#he will show up for that person regardless

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Unfortunately it's the Daily who broke this story, so I'm torn between "this is a rightwing gossip rag known for wholesale lying" and "the thing is this does track with my knowledge of detainee culture in usa prisons and detention centers"

Like, the history of political prisoners includes a GREAT DEAL of documented resistance from within prisons by the people suffering detention. It is both a way of asserting power in a system that severely restricts individual and communal autonomy, and a way of performing activism and advocacy from within authoritarian suppression.

The message of ensuring a political prisoner is well-groomed and styled is two-fold: 1) ensure they are able to show up in court with as much visibly communicated shared humanity with the "jury of peers" as possible, thus reducing the risk of state neglect and abuses influencing jury opinion on the prisoner, and 2) communicate clearly to everyone within the judicial system that powerful underground systems of solidarity and care have their eyes firmly trained on this person's well-being, and anything that happens to them will be taken as a severe act of aggression against that system of solidarity and care.

This may feel conspiracy minded, but it's important to remember that while we rarely hear about prison riots on the outside, every prison protest from the famous and historic Attica Uprisings to the recent Uprisings in North Carolina after they were abandoned in a flooded and lethal prison during Hurricane Helene in 2024 is an extension of this internal system of care. The battles fought are intentional and based in the risk/reward calculations of allowing a certain precedent to be set by hegemonic forces/systems.

It would not be an acceptable precedent for them to kill or harm Mangione in prison, nor to railroad his trial. People in a prison may not have much control over what happens to Mangione once he leaves the facility they know how to navigate. But they can certainly send a message to the outside world "if you harm this man, you invite a war"

Regardless of whether Mangione is guilty, innocent, convicted, pardoned, declared innocent, whatever, he is a political and politicized prisoner. That makes him an effective method of access and communication to the outside world. And that makes him someone worth protecting even on top of everything else that may already motivate his fellow prisoners to look out for him.

Basically: I'm not sure if the fade specifically is that message (although several former inmates/inmate activists online have disclosed they believe it IS), but it's clear that message is being communicated intentionally all the same.

I do think it's particularly interesting to me that people may have been imagining a world in which it would ever be realistic for prisoners to assault or harm Mangione. Regardless of HOW they communicated it, this message of solidarity from prisoners is both expected by anyone involved in prison resistance, and was practically announced to the whole world on live news by the detainees in Mangione's facility some time ago

"Luigi's conditions suck" is a very clear intro to "and we're angry enough about it to make sure the whole world can hear us"

If anyone is finding themselves surprised by these ideas or curious to understand better why people are talking about this and why they're making the assertions they do, I highly recommend reading some examples of prison letters and texts written by historic political prisoners and civil rights leaders. Letter from a Birmingham Jail is one of the most famous of these, but there are TONS and they're really fascinating insights into the complex community organizing of prison resistance. Angela Davis wrote prolifically in prison, including her work "If They Come in the Morning" and others. The Marshall Project also receives and directs letters from prisoners by the thousands and have collected some of the themes in the writing they receive from every day prisoners here, you'll find a lot of overlap.

Former prisoners & COs reveal that Luigi's new look was likely done by fellow inmates & is a symbol to show that they support & protect him.🥺🥺 ❤️ Huge blow to all the haters who for weeks have been fantasizing about Luigi getting assaulted in prison. lol

[cuteandhughesy]

Crawling Back To You | Matthew Knies

summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au).

19.9k (…whoops)

warnings: enemies to lovers | the slowest of slow burns. like seriously buckle up | emotional cheating? kinda not really? | thoughts of infidelity | drinking | intense make out scene | kind of a unfinished ending (sorry in advance) | suggestive scenes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: this idea randomly popped into my head before bed a few weeks ago and I immediately knew I had to write it. this is for the knies girlies (like yours truly) who can’t help themselves but fantasizing about him—I see you and I got you.

