#feel the vibes jukebox

[jeffstormer]

Once again struck by the accursed urge to write a jukebox musical

[pyrriax]

i think about this song from time to time.

[lambilegs]

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁��🂺✮

striking a deal (sevika x reader)

contains: sevika being a jackass (what's new tho I still love her), gambling, reader sort of being a hater against gambling due to the negative impacts its had on their friend, enemies-with-a-bit-of-desire sort of vibe going on, reader is called a "girlfriend," very sfw, not much explicit romance and just a bit of flirting + attraction

a/n: hiii pookies so this is my first fic for miss sevika!! I hope it's accurate to her character and you all enjoy <33 would love to hear what y'all think hehe

art: four gentlemen of high rank playing primero

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺✮

"hey, do you know where I can find sevika?" you tentatively ask the bartender. he's some nervous looking kid who's probably going to quit after two weeks of witnessing the shit show that is the last drop since vander was killed.

not that you can blame him. you rarely frequent this part of the undercity, avoiding it for both the sake of safety and your own sense of sanity. you couldn't stand half the crap that went down here -- all the drunken fights, the sloshing of alcohol spilling and soaking through nearly every visitor's clothes, the lewd public displays that sent your face burning and ducking down -- and, of course, the gambling.

the damn gambling you had been imploring your friend, zafar, to put aside for almost half a year now. ever since he had lost his younger sister to an "intervention" enforcers had made at a party a year ago, every bad habit of his that had once been a small spring in the ground, roots shallow, had blossomed into a rotten, ugly plant that had spread faster than the blink of an eye could capture. you tried to be there for him, you did, but you also had your own family to take care of, and with his new friends being nothing but a bunch of enablers, he had now landed himself into a world of debt.

why, you ask? he had made the stupid decision to play with one of silco's little henchmen, sevika, whose reputation at cards is so notorious that even you've heard of it from your dinky little corner, far away from this place. you had heard rumours of her, some admiring, others downright terrifying. her help in smuggling shimmer, the ass-whooping she did for silco, how she was a constant presence when it came to the drug lord. that was enough to drain you of any admiration you could've beheld for such a strong woman. you had seen what shimmer did, the power it had in crumbling people's bodies, mental states, and their ability to keep living. you don't approve of anyone who's involved in the horrors of it.

the only reason you're here now is because zafar came to you sobbing this morning, grief heavy in his eyes over the money he had lost. he claimed sevika cheated it out of him, and while you still aren't sure as to how true that is, you'd at least try to set the record straight with her. you want to do something, anything, for standing around and watching zafar self-destruct no longer feels like a valid option. you promised him you'd try to see if you could convince her to return his money, under the condition of him avoiding gambling as best as he could and beginning to work part-time at the shop where you worked so he could have a more reliable source of income.

you can only hope this shitty plan will be in your favour. already, your stomach is tightening with anxiety, the knot circling and circling to bulge against your gut and make you slightly nauseated. but, you try to, at least physically, keep your cool, schooling your features to be calm, levelled and devoid of any jitters or twitches.

the bartender cocks his head to a dark corner near the jukebox. "right there. why, you've got business with her?"

a spring of irritation flickers through you at his prodding. the less he knows, the better. "in a way." you nod your thanks, then make your way to her.

you had seen flashes of sevika before. rallies, protests, gang fights. a blur of dark hair, a murky red cape and swinging fists. that's all she ever was to you. so, now, to behold her in her full state, feels... intimidating, to say the least. she carries herself as though the rickety wooden boards and worn out hinges of this place are her prized palace and she's the hailing king, rightfully seated on her throne. her dark lips are twisted into a leering smirk, haughtily bringing her cigar to them and taking a prideful puff from it. you swallow hard. you're definitely out of your league.

you linger nearby, watching through the crowd and awaiting an opportunity to approach her. when the men around her slam their palms down on the shared table, groaning and shutting their eyes in clear loss, her arm tossing towards them cockily, you stiffen up. you have an opening.

as the losers begin to file away, shoulders slumped in defeat, you can't help but feel a twinge of pity for them. everyone in this city struggles, one way or another. to have those struggles tied off with a loss in poker is a downright cursed fate. you try not to meet their eyes, sliding through the sweaty bodies until you reach her table.

you pause in front of her, hands twiddling as she collects the coins. you wait for her to look up, and when a few seconds pass and no such thing happens, you clear your throat.

eyes still casted onto the table, she speaks. her voice is like sand that's fallen through the surface of the ocean, rough and textured, impossibly deep and smooth. "you waited your turn long enough. what do you want?"

you flinch. "waited my turn?"

she tilts her head in the direction you came from. "you were lurking there. just watching, or is there something you need?"

jesus, and here you had thought you were at least a bit subtle. "oh, I--"

"didn't think I'd notice you?" she scoffs, scooping up the coins and pouring them into a small sack. "you almost fell head-first when bunny-face bumped into you."

your eye nearly twitches. "okay, well, good observation, I guess." honestly, it's impressive. you had expected her to be all brawn, no brain. "I'm here to talk to you about something."

her eyes finally meet yours. they're nearly silver, a dark grey that flashes under the colourful lights. her gaze is piercing, punctuated all the more by her dark eyebrows that are drawn in curiosity. "make it quick."

that's all you need. "okay, well, my friend, zafar, gambled with you last night."

"okay."

"well, you won, and took a bunch of his money." you wobble on your feet, hesitation seizing at you due to the accusation you're about to lay out. she could probably snap your neck in less than a millisecond. you've heard of her ability to totally crush any enemy designated to her by silco. definitely not a person whose bad side you want to get on. hopefully, nothing of the sort will happen if you express yourself in enough of a civilized way. "he, I don't know if it's true, but he says you cheated." you avert your eyes, the hand in your pocket gripping tightly onto the handle of your dagger. you haven't had to use it, not yet, at least, but in the undercity, it's better to be safe than sorry. and, frankly, you're expecting the worse from her.

which is why you nearly flinch when the corner of her lip twists up, and she says, "a common scapegoat for losers."

protectiveness immediately kicks in, searing through your body and urging you through your fear. you know it's hypocritical, considering you, too, don't fully believe him. but, still, you at least know his character, whereas she's just riding off her assumptions. "he could just as well be telling the truth."

"oh, yeah? is that why he sent his little girlfriend to save his ass?"

gross. the insinuation feels nearly as offensive as her insults towards him. "I'm not his girlfriend. and I volunteered to come here myself."

her eyes flicker up to you, and you rear back when they linger on your face, skimming over your features before settling back down to the table. "and while that's nice, and well, pretty stupid of you, I didn't do any cheating. anything he lost was because he couldn't play his hand well."

you grit your teeth together. "I'm not stupid. I just came here for a friend."

"a friend who clearly is a sloppy poker player and likely to lose to anyone who has the playing ability of a child." she snickers, and you catch sight of the split between her two front teeth, a little gap protruding. you force yourself to meet her eyes. the last thing you'd want is for her to catch you staring at her mouth.

what's worse is that you can't even argue back with her on this. for all you know, zafar very well may be a shit player. probably is, in all honesty. it wouldn't surprise you -- he always was impulsive as hell, and you wouldn't bat an eye to discover that challenging sevika had been an in-the-moment decision of his. but, you know what he's been through. you know how down in the dumps he is financially, and just how desperate he's gotten. his mourning has only made it worse.

"okay, well," you trail off, not really knowing where to continue. you didn't really lay a plan for yourself, and now that she's swiftly shut you down in a manner which you have no rebuttals for, you're not sure how to proceed.

"was that all?"

"no." you force your shoulders to straighten, hoping you sound somewhat firm, maybe even dignified. "is there any way you can return his money? he's been through a lot this year, and--"

she cuts you off with a bark of laughter, the raspy noise of it harsh and grating to your ears. the anger it's stirring in you probably isn't helping either. "okay. listen, friend of...?"

deadpan, you respond, "zafar."

she nods. "yeah, whatever his name is. this game comes with risks, and one of them is losing all your shit if you play with no tact."

you suck in a sharp breath at the condescension in her tone. "I'm well aware of that. but, listen, he's had a hard time of it lately, and--"

"and what? we've all had a hard time of it lately. if he chose to put his life's worth on the table, that isn't my problem."

"I'm not saying it is, but c'mon, can't you have a little empathy now and return his money?" you stick an incredulous finger at the table. "you have enough as is! no need to drain every zaunite of their hard-earned money before you're satisfied."

her eyes flutter in what seems to be exasperation, but you firmly planted, both on your feet and in your stance. physically, you can't do shit against this mass of muscle. but, maybe, just maybe, you can verbally get somewhere.

she stares up at you, elbows propped on her knees. "if it's so hard-earned, why did your friend gamble it away? are you asking me to return someone's money because they were an idiot?"

frustration begins to gnaw at your stomach, a burning sensation swarming through your insides and making you tense up. "I'm telling you, he's not in his right mind right now. things have happened in his family lately, and it's been hard for him."

"are you forgetting where you live? things happen in every family here. being smart is how you survive. if your friend can't do that..." she shrugs, continuing to sweep the coins into the opening of the sack. "then, that's not my problem."

"being a decent person helps in surviving in this place, too. being there for each other and our community. don't you care about that?"

her movements halt for a second, eyes flicking between you and the table. you nearly crack a grin and do a little rejoicing dance. bingo.

you add a sticky sweet tone to your voice, pleading and coaxing. you've heard she frequents babette's brothel, and if that's any indication about where her romantic interests lie, maybe you'll be able to woe her into complacency. "c'mon, I promise, he'll never gamble with you again, and if he does, take anything and keep it. but, please, just this one time, help him out, hm? do it for him, do it for your people."

her face, which was stoic only moments ago, shatters into a loud round of laughter, her palm smacking against her knee. "I gotta hand it to you, the 'for your people' thing was a nice touch." she stands up, and you try not to blink too hard at the sight of her towering over you. jesus, she's gigantic. no wonder people are scared shitless of her. no wonder you were scared shitless of her. "now, be honest. was the money yours? boyfriend left you and stole from the cookie jar? told you you had to come and get it back yourself?"

the more she talks, the more you get the sense that to her, this conversation is simply something to toy with, and just engage with as a playful little pastime. it only causes more anger to ooze within you, fiery and hot within your guts, like lava. this isn't a game. this is about people's lives, people's financial sustenance. she must earn a decent amount of time for her work for silco, and yet here she is, milking the people of zaun who don't know any better or who are too entrenched in their habits to put a stop to their gambling.

you want to make a jab at her that's as harsh as the blow to your ego was. it might risk you a limb, but you're praying the surprising amount of calm she's shown so far is a sign that your safety is secure. "you know what? I was stupid for coming here in the first place. to think one of silco's little servants would actually have a moral compass."

unfortunately, her irritatingly cool collection not only keeps your physical wellbeing in check, but does the complete opposite to your pride. for all she does is stare down at you, the long, blue scar seeping through her cheek curling as she chuckles, the noise husky and rough, like crushed velvet. "ouch. good one. anyone else might've gotten offended by that." her stormy eyes skip to your lips for a split second. "quite the mouth you have on you."

what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is that a pass or a genuine comment on your temper, which is very much flaring up? either way, you're determined to try harder to goad her. "yeah, well, I'm sure it has no impact on you, right? after all, you spend your days contributing to half the shit going down in this fucked up city."

her jaw suddenly clenches, mouth pressing together. you would've thought someone in this business would be a bit more discreet with the physical manifestations of their moods. but, sevika is like an open book, grey eyes wide, and eyebrows sunk down, her newfound disdain clear as day. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"the shimmer," you answer, squinting at her, praying the expression conveys how stupid you think she is. "your little boss has just tossed it to this city and watches the damages of it unfold without doing shit. wasn't his glorious plan to make this city a better place, not fuck us over even more?"

"the shimmer is helping," she retorts, her voice harder than before, lined with a firm pressure that had been absent in her prior teasing and casual dismissal. "we have something that topside could only wish for, something that gives us an advantage."

"an advantage?" you laugh bitterly. the injustice of it all, the agony you see your people in everyday -- it all floods your insides, wracking you from within. "it's been years since it's come about, and nothing has changed. piltover is still on top, and in addition to that, they have hextech." you make sure your eyes pointedly lock onto hers, hoping she feels every single fibre of your rage. "just admit it. you guys haven't done shit."

"and what exactly are you doing?" her voice is lowered to a heavy whisper, and you feel the noises surrounding you two melt away into a light, background buzz. the iciness of her voice feels almost worst than any other stupid tone she's taken since you started interacting.

"something you and your boss don't seem to be helping at all with." you give her a tight-lipped smile, your gums aching with how hard your teeth press in together, the disjointed shapes of them uncomfortable and crooked as they mash at the edges. "trying to survive."

her nostrils flare, her burning glare pulsing through the barrier of your skin and making your insides turn from the onslaught of anxiety that enters. god, will she unleash some goons on you now or something?

