonsense, they have to show that they "learned their lesson" and agree that what they went through was right. Or it's off to detention with them. This is why I couldn't enjoy the final party. I wasn't invested in Jae's happiness, or in saving his birthday traditions. I didn't care. I don't even imagine Luca going, I think they'd just wish Jae happy birthday and head back to their dormitory.

Y'know, I'm not sure what they're trying to do with McGonagall. I've always said that Luca's character involves them eventually growing to distrust and dislike the Hogwarts staff, minus Flitwick. And I've always struggled to justify including McGonagall in that group. Because if you've the read the books, you know she's fucking awesome. But as of recent quests...I don't think it's going to be hard for me to justify it anymore. HPHM has given me plenty of ammo, plenty of reason for Luca to dislike her. After this, and the Dragon Club quest...The Teacher Appreciation TLSQ feels pretty sour.

[creepypocky]

Hello dear! May I have a romantic and Nsfw creepypasta match-up please? Feel free to ignore this if they are closed but if you do choose to do this then thank you so much! I hope you have a great day/night!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm a big extrovert, goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back. I can have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.

Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting.

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything. Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

So for the nsfw part.....I'm very shy and i'd like it if someone guided me. But i'm 100% a Bottom and I love praise and maybe a tiny bit of degradation. I also have a big ownership kink like if someone tells me that i'm their's....then I might die. Also if they told me that they "Needed" me I would also die on the spot...in a good way. I'm also a sucker for marking like lovebites and hickies? Yes please. But please tease me and edge me because I prefer not having control so someone else being in control is just...lovely. Also pet names! Like Sunshine, Babygirl, Doll....AHHhh I might melt. Things I don't like are impact play or the whole "Daddy kink" It kinda just makes me cringe

I also don't think I really have a type but.....I do tend to love people who are brooding, and intimidating on the outside but a big teddy bear on the inside because that's how I am sometimes. I hate people who are fake or just passive aggressive because they are super annoying to deal with and honestly if you have something to say then just say it to my face rather than behind my back.

Hello :)

|| I enjoyed reading through this. I'll definitely work on it now. ||

I match you with ~ Jeff The Killer!

First off, he really likes your size and style, he has a think for small girls that can still be tough and that’s something he loves showing off when you get together lmfao, he’s like, “Yeah, my girls strong. Fuck you gonna do about it?”

Now, Jeff is a really unstable, violent guy. A lot of people (even me) don’t even see him ever being interested in being in a relationship, so when the creeps saw Jeff with his arm around you, they were immediately baffled by it.

The truth is, though, this man totally wants to have someone by his side, someone that accepts him even though he’s a killer. Someone that’s open to his feelings and is willing to look past all of the horrible shit he’s done.

You’re like that to him, it took him a very long time to get used to how he felt for you at first. At first he thought his brain was just being stupid, but Jeff isn’t dumb. He knows what these feelings feel like, and he recognized them almost immediately after that.

Jeff is really insane, and he constantly leans on you for support and depends on you to keep him leveled at times. It can get pressuring, but despite it all he always makes sure to not blame you if he ends up doing something dumb because he knows it’s not your fault.

He finds your clothing style pretty hot, he really loves badass kind of outfits with leather and band names, because as I said, he loves to show off that his girl is “cool” or something.

He thinks your resting bitch-face and cold exterior is really badass too, being around you always gives him so much confidence and its a great change from the usual fake confidence he has around everyone that he keeps up as a defense mechanism when in reality he was always pretty insecure.

I honestly think Jeff is an extrovert too, like he loves being around people and interacting with them (When they’re not normal people and don’t think he’s hideous, that is). I canon this mostly because when hes alone, then he’s also alone with his thoughts and his thoughts always end up wandering to his insecurities and what he hates about himself, but you often catch him during these times and you reassure him that everything will be okay and that you still love him.

He totally relates to being the friend that says stupidest shit, you two will often just go up to one of the creeps and just start spouting random shit. He honestly fucking loves being goofy with you, and you two are always creating awesome memories together when you prank the other creeps and sometimes each other and he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you do stupid shit that gets you in trouble or puts you in danger, he’s always quick to get to you and make sure you’re okay, he would probably panic a lot though. Like, “What the fuck, dumbass?” “How the HELL did you do that???“ as he’s frantically trying to solve the situation. Will most definitely sit there and laugh at you for a good 5-10 minutes once the whole thing is dealt with though.

You being able to stick up for your friends is one of the great qualities about you that he absolutely adores, especially since before he became a killer he would always get bullied and nobody would ever stick up for him, so one day when you defend him against a bunch of assholes it just warms his heart up and makes him feel so loved, but he most likely wont admit that.

He’d let it slip eventually though.

When you’re feeling self-destructive, he is 100% there for you. Although he’s not really the best at giving advice, he’ll still sit there with you and let you talk your heart out and will listen to every single word because he wants to show that same contribution towards you that you’ve shown him. He’ll constantly reassure you that not everything is your fault and that you’re strong, and he’ll make little promises to you.

If it was a person in particular making you feel that way though, he’d definitely make sure to pay a visit to the motherfucker.

He admires your determination to fight for the things you want, but to an extent. He hates it when you overwork yourself or push beyond your limits to the point where it destroys you, and he wants you to know that you’re not alone and you can ask for help, you don’t have to destroy yourself. He’s more than willing to stay right there, by your side.

He understands hiding your true emotions, because well, he’s had to do it a lot around the other creeps and around his family when they were still alive. So he won’t ever push you to talk about somehting if you don’t want to, but he doesn’t want you to pretend to be okay either. He’s more than willing to just lay with you and do whatever you want if it would make you feel better.

He honestly likes how you have a southern accent at times, when he’s feeling upset or like his sanity is draining, your accent really soothes him so sometimes he’ll ask you to lay it on thick because he could honestly listen to you talk to him and listen to your accent all day if he wanted to.

It’s good that you like cigarette smoke because I canon this man smokes very often.

When it storms at night, he’ll always hold you close to him with a blanket and just listen to the storm sounds with you because it soothes him too. This man is really pent up from feeling driven to constantly murder and just sitting with you listening to the rain and thunder is one of the main things that level him.

He’s really not the best.... at cooking.... but, this means you can cook often for him since he won’t for himself. B)

He will just put you in a car and drive for hours to no destination and blast that 80s and 90s music just to see that smile on your face.

This man will 100000000000% destroy any spider within a 10 mile radius of you.

He understands not liking people who are fake because there were a lot of people who talked shit about him when he went to school, and when he has a problem with someone he will always say it to their face and make them understand that they’re a piece of shit to him.

NSFW:

You like being dominated and guided? Good, because this man is at least 95% a top. He thinks it’s adorable that you’re shy and will most definitely be willing to guide you through the whole thing and tell you exactly what to do for him.

Jeff is really possessive tbh, so when he’s fucking you he will constantly say shit like,

“Fucking mine”

“You’re nobody elses“

“You belong to me, only”

This man will definitely bite you everywhere, he lives to just throw you down onto the bed and start biting everywhere on your body and making sure to leave marks just so you know exactly who owns you.

Don’t worry honey, he will spend hours just filling you with his cock and telling you that you cant cum unless you beg more, or he’ll just pull out right when you’re about to cum on him and just slap your folds with his fingers as a way to make fun of you.

He’ll call you things like, “baby” “dollface” “darling” when he’s feeling passionate but oh boy if he’s feeling angry or he’s punishing you? Be prepared to be degraded all night.

There we go <3

Sorry if this is too long lmfao, I just think that Jeff is a really misunderstood piece of shit. I hope you’re having a great day and taking care of yourself, and I hope you enjoyed this matchup. :)

[silentprincess0302]

I’ve watched I Told Sunset About You at least 5 times in a row now, but I apparently have no one to rant to and I NEED to rant so bear with me.

First of all can we just appreciate how beautiful the story is? The way it’s portrayed, the way they talk, the location, songs, idk everything is just so poetic. I love how some scenes didn’t need words, and you’d understand it anyway. I love how there are no actual bad guys. The ones they are fighting with are themselves. And everyone has a personality. There’s a story in each and every one of those beautiful, well-written and portrayed characters. I’ll rant about how the story amazes me another time, I just need to focus on the two- Teh and Oh-Aew.

1. Teh

He’s an enigma. Like there’s so much going on with him and sometimes (or most of the times), he doesn’t even understand himself. And there’s so much added to his inner turmoil and identity that just makes me want to try and piece the puzzle but at the same time smother him with a pillow and blanket and yell “PLEASE REST AND BE HAPPY.”