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Prologue

lucas' arm around your hips is a firm pressure, guiding you through the crowded frat house like he's done many times before. you let him easily, smiling at friends as you pass by them.

your boyfriend doesn't really notice anybody else—too busy looking for his friends in the chaotic crowd. his fingers flex around the dip of your hip, squeezing you reassuringly. "you look nice babe."

he's told you that already tonight—when you'd showed up to his door so you could walk to the frat party together—which, is only down the hall from your door—regardless though, it's nice to hear. you tilt you head back to look at him, eyes lingering over his too-sharp jaw and icy gaze. "thanks lucas."

he hums softly, not looking at you as he continues to make way through the sea of sweat covered bodies. you sigh gently, gnawing on your gloss coated bottom lip, gaze flickering away from your boyfriend.

you and lucas have been dating for almost half a year—which in hindsight isn't that long, but when you're in university and spending every waking minute with a person, it soon feels like a lifetime. you met him in the mailroom of your shared apartment complex during the beginning of last term, and hit it off almost immediately.

lucas was flirty, and so sweet that it felt like your teeth were decaying. he was smart and played on the universities hockey team—it was hard not to fall for him. but as your brief honeymoon phase came to a close, lucas started to get a little...dull.

he doesn't make your heart race, and he doesn't  have your stomach swooping with his stare or touch, and most of the time it feels like he doesn't have the time for you. but it's fine, because he's your boyfriend, and you care for him. it's just a bit...boring, and unfulfilling.

"babe." he starts again, glancing down at you. "were you able to book off that shift? the one during next game day?"

you frown, stopping in your shuffling steps. "lucas, I already told you that I couldn't."

your boyfriend stops as well, turning towards you with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "you did?"

you sigh, a bubble of irritation rising in your chest. "yes. this morning before class."

"seriously?" he all but huffs, dropping his hands from your waist. "I wanted you there."

"and like I told you this morning, there's nothing I can do about it." you've flushed with annoyance, looking at your boyfriend with a perplexed expression. it feels like you've been going in circles about this damn shift for days—and somehow everytime, lucas makes you feel like an asshole about it. you literally work at the arena, and as only 1 of 3 staff members for the concession stand, getting your shift covered was practically impossible.

his eyes flash with something similar to annoyance. "it feels like you don't even want to watch me play, y/n."

your eyes quickly dart around the room, gulping gently as you make sure nobody is watching the exchange between you and lucas—one that feels like it's on the tipping point of turning heated. your gaze flickers back to his, crossing your arms defensively. "are you seriously going to start this here? in front of everyone?"

despite your words, nobody is paying attention to the two of you—too drunk or high or both to have the awareness they needed to realize what's going on between you and the hockey teams assistant captain.

lucas sighs gently, eyes softening as he takes in your closed off, hard expression. "look," lucas grabs the sides of your face, holding you in place. "i'm sorry, okay?" your eyes drop, mind still reeling with annoyance about the whole situation. lucas thumb runs along your cheek, "we can talk about it later."

there's nothing to talk about, you think. i've already told you.

he leans in, searching for a kiss, but you turn your head just before your lips connect—lucas planting an unexpected peck to your cheek.

from a room over, matthew knies takes a sip of his beer, a smile pulling at his lips as his teammate loudly tells the group about his latest tinder date adventure—new flash, it went horrible. his teammate, gabe, wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to date, and after hearing all these different stories about how his dates went, matthew can't help but feel sorry for these girls.

sean, another member of the minnesota hockey team, nudges his elbow into matthew's side, subtly pulling his attention away from gabe and his loud mouth and comical expression—currently acting out how he'd opened the car door during said tinder date.

matthew's brows raise, looking at the tan complexion of his friend. "what's up?"

"looks like there's some trouble in paradise, huh?" sean then shifts his eyes out of the room, down into the even more crowded foyer and kitchen. matthew's eyes can't help but follow, landing upon his roommate, and another teammate of his, lucas.

but he's not alone—you're with him. matthew swallows roughly, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. he watches as lucas grabs your face, stroking the highest part of your cheek with his calloused thumb. there's a few rushed words exchanged between you, ones that matthew has no chance of hearing over the bustling party.

sean continues, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "what do you think they're fighting about?"

matthew watches as you dodge his friends kiss, your expression full of exhaustion and annoyance. he looks away from you, eyes finding sean's deep chocolate ones  "probably something lucas started."

sean snorts. "probably—dude doesn't know what he's got."