"sevika!"

you jerk at the sudden sound, whereas sevika simply blinks down at you, gaze unrelenting. "what?" she calls out.

uncomfortable at having her eyes still pointed at you, you turn to the voice, seeing a man with small, rectangular glasses hanging off his nose looking awfully mopey.

"you promised us another round," the guy wails, tossing his hands in the air.

you swallow hard at the silence that ensues, still feeling her stormy eyes hooked onto you. after a moment, she says, "maybe later."

the man's shoulders sag as he heaves a dramatic sigh, turning to who seems to be his friend, whimpering, "she's too busy with her date."

you grimace at the mistake, though the disgust you feel at it is fused with an irritation directed at the way your stomach spins at the word 'date.' you're not stupid -- sevika is, objectively, pretty attractive. hot, some people might say. but, jesus, she's a bitch too. and working with silco, which makes for a very unappealing combination.

"come on," she drawls out. you turn back to her, the anger from before now replaced with a wide smirk, one sharp eyebrow lifted up inquisitively. "I can't be all that bad, can I?"

you roll your eyes. this conversation has strayed too much as is, and you're not about to let it tiptoe off into flirtatious territory. "are you going to give my friend back his money or not?"

"hm," she ponders, and lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. you can immediately catch a whiff of the falsehood in the gesture, and tap your foot, waiting for her to just solidify your assumption. "no, I won't. but, do give him my regards."

you grunt, shaking your head. despite your expectancy of it, you can't help but feel a stone of disappointment sink through the waters of your body, falling to the bottom with more impact than you'd like. you shouldn't expect anything of her, there's no reason for you to feel disappointment. your expectations shouldn't have gotten this high in the first place. "of course. have a good day."

as you whirl around to leave, she grabs your forearm, callouses brushing against your skin. "hey, I just turned down a poker game for you."

"uh, yeah, and as a reward, you get a departure from me that doesn't include a kick to the shin." you snatch your arm from her grasp, trying to direct your thoughts to her shitty words as a desperate attempt to ignore the warmth in your stomach. "you're welcome."

with her snarky laugh ringing in your ears, you practically dash to the door, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

it's awful, but at the opening, something in you whispers for you to look back once more. it's okay -- it's reasonable, right? you barely frequent this place, anyone would want to catch one last glance at such a notorious woman in your city, no matter how degenerate and callous she is.

the only con to this is as soon as you find sight of her through your tentative search of the crowd, she's already staring back at you. at being caught, you internally cringe, the feeling only intensified by a tenfold when she tips her head at you with a grin.

ugh. never again.

two weeks later, you find a crisp envelope laying out on the mat outside your front door. in neat, cursive writing, it reads:

A thank you gift for the free business consultation. Do with it what you will. Whether you or someone else needs it. - S

[reidmotif]

my fic + author recs!

i have been suuuper disgruntled by the fic community recently and how casually and thoughtlessly some fic writers/readers seem to be indirectly insulting people’s work. this community and its fics are so varied, and i think they deserve to be appreciated. which is why im reccing a bunch of my fav fics!! please give these writers sooo much love!!

(about all of my recs are nsfw, but some authors mentioned do have sfw fics. please explore and follow the warnings outlined for each fic!!)

“i know your wife and she wouldn’t mind” by @stairain

gotta start out with stairain. i would pretty much credit my whole desire to write fanfics to the fact that i religiously read their whole masterlist a summer ago. they are a fantastic writer, and i love how they captured spencer here. take a look!

“i want you” by @smurphyse

i HEAVILY recommend smurphyse as an author. their series, room 405 is probably one of my most reread fics ever. their threesome and foursome fics are beyond supreme. i love this one shot they’ve written, and i hope you guys do too!

“loverboy” by @sundrop-writes

while i dont think this person writes for cm anymore, their fics for it were fantastic. i love how they captured sub spencer, and i think this is one of my most reread fics ever.

“puppy eyes” by @misserabella

i am in looove with the way this person writes. while i dont have a link to it, “sick love” changed my brain chemistry. sub spencer save me sub spencer save me.

“summer of sin” by @mercy-burning

hoooly shit. if you know me, you’ll know i probably reccomend this fic to everyone i know. i just genuinely can’t say anything besides telling you with my whole heart to check it out. awesome way to close out your summer honestly.

i would love to write blurbs about my love for these fics for everyone, but i fear the post would become too longwinded. here are some links and authors i recommend just as enthusiastically as i did the others above.

@reiderwriter

@foxy-eva

@fortheloveofwonderland

@incognit0slut

@beelmons

@imagining-in-the-margins

@criminalmindzjunkie

@andiebeaword

@reidsrambles

@eideticmemory

@sinfulspencer

@wheelsup

@beautifulbrainrot

@moon-light-jukebox

@gubsbuubs

@minswriting

@golden1u5t

@ginkgo-phyta

@gubler-me-up

@reidbae

@crypticreid

“who’s counting” by @samuel-de-champagne-problems

“behave back there” by @writingmar

“mile high club” by @littlexdeaths

“next to you” by @zombiefiilm

“testing the limits” by @reidsdimples

“follow my lead” by @mismatched-sockss

“welcome home” by @spencerreidenjoyer

“incentive” by @reidslibrarybook

“the very first night” by @writer-in-theory

this request from @donald4spiderman

“malicious compliance” by @aliteralsemicolon

“all zipped up” by @ipseitydelrey

this request from @thedancingcostumeyoungadult

this request from @astrophileous

“scream for you” by @hornyhornyhimbos

“thin walls” by @byersbootyshorts

“just my type” by @reidgraygubler

welcome to the small blurb after where i say something that’s been bugging me. i think it’s corny to indirectly insult people’s work on here. i think it’s corny to imply a “correct” way to write a character, especially in terms of writing about a characters sex life, a sex life that has no canonical basis to it! (i am talking about spencer here, if it is not obvious). i think it’s thoughtless, arrogant and all around odd to engage with that type of behavior. the variety of fanfiction that exists here is such an awesome thing, and i think itd be so incredibly boring if we all thought the same thing and wrote the same thing about the same characters over and over again.

if you’re a writer and you’ve felt that your work has been unappreciated or rejected, or have read something that left you feeling off about your own work, i am very sorry. every contributor to this fandom is awesome. you deserve every flower ever. 🌷🌷🌷

and if you’re reading this and feel called out.. examine that! i make this post off of a general vibe i have examined in the past few weeks. there is no level of entitlement you hold that allows you to dictate how and what people should write.

i say these words with little malice. id like to hope everyone is capable of being a little better everyday, and i hope any amount of reflection can lead to that.

anyway, that’s all ❤️ baiiii enjoy reading!!!!!

[millenianthemums]

I wanted to share the official playlist I made for this fic! I always make playlists for stories of mine, but I honestly really like this one and wanted to share it. I went way overboard on the cover, but it was still fun. I’ll probably reuse it when I post the first chapter of the fic, which I’m hoping will happen in the next couple weeks!

tracklist under the cut! the songs don’t map directly onto the plot or anything, they’re just vibe-based. there’s a lot of cheesy pop and angsty stuff right next to each other, because i feel like that’s gonna be the tone of the fic in general.

* Ruler of Everything - Tally Hall

* The Saga of You, Confused Destroyer of Planets - Lemon Demon

* Kiss Me, Son of God - They Might Be Giants

* Beady Eyes on the Horizon - Jukebox the Ghost

* The Next Dimension - Lemon Demon

* Look Who’s Inside Again - Bo Burnham

* Hollywood Baby - 100 gecs

* Problems - Mother Mother

* Something Glowing - Lemon Demon

* The Guide to Success - Joe Iconis / Eric William Morris

* Flap Flap - Patricia Taxxon

* Hot Air Balloon - Owl City

* Baby One More Time - Britney Spears

* Cilantro - Patricia Taxxon

* Shooting Star - Owl City

* Mamma Mia - ABBA

* Swear To God the Devil Made Me Do It - The Front Bottoms

* Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

* Big Wheel - Patricia Taxxon

* Fine - Lemon Demon

* Perfect - Marianas Trench

* Alone Together - Fall Out Boy

* Modern Day Cain - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

* Bloodeater - Girls Rituals

* Against the Kitchen Floor - Will Wood

* Kill All Your Friends - My Chemical Romance

* Scare Me - Ludo

* September - Earth Wind & Fire

* Wow Wow - Neil Cicierega

* Have It All - Jason Mraz

* I’m Still Here - John Rzeznik

* Yellow Horse - cats millionaire

* Honest - Patricia Taxxon

* Son of a Gun - Joe Iconis / Eric William Morris

* Peach - The Front Bottoms

* …well, better than the alternative - Will Wood

* Candy Store - Heathers

* When the Chips are Down - Hadestown

* Aurora Borealis - Lemon Demon

* Goodbye - Bo Burnham

* Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms

* Dumbest Girl Alive - 100 gecs

* Killer in the Mirror - Set It Off

* A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers

* Bad Guy - Set It Off

* My Alcoholic Friends - Dresden Dolls

* SAD - Lemon Demon

* Happily Ever After - He Is We

* True Kinda Love - Steven Universe

* Everything Stays - Adventure Time

* I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

* Love Love Love - The Mountain Goats

* Goodbye to a World - Porter Robinson

* King - Lauren Aquiliana

* Stand By You - Rachel Platton

* Ready Now - Dodie

* Seventeen (Reprise) - Heathers

* Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips

* Time To Pretend - MGMT

* Die Young - Kesha

* Good Time - Owl City

* Anything For You - Ludo

* Monster - Adventure Time

* You Love Me - Kimya Dawson

[aeth-eris]

 ★  book  a  reading  ★  ★  masterlist  1  ★  ★  masterlist  2  ★

 ★   astro  observations  |  jukebox  ★ 

 ★  venus  sextile  saturn  ★

patience  by  tame  impala  –  because  they  know  that  love  worth  having  takes  time  and  commitment.

slow  dancing  in  a  burning  room  by  john  mayer  –  steady,  bittersweet  vibes;  they  hold  on  even  when  it  hurts.

stay  by  rihanna  ft.  mikky  ekko  –  loyalty  in  love,  even  when  it  feels  fragile.

★  mars  in  cancer  (or  4th  house)  ★

tears  dry  on  their  own  by  amy  winehouse  –  emotional,  passionate,  and  always  coming  from  the  heart,  even  if  it  hurts.

bury  me  face  down  by  grandson  –  they’ll  protect  what’s  theirs  fiercely  but  lowkey  wish  they  didn’t  have  to.

you  should  see  me  in  a  crown  by  billie  eilish  –  quiet  strength,  but  don’t  cross  them  or  they’ll  make  it  personal.

★  mercury  square  uranus  ★

mind  mischief  by  tame  impala  –  unpredictable  thoughts  that  feel  like  lightning  in  a  bottle.

weird  fishes/arpeggi  by  radiohead  –  their  ideas  swim  in  different  directions,  but  somehow,  it  works.

mr.  brightside  by  the  killers  –  their  mind  is  a  chaotic  overthinker,  but  it’s  never  boring.

★  moon  in  aquarius  (or  11th  house)  ★

team  by  lorde  –  they  thrive  when  surrounded  by  their  people,  even  if  they  feel  a  little  detached.

electric  feel  by  mgmt  –  their  emotions  are  unpredictable,  but  they’ll  shock  you  in  the  best  way.

starman  by  david  bowie  –  their  heart  lives  in  a  different  dimension,  and  they  wouldn’t  have  it  any  other  way.

★  sun  trine  pluto  ★

power  by  kanye  west  –  they  embrace  their  inner  power  and  radiate  confidence,  but  it’s  never  without  depth.

control  by  halsey  –  transformation  is  their  love  language,  and  they’ll  never  stop  growing.

bad  guy  by  billie  eilish  –  their  energy  is  magnetic,  and  they  know  exactly  how  to  wield  it.

★  mars  in  gemini  (or  3rd  house)  ★

pumped  up  kicks  by  foster  the  people  –  their  energy  comes  in  bursts,  and  they’re  always  moving,  always  thinking.

feel  good  inc.  by  gorillaz  –  chaotic  energy  but  with  purpose;  they  thrive  on  mental  stimulation.

flaws  by  bastille  –  they  channel  their  restlessness  into  making  things  happen,  even  if  they  trip  along  the  way.

★  mercury  in  pisces  (or  12th  house)  ★

dreams  by  fleetwood  mac  –  their  mind  floats  between  reality  and  fantasy,  and  it’s  a  beautiful  mess.

mad  world  by  tears  for  fears  –  they’re  intuitive  thinkers  who  feel  everything,  even  when  they  wish  they  didn’t.

visions  by  dvsn  –  their  thoughts  are  like  poetry,  and  their  words  are  always  drenched  in  emotion.

★  venus  square  mars  ★

love  is  a  battlefield  by  pat  benatar  –  passion  and  tension  are  their  love  language,  and  they  wouldn’t  have  it  any  other  way.

delicate  by  taylor  swift  –  every  relationship  feels  like  walking  a  tightrope,  balancing  desire  and  vulnerability.

bohemian  rhapsody  by  queen  –  dramatic,  chaotic,  and  never  boring  in  love.