First of all, his family. God, I can’t even start to say how much I relate to him with this. Being compared to hurts like hell. It’s like every thing you do, every step you take, you’d think “Would this be approved? Is this right? Or is this wrong and I’ll be compared again? Will they be proud of me? Will I ever be number 1?” You seek approval for your whole life. First your family, and it will branch out to your whole life. It’s haunting. He solidified his dream to become an actor because his mom was, for once, seemed so proud and excited at the prospect (I’m sure she is proud of him, it’s just that SHOWING it is another story).

And then there’s Oh-Aew. God. The person who shook his entire world. His entire being. If I’m to use Twighlight terms, I’d say he really imprinted on Oh-Aew, and it’s not hard to not see it. There’s a few posts talking about it on Tumblr, and I absolutely agree with them. It’s like, Oh-Aew is really the centre of his world (whether he realises it or not). I know they were kids when they fought, but that person has to be super important to you if it affects you that deeply. They say there’s a thin line between love and hate, and I think this is a good example of it. And to have a strong rivalry meant the love was strong as well- to be able to cross the line.

But “enemies” might be too strong of a word as well. It’s kind of funny, how Teh acts a bit tough and kind of picks a fight with Oh-Aew when what he did the moment he saw Oh-Aew was staring at him again and again. And it’s not even the hate kind of stare. Fascination? Wonder? Curiosity? Longing? Yeah, he talks big with Tarn about their “animosity ” but is it really animosity when he keeps staring, keeps scrolling through this person’s ig, keeps thinking about this person? Who the hell copies someone’s hairstyle if you want to be their enemy? Wouldn’t an enemy want something equally or more amazing, but different? Also he had the audacity to not acknowledge the fact that he was staring at him the whole damn day when Oh-Aew pointed it out. Oh Teh. This is just the tip of the ice-berg.

And when he finally made up with Oh Aew, the dam bursts. He thinks of ways to be close to him again, and not just as friends, but as BEST FRIENDS. He wanted to go “hardcore” immediately and chose his weapon- tutoring. He wanted Oh-Aew with him. He didn’t quite understand why, but he NEEDED Oh-Aew with him. And he wants Oh-Aew to acknowledge it, and see it the same way. He wanted to be special to Oh-Aew too, just like how he is to him. He gets unsettled and upset when he feels like he’s been treated the same as their other friends, and I find this so interesting. He went intense so quick, that I don’t doubt that these intense feelings were there since they were kids. It’s just, at that time, they were kids. As people age, feelings grow into different things, and I guess these their feelings grow to desire, fascination, longing, and love. (Also I squeal every time he admits this. “I don’t like it when ...”)

And his desire grew even more. The more time he spends with Oh-Aew, the more he seems to be wanting to possess him. To see him. To be in his presence. When Oh-Aew’s not there, he’s so unsettled. He touches random things, he paces, tosses around.. He’s lost. But his desire was so apparent. Sometimes, the way he looks at Oh-Aew, it seems like he wanted to devour him whole. This aspect, I feel, clicked when he sniffed his “friend”’s hair so intensely. Damn, the way he sniffed.. You can see the desire. He literally sniffed with his whole body!! Damn. And from there it gets intense and more intense. He’s suddenly aware of it bit by bit. “Coconut, coconut, coconut.” He went home, sniffed the coconut. I use the word sniff and it sounds super cute, but he didn’t do it very cutely haha. Sensual would be more fitting. The scent that he used to hate, is now the scent he seems to yearn as well. Desire by association?

I don’t think he’s stupid, and he’s damn aware that there’s something different he’s feeling about Oh-Aew. He might not understand it at that moment, so he started to play a bit dumb, continue with Tarn, and act “normal”. Is that really normal though, Teh? And Oh-Aew, bless his wit (or else we’ll forever see this static state) made him realize that boy, think different. Think, desire. Think, love. The scene at the beach, the coy atmosphere, was beautiful. I love how Oh-Aew coaxed him gently, and didn’t force him to come to him. To let Teh see him that way. The possibility. And when Teh just came to him, followed him around, desire just radiating in waves, eyes heavy-lidded with it,.. Ah, their relationship shifts yet again. And the scene where he “scratched” his back, Teh was almost lost in it. Almost gave in. Until he touched Oh-Aew’s chest and well damn. He’s a boy. And he slips away.

It’s not that simple, because this wasn’t his plan. He wanted to go to his chosen university, make his mom proud, make his family proud, succeed, have a good career, have a family with Tarn (which his mom apparently will be proud of so, bonus points). And where does Oh-Aew fit in this? Ideally, a friend would be perfect, but they’re not exactly friends, are they? But if he chooses Oh-Aew, what about his plans? His mom? The person who he seeks approval the most. It’s too much.

So he overcompensates with tutoring, the thing that made sense to him. What fits. But it hurts both of them. To Oh-Aew, who wanted Teh’s heart, and Teh, who also wanted Oh-Aew, but is trying to hold himself back and pushes Oh-Aew away, YET try to be close through tutoring. He wants to get away, but he can’t. He mentally, emotionally, and physically can’t. So he made the idioms book, in hopes Oh-Aew would appreciate it, and possibly forgive him (while staying friends?). But why was he lying to himself? The moment he saw Oh-Aew receiving his book, he couldn’t leave. He paced, and he peeked again. And he just can’t win. He’s lost in Oh-Aew’s presence and gaze, and the yearning builds up again, and he wanted to be close, close, close to Oh-Aew. He wanted to inhale his scent, inhale Oh-Aew. When they finally hugged behind the staircase, it’s like, ah, yes. I’m grounded again. (Also can we appreciate the music and cinematography during this scene? BEAUTIFUL). Still in this grounded trance, they went swimming, until oh, he’s pulled down, to a place where no one could see them, no one could judge them. And that’s when he finally let his yearning take over more and kiss him. Finally have him where he actually wanted him, but wasn’t possible due to the reality, the world, people around him. Masterpiece of a scene. Istg.

But of course, everything went straight to hell after. Sure, there were initial blissful moments, and then, when he realized that ah, this is the world again, he took two steps back, and broke Oh-Aew’s heart, and his own. And he knows this. Knows that he actually really damaged them now, and when he was told he couldn’t be friends anymore, it crushed him. How would he be able to live without Oh-Aew? His world. His anchor. So he grasped at things to save his world when he knows Oh-Aew was hurting, and made one desperate, big-scale attempt. Give up his place at university. His dreams. He gave everything to Oh-Aew. He can’t bear to see him suffer and lose his dreams, so he gave up his. I just, I can’t describe it in words.

This was a huge sacrifice. Might be the biggest sacrifice yet. And damn, Oh-Aew didn’t take it? He rejected his efforts, rejected him. The world he was protecting, rejected him (I’ll talk about Oh-Aew later). It hurts. And when he opened the pages of his book, it’s all cut out. He’d already given everything to Oh-Aew. And the one thing he had, the one weapon he had, tutoring, he can’t use it anymore. He just lost both his spot, and Oh-Aew. It hurts. It hurts.

I like that he was a bit passive aggressive at class, and he hinted that Oh-Aew shouldn’t have taken his efforts so lightly, etc. But when Oh-Aew didn’t quite return his passive aggressiveness, and he had this sincere exchange conversation with Bas instead, Teh’s world stopped again. How could Bas tell Oh-Aew what he wanted to tell him so easily? Why is everyone okay about it? How was it so easy? And there it is. He saw Oh-Aew smiling. “This was what I couldn’t give him. Now I lost him.”

He doesn’t have any more cards. No tutoring cards. He only had his words and his heart. But if he can’t fully accept himself, how’s he supposed to face Oh-Aew? Losing Oh-Aew was devastation. The conversation he had with Hoon was so important. The first time he confessed his feelings out loud. With words. And Hoon’s reply.. I just. Wow, he’s a wonderful brother. And ah, now that he had some acceptance, he could finally accept himself. But he can’t do anything at the moment of course, because Oh-Aew’s with Bas now.

So he fulfills his promise to Oh-Aew at least. I wonder what he was thinking at this point. Did he come to terms that he won’t be close to Oh-Aew anymore? Was he ready to let him go? AND THEN THE MIGHTY SCENE. When Oh-Aew said he just wants Teh to not disappear on him and could be anything Teh wants, Teh’s just like. “Ah. My world’s coming back together. And I’m ready.” “If I can be anything, can I be your boyfriend?”

UGHHHHH THE AMOUNT OF FEELS. Teh’s character is SUCH a journey, but it’s a book I’d love to read and reread, and discover the little things I haven’t discovered before. I love how complex he is, and that we can see so clearly his struggles, turmoil, yearning, and finally, acceptance.