matthew hums dismissively, taking an aggressive sip from his beer bottle. the tangy liquid fizzles against his tastebuds, the alcohol already making him feel lighter. he can't help the way his eyes find you again, watching the tail end of whatever argument you'd been in the midst of.

lucas pulls off you, a tiny roll of his eyes. but he wraps his arm around you again, pulling you further into the house and in the direction of the living room.

at the sight of lucas, a few of the guys get distracted, attention pulled from gabe and his ridiculous performance—all of them hollering in the blondes direction. the smile comes easy, and he releases you in favour of greeting everyone, bringing them into a side hug before slapping the muscle on their back.

you do your best to plaster on a smile as a couple of the guys girlfriends greet you warmly—madison, you closest WAG friend squeezes your arm from the couch beside you. you briefly wonder if she's seen the tiff you've just had with lucas.

but no, you can't think like that, if you do it'll just make you more anxious than usual. you gently shake your head, snapping yourself out of your own pity. you stand awkwardly beside the couch while lucas completely disappears into his friends, cheering and laughing as they all talk about their latest win. you blink again, this time to hold back unshed tears.

"hey girl, you wanna sit down?" another one of the wags asks you, her gentle, honey laced voice filtering through the noisy room. "you look a little out of it."

you laugh gently, blinking rapidly. "I don't think there's anywhere to sit." your words stem from truth, and as you glance around the collection of mangled, worn leather couches and stained lazy boys, the space is limited. you desperately wish lucas was a doting boyfriend—pulling you into his lap and pressing a reassuring kiss against the junction of your neck.

"you can sit here." his voice cuts through the air like a knife, sending a usual shiver through your body. you hadn't even realized matthew knies was here—but you should've suspected it when you didn't hear his usual rerun of new girl in his and lucas' shared apartment.

your eyes flicker to his, and then towards the sliver of space between him and sean. the couch is most definitely sticky, and the foam is practically spilling out the cushion—the sight has you squirming. parties have never been your thing, and you've never been one to be overly social—much preferring the silence and comfortability of your own space. if you were to go out on your own terms, you'd often opt for local bars or eateries, which usually provide a more relaxed and tone downed party atmosphere.

but lucas likes frats—so here you are. your eyes find matthew's again, and immediately you're feeling a familiar pull in your chest—one that always seems to tug in the presence of your boyfriends best friend. it's not that you hated matthew knies...it's just....he is one of your least favourite people to be around.

you're not sure when it started, but the combination of his cocky attitude and the way he seemed to always be pushing your buttons with that stupid smirk on his face, just has your blood boiling.

and you really try your best to ignore him, but as soon as his pestering starts, you just can't help but bite back.

he's looking at you with that slinky pull to his plump lips, likes he's expecting you to decline his offer and just turn tail and leave—which you are desperately trying not to do.

matthew's one eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. "you scared or somethin', y/l/n?" he takes a slow sip of his beer, adam's apple bobbing roughly under his clean shaven throat. he licks his lips, catching the lingering liquid. "I dont bite."

the use of your last name—how it so easily slips through his lips like a song—has you biting down, your teeth practically cracking under the intense pressure. all your earlier irritation has been quickly redirected to matthew, and you eye him pointedly. "doubtful."

his smirk widens.

you shoot a glance towards lucas, but to your disappointment he still hasn't realized you're standing alone—sitting comfortably between teammates and sipping from a mysterious seltzer can. slowly, you look back towards matthew, who's grin has yet to falter.

he pats the space between himself and sean, two slaps against the leather as he wordlessly invites you over.

you can't help the way your eyes roll.

sean watches the entire ordeal like a damn soap-opera, eyes darting between you and his friend next to him—hiding his amused smile behind the neck of his beer bottle.

with a gentle sigh, you make your way towards them, wordlessly taking a seat between the two athletes with an awkward cough. immediately you're warm, the combination of the crowded house and being squished between two large men sending you into a heat flash.

although, matthew may be more of a boy than a man, but you digress.

"want a drink?" he asks you—the smirk evident simply in his tone. your eyes dart to the side, finding his flushed face.