★  mars  in  virgo  (or  6th  house)  ★

don’t  stop  me  now  by  queen  –  perfectionists  who  will  outwork  you  and  make  it  look  easy.

work  b**ch  by  britney  spears  –  they’re  hustling  every  day  and  expect  you  to  keep  up.

control  by  zoe  wees  –  their  drive  comes  from  an  inner  need  to  fix,  organize,  and  win.

★  sun  conjunct  neptune  ★

somewhere  i  belong  by  linkin  park  –  they’re  dreamy  and  empathetic  but  sometimes  lose  themselves  in  the  process.

crystalised  by  the  xx  –  their  identity  feels  fluid,  like  it’s  always  shifting  and  evolving.

ribs  by  lorde  –  they  live  for  the  nostalgia  and  daydreams,  always  craving  the  unreachable.

★  moon  in  leo  (or  5th  house)  ★

applause  by  lady  gaga  –  they  crave  recognition  for  their  emotional  generosity  and  creative  spirit.

on  top  of  the  world  by  imagine  dragons  –  their  heart  thrives  on  positivity  and  big  dreams.

kill  v.  maim  by  grimes  –  their  emotions  come  with  drama,  flair,  and  just  the  right  amount  of  chaos.

★  venus  in  taurus  (or  2nd  house)  ★

adore  you  by  harry  styles  –  sensual,  grounded,  and  all  about  the  slow,  steady  build-up  in  love.

let’s  stay  together  by  al  green  –  loyalty  and  consistency  are  their  love  essentials.

golden  by  jill  scott  –  they  find  beauty  in  simplicity,  and  their  love  is  a  whole  vibe.

★  mars  trine  jupiter  ★

stronger  by  kanye  west  –  they’re  unstoppable  when  they  put  their  mind  (and  energy)  to  something.

higher  by  rihanna  –  they  dream  big,  act  big,  and  expect  big  results.

can’t  hold  us  by  macklemore  &  ryan  lewis  –  their  enthusiasm  and  drive  can  move  mountains,  and  they  know  it.

★  mercury  in  libra  (or  7th  house)  ★

someone  like  you  by  adele  –  their  words  are  soft  and  charming,  but  don’t  mistake  that  for  weakness.

the  scientist  by  coldplay  –  they  analyze  relationships  with  the  precision  of  a  poet.

put  a  little  love  on  me  by  niall  horan  –  they’re  diplomatic  communicators,  but  sometimes  their  heart  bleeds  into  their  words.

 ★  book  a  reading  ★  ★  masterlist  1  ★  ★  masterlist  2  ★

[dr-spectre]

So.... This game is 2 years old now huh?

Honestly... I don't think i have a TON to say about this game. It's just a great ass fucking video game that has given me a lot of fun and great memories!

This game came out during my final year of school, which is kinda funny considering that Splatoon 3 acts like a "finale" to a trilogy. It's interesting how those kinds of things work out eh? Splatoon 2 came out at the start of my secondary education, and Splatoon 3 came out at the tail end of my final year.

I remember thinking before the game came out, "why do we need a Splatoon 3? This is pointless, it's just more Splatoon 2." And then my mind was quickly changed once i got to play the Splatfest test fire and the actual game itself.....

I completed ROTM in such a short amount of time and i documented my reactions to my friends. Although i was spoiled in that Deep Cut had boss fights and Mr. Grizz was the final boss, ROTM still gave me a giant smile to my face all the way through. It was so fun, so charming and just a really good single player experience.

One of the things that i LOVE about Splatoon 3 is the vibe. I just love the location of Splatsville, i love the aesthetics, the lighting, the model improvements from Splatoon 2, the music, it's my favourite art style/aesthetic out of any of the Splatoon games by far. It just feels so polished, i don't know how to exactly describe it.

Also the fact that this game won best multiplayer game of 2022 over CALL OF DUTY! OVERWATCH 2 AND MULTIVERSUS MAKES ME SO GIDDY AND HAPPY!

PEOPLE GOT MAD ABOUT THIS AND THAT MAKES ME WANNA EVIL LAUGH! All of those fucking depressed and sad Call of Duty players who whine and complain about how "wahh modern gaming sucks!! There's no good games anymore wahhh!! It's all microtransactions wahhh!!" BITCH! SPLATOON 3 IS LITERALLY THE GAME YOU'VE BEEN ASKING FOR!! Yet you won't play it because it's on Nintendo huh? Yeah... You're a fucking PUSSY!! YOU'RE WEAK!! You're SCARED to be seen as less of a manly man!! You only wanna play games with oily dirty buff men.... Yet you call others who play games like Splatoon gay? Hmm..... Sounds like you're a wittle insecureeeeee!!!!

Have fun rotting in microtransaction hell you LOSERS!! GAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyways.... uh.... sorry....

I also fucking love Deep Cut too. I thought i wasn't gonna like these guys and i remember thinking when i first saw them "oh... okayyyy..."

But now? I love these bastards.

I love their dynamic and how they are bandits but they actually wanna help the people back in Splatsville. That is such a cool and unique take to have for Idol characters. The Squid Sisters are very cutesy and so are Off the Hook, but Deep Cut aren't. They are loud, messy, chaotic, in your face, rude, etc. They are about contrast and the character designers did a phenomenal job at conveying that theme via their backgrounds and looks.

Another thing that i love about Splatoon 3 is that it also acts as a celebration of things that have come before, Inkopolis Plaza and Square return as hubs, old colour combos from previous games act as loading screens, most of the music returns in the jukebox, it rewards long time fans for sticking around and for a long running franchise IT'S SUPER IMPORTANT to have that stuff!!!

Seeing the improvements in the model quality from Splatoon 1 to 3 genuinely makes me kinda emotional, it shows how far we've come in just a little under 10 years...

It really homes in on the point that... These characters, have grown up with us.... The Squid Sisters are about to reach their mid 20s, Pearl is nearly 30 fucking years old!!!

And the last thing i wanna bring up before i talk about the Grand Fest...

...Is Side Order.

This fucking DLC... My god... Being able to experience it by myself and just enjoy the stuff i was seeing, being able to SCREAM AND CRY AS MUCH I WANT WAS SO IMPORTANT TO ME DUDE!

When i got to the 10th floor in the tutorial and i saw Marina Agitando staring me down.... I did the loudest gasp a human could possibly do and my jaw was hung to the floor for a solid MINUTE!

Marina's first fucking dev diary made me cry and scream, THAT IS NOT A JOKE!!!! THESE CHARACTERS ARE THAT IMPORTANT TO ME!

And the final boss.... Made me cry, it broke me down, i was singing along to Ebb and Flow as best as i could, it felt like i was brought back to 2018, being in my room, listening to that song on repeat... I feel like a kid again....

I love this song... i love it so much... Like it's not the most hype finale song ever, but, the emotion behind it, the build up from Splatoon 2... The power this song has in it's meaning... It's some good shit man...

So yeah! I love Splatoon 3!!! It's my favourite game out of the series and anyone who is gonna jump into this game now is gonna have a LOT to chew on.

And... It's both sweet and sad that we're at the end. This is it... The moment we've been waiting for. The final Splatfest to end them all. The event 9 years in the making.

The Grand Festival...

I am extremely excited and so FUCKING NERVOUS for this Splatfest!!!! I know i am going to cry and be so overwhelmed with joy. Seeing the Squid Sisters and Off the Hook perform their old songs again after all of these years is gonna make me sob so loudly it's not even funny.

These characters genuinely mean the world to me and it's gonna be so fucking hard for me to watch their final major appearance and say goodbye. Cause after this, we don't know what's gonna happen. I know they will come back, they have to but... In what capacity? That's what I'm scared about...

So yeah, let's savior this moment when it eventually arrives, take all the time you need to be engulfed in the Grand Fest.

Thank you Splatoon 3, you have given me so much.... It's not time to say goodbye just yet but, i wanna watch you as you walk into the sunset with your head held high....

[smok3r7]

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

So Much For, Dumb College Love

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: Some souls are meant for each other and some aren’t.

Word count: 3.3k

The finale is here guys…I’m so proud of this story and am so happy that you guys love it! I hope this is all you guys hoped for, these two will forever hold a special spot in my heart<3

—

After a grueling week, working on one of the most challenging and traumatic cases you’ve encountered since you started half a year ago, the team decided to unwind with some drinks at their favorite dive bar - The Diamond. Tucked away on a quiet corner, the place is smaller than most bars, with just a jukebox to fill the air with nostalgic tunes.

The ambiance is calming but also lively, with the sound of laughter and chatter blending in seamlessly. The dim lights cast a warm glow, making everyone feel comfortable and at ease, as if they have found their own little sanctuary in the bustling city.

As you all sit around a table, the weight of the week slowly lifts off everyone's shoulders. Laughter fills the air as stories are shared and jokes, finding solace in each other's company. In this moment, surrounded by good company and good vibes, you feel grateful for them all and for the simple pleasure of being together in this hidden gem of a bar.

The bartender, Josie, is a gorgeous young woman they have come to know well and absolutely love; her radiant smile and effortless charm always make your heart skip a beat. With a flick of her wrist, she expertly pours out your favorite concoction, a Jack & Coke, the perfect balance of sweet and fiery that never fails to soothe your soul.

Especially after cases.

As you take the first sip, the cool liquid slides down your throat, and you can’t help but marvel at how Josie always seems to know exactly what you need. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting buzz of the bar and the soft murmur of familiar voices, even with all the disasters you and your team endure, this is the life you want.

The dimly lit bar provides a cozy sanctuary where you can forget about the horrors of the case, if only for a few hours. After a second drink, the team finds themselves opening up about their fears and struggles, forging a stronger bond in the process.

“Alright,” Garcia slams the last of her drink, “Enough dark nasty talk! What’s everyone’s plans for the weekend?” She’s never been one to keep up with the unhuman behaviors the rest of the team can, which is perfectly normal - and necessary. Sometimes you and the others can get caught up in the sad side of reality, when there’s so much more to life.

While J.J talks about how she’s going out with her two boys this weekend to her moms, you can’t help but notice the small glares from Aaron, the tension thick in the air. The conversation then moves to Emily, who says she’s going to Atlantic City tomorrow early afternoon and hints at her ‘Sin To Win’ weekend. You can’t help the small cheer that leaves your mouth before you chug the last bit of liquor and soda, clinking glasses with the girls while the guys chuckle to themselves.

But with a flash of light Derek, the observant one and jokester in the group, notices the brief glances between you and Aaron, he can’t resist commenting, "Love birds…will you two just give it up already?"

Suddenly, with the attention being brought to you guys, you can’t help but laugh at Derek, a genuine but terrified laugh. Then, you and Aaron exchange a sheepish smile, the air between you crackled with unspoken attraction, nerve-wracking more than anything. Laughter bubbles up, masking the underlying meaning, but the rest of the team observes, sensing a shift in the dynamics between you two but brushing off the fact of it all.

What began as a mature decision to work together now seems to be evolving into something deeper, more stirring. With each shared glance and lighthearted banter, it becomes increasingly clear that there’s a spark between you that refuses to be ignored - ever since the unplanned kiss. The realization dawns on everyone present, prompting knowing looks and whispered conversations.

As the night wears on, the playful teasing continues, but this time with a hint of something more meaningful. Perhaps the weekend drinks have let some of the team let their tongues loose more than normal, which you really don’t mind but you just wish that topic would change.

The main concern being that Derek saw you and Aaron kiss that night in Aaron’s office a few months ago. He hasn't treated you any differently besides making jokes here and there about you and Aaron, a lot like how Garcia and him do. It's not any of Derek’s business right now, especially when you don’t even know what the kiss means.

You try to push the thought to the back of your mind, focusing on work and daily tasks. But every time Derek cracks a joke or gives you a knowing look, you feel a pang of guilt and confusion. Was the kiss just a moment of impulse, or does it signify something more between you and Aaron?

You can’t help from the memory of the warm, familiar kiss from Aaron a few months ago lingering in your mind, you just can’t stop thinking about it or him. The music loud, the atmosphere vibrant, but all you can do is look at Aaron. The moment replays over and over, like a record.

You had longed to feel his touch again after a decade of separation, but now that he’s your boss, everything feels different. The forbidden nature of your desires adds a layer of complexity to your relationship. But it somehow makes you want more.

“Well,” Aaron announces, slamming the last of his scotch followed by the sound of the glass on the table, “I’m going to head home, you guys enjoy the rest of the night.”

The table erupts in sarcastic boo’s as Hotch backs out after just a couple of drinks, a familiar sight for you and everyone else. Despite his tough exterior, Hotch was always the first to leave after difficult cases.

It makes you wonder if he carries the weight of these cases heavier than the rest, or if he simply needs a break from the relentless demands of their job. Perhaps both reasons rang true in their own way.