2. Oh-Aew

One thing that I would love is more insight on Oh-Aew’s character. But he, too, is a whole character journey. Have you ever felt like you had no aim? Nowhere to head to, just a mindless walk?

Oh-Aew didn’t have a dream. He didn’t want anything, but it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. It sounds like it’s nothing much, but imagine being in a desert. With no directions. Or like a dark room, where you desperately try to find a light, just somewhere to look at, somewhere to go, something to do.

And then he found it, his light. His passion. Acting. It’s like when a starved man finally sees food, or when a locked person finally sees the world. He sees motivation. He sees purpose. He sees something he could strive for, and make his parents proud of him. Now imagine that when you finally found that motivation and sense of purpose, someone who you care about, someone you hold dear and never thought would betray you, says you wouldn’t be able to do it, and that you’d give up anyways.

I don’t know how to stress this, but being told that you’re incapable of succeeding at a young age really affects your thinking. Humans by nature, don’t like to be told what they can or cannot do, and it’s the same for Oh-Aew. So he takes that as a challenge, and tries his whole life to prove Teh wrong. To be honest, it’s both a blessing and a curse. A curse because he had ongoing thoughts about how he needs to be the best, and that he needs to prove someone wrong. But a blessing because he now has another motivation to strengthen his attempts to reach his dreams. Personally, I, too, find competitions a push for me to be better. But it also had negative impact on me. I wasn’t satisfied with anything I achieved, I just wanted to bulldoze through. And if there’s even a smallest mistake, I’d beat myself up. It’s not a healthy lifestyle.

And when he finally met with this person again, not only did he keep on staring at him, he also brought up his academic weakness and implied that he’ll fail. Again. Again. And what’s worst is he was partly right. He didn’t get the placement.

Okay I’m going to stop there for Oh-Aew’s motivation and ambition, because I’ll get emotional lol I relate too much. So on to Teh.

What’s interesting about Oh-Aew is that I’m not really sure what he’s thinking, and he’s quite a mystery. But at the same time, he has this presence that’s just, healing and addictive. He doesn’t force, doesn’t push. He coaxes, he’s gentle. But he knows what he wants, and he’s clear about it. I’d love to know the thoughts he had for Teh when they met, though. Because, even though we weren’t shown what was going through his head, or the degree of which he thought of Teh, he obviously sees Teh as different from the rest.

When Teh told him he’s upset that he’s being treated like everyone else, Oh-Aew was just like. “Bestie, why didn’t you tell me? Let me affirm your position. Here’s my big secret.” WITHOUT hesitation. He didn’t think it was weird or anything, all he wanted was to make Teh smile again. And he’s so in tune with Teh. Whenever Ten’s upset, he just knows, asks, and he’ll wait for Teh to be ready, and when he’s ready, he’ll listen to Teh and comfort his unease. I understand how Teh would be so entranced. Oh-Aew was like a breath of fresh air, the quiet comfort, yet alluring and addictive.

And one of my favorite parts would be when Teh told him to not give his time to others, Oh-Aew said it to him right back with such a challenging look on his face. And I think it’s interesting, because he doesn’t really show that much aggression (it wasn’t really aggressive, but he had a harder tone than usual). It shows how Oh-Aew is quite clever in hiding what he wants to hide, or maybe he could even store it in a secret box inside his head and try to ignore it. I’m saying this because we kept seeing how Teh checked and rechecked who saw his story with Tarn, but he couldn’t see Oh-Aew’s name, and Oh-Aew didn’t really seem affected by it. But when Teh mentioned about time, he suddenly took off mask and it’s as if he said, “You’re bothered with me giving your time to others? Okay my bad, but you’re also giving my time others. You think I don’t know? I’m also bothered.” And at this point I was like, ah, so Oh-Aew does notice. And he does gets bothered. It continues on to Teh sniffing the hell out of his hair and he’s just like what? And he thinks, and he thinks, and he looks at the coconut shampoo. And he thinks.

Teh.

And he puts on more shampoo, which suggested how he actually welcomes the thought of Teh liking the smell on him. He wants Teh to like him. More coconut, more coconut. Like me.

But he’s patient, Oh-Aew is. He doesn’t push Teh, he just observes, tests, and when he’s quite sure, he launches his gentle yet dangerous attacks. He made sure Teh was looking at him, thinking of him (not that he actually needed to, Teh was already full of Oh-Aew thoughts HAHA but it does help, to push Teh a bit), and he coaxes. He introduced the possibility of them gently.

But how long could a person wait? How many times can a person get rejected? When he realized he liked Teh, he didn’t tip toe his way around Teh like he did with Bas, he went full force. It’s like, just as Teh was like a hungry lion, Oh-Aew was a prey enticing to be eaten. He wanted to be eaten. He liked Teh’s attention, wanted Teh’s attention, more than anything. He wanted him. After all, Teh was behind his motivation his whole life. He wanted Teh to see him, to love him, to embrace him. Accept him. How long can he be patient? The lion knows he’s hungry, but he refuses to eat. Yet; the lion keeps the prey to himself, to his clutches, to his territory. But the lion won’t do anything directly, so is the prey not worthy enough to be eaten? If not, why put it in the lion’s yearning clutches?

Every time Teh seemed to move forward, Oh-Aew gets disappointed when he moves two steps back. And it’s maddening, because now Teh is just at the center of his world, but he can’t access it. There’s a wall, and this wall keeps him from truly being with Teh. And he’s so addicted to Teh, to Teh’s attention, and he wants more. He had the taste of it, but just as he gets to taste- it’s gone. And he knows why. And it goes back to his own anxiety of being not worthy. Not worthy of a dream, not worthy for a person. Are his parents even proud of him? He desperately tried to change, maybe if I change my gender, he’d like me? He’d accept me? But of course it’s not possible; and it breaks him. Is he even worthy of anything?

And he decided to give up. I might be just assuming, but it’s as if “I’m not smart, why bother. I’m not lovable, why bother.” And he wanted to lock himself in that dark room again, to be aimless, to be numb, to not feel anymore of the pain of not being enough.

And this is the part where I want to rant the most. His rejection of Teh’s place in university. Yes, at first I questioned it too, but did he look happy at all when he rejected it? People have mentioned that Teh’s sacrifice was the answer to Oh-Aew’s earlier question “If the teacher chose you, would you have given it to me?” (Somewhere along these lines). That yes, he would give it up to Oh-Aew.

But Oh Aew too, was answering an accusation made on him. He doesn’t, and never did, want to steal Teh’s dream. All he wanted was an inspiration, a rival to compete with, not to crush. Not to destroy. To me, Teh giving up his place could mean two things to Oh-Aew: Teh was first offering to be destroyed, and second, it would mean that the whole rivalry, inspiration, chase, ambition was colored gray when before it was a burning bright red. There was an idiom that they learned, “Easy pickings.” To get something when you didn’t put so much effort in. And I think, if I was in his place, I’d feel that it was an easy picking, because someone intentionally gave it to him on a silver platter. More so, his love, his rival, his inspiration gave it to him, like the whole competition didn’t matter. I don’t know the intention of the writers, but I feel that it was like Oh-Aew also didn’t want to be the one holding the knife of destroying Teh’s dream. Because he never wanted to. And the competition, the inspiration to his ambition and growth which all started and continued from and around Teh, would mean less. To be a competent rival, he needs to get there by himself.

Also I think if he did accept it, it would be a whole cycle again. Teh would have a card, and he’d never realize that the card’s not what Oh-Aew wants. Oh-Aew only wants his heart. Both of them needed this. Teh needed to know this, and Oh-Aew needed a push to realize his supposed purpose and motivation again. Which he will achieve, by himself, with his own hands, as a worthy rival. And if he gets it, he can say HE did it. He won’t have to feel guilty all his life for “stealing” Teh’s place. Damn. I’ve always wanted to say this since I don’t see much about people talking about Oh-Aew’s side in this.

On to Bas, it’s actually quite heartbreaking to see how he treated Oh-Aew exactly how he wanted. To be accepted and loved without hesitance, to hold hands without a care in the world, to be able receive love without walls. Bas is truly golden. But it’s just not who Oh-Aew wanted. He wasn’t quite Teh, and Bas knows this, and guided him back to Teh. UGH BAS I HOPE YOU FIND SOMEONE AND BE HAPPY.

And finally, the sunset scene. I like how he didn’t apologize about the university placement, but he knew he didn’t want to lose Teh. He already accepted that he might not be what he wants to be by Teh’s side, but he’s willing to take it. Anything. He just wants Teh to not disappear again. And oh, Teh suddenly confessed.