"of what?" you question sharply.

his brows raise in amusement. "anything you want." matthew laughs once, a breathy sound that has you squinting. "there's lots of options—this is a party, y/l/n."

there's that nickname again—the condescending tone dripping from his tongue as he calls you by your last name. you grit your teeth, "that's not my name."

"I mean...It is." his eyes flicker with something you don't recognize, lip twitching as his smile widens. "you're always so wound up."

you stiffen, and you can hear sean hiss quietly beside you. matthew's looking as smug as ever, fiddling with the damp, shredded label of his drink. you let out a scoff, "no i'm not—you're just annoying."

"sure." he nods condescendingly just as he lifts the neck of his bottle back towards his mouth, plump lips expertly caressing the opening and tipping the liquid into his mouth.

you watch him move—your bubbling annoyance clear. you watch behind the rim of the bottle as his smirk returns, and that has you blinking, quickly averting your gaze. "don't you have other people to bother?"

you hear his beer hit the table as he places it down, clearly done with it. "am I bothering you?" matthew chooses to avoid your question, like usual, which has you rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I personally find this really entertaining." sean interrupts, leaning closer towards you. a half smile takes over his dark complexion, and he gets further into your space, wide, amused eyes dancing between his teammate and you. "you guys fight like you're a married couple."

you head snaps his his direction so fast you neck muscles tighten up. "what does that mean?"

matthew snickers, which immediately has you attention again. "seriously, have a drink or something — you fucking need one."

"excuse me?" your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you're too far gone to care. you're really not in the mood to deal with your boyfriends best friends cocky personality, or his infuriating mannerisms and ridiculous smirk. "literally what makes you think you can say things like that to me? god, what's crawled up your ass."

"alright, alright," he interrupts, one of his large hands raised in a mock surrender. "just chill out, I'm not trying to ruin your night."

without knowing what else to say in that moment, you look away—eyes pinched and lips held together tightly. you grab sean's half full can of cherry liquor—right out of his loose grip—and down the rest of it.

he makes a noise of protest, but you don't even care. the alcohol already has you feeling better, the affects settling deep in your belly and further warming your exposed skin—you've always been a light weight. you cringe at the flavour, letting the last sip linger on your tastebuds before fully swallowing.

"fuckin jesus, y/n." sean grumbles like he's annoyed, but his eyes tell a different story. "that rilled up huh?"

you turn your back towards matthew, facing sean and his girlfriend completely. the latter is talking intently with another one of the girls—completely oblivious to the tension brewing next her.

matthew's eyes linger on your exposed back, your cream silky top dipping low enough to expose the base of your spine. he tongues his cheek to mask the grin, slowly trailing his eyes back upwards. "you're such a baby." he says knowingly, leaning in close enough that his words tickle your neck. "turnin' your back to me."

without looking at him, you huff. "you're so insufferable." you break composure, turning back in his direction. your irritated expression is still lingering, looking at matthew like you're trying to incinerate him with your eyes. "you suddenly care about me or something?"

"you wish." his response is quick—teasing.

sean snorts, clearly enjoying this much more than you could ever.

"do you seriously think you have that much of an impact on my life?"

"I know I do." matthew laughs. "you're really cranky today."

"and you need to shut the fuck up-"

"alright, you two." sean speaks again, looking almost scared as he eyes the both of you curiously. "better stop before people start getting the wrong idea."

you don't even have the brain capacity to think about what he could mean with that insinuation. you shoot off the couch, "i'm done here anyway." you mumble hastily, immediately making your way across the small living room. you weave your way through the few people standing in the middle of the space, lingering and chatting too enthusiastically for your liking.

the other couch comes into view quickly, and you spot lucas just as fast. your arms are crossed as you walk up to your boyfriend, lips already pulling in a irritated pout. the silk of your top suddenly feels too cold—too exposing—and you just want to go.

"lucas." you get his attention, "I'm going home."

his attention is pulled away from his teammates, eyes flickering over your figure once. "you okay?"

"ask your roommate." you spit. "he's fucking infuriating."

lucas grin, rolling his eyes. "you are so dramatic, babe. just come sit with me."

a couple of his teammates snicker at his words, attempting to cover their amused smirks behind their drinks—but you catch them.

"i'm not dramatic." you start, exasperated. "and no, I'm going home."

he runs a hand over his face. "kay, i'll see you later."