As you watch him slip away into the night, a sense of understanding washes over you. In a world filled with chaos and uncertainty, sometimes the strongest ones need a moment of solitude to process it all.

“Bye man!” Derek raises his glass with a tipsy smile on his lips.

“Drive safe!” Your tone is a mix of giggles and seriousness, the liquor making you more bold than normal, but you instantly regret it.

The last thing you want is for the team to think you’re obsessed or pining over Aaron, even though you are, they don’t need to know that. The ache of unspoken affections weigh on you as you watch Emily and Garcia giggle at you as they take a sip of their beverages, you wish you could turn back time and keep your feelings hidden.

—

Stumbling towards Aaron's apartment, you feel disoriented and confused as the world spins around you in a hazy blur. You have no recollection of how you got here, or why you are in such a drunken state.

The memories from earlier in the night are fuzzy, but you vaguely remember drinking with Emily and Derek, the last remaining ones of the night. Flashes of laughter and camaraderie float through your mind, mingling with the haze of alcohol.

You drunkenly giggle to yourself while slightly bouncing from wall to wall down the hallway, making sure to miss apartment doors. Your blurry vision adds to the challenge, but you're determined to reach his apartment no matter what.

Each bounce brings a wave of laughter, echoing through the quiet corridor. The dim hallway lights flicker above, casting shadows that dance along the walls.

You stumble but manage to regain your balance, feeling a rush of exhilaration with each step. The sounds of your footsteps echo in the empty hallway, guiding you forward. Despite the haze of alcohol clouding your mind, you feel a sense of freedom and adventure in this moment.

With a mischievous grin, you continue your tipsy journey, eager to see where the night will take you. But then you feel something tell you to stop in your tracks, looking up from the floor you notice you’re in front of his place, F268. You stand outside Aaron's door, you realize the gravity of your situation - you have no idea what you’re here for.

With a headache forming and a sense of uneasiness, you reach out to knock on the door, hoping that Aaron will let you in. Your mind races with thoughts of what he’s going to say or even do when he sees you.

The lingering taste of alcohol on your tongue is a bitter reminder of the night's indulgence. Emily and Derek dancing, laughing, and singing with you till closing, the memories bounce around your pounding head. Your heels cause you to stumble, even while standing in one spot, causing you to giggle a bit louder.

What happened after the drinks and laughter? And how did I end up here, at Aaron's apartment? The answers elude you as you struggle to make sense of the night's events.

Knock, knock.

Next thing you know, he answers the door in nothing but dark blue plaid pajama pants, pleasantly surprised by you drunk in his hallway, he rubs his eyes, still trying to process your unexpected visit. The faint smell of alcohol lingers in the air as you meet his gaze with a mischievous grin.

"What are you doin' here?" Aaron asks, his voice laced with confusion and sleepiness.

You can't hold back a drunken giggle and blurt out, "Thought I'd surprise you."

His thick eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. The dim lights in his foyer reveal Aaron's puzzled expression as he stares at you, a subtle smile plays on his lips, but his puzzled expression gives away his confusion. The tension in the air makes you feel uneasy, almost as if you have disappointed him in some way.

“Your place is closer than mine,” you confess shyly, leaning your back on the hallway wall behind you for balance. Aaron's gaze is piercing, making you squirm under his scrutiny, “I’m too drunk to walk to mine and I just figured you be okay with me-“

"Just come in.” He cuts your drunken rambling before you make even more of a fool of yourself, grabbing your wrist to pull you in, causing you to stumble on your heels. The room spins as you try to regain your balance, the smell of warm candles and Aaron overwhelming your senses.

You catch a glimpse of his intense gaze, filled with a mix of concern and frustration. As he calmly guides you to his warm toned couch, you mumble an apology, but he just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You need to slow down, dear," he says softly, his voice cutting through the haze in your mind, “I’m gonna grab a water, just- sit here, please.”

It’s easy for you to read him, even when drunk. You can tell he’s confused on how you even found his apartment, but he let you in regardless - because you know he really cares.

With the best of your ability, while he disappears into what you can only assume is his kitchen, you scan his living room. It's simple, like any man, but it’s got a sense of comfort with it. The worn-out armchair by the window, the stack of books on the coffee table and a bunch more on his shelves that fence the large tv, and the flickering candles creating a warm ambiance - all familiar sights that make you feel at home despite the haze of alcohol clouding your mind.

You catch a glimpse of old photographs on the wall, each telling a story of a moment frozen in time, then you stop. A picture of you and him in college hangs above a side table with a record player on it, the one of you both from the fair in your hometown, your breath catches in your throat and tears brim your eyes. He’s missed me just as much.

After all this time, he still loves you.

You always believed he was fine without you, but now you realize the depth of his feelings. The realization brings a smile to your face as you think about the moments you shared together. Despite the distance and time apart, there is a strong connection that still binds you.

"Aaron..." you mumble and get up from the couch, the room swirling slightly from the multiple Jack & cokes. Slowly, you make your way towards the familiar picture hanging on the wall. The golden frame catches the dim light, casting a warm glow on your smiling face next to his. Memories flood back as you trace the outline of his features with your fingertip, feeling the nostalgia strike deep in your heart.

In the quiet moment by yourself, surrounded by the echoes of the past, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. You remember the moments shared, the dreams woven together, and the heartbreak so many years ago. As you reflect on the times you spent together, you realize that Aaron will always be a part of you, no matter where life takes you.

—

“I couldn’t find anywhere in my heart to get rid of that.”

In the dimly lit room, Aarons smooth voice startles you, causing you to turn towards him. Your eyes fall on the two tall glasses of water placed on the coffee table, one for you and one for him. The alcohol coursing through your veins makes you feel comfortable yet emotional.

You struggle to utter any words, but ultimately they fail to escape your lips. Your gaze shifts back to the wall, a bittersweet reminder of the past, but you can't help from wondering how things could have been different.

A soft silence lingers between you and him, the weight of untold words hangs heavily in the air, filling the room with unspoken truths and lingering regrets.

“Do you think that- that this could work again?” You softly whisper as a small tear falls onto your warm cheek. Your feet hurt from the heels you’ve been in for hours now, causing you to sit back onto the couch, all while staring at him.

Aaron doesn’t respond, it's hard to tell if his silence is intentional or if he's just at a loss for words, either way a sharp pang of hurt pierces through you. You wonder if he even hears you, or if your words are falling on deaf ears. It’s really unsettling how much you don’t know him anymore, college you would know exactly this kind of silence means. But you don’t know.

The silence between you grows, it feels thick like a heavy fog descending upon the room, which starts to make you angry. You just asked him a simple, yet loaded, question and the least he can do is answer it. You look up at him as he sits down next to you, leaving a couple inches of space between you and him.

Frustration bubbles up inside you as you wait for his response, your patience wearing thin, faster than it normally does. The question seems to hang in the air, demanding to be acknowledged. You can’t understand why he remains so quiet, so distant.

Finally, unable to contain your irrational emotions any longer, you break the silence with a trembling, yet stern voice. "Why won't you fucking answer me?" Your words echo, pleading for some semblance of understanding.

But still, he remains silent, his eyes betraying a turmoil of emotions you still can’t decipher. Another few seconds of silence go by and you finally feel like you’ve had enough, so you push your hands on your knees and stand up. You try your best to balance yourself before you storm off, while telling him to fuck off.

Just when you think you are free to walk away, Aaron's sudden move catches you off guard. His grip on your wrist is firm, yet tender, pulling you close to him against your will. The intensity in his dark brown eyes sends a shiver down your spine, as conflicting emotions swirl inside you. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, his presence enveloping you completely.

In this moment, as you stand locked in a silent battle of wills, you realize that he’s head over heels for you just as much as you are for him.

“Yes,” Aaron loudly confesses, “I do think this can work again. You don’t know how hard this past decade has been for me, even harder the last couple of months having to work with you.” With his arms still around you, he purrs your name, “I love you more than anything.”

As his words sink in, the tension between you dissolves, replaced by a flood of emotions. The past grievances and misunderstandings fade away, leaving space for a new beginning.

With his dark eyes staring down into yours, he squeezes your body closer to him, "You make work enjoyable again. You make me comfortable in who I am," Aaron firmly tells you, "When you broke it off before we graduated, I felt like I lost a huge part of myself. But I know we wouldn't have lasted long after, it needed to happen."

The honesty in his words sends shivers down your spine as you realize the depth of his feelings. In the soft candle light, you see the vulnerability in his face as he speaks to you. His brows are relaxed but stern at the same time, revealing the rawness of his emotions.

His words echo in your brain, You make me comfortable in who I am. It's a simple statement, yet it holds so much weight. You realize, you have the power to ease his insecurities, to make him feel understood.

As you gaze into his eyes, you see a glimmer of gratitude mixed with a hint of fear of rejection. And in that moment, you know that you hold a piece of his heart in your hands—a fragile, precious gift that you vow to protect. And with that, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull his face into yours in a gentle, yet needy, kiss.

The warmth of his touch ignites a fire within you, a fierce determination to shield his vulnerability from the world's cruelty, even with the cruel job.

As you hold him close, his heartbeat echoes in sync with yours, a symphony of love and longing. In the silent language of your entwined bodies, you find peace and understanding. Each kiss is a promise, a whispered vow of eternal devotion to each other, once again.

In this timeless embrace, you and Aaron are bound by an unbreakable bond, a fusion of souls that transcend words, ultimately meaning to end up with one another. Together, you forged a love story written in the stars, a tale of two hearts intertwined in a symphony of passion and tenderness.

[dandelionjack]

don’t get me wrong the spaciousness of the new tardis console room is cool but i wish it was more lived-in, domestic and cluttered like the inside of rogue’s spaceship

the thing in the middle even looks like a time rotor. just. my favourite tardises are 8’s, 9’s, 11’s and 12’s they have so much personality. i’m sorry but this ->

feels a little bit clinical compared to this ->

one lonely jukebox and light-show roundels just doesn’t cut it. give me bookshelves. flowers in vases. paintings to hang on the walls. funky pieces of colourful abstract sculpture. it doesn’t have to be dark and grungy like the moody rogue’s or twelve’s, it should match fifteen’s cheerful vibe — something wild and free and vibrant, decorated all over with artworks… maybe a vinyl stand and record player… exotic vines and multicoloured ropes dangling from the ceiling… stained glass… at the moment it’s still giving office space or like. the tsuranga conundrum

[edward-munson]

i'm right here - E.M. * Chapter Four

Warning: slight mentions of blood, mentions of the Upside Down, fluff

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem! Harrington reader

Word count: 3.6k

⋆˚✿˖°

After that day, Eddie decided he wouldn't doubt you anymore, or even confront you the way he did. And then, there were days he would sit during the breaks with you and tell you silly jokes just to make you laugh. He would always compliment you and sometimes, when he would feel less nervous, he would also touch your cheekbones with gentleness.

And he also decided trying to ask you out for dinner, or to watch a movie with him. He wanted to be closer to you, feel you surrounding him. He wanted you to be his date whenever he would want to go out. For dinner, Eddie would probably avoid the usual fancy restaurants and take you somewhere quieter, like a diner with a jukebox in the corner, or a local pizza place with a wall full of band posters. Which totally matches his vibes.

He'd slip into the booth across from you, offering you the most random recommendations on the menu,while joking about how he says he’s the “food critic”. You'd get to share greasy fries and a stack of burgers, laughing at his antics. He'd talk about his band, the Hellfire Club adventures, and the books he likes to read.

When it's time for the movies, he would want something that matches his vibe too, maybe a horror one or a classic action movie.  He'd sneak you into the theater or make sure you get the best seats, perhaps even bringing along a bag of his own “special” snacks, like candy from a store he swears no one else knows about. He’d keep constantly commenting throughout the film, making you laugh and cringe with his sarcastic remarks and random trivia.

After the movie, he might take you on a little trip through the town, showing you places that are special to him, showing you the hidden spots where he plays his guitar or cool alleyways with graffiti murals. And then, when you think the night couldn’t get any better, Eddie invites you to join his Dungeons & Dragons campaign. You'd sit with him and his friends, surrounded by dice, snacks, and a bunch of exotic characters. As the Dungeon Master, he would lead you through an epic fantasy world, offering you a chance to create your own character and help him with his quests.

He'd get so into his role that you’d find yourself admired with excitement, laughing at his exaggerated voices for the game or his dramatic descriptions of monster encounters. Between turns, Eddie would glance at you, his eyes sparkling, making sure you’re having a good time, assuring that you’re having a good time with him. And then, he would give you a ride and drop you off your porch, trying to swipe off the feeling of wanting to kiss you like that other day.

The thing is, he was still pretty reluctant, because he still didn’t want to bring you into the mess that was his life. Even though you assured him it wasn’t a problem for you. The inside of the van smells like him, as always. You’ve grown accustomed to his smell and you kinda love it. Eddie's been joking around, you’re both still talking about the campaign you played for the first time and how you actually enjoyed being a part of it, but then, without warning, Eddie pauses mid-sentence.