AAAAAAAAAA I CAN’T GET OVER THIS T.T The series is SOOOOO beautiful and well-written. I’m so nervous for Part 2. Pls don’t give them a sad ending. PLEASE. I BEG YOU. Or I might really hypnotize myself to forget the second part and only remember the first one. And and if anyone wants to talk to me and discuss this with me please do!!!!! I love a good discussion T.T and I’m lonely hELP I need to talk about it with someone

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Prompt, Angst, The titan gets badly damaged and a lot of the crew are dead or injured, mariner goes AWOL from the cerritos to find out if boimler is okay and there's a scene with boimler unconscious on a biobed and Mariner is like "you have to live so I can feed you to an armus for leaving the cerritos!"

A/N: you sent this prompt ages ago, but the words just wouldn't happen lmao. So six months late and a few thousand words short, here you go:

ao3

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Beckett keeps files on everyone. Not physical files of course--too insecure and hackable (she should know). But a mental file. Still hackable if she runs into a telepath, but still slightly more secure from the rest of her coworkers.

It’s not as if they’re particularly like. Creepy files. She isn’t snooping into anyone’s actual physical file onboard or obtaining any info illegally. She just observes things and passively marks them for later. Tendi likes peanut-butter sandwiches. Janice gets her neck tattoos re-inked every few months. Captain Mom has a stick up her ass. That kind of thing.

It’s a fine tuned compartmentalization that’s useful in a variety of situations, whether it’s knowing what to say in a social situation or who to trust during a red alert (tip: always go with Rutherford, he’s anxious but the least likely to betray you and throw you out of an airlock. Bonus: he’s the most likely crew member on this trashcan to actually have a working idea).

Some mental files are incredibly detailed. For instance, the one on her mom is about as thick as a handbound copy of War & Peace and just as boring. Everything from her favorite flavor of ice cream to her first response to an emergency situation is in there-incredibly accurate and incredibly detailed. She’s sure her mom has a similar mental file on her as well, but resolutely does Not think about it.

Some mental files are almost empty. Ensign Gent’s toothbrush is pink. First Officer Ransom has nice abs I guess. That dude who’s name I can’t remember opened his third eye and ascended into the afterlife or something I wasn’t actually there Tendi told me and I was on my fourth drink.

And then some are medium sized but entirely unremarkable.

Like Bradward Boimler’s, for instance.

Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Stickler for rules. Needs to loosen up a bit. A lot. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

That’s it, that’s the entire file. Beckett doesn’t really concern herself with whatever’s going on with Boimler beyond the occasional ribbing or co-assignment. It’s not because she doesn’t like the dork. She would tentatively (but never to his face) call him her friend if cornered. And she enjoyed riling him up.

She updates the file about a year (almost two) into her acquaintance with him. FUCKING BACKSTABBING TRAITOR. (That’s it now, that's the entire file.) She doesn’t revisit it again, not for almost eight months, despite Tendi’s cheerful updates on how he’s doing--they’re still in constant contact, despite his ghosting Beckett--and Rutherford’s worried comments on his well-being.

“It’s not our job to babysit him,” she snapped one day. “Hell, it wasn’t our job when he was here. Just let it go.”

And that was the end of that.

______

Okay, that was very much not the end of that.

It starts like this:

“Something’s going on, on the Titan,” Tendi hisses, dropping down into Beckett’s bunk at like 2am. Time doesn’t work the same out here as it does on Beckett’s home planet, but it feels like 2am so she’s calling it 2am. Everyone who’d been on the Alpha shift were pretty much dead to the world anyway, so it might as well have been. The point was, Beckett was sleeping, Tendi should have been sleeping, but instead the two of them are having an anxious stare off in the dark.

And Beckett’s currently having cardiac arrest from being startled so soundly. After her heart starts working again like a human heart is supposed to, the words begin to register. Sort of. “What?”

Tendi flips her padd around. Beckett blinks at the bright light from the screen, squinting to see what’s there.

“Is that morse code? Why the fuck is the Titian using morse code.”

Tendi stares at her unblinkingly, face flat.

Then,

“Oh. Oh shit. Shit!” Beckett sits straight up, throwing the covers off. There’s a few protesting noises and shushes that ensue around the room, but Beckett is already making a blind grab for her pants and shoes. “The fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because people are sleeping,” Tendi whispers. Loudly. She rolls off the bunk and onto the floor, shoes already on. “So we’re going, right?”

“Of course we’re fucking going,” Beckett hisses. “Why wouldn’t-”

“Because you’ve been all hung up over him for the past eight months.”

“He ghosted me!”

“Okay yeah-”

“After accepting a promotion that he promised he wouldn’t-”

“Mariner-”

“He’s a backstabbing, little weasel who climbs over his friends-”

“Is this about that or the fact that you miss him?”

Beckett finishes pulling her shoes on and stands up, scowling. “I don’t miss him. Why are you defending him?”

“I’m pissed too. Don’t get me wrong, when we see him I’m gonna kill him. But I think this is more than that.”

“Whatever.” Beckett turns on her heel. “Are we stealing a shuttle or what?”

“Rutherford’s already on it.” Tendi taps rapidly on her data padd, keeping pace with Beckett’s light job easily. “We were hoping you could like. Let your mom know-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Beckett pulls out her comm, quickly typing out a quick message to her mother. “This is gonna be a shitshow.” The two of them enter the shuttle bay, which is pretty much deserted due to it being beta-shift.

“I have no idea how we’re even going to sneak onto the planet. It’s been on lockdown since the Titian crashed there.” Tendi’s shoulders slump.

“Leave it to me, I know a guy.”

“Of course you do,” Rutherford says, popping head out the shuttle door. “Good to go?”

Tendi gives him a thumbs up.

Beckett straps herself into a chair, stomach churning. “He’s fine though, right? Like, we would have gotten a call. Who’s his emergency contact anyway?”

Tendi worries her lip between her teeth. “His mom? I don’t know, it never came up and I don’t have access to his file.”

“He wasn’t on the list of deceased. Just the missing persons list,” Rutherford offers helpfully, punching in some coordinates.

“Well that’s reassuring,” Beckett mutters under her breath. She stares down at her comm, stomach churning.

_______

“Seriously, what are the odds of this even happening?” Tendi asks, dragging Rutherford by the arm behind them. A severely concussed, disgruntled Rutherford makes a grunt of what Beckett assumes is agreement.

“Do you really want to be arguing about the odds right now?” Boimler shrieks, sliding to an uncoordinated stop as the four of them run directly into the maze wall.

“Fuck,” Beckett says, eloquently.

“I thought you said you knew which way we were going!” Boimler runs a hand through his wet hair, face going through a series of complicated expressions before settling on frustration.

Beckett crosses her arms. “I did know where we were going. When I had the fucking map!”

“Why are you yelling at me about that? I didn’t even have it!”

“I don’t see anyone else here dumb enough to have lost it.”

“Guys-”

“You were the last person with the map, Mariner.”

“Unless some idiot took it out of my pack when I wasn’t looking.”

“Guys.”

“I didn’t touch your stupid map! Why are you so fixated on this!”

“Because if we had the map, maybe we wouldn’t be about to die via giant space spider!”

“Guys!” Rutherford shouts.

Beckett jumps at the unexpected shout from the usually quiet ensign. She turns on her heel, meeting Tendi and Rutherford’s unimpressed stares.

“Lookie, secret passage.” Rutherford waves a hand to a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there like two seconds ago. “You two good? Can we go?”

Beckett pushes past Boimler, lightly shoulder checking him and jumps through the doorway after her two annoyed friends. She doesn’t listen worriedly to see if Boimler follows her (she doesn’t) and she doesn’t resist the urge to turn around and make sure he’s close.

She balls her hands into tight fists and stomps past Tendi and Rutherford, ignoring the exchanged glances. “Please tell me this is a way out.” Her flat voice has the barest hint of a tremble in it.

You’re losing your touch, Mariner, get it together, she tells herself.

Tendi pulls a lighter out of her back pocket. (Because of course D’Vana Tendi has an old timey lighter on hand. There was a reason Beckett liked her after all.) It takes a couple of flicks, but she manages to get it to catch. The small source of light barely lights up their passageway, but it’s enough to see that it leads deeper into the planet.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Tendi sighs. “I’ll take the lead, I guess. You good, Sam?”

Rutherford grimaces, but nods. “Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s just get out of here.”

_______

It would be Beckett’s luck that she and Bomlier get separated from the other two. And it would just be their luck that there’s a cave in just before they reach the end of the catacombs. And of course, of fucking course, the Cerritos’ ETA on getting them out is anywhere from 2-6 hours, depending on how fast they can get the ship up and running again.

If anyone is using buffer time, Beckett is going to put spiders in their pillowcase.