"whatever." you grumble, turning away from your boyfriend. you make your way back through the sticky frat house, narrowly missing the beer spilling over solo cups as drunk university students slosh around, smashing drinks together in cheers.

the early spring chill sends you into a shivering state almost instantly—the night cold stinging your skin harshly. it's only when the noise and echoing bass fade into a dull hum that you start to cry, sluggishly walking down the sidewalk as you continue the short walk to your apartment complex.

thoughts of matthew's snarky remarks and stupid smirk are plaguing your mind—sending you into a flurry of anger and vexation. replaying the interaction in your head has you scoffing out loud, muttering irritatedly like a clinically insane person.

and then there's lucas and his rude dismissal of you—his girlfriend for fucks sake. that and the way his teammates snickered at the brief moment of bickering between you just has you spiraling even deeper.

you close your apartment door louder than you intended, kicking off your shoes quickly.

your roommate, cora, looks up from her spot on the kitchen barstool, slowly slurping her mouthful of cheap ramen noodles with her brows raised in concern. "how was the party?"

all you can muster is a growl, opening to cupboard above the sink in search of a glass. your grab the first one you see, immediately filling it up with absurd flavoured tap water.

she snorts into her bowl, shoving some more noodles into her mouth. "what happened?" she questions between her chews.

you finish the water with a loud gulp, placing the empty glassware on the counter. "matthew happened."

his name alone makes cora roll her eyes, but there's a tiny grin that she can't even hide. your roommate is well used to the hostility that lingers between you and your down the hall neighbour. "just ignore him."

it's something that's been said by cora hundreds of times—it seems that anytime you're with lucas, you're coming back with a scowl and a new story about his roommate instead. "you know he only messes with you because you give him a good reaction."

you huff, stealing the fork out of cora's bowl and serving yourself a bite of her beef favoured noodles. they're not long made, and the heat slightly burns your tongue. you hiss through your teeth, "he's hard to ignore when he's up my ass whispering in my ear about how i'm 'such a baby'" you attempt at lowering you voice to mimick the athletes, and that has her grinning, taking back her fork for another bite.

"you two are so weird." she slurps a noddle noisily, "like there's some weird sexual tension or something."

"cora!" you huff, eyes comically wide as you look at her with nothing short of perplexity.

"what?" she laughs, all but innocent. "he's hot!"

"I have a boyfriend." snatching the utensil again, you twirl the prongs through the lingering food. your face begins to heat up, something that feels like embarrassment crawling at your chest. you clear your throat, praying that cora doesn't catch your burning cheeks as you chew some more food. "besides, even If I was single i'd never date someone so...arrogant."

"whatever you say." cora teases further, tucking herself further under her extra large hoodie. you know your friend is only playing around, and there's no malicious intent with her digs—so you let it slide, even though the mere thought of dating matthew knies has your stomach dropping, making you feel nothing less than nauseous. 

"I need to take these jeans off before I explode." you whine, quickly changing the subject. you already start unbuttoning the denim as you make your way down the hall, rounding into your warmly lit bedroom in search of your favourite pyjamas.

you soon swap your party, beer smelling attire for an oversized, stained hoodie and sleep shorts—throwing your hair back and popping your glasses on. already, you're feeling much more relaxed than when you first got home. "wanna watch an episode of stranger things?" you call through the apartment, already grabbing your throw blanket.

"yeah!" cora calls back, "can you bring me the niall horan blanket from your room?"

you snort a laugh, doubling back to your bed and pulling the fuzzy, 2011 one direction throw into your arms. it's been a staple piece ever since you met cora in your freshman dorm, and you learned your new roommate from wisconsin was just as obsessed with the former boyband as you are.

you make your way back into the living area of the small student apartment, your slippers slapping the floor obnoxiously as you do. "can you grab me a coke?" you ask cora as you pass the kitchen nook.

two knocks interrupt you, the sound echoing through the wooden door that separates your apartment from the hall. you jump slightly, the unexpecting thumping catching you off guard and making your heart leap.

cora eyes the clock—almost 1 a.m. her gaze skips back to you, frozen in place with the fridge wide open. "are you expecting anyone?"