You look over him, concerned. His hand flies to his nose, his expression shifting from playful to surprised.

“Eddie? What’s wrong?” You ask with concern in your voice. His hand is shaking as he wipes at his nose.

His eyes widen as he pulls his hand away, revealing a stain of blood spread across his fingers.

“Shit” Eddie mutters under his breath, leaning his head back against the seat and blinking in surprise. “It’s nothing. Just a little nosebleed. Happens sometimes”

You’re not convinced, seeing how pale his face became, the way his breath sounds a little heavier. It’s the second time it has happened, ever since he came back from fighting off Vecna. But it’s something he has never shared with anyone, not even to Gareth and Jeff.

“Eddie…” You lean forward, holding his wrist carefully “Let me help you.”

His grin falters as he nods, clearly not wanting to make a big deal of it. You reach over, grabbing a bandana from the glove compartment and gently pressing it against his nose. It might be one of his favorites, but there aren't any options left. Eddie winces at the touch but doesn’t protest. His eyes flicker to you, grateful you're beside him.

“We should probably head inside, okay? I’m not gonna let you sit out here like this” You sound pretty confident, but the worry in your eyes is impossible to miss.

He gives a half-hearted nod, murmuring something about how it's "nothing serious," but he doesn’t argue. You both step out of the van, and you help him toward your house with his arm around your shpulder for balance. His steps are slow, a little unsteady, but you’re there to guide him.

You lead him to the couch, easing him down carefully. He plops down with a sigh with the bandana still pressed against his nose, the bloox soaking it. You kneel in front of him, gently moving it aside to get a better look. You're caught off guard when you notice he lacks confidence.

“You sure you’re okay, Eddie?” You ask again, looking around for a small piece of cloth.

He nods weakly but doesn’t speak, his eyes lowered. Honestly, he's not really quiet, so it bothers you too see him look vulnerable.

“Just… bad day, I guess,” He finally says and shrugs. “It’s just… Stress. Things are fine, but sometimes, they’re not”

You sit down next to him, your concern not just for the nosebleed but for him in general. He’s always been the tough, devil-may-care guy, but you can tell things have been bothering him, which is something deeper than just blood and bruises.

You take his hand gently in yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, Eddie. I’m here. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone” 

Eddie looks at you, his lips turning into a half smile, but his eyes are tired. He doesn't want to look embarrassed in front of you “Yeah. Just don’t tell the guys, okay? They’d never let me hear the end of it”

You grin, offering him a reassuring glance. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You take care of him quietly, watching over him until the bleeding finally stops, cleaning him up with care. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push you away. It’s like the whole world slows down for a moment, and it’s just you and him, sharing something that goes beyond words or jokes.

After a few minutes, Eddie takes a deep breath, looking up at you. His eyes are still soft, still a little dazed, but there's a flicker of gratitude there.

“Thanks for… you know. For not making me feel like a total mess” He says with a tired smile, the hint of a chuckle in his voice. You’ve said it before, he should’ve looked for help, but he thought he could’ve handled it by himself. 

You sit down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “There’s no need to thank me. You’d do the same for me.”

He nods, his hand finding yours again as he leans back, looking at you with a quiet appreciation. He notices the small spark in your eyes, the way they flicker to look at him from a better angle. And it hits him. His stomach churns and he suddenly feels like the floor opened a giant hole right under him. His shoulders are tense, too, like he’s bracing for something.

“Eddie?” You ask softly, noticing how stiff he’s become. He doesn’t respond immediately, his focus still locked on a blank space. You see him tapping the armrest incessantly.

“Hey, you good?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes at first, and you know immediately that something’s wrong. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling, and his voice comes out almost too quiet when he finally speaks.

“I... I don’t know. I think... I think I’m seeing him again.”

Your stomach drops. It’s the Upside Down again. The stories he’s shared with you, the trauma that still lingers in his eyes even though he tries to brush it off. He’d never say it out loud, but you know Vecna haunts him in ways words can’t describe it.

“Eddie…” You murmur, your hand moving to his shoulder. “You’re safe here. You’re with me. It’s just us.”

But Eddie shakes his head, his eyes wide with fear. His breath is becoming shallow, quicker. He tugs at his hair, his fingers trembling as if he’s trying to pull himself out of something. “No, no, I… I can see him. I can feel him. He’s watching me again.”

His gaze shifts through the room, and you can see it now, the terror that’s taking a hold of him, the panic tightening his chest. You’re no longer looking at the Eddie you know, the confident, rebellious metalhead. Instead, you’re seeing someone deeply vulnerable, consumed by the horrors that still play in his mind.

“Eddie. Look at me. Look at me, okay?” Your lips quiver as you talk to him.

He finally meets your eyes, but it’s not the same Eddie you’re used to seeing. His pupils are dilated, his face pale, his breath is quick and uneven. His lips tremble, and his hands shake uncontrollably in his lap. The panic is consuming him, and the last thing you want is for him to feel like he’s alone in this. You’re not going to let him spiral.

“You’re safe. You’re not in the Upside Down” You nervously say, trying to pull him back to reality. “This is my house. This is real. You’re here with me.”

Eddie’s hand grips yours tightly, like he’s desperately holding onto something solid in a world that feels like it’s slipping away. “I can hear him, though. His voice… his voice, it’s in my head. It’s everywhere” 

His breath quickens again, and he seems to shrink in on himself, as if he’s trying to make himself smaller, like he can't escape the weight of Vecna’s presence. You can feel the panic in the air now. It’s heavy, suffocating, and you know you need to do something, anything, to help him find his way back from the brink of it. You lean in closer, your voice soft but unwavering.

“Eddie” You say gently, taking his face in both of your hands. His skin is damp, his pulse hammering beneath your fingers. “You’re not alone in this. I’m with you. I’m right here. We’re going to get through this together.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the fear, but it’s still there, gnawing at him. You keep your hands on his face, trying to guide him to breathe with you. You repeat the cycle, keeping your eyes locked on his, your voice calm.

“Breathe in with me. In for four, hold for four, and out for four.”

It takes a moment before he follows, his breath coming in a little slower. His hands are still shaking, but his eyes have softened just slightly, as if he’s focusing on your words, trying to steady himself in the rhythm of your breathing. You guide him through it, over and over again, not rushing, not pushing, just staying present with him.

It’s not immediate, but gradually his breathing begins to even. You see him relaxing his shoulder as his hands loosen their tight grip. The panic that was so suffocating is starting to leave his traces, replaced by the presence of your voice and the safety of your touch. You can see it in his eyes, he’s starting to come back to you, back to reality.

When his breathing finally slows down, Eddie exhales shakily and leans his head back against the couch. His eyes flicker to you, and there’s a mix of relief and fear in them. He’s still trembling, his hands fidgeting restlessly, but he’s no longer trapped in the vision of Vecna.

“You’re okay” You say quietly, your hand resting gently on his arm. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Eddie nods slowly, his voice rough as he whispers, “I don’t know how you do it. How you… how you stay so calm when I’m freaking out like this.”

You give him a small smile, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over his wrist. “Me neither. But I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For a moment, Eddie just sits there, his eyes searching yours, like he’s trying to escape the overwhelming feeling he was having minutes ago. Finally, he exhales a quiet, shaky laugh escaping him.

“Guess I’m lucky you’re here”

You squeeze his hand gently. “Yeah. You are”

You stay beside him, holding him and making sure he’s okay. You don’t intend to leave him alone tonight, even if he denies the invitation. Even if he tells you he doesn’t need to sleep there, you still want him to, because you know he’s still vulnerable and scared. And it’s not like he can’t fight it off, it’s too hard to forget something like that anyway.

As you watched him slouched on your couch, looking up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but hover your finger at the scars near his arm, near his neck. 

You do it for the first time since he had told you about everything. Because that’s the evidence of him fighting for his life out there. It’s not the only one, but it’s the most important one. He looked up at you, his eyes glancing between your hand and your face. There was no protest, no hesitation from him, watching as he slowly exhaled and let you do whatever you wanted to.

One of them was spread through his wrist, and you felt the texture of it, rugged skin underneath your fingertips. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed at your touch, his breath hitching for a moment. His hand, which had been resting on his knee, relaxed. And then he let his fingers graze yours. It was subtle. He let you touch him.

You didn’t stop. Your touch was slow, gentle, as if you were treating him like something fragile, something precious. Your fingers moved across his skin, tracing its edges, until you reached his neck. He didn’t speak, but his gaze softened. There was something in the quiet between you two, something that made the whole world outside feel small.

He didn’t need to explain, didn’t need to tell you how hard it had been. The scars said it all. But in that moment, you wanted him to know that you saw him. Not the Eddie that everyone laughed at or feared, but the one who had lived through things no one else could even begin to imagine. You let your fingers slide over his neck carefully, feeling the way it pulled tight against his skin.

You felt how he shivered under your your fingertips, but in a good way. He felt himself in a moment of pure bliss, having you like that. Something he had never felt with Chrissy, surprisingly. On the other hand she never went out of her way to actually care about his vulnerability. Because she never intended to anyway.

It was impossible to ignore the weight of it, the weight of everything he had survived. The scars were not just reminders of the Upside Down, but of the battle within himself, the fight to come back, to survive, and to still be here, sitting beside you. Eddie didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch at the touch. Instead, he closed his eyes again, his lips parting in a shallow breath.

For a moment, he was just sitting still, his hand resting on his knee but his fingers moving just enough to touch yours in return. It was a silent understanding between you two, something that needed no words.

Your hand lingered, brushing the scars with tenderness, wishing you could take away the pain that remained buried in them. But all you could offer was this moment. Your touch. Your silence. Your understanding. Eddie’s fingers wrapped lightly around your wrist, not to pull away, but to hold on. It wasn’t a desperate grip, but one of quiet trust, as though he was telling you that he didn’t have to carry it all alone for once. 

Eddie thought he was gonna be restless again, that he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes and sleep. You both lied in your bed in your bedroom. You could hear his quiet breathing, the gentle rhythm of it. It wasn’t like the nights when he would wake up in a cold sweat, trapped in nightmares that left him gasping for air. Tonight, he seemed immune from that darkness, as if the weight of the Upside Down had momentarily loosened its grip on him.

His body relaxed against yours, the warmth of him a comforting presence. His head rested against the pillow, his hair was messy and you couldn't help to reach out instinctively, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, your touch gentle and soothing. He didn’t stir, didn’t wake, but the subtle shift in his breathing told you everything you really needed to know. That he was finally at peace. His face, usually so full of worry or guarded, was softened in his sleep.

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly, as if he was dreaming of something good, something that wasn’t twisted by fear or sorrow. You could almost imagine that. Eddie was dreaming of something simple, something light. The kind of dreams he deserved but had been denied for so long. For hours, Eddie slept soundly, his body fully relaxed, his face free of the tension that usually weighed him. His breath, steady and slow, was the only sound in the room.

No nightmares. No lingering thoughts of the Upside Down. Just sleep, deep, restful, uninterrupted sleep. You woke up in the morning to find him still beside you, his face soft and content, a quiet smile playing on his lips. He had slept through the night without waking up, without the usual battles of his mind pulling him back into the darkness. For the first time as long as he could remember, Eddie had slept like he was meant to, without fear, without the ghosts of the past.

You woke up again a couple of hours later, feeling the other side of the bed empty. It was cold to the touch and you immediately opened your eyes in desperation. You were scared he left you after what happened the other night, even though he seemed to be having a good night of sleep for the first time in a long time.

As you sat up in a rush, you could smell the coffee. It could be Steve, or it could really be Eddie. You really wished it was Eddie. You slowly walked out of the bed towards your bathroom, doing your morning routine. As you were making your way downstairs, you could see his boots sitting on the living room floor. It's definitely him.

Eddie poured the coffee into two mugs, one of them being his favorite. A Star Wars one with the chipped rim. The one he gave you back when you moved out, even though you'd bought it for him. Turns out it broke during the way to Hawkins, and when he saw it for the first time, he couldn't believe you were still using it.

"Hey, coffee's ready" Eddie called softly as he set the mugs on the table.

Your hair was still a bit messy, and your face was still smushed from sleelping too much. A few strands falling over your face, and you wore one of his old band t-shirts. As you reached for the mug, your fingers brushed against his.

He didn't know if his heart was racing because of the moment, or if it was because of what happened the night before. Tracing the edge of the mug with his thumb, he hesitated for a moment, biting his lower lip casually. He had never been good with words, especially when it came to expressing his feelings. But he needed to tell you how much last night had meant to him.

"You know" Eddie cleared his throat lightly "I- I just wanted to thank you. For… well, for last night. You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did. And I don’t think I could’ve made it through without you."

You glanced up at him softly, extending your arm so you could reach out to his hand and grab it. "You don’t need to thank me, Eddie. I’m just glad I could be there."