“This is bullshit,” she mutters, dropping into a seated lotus position. She plays with Tendi’s lighter, flickering it on and off again.

Boimler grimaces from across her. “Can you stop that? It’s giving me a headache.”

Beckett makes steady eye contact again and flicks it off again.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself. Or whatever,” Beckett mutters. She flicks the lighter back on.

Boimler makes a face like he’s swallowing back a retort. Instead of snapping back, he jams his hands into his pockets. “Can we- can we just talk about it? Like actually talk about it, not passive aggressively pretend like-”

“Like passive aggressively avoiding your best friend’s calls is okay?” Lighter flicks off again. “Yeah, that seems like bitch move, for sure. Glad I don’t know anyone who does that.”

“I’m sorry,” Boimler says into the dark, voice cracking.

“Fuck you.” Beckett flicks the lighter back on. Boimler’s eyes follow it, eyes dilating slightly as the light hits them. She flicks it off again, plunging the cave into darkness again. She flicks it back on. Boimler leans heavily against the cave wall, not looking at her or the light. He starting to look very pale. Paler than usual.

Beckett wonders about that headache.

“How long were you out here before we got your distress signal?” she asks, keeping her eyes glued to the lighter. She sees him shrug in her peripheral.

“Dunno. A while.”

Her stomach tightens. “You didn’t like. See anything weird?”

“You mean besides you and Tendi hauling ass? Not really.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

“What about strange smells-”

“Mariner.”

“You look pale,” she snaps. “And like super clammy. And I’m not talking about your stressed out will Mariner stop talking clammy, I’m talking like I think you inhaled a deadly neurotoxin kind of clammy.”

“I feel fine! Just the headache. Aaand maybe a slight stomach ache,” he adds at her flat expression. “I always have a stomach ache though-”

“-yeah, yeah, it’s the ulcer you’ve had since you were, like, two, you’re a goddamn medical marvel Boims. Budge over.” She shoves the lighter into his hands and grabs his face. “Are you dizzy,” she asks, peering in closely at his pupils.

Boimler tries to shove her away, but she’s stronger and more stubborn. “A little. Look, it’s just the headache and str-”

“Yeah, do you usually get pink eye from stress?” she asks dryly, pulling back to giving him some breathing room.

“I-what.”

“Your white are like. Super inflamed or whatever. Boimler, I think something’s wrong.”

“Shit.” He rubs his temples. “What’s that ETA again?”

“Six hours. Give or take some buffer time.” Mariner stands up. She’s not worried, she’s not. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Boimler glowers at her in the dim light, hands tightly wrapped around her lighter. “I’m fine.”

______

“Good thing you pulled him out when you did,” Dr T’Ana tells Ransom. “Any longer-” she pauses, seeing Beckett’s expression. “Do you want to know what it was?” she asks her.

Beckett, who’s currently white knuckling the back of the plastic chair by the biobed, shakes her head. “Not really,” she replies, stiffly. “Long-term effects?”

“None,” T’Ana replies, scratchy voice almost gentle. Almost. “So feel free to be as hard on him as you want when he wakes up.”

Ransom barks a laugh, clapping Beckett’s shoulder. “Oh, Mariner knows how to be-”

“If you make a single hard joke in my presence, I’m tossing you back onto that planet,” Beckett replies flatly.

Ransom removes his hand. “Right! Right, I’ll just be on my-”

“Out,” T’Ana and Beckett snap.

There’s a pause after the turbolift doors close after Ransom. Dr. T’Ana eyes Beckett warily for a moment. Then, “Call me if he wakes up with any symptoms.”

“You said-”

“Yeah, well. He has a lot of surprises in him, doesn’t he?” She gives Beckett a pointed look before leaving, grumbling down at her clipboard.

Beckett glares down at the unconscious Boimler. “The shit I go through for your dumb ass.” She flops into the uncomfortable chair. “Wake up already. It’s no fun yelling at you like this.”

____

Surprisingly, Beckett does not yell at Boimler when he wakes up. It’s a near thing, though.

“Well, thanks for not letting me die, I guess,” he says, watching her warily after she’s done ranting. Not yelling, ranting.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” she scoffs. “You’re still my friend, dumbass.”

Boimler perks up in surprise. “What?”

“Look, just because you pulled the ultimate shitty move, doesn’t stop us from being friends. You’re still on notice, though.”

“Right! Right.” He pauses, blinking up at her. “Does it help that I submitted a transfer back to the Cerritos before any of this went down?”

Beckett freezes. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong that was my actual dream job, buuuut-”

“Riker is crazy?” Beckett dryly supplies.

“I thought you were crazy,” Boimler lets out a whooshing breath. “Like I seriously thought you were the most batshit, insane person I’d ever met, hands down. But Riker is certifiable.”

Beckett grins. She can’t suppress it and she’s too tired to try. “So you’re saying I’m preferable.”

“I will take you any day of the week over that.”

“Sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Hmm.” She eyes him critically.

“Soooo,” he draws out the word. “Am I forgiven?”

Beckett picks his shirt up off the end of the biobed and throws it at his face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He pulls it over his head, causing his hair to stick up in the back. Beckett suppresses the urge to smooth it down.

“I like watching you squirm,” she replies. “It soothes my massively inflated ego.”

Boimler barks out a laugh, easing himself out of the biobed carefully. Beckett turns to go--he still has to talk with Dr. T’Ana and possibly her mom over the transfer, and give his full report to Riker--but stops as he catches her wrist in one hand.

“Hey. Thanks.”

Beckett’s heartbeat rackets up a few notches. Stop that, she thinks at it and then stops because thinking at your own organs is weird. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, voice even. “You would have done the same for me.”

It’s true. Boimler may be a bit of a bastard and sometimes a shitty friend, but she has no doubt he’d have come running if it’d been the Cerritos accosted.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all I do with you.”

“What?”

He drops his gentle grip on her wrist. “Nothing. Just.” He shrugs, looking cagey. “I know I’ve been a bit of a-”

“Bitch?”

“--yeah, that lately. But. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. And that’s why I’m coming back. Because-because you deserve to know that. That you're my best friend, too.”

Her face heats up. “Yeah, well,” she mumbles. “Whatever.” Jams her hands into her pockets. “Don’t think I’m just gonna forget everything because you-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “I just thought you should know.”

____

Beckett can feel the blush on her cheekbones until she reaches her bunk. Fuck, she thinks. Fuuuuuck.

She opens up her mental file on Boimler, crossing out whatever she had in there before. Best friend, she replaces it with. Stares at it for a long moment. Erases it. Puts it back.

Bradward “Brad” Boimler. Best friend. Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Has made some improvements, but still needs to loosen up a bit. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

You could help with that.

Best friend. She underlines in the file. You don’t have feelings like that for your friends.

Beckett throws herself into her bunk. She had the horrible, sneaking suspicion that Brad Boimler’s file was about to get a lot longer.

_______

[tuanhood]

miss goody two shoes

pairing: drug dealer!bambam x reader

genre: smut, angst?

warnings: 18+, language, drug use/mention, fingering, dirty talk, public and unprotected sex.

word count: 6k+

summary: you want to prove to everyone you’re not the good girl they all think you are. your best friend’s drug dealer? perfect choice. 

a/n: hello back with that smut everyone loves. this is unedited and quickly(ish) written so please don’t judge. it took me until 3:36am and two aperol spritzes to finish this SO. YAH.

“Do we really have to do this right now?” You asked your best friend, trying to keep up with him as you follow him through the city. 

He stops for a moment and turns back to look at you as if you’ve just confessed to a murder, “y/n are you kidding me? Do you really think I can deal with an interaction with Gretchen not high?” Jae shook his head at you and continued walking forward. 

“It’s just brunch! I doubt you’ll even interact that much!” You hated walking with him, because of his damn long legs. His strides were honestly too much for you. 

Jae huffed in disagreement, “I need it regardless. Now come on, we’re almost there.” 

When you had agreed to a brunch date with a few friends from college including your best friend, you hadn’t really thought meeting up with his drug dealer right before was a part of the plan. Sure, many of the people the two of you went to college with were insufferable, but for some reason whenever they’d reach out to you to make plans you would always find yourself saying yes and ultimately drag Jae along. He constantly told you that you were too nice. 

Specifically, Gretchen – a girl who had lived across from you your second year of University – was the most difficult to deal with and usually her and Jae would end up in passive aggressive arguments that made everyone at the table uncomfortable. So, you guessed that if meeting Jae’s drug dealer was a part of making that issue vanish, so be it. 

By the time of you reached a small park square in the middle of the city, you felt a burning in your legs from trying to keep up with Jae and crashed onto the first bench you see. He looked down at you massaging your legs and chuckled, “we barely walked a mile, calm down!” 