"no." you swallow, making you way to the door. "are you?"

she almost snorts. "definitely not."

skeptical, but curious, you grasp the chipping bronze handle. you're hoping it's lucas—lucas who has hopefully come to his senses and has left the party in favour of giving you an apology. with a gentle shrug, you turn the handle and pull the door open in one swift motion.

matthew is there, leaning against the door frame in all his smug, infuriating glory. at the sight of you opening the door, a small smirk grows on his face, and in that moment you think the universe must be against you—because what the actual fuck.

"hey." he says simply, his stupid smirk growing impossibly wide. "glad to see you're not dead in a ditch." your brows begin to furrow, and he continues — much to your dismay. "saw you leave the party all stompy."

you're almost speechless, at a loss for words as you blink up at him. "it's almost 1."

"very good." he snickers, like he's congratulating you for knowing the time. you want to punch him in the mouth and get rid of that insufferable grin.

"can I like, help you or something?" you question roughly, crossing your arms over your hoodie. it's a bit awkward considering the mountain of blankets in your arms, but you manage. "i'm kind of busy."

matthew peers behind you, looking into your very much empty apartment. he sees cora, still lingering in the kitchen—watching the exchange like it's a SNL skit with a tiny, amused smile on her face.

he meets your hard eyes one again. "I don't think you are, actually." he licks his bottom lip slowly, an action that seems instinctual. "are you going to be neighborly and invite me in? or just keep standing and staring."

a scoff leaves your mouth, but before you can protest, cora speaks up, her cheery voice making your heart drop. "come on in, matthew—don't mind the mess." she kicks some loose shoes out of the way, subtly pushing you to the side as well.

matthew smirks at you again, stepping into the small foyer of your apartment. you tear your gaze away from the tall boy, sending your roommate a slightly panicked look.

she just shrugs, looking back at matthew quickly. "i'll let you two chat—i've gotta get the pillows..and...stuff, from my room."

pillows and stuff? her excuse is just sad, but before you can stop her, cora is turning on her heels, practically skipping down the hall and into her messy bedroom.

now alone, you look back at your boyfriend's friend with raised brows. "so? what is it?"

something flickers across his face, and before you can register it, he sighs. "listen, i've come to say i'm sorry for tonight. I was an asshole."

"an asshole is one way of putting it." you scoff, arms crossing tighter. you pause, eyeing his seemingly sincere expression. with a sigh, you falter slightly, "but thanks."

his smirk is back. "welcome." the formality is mumbled through his plump lips, and you swallow roughly at the lazy grin.

"anything else?" you hum pointedly.

matthew shakes his head. "nope." he reaches behind his broad back, grabbing the doorknob and turning it. "i'll be seeing you around i'm sure."

you watch as he opens the door, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminating your dim apartment. you kiss your teeth, a reluctant nod following suit. "oh, i'm sure."

he snickers. "goodnight, y/l/n."

your face falls—a bubble of irritation quickly rising once again. you don't say anything, watching through the corner of your eyes as matthew walks down the hall to his and lucas' shared apartment.

he shoves the key in the lock, and just before he walks inside, matthew shoots you one more stupid smirk that sends your head reeling.

you click your apartment door shut, and as soon as it does, your forehead hits the flat surface, an angry groan leaving your chest.

STAGE 1: Confusion

"can I get three tequila sunrises, please?"

the burly bartender behind the counter sends you a curt nod, turning on his heels as he grabs three empty glasses to begin making your drinks.

the bar is crowded, more crowded than your usual visits, but it is a saturday night and this is the closest place to drink from campus—so it’s business doesn’t come as a shock. you look around the room, eyeing the sea of students and young adults alike—all smiling and dancing together as they down shots and sip their respective drinks.

your eyes find your small table, seeing cora chat happily with your mutual friend, rachel. you'd all been in a deep conversation about your psychology midterm results when you'd slurped up the last bit of your drink—cora already fiddling with the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass.

with a pout from rachel and a plea from your roommate, you slid off the high stool and begin sneaking your way through the bar. you sigh gently, turning your attention back to the busy bar, watching as the bartender works around his co-workers in their hectic environment.