As if he was feeling urgent, he shook his head and rubbed circles on your skin with his thumb "No, I do need to thank you. You were calm. You knew exactly what to do when I was completely losing it. It means more to me than I can even explain"

"You don’t have to explain anything. I just… I care about you, Eddie. I always want to be there for you, like no one ever could" You felt your heart thumping against your ribcage and your skin was on fire.

You watched as he lowered his head and chuckled lightly, a gentle smugness washing over his face. Eddie took a long sip of his coffee, feeling the warmth spread through him, both from the drink and the feeling he couldn't quite place yet. It was obviously more than a friendship, it was more than just something casual, this is love with more meanings than he can ever explain.

⋆˚✿˖°

@thegirlthatsfalling @strangemaximoff @readergf @sheneedsrocknroll92

[simpingforstardew]

misty [chapter two]

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: harvey has always been a man of routine and order— although just as he begins to tire of his life in pelican town, a new farmer moves to the valley and turns his life around. chapter two.

warnings: some angst in this one (tw/ description of familial death). pure fluff and romance; eventual smut, but that'll be tagged when the time comes !! please enjoy my harvey playlist while you read ♡ (this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.6k

<< last chapter | next chapter >>

The Stardrop Saloon, bathed in the soft glow of warm, dim lighting, welcomes its patrons with a comforting ambiance. The air carried the distinct aroma of aged wood and the faint scent of a crackling fireplace, giving the bar a rustic charm. The gentle hum of conversation mixed with the mellow tunes emanating from the vintage jukebox, creating an intimate symphony that echoed throughout the space.

In the games lounge, a haven within the heart of the saloon, the atmosphere took on a relaxed and casual vibe. Two arcade machines stand as silent sentinels; their screens flicker with pixelated adventures. The soft glow of the games cast dancing shadows on the well-worn couches nearby, a testament to the countless conversations and moments that must have been shared over the years. Adjacent stands the pool table adorned with worn-out felt and scarred by countless games. A haphazard arrangement of colourful pool balls wait patiently for their turn, illuminated by the warm glow of an overhead light.

“What the fuck? Fired?” Shane’s disbelief echoed through the saloon, as the cue ball he hits ricochets off the side of the pool table, “Just like that?”

“Yep,” You chuckle— both at the absurdity of your own misfortune, and Shane’s awful shot “HR claimed my ‘extended bereavement’ could lead to ‘performance issues’ and ‘wasting company resources’… Whatever that means”

Shane let out a snort, taking a swig of his beer. “And here I thought working in retail was a special kind of hell. Turns out even the corporate suits have their own issues.”

You accepted the pool cue he passed your way, unable to resist a playful jab, “Thanks, Shane. You’re making me feel so much better.”

The short man scoffs, grabbing his beer from the table behind him to take a long sip. “Just sayin’, you dodged a bullet getting the fuck outta there.”

Chuckling, you circled the pool table, searching for the perfect shot, “Well, it’s not all bad. Getting the boot from Joja pushed me to embrace farm life here. Guess I’m lucky in a weird way.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” he deadpanned, though a glimmer of curiosity flickered in his eyes. His attempt at sarcasm faltered as your shot proved victorious, sinking the 8-ball with a delicate tap.

“Talk shit all you want, but it seems like my luck’s holding up pretty well considering I just wiped the floor with you.” You flashed a triumphant grin, leaning the pool cue against the wall. Shane’s stoic exterior cracked, and for a moment, a genuine smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Beginner’s luck,” he huffed, yet the twinkle in his eye hinted at a begrudging acceptance of your presence, “That kinda luck doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, yeah— A win is a win, Shane!” You shrug on your coat with a smile, heading towards the front door of the saloon, “You owe me a drink next time I’m here!”

Without turning to see Shane roll his eyes, you step out into the quiet darkness of the night. Your smile quickly fades as the door of the saloon swings shut, leaving behind the warmth of the bar. As you enter the town square, a serene hush settles over Pelican Town, its sett streets bathe in the soft, ambient glow of vintage street lamps scattered along the thoroughfare. The spring breeze carries the distant melody of an insectile symphony, the noise of crickets underscoring the serene ambiance that envelopes the town.

Strolling through unfamiliar streets under the moonlit sky, your steps echo against the rough cobblestones beneath you. Your shoulders are hunched against the night chill and your gaze remains fixed on the ground, a mosaic of uneven stones beneath your feet. Each step whispers a story of the town’s resilience, of seasons changing, and the curious rhythm of life in Pelican Town.

Once inside the farmhouse, however, you realize that you have made a grave misstep. Arranging for your grandfather’s funeral, clearing your new land of trees and shrubbery, drinking with the townsfolk— these had all allowed you to keep your hands busy and your mind blank. Now, alone in your dark farmhouse, you had no distractions from your new reality.

The house itself was bleak. Each attempt to redecorate felt like an intrusion— as if the space itself was resisting your efforts to make it feel like home. The bed stood as a lonely sentinel in the corner of the room, illuminated by the crackling flames of the fireplace on the furthest wall. The room itself was adorned with remnants of your grandfather’s presence; even your sleeping cat— Pixel— was the runt of your grandfather’s cat’s litter.

A small pot of forget-me-nots, once vibrant, now drooped listlessly on the windowsill. You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against the frail petals, a silent acknowledgment of the grief that clung to every corner of the room. You are at least blessed with a working CRT television, although with access to only two channels in the valley, the device feels like a relic of a bygone era.

A cold draft sweeps through the room as you look above the TV: the otherwise barren wall displays a single faded family photograph, featuring your late grandfather, grandmother, and you. The glass of the frame cracked during the move and the photograph itself never seems to hang straight. You move to bring the photograph down from its place on the wall, holding it delicately in your hands— as if it could shatter at any moment. The photograph captures a moment frozen in the sepia hues of nostalgia.

In the centre, your grandfather stands tall, a patriarchal figure with calloused hands cradling a newborn lamb. His eyes, warm and crinkled with a lifetime of stories, radiate a quiet wisdom that guided your childhood. Besides him, your grandmother’s hands gently cup a cluster of wildflowers. The fabric of her apron was slightly swept, caught in the breeze. In the foreground, you: a child with innocent eyes and a smile that mirrored the joy of the moment. Clutched in your small hands was a clumsy, makeshift bouquet. The backdrop was the farmhouse itself, standing proudly amidst a sea of greenery; the sun bathed the scene in a warm glow. Yet, even in this idyllic tableau, there lingered a subtle melancholy, as if the photograph itself harboured the prescience of inevitable goodbyes.

The frame, once resplendent, now bears the scars of time—a crack here, a chip there. The glass that shields the captured memories has grown cloudy, as if the passage of years had draped a delicate veil over the faces of those who once shared laughter under the farmhouse’s sturdy roof. A sob escapes your throat as a tear splashes on the glass of the portrait; hesitantly, you place the photograph on top of your small table. You take a step back. You chuckle solemnly, wiping your eyes using the back of your sleeves as you yawn.

Pixel mews softly, as you climb into the cold sheets of your bed, before falling back to sleep. The silence of the farmhouse envelopes you like a weighted blanket, as moonlight floods through the windows of the farmhouse. It seemed that sleep was becoming increasingly elusive as you tossed and turned in bed.

The gratitude for your budding friendship with Elliot and Shane brings a bittersweet comfort, as you stare up at the ceiling, watching the way the moonlight casts a silver glow above. Elliot was the first person in the valley to approach you. His efforts to get to know you eased your anxiety about the new town. Shane was a tough nut to crack, but you suppose any stranger is your friend after too many beers— at the very least, you had a new drinking buddy.

The doctor you met before entering the saloon flashes through your mind as your eyes flutter shut.

‘Harvey,’ You mentally correct yourself, ‘His name is Harvey… and he doesn’t like decaf.’ You softly exhale, a smile tugging at your lips. He was… cute? A little bashful, sure, but he was more than gorgeous enough to make up for his nerves. Your face heats up thinking about his broad, towering figure; and the way his moustache curls up with his coy grin; and the way his dimpled, freckled cheeks blush so intensely when you look into his forest green eyes…

You turn to cover your face in your firm pillow, attempting to control your wondering thoughts; eventually, your breathing slows and your blush fades as you finally drift off.

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 11

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au TW: Mentions of murder Note: Thank you for your patience! Here is Simon's angsty backstory.

“Simon?” 

A beacon of harsh white light appeared right under the face of the shadow, illuminating its grim face and casting ominous shadows under its eyes, nose, cheekbones, and lips like the teller of a ghost story would do. She let out a frightened squeak before finally recognizing the face of the shadow.

“You scared me!” she chuckled as she put her hand over her racing heart.

“That was the point.” He laughed as he watched her climb up to the porch. Under the ghastly, sharp light of the torch, he playfully flashed a devious grin.

“Stop it, you look terrifying!” She exclaimed, shaking her head with a smile.

Simon switched off the torch and was hidden in the shadows again. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness again and to see him a little clearer. She could vaguely see him slouched on the bench, wrapped in a thin blanket from the elements.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, now sitting next to him and placing Little Simon aside.

“Johnny’s snoring,” Simon shook his head, letting out an annoyed grumble, “Can’t sleep with such a delightful little jukebox cozied up next to me, you know.” He turned to her when she chuckled. “What about you?”

“I slept too much in the afternoon,” she sighed, “and so I sat up working on my novel, thinking I’d get sleepy soon enough, but that didn’t happen, so here I am.”

He let out a short “hmm” as he stared at the rain that was now falling a little heavier. ____ leaned forward to check on the tent.

“I hope the tent’s not getting wet inside,” she said.

“Don’t worry, it’s waterproofed. We’ve slept through many rainy nights in that tent, so it’ll be as right as rain,” he answered, smirking at his unexpected pun, and feeling quite gratified when he heard her chuckle. 

“I remember you made a rain pun the second time we met at the book cafe,” she remarked, continuing to giggle.

“What can I say,” he sighed a self-gratified sigh, now half-joking and half attempting to make her laugh again, “I can be pretty funny at times.”

“For sure,” she smiled and said with sincerity, “I really do think you’re funny.”

His eyebrows shot up slightly. Outside of his friends, he didn’t think anybody found him hilarious, knowing that he frightened most people with his massive build and dark, beady eyes, and his general serial-killer vibe. He felt a warmth build in his chest at her compliment and smiled gratefully.

“So do the three of you go camping often?” she asked.

“We usually go every weekend unless one of us is busy. Actually, it’s been a while since we went camping because Johnny and Gaz always have prior plans on the weekend.”

“And you never did?” 

Simon felt needles pricking him in the chest and he chuckled painfully at the question. “I rarely have plans with anyone except the lads. I normally spend my weekends going on long rides or I’d visit my family.” He inhaled the scent of the pattering rain, “I don’t have a lot of friends besides the lads and you.”

She gave him a sympathetic look and turned back to the rain. Feeling a shiver course through her body, she instinctively moved closer to Simon and sat shoulder to shoulder with him. “It’s cold,” she shivered and rubbed her goosebumped arms, “and I left my hoodie in the tent too.”

Simon immediately saw his chance and opened up the thin but warm blanket he was wrapped in. “We can share the blanket if you want to,” he invited, holding one of the corners of the blanket in his hand, opening it out to her.

She didn’t hesitate to move closer to him, and as she did, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her still closer, draping the large blanket over her body. Their legs pressed together, her shoulder pressed against his side, and her head found itself resting in the divot of his shoulder. His body radiated heat like a loaf of freshly baked banana bread that she couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him. Simon blushed and blushed; he was over the moon. Her closeness only increased his body heat and started revving his heart’s engines. He silently thanked the rain for being a wingman. 

As if in response to his silent gratitude, a cold wind blew, sending a spray of rain their way. Simon quickly raised the blanket over her face to shield her. 

“This man is forged by Chivalry himself,” she thought. “Oh wait, that’s a brilliant line! I should write it down.” But when she realised she didn’t bring her phone with her, she had to resort to carefully stashing it in her mind. For now, she decided to focus on how jittery and warm his touch made her feel, and wanting more of it, she moved closer again.

At her slight movement, his head turned slightly, hyper aware of how close his face was to hers. “Are you warm, darling?” He whispered, his voice carrying a slight tremor of the nervousness of a reclusive man experiencing an unknown but pleasant feeling.

“Warm and toasty like a marshmallow,” she answered, grinning gleefully at him.

His body burned at the sight of her smile. He tightened his arm around her shoulder, and she could feel his muscles tense and flex around her neck, and his fingers grazed lightly against her upper arm. His rugged shoulder was under her soft cheek. The damp air, the smell of laundry detergent and rainforest cologne from his clothes wafted to her nose, reminding her of the night she first met him. He could smell femininity from her proximity, and he inhaled sharply, pursing his lips tight and fighting the urge to lean down and kiss her senseless. 

“Simon,” she called, her voice soft.

“Yeah?” 

“You said you don’t have a lot of friends,” she began and then paused for a moment, “Were you never in contact with anyone from school or university?” 