Rolling your eyes, you looked up at him through your lashes, “easy for you to say. You’re not the one trying to keep up with a 7-foot giant.” He doesn’t reply, but simply snorted at your comment and looked down to check his phone, “when is your guy getting here? We’re going to be late if we wait here for too long and you know how that’s gonna be a whole thing if that happens.” 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon,” Jae assured you. 

And sure enough, after a few moments you heard a loud “Dude!” leave your best friend’s mouth and looked up to see a man enter the park square. The man returned Jae’s enthusiastic welcome with outstretched arms as he walked towards the two you, giving Jae the “guy handshake” as soon as he’s in reach.

When he’s out of the handshake with your best friend, you begin to take in his features and were surprised by how much this guy didn’t look like a drug dealer. Most of the drug dealers you had seen or heard of had a casual style to them – hoodie, somewhat presentable and maybe on the weirdly older side. This guy was not that in any way shape or form. Everything about him screamed Paris fashion week and your brain was trying to process how this guy could be a drug dealer. Maybe he made that much money? Judging on the very expensive watch he was sporting and the Cartier ring on his middle index finger, you believed that it had to be the case. 

“Y/N,” Jae said snapping you out of your thoughts, “this is Bam.” 

You stood up from the bench and dusted yourself off, looking at the two men suspiciously, “Bam? Is that short for something?” 

The dealer shrugged, “Bambam I guess.” 

You can’t help but notice the way he scans you up and down, checking you out. You tell yourself he’s looking at you in an effort to feel you out and see if you’re a snitch or nark, but the nervous flip in your stomach tells you maybe it’s for a different reason. 

As though Jae noticed the strange interaction between the two of you, he claps his hands loudly, “let’s get to it then, shall we?” Bambam simply nodded his head and fiddled with the clearly nonprescription glasses on his face, “Right… how much do you want?” 

“An eighth should do.” Jae confimed. 

Bambam began to reach into his bag and stops, “that’s it?” 

Your best friend pursed his lips in thought, “actually if you have molly that could be good too. I’m supposed to be going to my stupid racist aunt’s wedding next weekend and it would be much better on something.” 

Bambam shook his head sadly and clicked his tongue, “sorry man. There’s some music festival this weekend and all those stupid frat dudes wiped me clean on acid and molly. But I should be getting some more next week if you want to meet up again.” You swear when he says the words “meet up again” you see his eyes wander to yours, but as quickly as they’re there, they’re back on Jae. 

You heard a groan leave Jae’s throat in annoyance, “whatever I’ll get through it sober, I guess. I’ll just take the weed then.” Bambam nods his head and hums, “cool.” 

You watch as Bambam meticulously takes a small clear baggie out of his bag and places it inside of larger black sack, ��I’ll throw in a free edible too, since you’re my number two customer and all,” Bambam laughs. The noise that leaves his mouth is almost melodic, and you can’t remember a time where someone’s laugh put you at ease. You felt a smile reach your face. 

“What the fuck? I’m not number one?” Jae complained. 

“Nah man, Mark’s got you beat there.”  

Jae shook his head, “Fucking Tuan.” 

Bambam and Jae laughed at his response as you stand there clueless as to who this Mark person was or why it was funny that he was Bambam’s number one customer. It’s when your eyebrows furrow and there’s a small frown on your face that Bambam’s gaze is once again fixated on you. “Does the pretty girl want anything?” 

Before you can answer or react at Bambam calling you a pretty girl, Jae answers for you, “She doesn’t do this kind of stuff.” You roll your eyes annoyed at him just deciding what you do and what you don’t do. Just as you’re again about to open your mouth to speak, you’re cut off but this time by Bambam. 

“Let her speak for herself man,” At that your heart warmed and you feel your face grow hot at how a drug dealer you barely know was treating you better than your own best friend. Bambam nods at you as if to go on and you felt yourself sputter your words out, “No… I mean he’s- well I guess he’s pretty much right. I don’t really like- um well do that stuff. Not that I have anything against it! I totally don’t! You know I’m like friends with the number one stoner in the area- or I guess number two since that Mark guy is number one? But anyways it’s just not for me so I- yeah so no… No drugs for me today.” 

You feel yourself want to hide in a corner as you turn to see Jae with wide eyes and looking at you as if you should be in a mental institution. Somehow, you turned to face Bambam, expecting him to also categorize you as a psycho for your rambling, but instead he has a smile on his face and chuckles. His smile was practically as bright as his overpriced watch. 

“Totally understandable. I don’t do any of this stuff either,” Bambam revealed. 

“What? But you’re like a…” you begin, drifting off and unsure if “drug dealer” was a polite term to use in this day and age. 

“Drug dealer?” He laughed, “yeah I know… But you know not everyone tries their own merchandise.” 

You frowned, not completely understanding, “but shouldn’t you try and know your merchandise so you’re better at selling?” 

He shrugged, “I guess when you’re selling drugs it really doesn’t matter,” Bambam shocks you by taking a step closer to you and reaching out to push a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face, “or I’m just really good at what I do.” 

Taking a step back, he smiles at you and you hear Jae clearing his throat, clearly uncomfortable at the situation, “so how about those drugs?” Bambam simply nodded, unfazed and handed Jae the bag as the latter slips him the cash. 

You became confused as you watched Bambam handle the money. He was doing something so simple, but looked so attractive doing it? Absentmindedly you felt yourself bite down on your lip as you watched him count and place the cash in his money clip. You were lost in a daze of watching his hands and the money that you didn’t notice his gaze back up to you, “don’t bite down so hard baby girl, you never know what could happen.” 

Jae coughed again, still awkward about your interactions with Bambam. You on the other hand felt him calling you “baby girl” go straight to your core, so much so that you pressed your legs together. Praying he didn’t notice; you found your eyes wandering to anywhere that wasn’t the drug dealer. 

Bambam took your silence as a sign, “well I better get going. Have other stops to make this morning.” Jae nodded, simply thankful to not be caught in the middle of whatever this was any longer, “yeah us too.” 

“See ya later Jae, you too y/n.” You still feel semi-dazed from his words that all you can do is wave him goodbye, and watch him walk out of the park, the opposite direction of where you and Jae came in from. Bambam turned around one final time before exiting the park completely, “remember! Say no to drugs!” he shouted over his shoulder, shooting you another smile. 

As soon as he’s out of view, Jae turns to you, “let’s go. I want to roll this and smoke it before we get to the restaurant.” You follow Jae out of the park the way you both came until you both stop at a corner of the street that is inconspicuous and hidden enough that Jae can roll and light up his joint. 

“That was weird right?” You asked Jae suddenly when he finally lights the joint. 

“I think he was flirting with you?” Jae said as more of a question than a definite statement. You couldn’t tell if he was asking you or himself. Your friend’s ponderance was enough to confirm your suspicions and cause your stomach to flip. A small smile spread across your face and you see Jae look at you with a frown on his face. 

“Dude chill, he’s just my drug dealer.” 

His dismissal at the small amount of joy you felt for being flirted with annoyed you that you felt yourself soon go silent besides the odd cough here and there caused by the smoke induced by the joint. 

When he was finally done and you began to walk to the restaurant, you felt yourself picking up your pace, walking far in front of him. When it soon became difficult for even him to keep up with you, he came to the realization that you were upset with him, but nonetheless Jae continued to try to talk and reason with you as you approached the restaurant where you were meeting your friends. 

You didn’t say single word to him until you were sat at the table with everyone and asked him if he wanted to split a mimosa pitcher with you. At your words he felt thankful to know you had let go of what he had said earlier and nodded in agreement. 

“Ooh a mimosa pitcher for y/n? Pinch me because I must be dreaming,” Gretchen said overhearing your conversation with Jae. 

Another one of your college friends Brian laughed, “Yeah but Jae will probably finish most of it. We know y/n can’t really hold her alcohol.”  

Why did everyone suddenly choose today as the day that they would make fun of you? So what maybe you weren’t as crazy as them when it came to certain things, but you weren’t a fucking nun like they were making you out to be. So what you didn’t get blackout drunk at brunch? So what if you got excited about someone flirting with you? Even if he was a drug dealer. 

“That’s not true,” Jae said coming to your defense, clearly trying to make up for how he had upset you earlier, “honestly y/n can drink me under the table.”

Gretchen waved her hand in dismissal, “come on Jae we all know that’s not true. But that’s what we love about her! She’s our sweet pure friend! Every group needs one of those.” 

“If she was pure would she go with me to see my drug dealer?” Jae asked. 

Gretchen smiled, “Jae are you high right now?” 