"hey." his voice has you stiffening. slowly, your gaze flickers to your right and that's where you see matthew, leaning against the sticky bar top in his usual stupid way.

you frown, glancing over your opposite shoulder to see if he's talking to somebody that's not you—maybe a teammate or your boyfriend who has magically decided to show up tonight.

matthew snickers. "yeah. i'm talking to you."

you look back at him sharply. "why?"

he shrugs, his index finger tracing one of the raised splits on the wooden bar top. "just saying hi to a friend."

"a friend?" you question, one breathy laugh passing through your stained lips. your gaze turns pointed, looking at matthew with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "we're not friends."

"no?" he hums lightly.

you shake your head once, firmly. "I think you're forgetting how you know me."

"we live in the same apartment complex." his smile has returned at full strength, sending your chest contorting in a way that makes you angry. he's trying to rile you up, you know that by now, and even if you didn't, that grin on his stupid chiseled face gives him away—he's up to no good.

you make a face of faux innocent, mouth falling open to form a small, perfected 'o'. "oh, so that's how you know me?" your face falls, and you grab your wallet off the bar top. your hands are slightly shaky, and definitely clammy due to the adrenaline and irritation running through your veins—it's all so infuriating.

you turn to leave, but matthew's hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you. your head snaps back so fast that for a moment your vision blurs—and you have to blink quickly to clear it.

"c'mon, y/l/n, i'm trying to play nice." his grin falters slightly, looking down at you with a gentle expression.

it makes you even angrier. "well, I don't want you to play nice."

matthew squints playfully, leaning further down into your space. "kinky."

your eyes widen to unfathomable size, and your skin flushes all over. it's exactly the reaction matthew wanted to pull from you, and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches your face further contort into an expression of disbelief and frustration.

you take a few shaky, shallow breathes, trying your best to not yank your hand away and high tail out of the bar completely. "I have a boyfriend." despite the firm town of your voice, your words are quiet, only for the two of you to hear.

matthew's brows shoot up. "okay, I don't know how stupid you think I am, but I know you have a boyfriend—I live with him. i'm just being a dick."

you can't help the way your eyes roll. no shit. it's like matthew finally realizes the gentle grip he's still got around your wrist, and he drops your arm rather quickly upon realization. matthew brings his hand back to his side, fingers flexing as he tries to shake off the unknowing sensation. he clears his throat, eyes not leaving yours as he continues. "speaking of, where is lucas? thought you'd be up his ass tonight."

you hesitantly tuck your wallet under your arm, holding it to your side. after all, you're still waiting for drinks, and you're not going to let matthew drive you out of the bar before you can deliver them. "like you said," you huff, "you live with him, so you should've noticed he was home tonight."

matthew's lips drop in a small frown at your words, because no, he doesn't remember seeing lucas after they passed each other on the way to the bathroom that morning.

the tattooed arm of the bartender comes back into your peripheral vision, and he slides theee glasses in your direction. "here's your drinks."

you quickly menover your black wallet back into your hands, pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to the rather attractive tender. "thanks." he nods, tucking the money into his waist apron before turning away, attending to one of the many awaiting customers.

you look back towards the athlete at your side, who still hasn't taken his gaze off of you, and send him a sarcastic smirk. "wish I could say it was nice seeing you matthew, but i've never been a liar." you grab two of the glasses, frowning gently as you realize you can't quite grip the third. you place them down, attempting another time.

"oh wow good one, y/l/n." matthew laughs breathily, watching as you continue to struggle with three, condensation coated glasses. "are you going to ask for help now?"

you snort, "i'd rather eat glass than ask for your help."

you look like a lost puppy—one of the glasses pressed between your arm and boob, and the other one clutched awkwardly in your hand. your fingers barley reach around it, and it looks like a disaster waiting to happen.

"jesus christ, just—" matthew mumbles, reaching towards you and taking both glasses from you. and because he's annoying and has the hands of a giant, he scoops the third glass off the bar, holding the three together.

he looks at you triumphantly, which makes you want to kick him. "must you be so proud?"