She felt his body go stiff; she didn’t see it in the dark, but his jaw tightened too, and he answered through his teeth, “No darling, not one contact…”

His voice trailed off and a heavy silence from him followed. She sensed that there was something more hiding behind his tense answer, a hidden, brewing, twisting whirlpool in a blackened vase. She was afraid to pry, but her concern and curiosity overcame her. “How come?” she asked.

She could feel his chest expand as he inhaled a sharp, whistled breath. He cautioned in a whisper, “Darling, it’s not a pretty story.” His voice was solemn, and she understood that what was behind the reason was truly heavy and unpleasant. 

“Do you not want to tell me? She pressed gently, “I understand if you don’t want to.”

He looked at her, brows furrowed, eyes slightly narrowed, and jaw still taut. “If I tell you, you might hate me.” he thought, weighing his options. He knew that if he was to possibly date her one day, he’d have to reveal his murky past either way. And he wasn’t dating her now so, “the sooner the better. If she hates me now, so be it.” 

“Well…” he began, “As a lad, I was, to put it mildly, in bad company. And this bad company scared off any potential friends I could’ve made in school.” He paused, letting that information sink in first.

She asked, “What was this-” in air quotes, “-“bad company”?” 

No more beating around the bush when he admitted directly, “I was in a gang.” When he saw her wide eyes, he added, “Can’t get a lot of good friends in a gang, can you? Everyone and their mum would be too scared to associate.” 

She was silent for a while, and he looked at her with pursed lips and a tense brow, worried about her silence. “That’s…” she began, “wow.” She turned to look at him, and her eyes swept over his dark silhouette with a look that told him that she started to view him differently. She was both worried and intrigued by this; her opportunistic writer’s mind was selfishly curious. She shook off the feeling and chided herself to have some empathy for him. 

He’d half expected she’d get up and leave and never speak to him again, but her voice was still soft when she asked, “Why were you in a gang anyway?”

She was beginning to step deeper and deeper into the most vulnerable parts of him, and it made his stomach churn anxiously like a beaker filled with all the wrong chemicals. His knee bounced restlessly and he answered, “Didn’t have a lot of friends, darling. Johnny was my only friend back then, but I wanted more…” he inhaled shakily, “I wanted a whole group of friends. A clique. A posse.”

She looked understandingly at him, leaning a little further against his shoulder. His arm tightened around her shoulders, as if wanting more of and appreciating her support.

“I was about fourteen, right, and at that difficult age, fitting in with your peers means everything,” he sighed, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against her shoulder, filling her with a warmth that she sadly had to ignore so that she could pay attention to him, “and I was invited to join the gang that had their turf around my school. One of the olders- that’s what the higher ranking members were called- scouted me and Johnny off the street. Johnny refused, but I accepted almost immediately.”

Her gaze never left him, even though he stared straight ahead at the now rainy lake. “And what was that like, being in a gang?” she asked.

“It was kind of fun at first to be honest, but the novelty wears off soon enough. It’s a dangerous, reckless business, especially for kids. You’re always being stopped by the police and searched for small knives, and they can even sniff out the safehouses where we stash drugs and weapons. There are always ongoing feuds between gangs, and the older, higher ranking members use the younger kids as their soldiers. The feuds can sometimes turn into turf wars too.” 

“Turf wars?”

“Each gang has their own territory, and there are consequences if you trespass. But the gang I was in was a strong one, and we had beaten down enough smaller gangs to expand our area in London, where I lived.”

There was a pause and she sat pondering for a moment. “Have you directly participated in a turf war, though?” she questioned.

“A couple, yes. As one of the youngers myself, I had to.” he nodded. He paused, pursing his lips for a moment before he admitted, “The last one I’ve been in landed me in prison.”

Her eyes flew wide with shock. “In prison?” she exclaimed.

Simon grimaced at her reaction, his worries only increasing. “I don’t think you want to know the details, darling.”

“But now I’m really curious,”

He hesitated. Well, he had come this far; there was no backing out now. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued, “I went to prison at the humble age of fourteen for… manslaughter.”

He now feared that she would definitely walk off and leave, but she sat there, still close next to him, her eyes widening further. She was frozen in silence for a long time, considering how he could have committed such a gruesome crime at such a young age. The patter of the rain and the howl of the wind filled the brief, heavy silence.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he blurted truthfully, hoping it would keep her from seeing him as a heartless killer, “It was all an in-the-heat-of-the-moment thing. We got ganged up on in an alley, me and two other of my lads against five. It was a stab fest from there. Three were heavily injured, one of which succumbed to their injuries, and I killed the other two by stabbing them in the neck and chest,” he paused to point to his neck and then his heart. She could vaguely make out the remorse on his face in the darkness as he whispered, “I stabbed them like I was the senate stabbing Caesar.” 

Her jaw slackened and her brows furrowed, almost feeling like a cold blade had sunk into her own body upon hearing this dreadful account. Her chest tightened and her stomach and she felt a painful throb in her heart as she imagined what the situation would have looked like.

“I was stabbed too, in many places,” he said, turning his head and pointing to the curious scar on his cheek. As he pointed at a spot on the left side of his chest, his stomach, and his right thigh, he could remember how it felt to have the short, cold knives sink into his skin, how they twisted harshly enough to wring out strangled screams from his mouth and his lifeblood out of the wounds. As his fingers passed over the scars under the fabric of his t-shirt, they thrummed and tingled in response to his memories.

Her features winced as she imagined a juvenile Simon drenched in his own blood and the blood of his victims, staggering and out of breath as he remorsefully stared at the work of his hands, feeling the weight of his guilty conscience and of the heavy hand of the law that would soon follow. 

“Proper gangs are rarely in the business of killing, and they won’t kill unless they absolutely have to. As the youngers, we were instructed only to injure and never kill, because dead men tell no tales, and it’ll only start a vendetta. But I killed. And the two other lads who were with me abandoned me and didn’t want to associate,” he shook his head, “So much for wanting new friends.”

“Were you ever found out by your family?” she asked when she found her voice.

“Yeah, by my elder brother. The alley where the stabbing took place was not too far from our old residence, and Tommy happened to be taking a shortcut to go home. On the way, he caught me slinking around. When he saw all the blood on me, he was shocked. Bombarded me with tons of questions. He was furious when I told him everything and he smuggled me to our uncle John’s place.”

She grimaced slightly at the mention of her ex. Now that she thought of it, she remembered John telling her back then of his family member who was in prison, and of his visits there. To think that it had to be the same man in front of her.

Simon continued, “Tommy and I told our uncle about the whole thing and at first, he refused to shelter me since he didn’t want to get in trouble with the law. But after some convincing, he showed me some pity and let me stay with him. Of course, he didn’t do so without a price,” he paused to chuckle bitterly at the pun on his uncle’s surname, “the price being a severe lecture as he treated my wounds.” 

The lady sighed, feeling pity for him, and even a little for John too.

“Eventually,” he shifted in his seat, “the police found me, came knocking on my uncle’s door. He had no choice but to surrender me to them, and I was angry with him for it. But I guess it was for the best.”

There was a pause from him for a moment. She gently pried, “and what happened after that?”

“I was taken to court. Me and the lads who were with me,” he answered, “They got a slightly lighter sentence. A couple measly years in prison and rehab for them. But mine was pretty severe, even for a fourteen year old. Eight years in prison and rehab. Ten years if I was remorseless, but my guilt lightened my sentence.”

She gulped harshly, unable to imagine such a young boy in prison. “And your family… how did they take it?”

He let out a laboured sigh, his gaze towards the rainy lake going out of focus as he vividly recalled the reactions of his parents. “My mum was inconsolable. She cried when she heard about what I did. She cried in court and she cried nearly everyday I was in prison. Uncle and Tommy tried to comfort her, but she wouldn’t be comforted. It was only when I assured her that I was undergoing rehab and continuing my schooling from prison that she felt a little relieved.”

Her shoulders relaxed when she heard that. “What about your dad?”

She felt his body stiffen. He was silent for a moment before he answered sorrowfully, “My dad… he was deployed in Iraq when he heard of this. He was angry with me– actually, angry is an understatement, he was livid. If it weren’t for my mum and uncle, he’d have disowned me already.”

“Disowned!” she exclaimed softly.

“Yeah, disowned. Being a Colonel in the Army, he didn’t want a criminal, murderer son. He thought it was disgraceful and embarrassing.” he answered bitterly, “I can clearly remember the time he came to visit me in prison for the first and last time. He said, “having a son like you is worse than death”.”

The lady was shocked to hear this. “He said that?” Her brows furrowed and she felt a twinge in her heart. “That’s awful. How could he be so heartless and say that to a child?”

“Yeah…” his voice trailed off, “But he’s always been like that. Strict and hard on both me and my brother. I never liked him. I always wondered what mum saw in him to love.” He ran a hand through his hair wearily, “He was an absent father, physically and emotionally. My mum knew it. She didn’t want us to be without a positive male role model, so she asked her younger brother to help her raise us. That’s where uncle John comes in. I liked him way better.”

She pursed her lips, now understanding why Simon and John were so tight-knit. She then asked, “Did your dad ever get over this? I mean, it’s been years now.”

He sighed yet again, shaking his head resignedly. “Not at all. He refused to visit me in prison, refused to talk to me after I was released, and still doesn’t want to talk to me. From what I hear from Tommy, it seems that I have ruined his reputation as an officer and a father by being a criminal.” 

Her heart sank. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have to see his face to understand that he was deeply hurt by his father’s treatment. Looking down, she saw his clenched, trembling fist resting on his thigh. She gingerly placed her hand over his fist. It took him a moment but his fist loosened, and she gently stroked the back of his hand with her thumb to console him.

“I'm so sorry, Simon,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. 

Simon drew in a shaky breath, relieved that she was still by his side after hearing about his pathetic past. Her gentle touch soothed and calmed his anxieties and fears. “It's fine,” he managed to croak out, his reassurance ending in a weary sigh, “It's fine.”

“And now there's the family reunion to go to.” 

“I didn't want to go,” he admitted, “I only agreed for mum's sake. I honestly don't want to face my dad and have him look at me like I'm…” his jaw clenched, “the scum of the earth.”

She eased her caress on the back of his hand, and slipped her hand into his, giving him a squeeze so gentle it gave him butterflies. 

“Don't worry, you won't have to face him alone,” she declared quietly, “You've always had my back, and now it's my turn to have yours. If he or anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll fight them!” 

He chuckled at her determination and squeezed her hand back, feeling relief so strong that it felt like he was a barren land being bathed in rain for the first time in years. “You are too sweet,” he said, smiling a little. 

“Only for you, because you're special,” she giggled. 

An overwhelming feeling of warmth enveloped his body at her words. You’re special. The words replayed in his mind like a broken vinyl record. A lump choked his throat, and his eyes nearly welled up and burned with tears that threatened to spill over. He blinked them back quickly and steadied his breathing, not wanting her to know or see. He squeezed her shoulder, saying breathlessly, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” she couldn't help but think, almost wanting to lean in and kiss his forehead to reassure him further. But she held back. 

The two then sat in comfortable silence watching the rain until Simon felt the lady's weight grow heavier against him. He tilted his head down to check on her. 

“Darling?”

Silence. 

He strained his eyes in the dark and saw that she was fast asleep. Even in the loud patter of the rain, he could clearly hear her soft breathing. His heart melted at the sight. He had just revealed to her the bloodiest stain on his past and she still trusted him enough to fall asleep on his shoulder? Simon's chest swelled with elation and joy to witness such love from her. 

Peeking over her other side, he noticed Little Simon looking cold and forlorn. Smiling, he carefully reached over and took the soft toy, and lifting her arm up slightly, he tucked the little fellow against her stomach. He then adjusted the blanket over her so that she could experience maximum warmth. 

And then, the cherry on top. 

He lightly pressed his lips against her forehead, whispering with a tenderness foreign to him,

“Good night, my love.” 

End of Part 11.

Part 12

--

Tags:

Comment below if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

@cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @keiraslayz

@iimichie

@mxtokko

@chocolate-noodles

@akurab

@xoxobooksstuff @suhmie @whenyouwannafindlove @dontyouworrydaddy @0chemicalwaste0

@prozacprinc3ss

[haihaihaitani]

Cheers to the Jukebox Queen! ~ *Ran Haitani*

Summary: You love the little dive bar you found after work one day. You're always spending time with the regulars and enjoying the atmosphere. That is, until it's disrupted by a stranger...

Pairing: Ran Haitani X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2224

Warning: Alcohol consumption, swearing

Masterlist

It was your favorite place to go when you needed to get away and relax. The little hole-in-the-wall dive bar had everything you needed: excellent drinks, good food, charming regulars, and a chill vibe. It was everything you needed after a stressful day at work.

Especially on a day like today.