“Yeah I need it so I can fucking deal with you,” he practically growled. She laughed in response as if he was joking, when he was in fact not. “That’s so funny. It’s not like she would ever buy or do any though.” 

You felt helpless watching this argument – about you – unfold. Moments like this made you feel like maybe you were too nice. Why couldn’t you just say something and defend yourself? Jae shouldn’t be the one doing it. You should be the one arguing with Gretchen. 

“Well who cares because my drug dealer thinks she’s hot!” 

At Jae’s confession you feel everyone turn to look at you as if you can offer some kind of explanation, but you’re just as clueless as everyone else on the topic of “my best friend’s drug dealer thinking I’m hot.” Jae must really be trying to make up for earlier. 

“It’s true, he just messaged me like 15 minutes confirming he would bang her.”

Your mouth drops open. Turning to look at Jae you can’t tell if he’s being honest or just making things up for the sake of arguing with Gretchen. 

“Okay y/n having sex with a drug dealer is probably the last thing she would ever do.” 

“Um is this a brunch topic?” One of your more silent friends at the table, Mina asked clearly wanting the discussion to be over. 

Finally, you feel like it’s important that you’re the one to end this weird discussion about you having sex at 11am at brunch. You rolled your eyes, “I am not some untouched Mother Theresa, Gretch.” She flinched at the nick name; you knew how much she hated being called that. 

“I mean you what? Have had sex with only two people? Both who you had long term relationships with? That sounds pretty untouched to me.” 

The table shifts uncomfortably and no one says anything in response, it isn’t until the waiter approaches the table to ask everyone if they’re ready to order that you feel yourself snap back into reality. 

“A mimosa pitcher please,” Jae ordered and soon all eyes are on you as the waiter waits for your response, “add one more pitcher to that.” 

Jae leans over to you, “we don’t need two.” 

You smiled at him, “no this one’s for me.” 

-- 

After the “discussion” at brunch, the atmosphere between you and everyone else clearly shifted. You predicted that they probably wouldn’t be calling you to get together for a while. For that you were thankful. 

Both you and Jae headed to your apartment in silence and you tried not to be fixated on the topic of your sex life and how “pure” and “good” you were, but your mind kept lingering there. It infuriated you how much you cared, because you knew deep down it really didn’t matter. It caused you to feel off for the rest of the day. So much so that it felt as though you blinked and it was suddenly dark outside. Brunch had been hours ago, but you were still you were thinking about the words exchanged. 

“Hey um… I was wondering… can I have his number?” 

“Whose number?” Jae asked barely paying attention to you. He leans against your bed on the floor and had been engrossed in a game for the last 45 minutes. 

“Bambam’s…” You said quietly, hoping that maybe just maybe your best friend was in a strong enough trance that he would just hand over the number without registering whose number it was exactly and not ask any questions. But of course, you weren’t so lucky. 

“Really?” He asked placing his phone down in his lap to turn to you laying on the bed, “why?” 

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, not wanting Jae to see just how nervous you were, “I don’t know… Maybe I want to like pick up or something.”

He snorted, “Y/N… You don’t do drugs.” 

“Okay but maybe I’ll start!” 

He rolls his eyes and picks his phone back up, assumedly to return to his game, “We both know that’s a lie. You’re a goody two shoes and everyone knows it. The way you coughed this morning when I lit up is evidence enough.” 

There it was again. Too nice. Goody two shoes. Pushover. You were so fucking tired of hearing it all today. In fact, you were tired of hearing it all the damn time.

Instead of arguing with Jae, like you knew you should have done, you found yourself rolling over to stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, “You’re right… I’m just a good little girl,” you mumbled. Silence soon filled the room and Jae felt himself tense up; he couldn’t deal with you being upset again. Rolling his eyes, he swiped up on his phone to exit his game and searched through his contacts.

You suddenly felt something being nudged against your body and looked to your side to see Jae’s phone open with the contact “BAMBAM (PLUG)” glowing up at you. 

“I don’t know why you really need it, but there it is.” You smiled at your best friend and sat up quickly to copy the contact into your own phone, “thank you Jae.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Later after Jae’s departure, you find your thumb hovering over Bambam’s number. Would it be too much to call? He probably wasn’t used to it in his line of business… Maybe it was just usually a texting thing? 

To be completely honest you weren’t sure why you wanted his number… You weren’t sure if it was for drugs to prove everyone wrong, that you can in fact be bad or if it was for something… else. You thought about what Jae said at brunch… Did Bambam really text him that he would bang you? Did you want that? 

The idea of having sex with Bambam certainly didn’t disgust or repulse you, instead you actually found yourself blushing at the thought and pressing your thighs together. 

Holding your breath, you clicked his number and opened a new message. 

y/n. hey… bambam. It’s y/n… Jae’s friend? We met in the park today… 

bambam. Oh hey sup? 

y/n. was just wondering… if maybe I could like idk pick up? 

bambam. Ummm…. Hold on a sec. 

You waited for what felt like eternity… He was putting you on hold? On hold through a text? 

bambam. What do u need? 

y/n. uh whatever you have on you I guess. Or like in stock ? is that how it works? 

bambam. Haha something like that. I have mj, addy, coke, k, oxy lol pretty much anything u want. But like I said earlier today I’m out of acid and molly till next week. 

y/n. yeah yeah yeah… okay. What’s k? 

bambam. haha you’re so cute. It’s ket. 

y/n. ?????? 

bambam. Ketamine. Horse tranquilizer.

y/n. okay… well I will not be doing that one. Can you just bring like a couple things and I’ll decide when we meet? 

bambam. Um????? I guess so?? 

y/n. cool. 

bambam. I’ll meet you at the park, I guess? In around an hour? 

y/n. yeah that sounds good! 

bambam. Bet. 

You felt your heart beat out of your chest. Were you really just going to do this? What is it that you were going to do? 

Looking at the time on your phone, you realized you needed to get ready and leave quickly if you wanted to meet Bambam on time. It was going to take you at least 40 minutes to walk to the park where you had met him earlier. Walking instead of calling an Uber would give you enough time to think, but also enough time to perhaps talk yourself out of it if you changed your mind mid-journey.

Although somehow, it hadn’t. Your mind on the walk over had been filled with Bambam, but not in a negative way that convinced you to turn around and head home… but in a way that had your core pulsing. You thought of what he had said to Jae earlier – true or not – and how he would take you if that’s what he wanted. It made your mind hazy and the lust that took over your thoughts caused you to barely notice that you had arrived at the park, Bambam already seated on the bench that you had been massaging your legs on earlier that morning. 

He was sporting the same outfit he had been wearing earlier – a satin striped button up shirt tucked into tight black jeans and his clothing was enough to remind you of the reality of what you were doing here. To your dismay he was no longer wearing the glasses, in the fantasies that had fluttered into your mind on your walk, you had really grown in wanting to see Bambam’s glasses on as he fucked into you.

Approaching him, you shyly waved and he stood up to greet you, “hey…” 

“Hi,” you replied feeling foolish at your choice of welcome. What were you supposed to say to seem more… cool? 

“I don’t usually don’t take drop offs this late at night…” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at him confused, “what? You’re a drug dealer… Isn’t night the best kind of time to do this stuff?” 

“Nah night I work on my music. So, what’s up… You change your mind?” He tapped his foot impatiently and you can’t tell if he’s nervous about being in your presence or if he’s annoyed that you called him out here so late. But if he didn’t want to come… why would he? You took a deep breath in, hoping you were doing the right thing, “No… I-I lied I don’t want to pick up. I just- wanted to see you I guess?” 

Even in the darkness of the park, you could see Bambam’s eyes widen in surprise, “see me? Why?” 

You’re really not sure what’s supposed to happen next. You’ve never been in this situation before and although it seems like all of your friends' words drove you to text Bambam and come here, it was your own needs that were driving you to stay. 

Deciding to take a risk with your questioning, you looked away from him, “Is what you sent to Jae true?” Bambam quickly blinked, unsure of how to respond to your question. He wasn’t sure if he needed to be honest or not. Were you mad at him for what he had said? 

Instead, he clears his throat and decides it’s always best to tell the truth, “Um yeah what I said is true…” 

You felt your stomach flip at the fact that the text Jae received was in fact true.

“Do you… still want to?” You asked shyly, still not daring to make eye contact with the beautiful man. 

Bambam’s cock twitches at your question. Suddenly his jeans feel way too tight. 

“Fuck yes,” Bambam replied, voice low and husky. It takes everything in him to not lunge forward and have his hands roam up and down your body, but he restrains himself, “where should we go? Mine? Yours?” 

“Let’s do it here.” 

Your words surprise both Bambam and you, but you ultimately decide to go with it. 