It was pouring, soaking anyone who went outside to the bone, even if you had an umbrella. You also just put in two hours of overtime at your job and were exhausted. That's why as you were leaving the office, you could hear the sound of a cool drink and some old music calling your name from across town. You braved the storm to get to your favorite dive bar and order your favorite drink to make you feel better.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" The crotchety old bartender chuckled as he saw you. "The usual?"

"Double it. I need something strong tonight." You sighed, slouching against the bar.

"Another long day?"

You nod, shaking your wet hair. "Always. They work you to the bone for pennies, I'm telling you."

"That's why I keep asking you to quit that dead-end, early-grave job and come work for me. Sure, you'll still be making pennies, but you won't be worked to the bone. And everyone here likes you." He explained, as he passed you your drink.

You glanced back at him and shook your head. You took a sip of your drink, enjoying the subtle sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. "Nah, I still need to pay my dues. The contract expires in three years. Then maybe, maybe I'll consider quitting my day job to come work for you."

He chuckled. "That's all I'm asking; just some consideration. And quit swinging your hair around like a wet dog! You're getting my clean bar all dirty!"

"When has this bar ever been clean?"

He threw an ice cube at you, which you expertly dodged. A laugh spilled past your lips and you took another sip of your drink. The night settled after that. You chatted with some of the regulars, talking about their day and their latest gripe of the night. All of them commiserate over your struggles at work and how you never seemed to have time for yourself. Despite all of the crap the day threw at you, you could always count on your evenings and nights to be much sweeter. This is what made working like a dog all worth it; being able to spend some good quality time with people you actually liked.

"You know, you really ought to stop hanging out with us old timers so much." One of the regulars sighed and downed the dregs of his beer.

The woman next to him nodded. "You need to go to one of those swanky clubs and grind up against someone to take home."

You grimaced at the thought. "Clubbing isn't my style. I like it here! It's super chill and everyone is so nice! Why would I give that up?"

"A pretty young thing like yourself needs to find herself some hunky arm candy." The woman laughed.

You laughed and shook your head. "The dating scene isn't for me. All the guys are whiney babies who want a mother, not a significant other."

The man grunts in response. "You got that right. You kids don't want to work for a relationship anymore."

The woman scoffed and playfully shoved him. "Like you put any work with me when we were dating!"

"And yet you still married me!"

As the rest of the bar laughed, the door opened with a bang. You jumped, spilling a little of your drink on the bar counter. There, soaked to the skin, was a man dressed in purple to match his hair. He was tall, lithe, and carried himself with such authority it looked as if he was disgusted the rain even dared to fall on him. But what struck you about him was the tattoo prominently displayed on his throat. 

Bonten. He was trouble.

Everyone seemed to sober up in that exact second. No one looked at him, finding other things far more interesting to occupy themselves. It wasn't until the bartender cleared his throat hesitantly that he was actually acknowledged.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need to borrow your phone. Mine died."

His voice was smooth and cold. It sent a shiver down your spine. You looked down at your drink as he took the phone from the bartender, leaning against the bar next to you. Though you tried really hard not to, you couldn't help but listen to his conversation.

"The car's dead. No, I didn't wreck it. Probably the battery. Just get someone down here to fix it. I'm not staying here all night. Be here in an hour or I'll tell the boss you kept me waiting."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You didn't know who his boss was but you really hoped you wouldn't find out. A part of you wished he never walked into this bar and killed the whole vibe.

"Do you have a bathroom?" He asked the bartender, who pointed to the back.

As he left, you let out a shaky breath. The regular who was talking to you earlier shook his head. "That was terrifying."

"Shh! He could hear you!" His wife smacked his shoulder.

"Why is a Bonten executive hanging around this part of town?" The bartender mumbled under his breath, wringing his hands.

"You know him?" You ask and he winced at your words.

"Before I moved the bar here, I had a run in with their boss. He's terrifying to put it mildly, worse than that one. He let me off with my life but took everything else from me. I'm lucky to have escaped and I vowed I would never get tangled up with them again. Now they're back and I don't think I can go through all of that a second time."

The bar fell silent once more, heavy with the weight of the bartender's words. It made your stomach roll. But you weren't going to let some gang executive ruin your night. You couldn't. This place was your sanctuary. You couldn't let anyone take that from you.

Looking for a distraction, you found the perfect thing. Grabbing a quarter from your wallet, you walked over to the jukebox and punched in the correct code. Instantly, the bar was jamming to one of their favorite classic rock songs. The heavy mood lifted and you found yourself smiling once more. It was good to have the night back on track.

Everyone was too lost in their good mood to even notice the Bonten executive return from the bathroom, in a new, dry suit. You were bopping along to the music, watching some of the regulars dance in between tables, trying not to spill their drinks too much.

"What's all this?" His voice coming from behind you made you jump again. 

"Ah..." You replied, your words getting stuck in your throat. "Sometimes, we like to turn on the jukebox for some dancing. It's a normal occurrence here."

He nodded. "I'm assuming it only plays songs from back in the day."

You give a small shrug. "Yeah, but it's nice. Reminds a lot of these people of the good old days."

If you weren't paying attention, you would've missed how his eyes widened a fraction. "The good old days..."

The wistfulness in his voice that you were sure wasn't supposed to be there made your heart skip a beat. Despite your better judgment, you drank the last of your drink and held out your hand to him. "What do you say?"

He stared at you. "What? Are you asking me to dance?"

"Why not? You're waiting for your ride, right? Why not wait with some dancing?"

He continued to stare at you for a moment longer before taking your hand. His grip was strong and his skin was smooth, save for some callouses you were sure came from handling weapons. Still, you didn't want to think about that right now. You were trying to lighten the mood and you would not be frightened by this mysterious, yet powerful man whose hand you were now holding.

He was stiff at first on the dance floor, as if he had never danced to this kind of music before. You weren't surprised. He seemed like the kind of guy who would frequent the swanky clubs the regulars were teasing you about earlier. Still, with a bright smile and some good moves of your own, you got him to loosen up on you. He even flashed you a small smile which made yours grow.

"You're pretty light on your feet." You tell him over the music.

He shook his head with a smirk. "You're not so bad yourself. What's your name."

When you tell him, you nudge him playfully. "Are you going to tell me yours?"

"Just call me Ran."

You didn't need him to tell you his last name, because you already knew it. Anyone who's anyone knew the only Ran in Bonten was Ran Haitani. He was powerful and dangerous, and you were currently dancing with him in a dive bar. What a small world this was after all.

As the song started to come to an end, you grabbed another quarter to change the song. Before you could punch in the code, Ran punched one in for you. You raised your eyebrow at his choice and he rolled his eyes in response.

"I like this song." Was all he said before he pulled you into your next dance. 

A laugh escaped you as he twirled you around the floor. You felt weightless and dizzy, but in the best way possible. You could tell why he liked the song. It was peppy and had a good rhythm, something easy to dance to. You couldn't help but enjoy this time immensely, even as the song drew to a close.

You paused to catch your breath and take a sip of your drink. Ran ordered a whiskey and drank it slowly, his eyes on you the whole time. If he was any other person and this was any other time, you would have taken him home with those bedroom eyes. But you valued your life more than your pleasure. So instead you just winked at him and went back to the jukebox. You had one quarter left. You had to make it a good one.

After going over the choices a couple of times, you finally made your selection. It wasn't fast-paced or even all that happy. It was a song about reminiscing over your past and finding solace that the best is yet to come. It was slow, easy, and a good way to end the night.

Ran tapped your shoulder. "One more?"

You couldn't deny him. If you weren't going to take him home, you could at least dance with him one more time. As he pulled you close, you could feel your heart leap into your throat. It was intimate but not sexual. It was almost... romantic.

"How come I've never seen you at the clubs?" He asked quietly in your ear. "You have the moves for it."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Not my scene. But I'm assuming they're yours. You seem like a club guy. Ah, I don't mean to offend you or anything-"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Actually, I own a couple of clubs in Roppongi."

"Is that so? You must be loaded then. I hear the club scene over there is to die for."

"Thanks to my brother and me." He smirked and spun you, making your head go fuzzy. "Perhaps you should try it sometime. I can turn one of my clubs into a dive bar for a night, just for you."

The way he whispered that last part in your ear made you shiver. But you smiled nonetheless. "I might just have to take you up on that."

As the final song of the night came to a close, the two of you stared at each other in the eyes. There was something in him, something that was asking if he could kiss you. You wanted to give in. You were even leaning towards him-

The door to the bar opened. Everyone turned to look. It was a different man with a Bonten tattoo. Upon making eye contact with Ran, he nodded. Apparently, his ride was here.

Ran sighed. "Right on time. And I was so looking forward to cracking some skulls."

You bit your lip and hid it behind your hand. You knew he wasn't joking but you were tipsy. It was a little funny the way he said it so stoically.

He turned to look at you and pulled out a business card. "Call me, if you ever want to partake in my proposal."

You gently took the card from him and watched him slip away. Your heart was beating too fast and your head was clouded. Still, you couldn't stop thinking about the charming Bonten executive you danced your night away with.

It was then that the regular woman yelled out to you, "See? I told you! All you needed was some hunky arm candy!"

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

ok ok 2k25 goals intentions etc.:

daily, success threshold met at 183 days: journal, meditate, log my little habits and other countables, work out, drink 100 ounces of water, experience art, do some kind of mobility work even just a little bit of moving my butt on the foam roller, digital tidying of any kind, floss, write or work on a piece of writing even if it's not ready for writing (ykwim), no Scrolling before 10 p.m. (Intentional Posting such as this doesn't count) room re-set (a habit i had in 2023 decided i didn't need in 2024 and hugely missed once i had buried myself in a horrible pile i did not feel capable of tackling for like three months); 10k steps average for the year by 11:59 p.m. on december 31st

weekly: 5 Life Tasks Of Some Kind; try out weekly self-planning sessions although this is not a resolution because well what if i don't like it!

yearly: read 50 books; work about a thousand hours although this is not so much a "goal" as the result of me looking at my time tracking app and seeing if i can use this data to organize my life in a way that makes me feel less stressed about what is essentially my part-time job so i'm not gonna sweat the difference too much in either direction; i'm not gonna put my income goal on the internet but i do have one.

unquantified intentions: eat more vegetables/get to a place by the end of the year where i don't feel the need to resolve this again; be better about apartment tidiness maintenance tasks (an ounce of prevention...); be a more considerate and more proactive texter; keep working on showing up even when it's a little bit scary; i know i have writing as a daily goal but i'm also gonna say that an intention is to get to the end of the year feeling like i have a sense of how writing fits into my life as a regular practice instead of my historical feast or famine approach (which, to be clear, i don't think i'm ever going to be a nice normal Write Exactly 90 Minutes A Day gal.... so mostly i'm talking about avoiding the famines); keep jukeboxing; keep listening to new (generally and also to me) music; get back into/better at tarot

vibe: one other thing that came up when i was reflecting on 2024 was how much fucking time and mental energy i poured into being Totally Insane about how repulsive i am in many dimensions... this is not anything remotely new but i'm deciding now that i am over it and thus determining by executive decision that actually i am a hot fun genius and everybody awesome wants to be my friend.

[broidobe]

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔩 𝔟𝔬𝔩𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested! sooo happy you like my blog!

⁎⁺˳✧༚skid row masterlist

he's very thoughtful

but in his gift giving

like he finds things that match your personality

a quirky piece of jewelry

a vinyl of your favorite band

or something handmade

he loves surprising you with little things that remind him of you

low-key dates

he's comfortable with the chaos of the music industry

but he’s all about quiet moments with you

movie nights on the couch are his favorite

walking through the city is a close second though

expect many sarcastic remarks

“babe, can i borrow your jacket?”

no, it’s fine. i don’t need my own clothes or anything. you clearly wear it better.

when you mention a random celebrity crush:

yeah, because that guy is definitely cooler than the guy who writes you love songs and fixes your car.

he might not outright admit it, but there’s a good chance some of his lyrics are inspired by you

he loves to see your reaction when you piece it together.

rachel has a naturally chill vibe, but if anyone disrespects you, his protective side comes out.

he handles it calmly but firmly, making you feel safe.

if you’re into tattoos, he loves hearing about what they mean to you and might even suggest getting one together someday

not very big on pda

but when it’s just the two of you, he’s all about sweet gestures

brushing your hair back

holding your hand

or cuddling up close.

if you’re at a bar with a jukebox

he will CHALLENGE you to pick a better song than him

and he takes it SERIOUS

when he picks a popular song:

see, this is how you set the mood. nothing says ‘cool’ like the ramones.

if you play songs by the same band more than once:

are we making this a tribute night? should i go grab a lighter for the full experience?

will stop and pet every dog he sees (c’mon guys, if you don’t see it, you need a new pair of eyes)

he’ll throw a wink or smile in your direction during shows if he spots you in the crowd

just a subtle way of saying, “yeah, you’re mine.”

he’s careful about who he lets in

so if you’re dating him, you’re part of his inner circle

his friends and bandmates become your friends, and he loves seeing you get along with them.