“Here?” he asked, interrogating whether or not you were being serious. What if this was a joke? Before you can stop yourself, you nod, “yeah, here.” 

He takes a step closer to you, until his hand moves forward to cup your face, “I knew you were bad girl when I met you.” His words go right to your core and you feel your panties grow damp. Typically, you would find that kind of talk cringe, but coming out of Bambam’s mouth all you wanted was to hear more of it. 

Instinctively, Bambam groans at the thought of having his way with you, and he uses his free hand to grip your hip, hard enough to bruise and pulls you flush against his chest. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in to press his lips to yours in a feverish kiss that leaves you breathless. His confidence surprises you, but also turns you on enough that you instantly moan against his lips. 

You feel him smile and it feels as though you’re in an entirely different world than just a park square in the middle of the city. Bambam’s tongue brushes the seam of your lips before his tongue slips inside to explore your mouth. You feel him begin to pull you into the depths of the park, closer to the trees where it would be less visible if someone just so happened to decide to walk through.

The two of you stand there for what felt like forever and you feel surprised at Bambam’s clear want of wanting to take his time with you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh roughly as he makes himself familiar with your taste. He pulls himself away from the kiss, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. You whined at the loss of his lips on yours, but he simply stares at you, taking in your kiss swollen lips and the lust-filled look in your eyes. He had to admit that it was difficult to believe that the girl in front of him now was the same shy girl he had met earlier, but knowing you had this side to you made him want you even more. He drops his head to press his lips to your neck and you can feel his teeth scraping the sensitive skin on the column of your throat as his hands move to dip beneath the hem of your shirt.

After leaving a few marks, he pulls away just enough to tug the t-shirt up and over your head before his hands move to cup your bare breasts. Not wearing a bra was probably the best idea you had all week. 

“Fuck… y/n your tits are so pretty,” he breathes against your skin as he returns his mouth to your neck, “I could just play with them all night.” 

As he gently kneads your breasts, you feel yourself clench around nothing. You were overly sensitive from not being touched like this in so long, that you felt as though you could cum just from his hands on your breasts. 

You attempt to focus on the kiss in an effort to control yourself from not letting go so easily, but soon Bambam’s hands release your breasts and seamlessly drag down your stomach to the button on your jeans. He snaps them open instantly and hooks his thumbs on either side, shoving them down, along with your panties, down your legs. Your sudden nakedness causes you to shiver as you feel the cool breeze of the summer night drift over you body. Bambam notices this and places his finger against your lips, “shh baby girl let me warm you up.” 

Reattaching his lips to yours, Bambam gently pushes you against the tree behind you and you feel his fingers drift to your core and swirl around your entrance. The feeling of him where you need him the most is enough to cause you to moan and you can’t help but notice how he disconnects from your lips when he feels at how wet you are. 

“Jesus y/n, you’re so wet. Are you sure you didn’t cum already?” 

Wordlessly you shake your head almost violently to tell him you hadn’t. 

“I don’t know if I believe you… a bad girl like you might lie,” you feel one of his digits slip into your slightly, only part of the way but not fully and you feel as though you’re about to scream at the teasing. You should have known that Bambam wouldn’t give you want you wanted that easily. 

“I-I’m not lying,” you stuttered out between your attempts to hold your moans back. 

He fully inserts the finger into you, curling it a bit and you can no longer stop the noises that want to leave your body, “If you’re not lying, I guess I just have to see what my baby girl looks like when she cums. How wet she gets, how tight around me, hmm?” You can’t find it in you to respond, you simply nod and he smirks at you, clearly proud at his efforts to make you so weak so quickly. 

It isn’t long before, without warning, you feel him insert a second finger, pumping them inside you at a teasingly slow pace. You felt like you were going to break, because you just needed more. 

“Bam p-please I-I need more.” 

He played dumb, frowning at you, “need more what?” 

“Faster, more,” you manage to breathe out and without a word he picks up the pace of his movement, a smirk on his face and lust in his gaze. It’s when he suddenly curls his digits, hitting just the right spot that you feel like all sanity and speech has left your body. How can something feel this good? 

“Come on, cum on my fingers. I know that’s all you want. I’ll let my bad girl have what she wants, just this once.” 

His words spur you on as you find your arms moving to the back of you to grip onto the tree for stability as you buck your hips further onto his fingers, wanting nothing more than in this moment to have a release. The combined effort of his finger curling and his thumb coming up to tap on your clit in an almost musical rhythm has you falling apart and releasing around his fingers. He can feel the shaking of your thighs and the tension of your body as his fingers work to let you ride the waves of your orgasm. 

Bambam’s length which had been growing hard since the moment you asked if he wanted to fuck you, suddenly felt painful as he watched you fall apart from just the pure pleasure he had caused. He couldn’t wait any longer, he wanted and needed to be inside you. 

“Ride me,” Bambam says without hesitation as soon as you’ve caught your breath from your orgasm. Despite your release which had only occurred moments ago, you felt yourself ready to go once again at Bambam’s words and at how quickly he worked to remove his clothes. 

Instinctively, you licked your lips as you first laid eyes on his painfully hard and leaking red cock which had been desperately waiting for its turn. You wanted nothing more than to get your mouth or hands on it – preferably mouth – but as you reach forward, Bambam shook his head. 

He sat himself against the tree, not caring about the fact that he was sitting on the actual ground in the middle of a public park. The only thought he had in his mind was getting inside of you and feeling how tight you would be when you sank down on him for the first time. 

“Baby girl, let me feel you.” 

That’s all it took for you to get into position and find yourself squatting down to sit in his lap, rubbing your slit against the head of his cock, ready to take in every single inch of him. At the feeling of you rubbing yourself against his sensitive cock, Bambam groans, “no teasing, I just need you. Please.” 

His begging and more submissive request turns you on and it leads you to wonder if maybe that would be a side of yourself you would want to explore later. But for now, you just needed to feel him inside of you. 

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, moaning at how good it felt to finally have him around you, stretching you out completely. It had been awhile since your last sexual encounter and with the way Bambam was filling you, it almost felt like your first time again – this time there was no pain however, only pleasure. “Fuck… Bam.” 

You just sat there for a moment, enjoying the feeling, until you felt him ever so slightly shift and then heard a groan. His hands instinctively landed on your hips as he attempted to get you to move, he almost couldn’t take how snug you felt around him, he wanted you bouncing up and down on him at a brutal pace. Understanding his want, you lifted your hips barely an inch before falling back down on him. Every time you did it you went a little bit higher. 

“Come on I know you can do better than that,” Bambam egged you on despite his groans. At his words you leaned back, placing your hands on his thighs, giving him a much deeper angle into you. As you rode him like this, he began to thrust up meeting your hips and every time he did his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back into your head. 

Your movement on him began to grow sloppier as a shot of pleasure made itself known throughout every part of your body. At your sudden change of pace, Bambam held your hips to continue moving you up and down on him, his own thrusting becoming faster. “You feel so fucking good. Damn maybe I should just stop working and fuck you all day,” you felt yourself clench at his words and he continued, “you’d like that huh? I can feel how tight you’re getting just at the thought of me using you and filling you with my cum every single day. Such a dirty girl.” 

You could feel your walls clench, and Bambam let out a groan having to thrust harder just to keep going as deep, “I’m- gonna- fuck.” 

Somehow, not out of breath, Bambam whispered into your ear, “You’re gonna what? Cum? Do it… Cum all over me in this fucking park where anyone can see. I know how much want it so just fucking do it.” 

You were seeing stars and your thighs were shaking once again when Bambam reached in between your bodies, pinching your clit, finally making you fall apart. Although you had once been concerned about being loud because of the public aspect of your location, you found yourself unable to contain your screams when your orgasm hit you. You could feel your juices dripping down onto his thighs as he pulled out of you and pumped himself one final time, released his seed onto your stomach and chest. As he caught his breathe, you dipped your finger into his release which had begun to drip down to your thighs. Placing it into your mouth, you suck it gently. “Mmmm,” you moaned at the taste and Bambam stared at you wide eyed. “Um fuck… should we do a round two?” 

You laugh at his response and the lustful gaze that still clouds his eyes, “maybe… not here?” 

Bambam grasps his discarded shirt and begins to wipe up the mess he left on your body, as well as the mess you left on his thighs. The gesture warms your heart. 

He hums in response, almost lost in a trance as he wipes you up. “I mean… I know I’m just a drug dealer,” he said laughing, “but how about I take you out for a late night dinner slash early breakfast and then we have a round two where I enter you from the oh so classy doggy style position?” 

You laugh and grab his hands, stopping him from continuing to wipe you up, causing him to look into your eyes. 

“Deal.”