"I must." he chimes. matthew finally looks away from you, which has you letting out a breath you hadn't realized you've been harbouring. his eyes filter through the crowd, brows pinched together. "where's your table?"

on cue, cora's distinctive laughter fills the room. "never mind I can hear your roommate." he begins walking in the direction of the table, maneuvering through the room like he owns it—which induces an annoyed eye roll from you. watching the crowd practically part as they see him coming through is even more infuriating.

you follow behind him, trying your best to keep up with his long strides. "her mouth is almost as loud as yours!" you smile with faux enjoyment, looking up at his side.

you merely miss getting bumped by some hammered frat guy, too busy yelling and terribly singing along to the shitty (but addictive) pop music. you miss the glare matthew sends the strangers way before he looks down at you, a smirk on his face. "seems like a match made in heaven then."

"or hell." you hum.

he laughs tauntingly. "don't be jealous."

"why would I be jealous?"

"took you long enough!" cora shouts, teetering on hammered—she's been pregaming since 5.

you watch rachel's eyes trail to your side, and immediately she's lighting up. "oh and you've brought a friend."

"not a friend—just a nuisance."

matthew laughs, too loudly for your liking, brushing past you to step onto the platform where your friends sit. "think that's the nicest thing you've said about me, y/l/n."

if your eyes roll one more time tonight they're surely to get stuck. "don't you have something else to do, knies?"

cora takes the glass from matthew's large hand, batting her lashes up at him like a damn cartoon character. she immediately takes the straw into her mouth, chewing on the plastic. "thank you matthew."

he turns back to you with a smug expression. "see, y/l/n, that's how you're supposed to respond when someone does something nice for you."

"oh well— I can't wait for the day you do something nice for me!" you clap your hands together like an exaggerated cheer, stepping up the the platform as well. you almost bump into his chest, underestimating just how close matthew was.

he just smirks, eyes slowly flickering down your body.

you swallow. "okay, you can go now."

"anything else?" matthew questions, brows raised expectantly.

"what?" you breathe through your teeth.

his smirk grows. "i'm waiting for a thank you."

you exhale through your nose, eyes briefly flickering closed for a passing moment. when they re-open, matthew doesn't falter, if anything he looks even more cheerful. "thanks." you grit out.

"you're so welcome." he shoots you a quick wink, waving goodbye to your friends before he steps off the platform, making his way back to whichever group of loud cronies he'd been with before he started pestering you.

"you two are so ridiculous." rachel laughs into her glass before taking a hearty sip—her eyes not once leaving you.

you whine, taking your original seat next to cora. "i'm one more interaction away from transferring schools."

cora groans loudly. "oh my god."

the conversation thankfully shifts after your dramatic remark, and the rest of the night seemingly goes by in a flash. you actually end up dancing for most of the evening, sandwiched between cora and rachel as you all scream song lyrics and laugh with one another. it's nice and refreshing—thankfully taking your mind of him.

you end up feeling more tired than you expected soon after, the combination of drinking, dancing and being at school since 10 that morning is taking its toll on you. "i'm gunna head out." you tell cora, leaning in close so she can hear you over the bassy one direction throwback.

"what?" she pouts, her hazy eyes wide. "I don't want you to go!"

you laugh gently, accepting the hug as she throws herself at you—stumbling over her own two feet in the process. "i'm tired." you admit. "do you and rachel wanna come with me?"

"no! the night is still young." cora looks at you like you're crazy for even suggesting that.

"okay party animals." you bid another goodbye to both of your friends, ordering and uber for yourself before stepping outside. you're hoping the chilled air will sober you up a little bit—because the last thing you need is to fall asleep in an uber, or worse, get sick.

you sigh gently, swaying on your feet as you stand outside the bustling bar. strangers and traffic are steady, providing a surprisingly comforting atmosphere.

the door creaks open behind you, the inside chaos growing louder for a split second until the threshold is closed once more. instinctively, you glance over your shoulder, and the sight has you groaning. the universe must be praying on your downfall, because there he is. "seriously? are you stalking me or something?"

matthew's brows raise, his hands shoved in his jean pockets as he walks towards you. "that doesn't even make sense—you've already seen me tonight…”

his words have you scoffing, and you turn your head away from him as you grumble frustratedly. "fucking...whatever."

he doesn't respond immediately, and the night life is the only sounds heard. ever impatiently, you check the uber app again, praying your ride is almost here—but they're still 5 minutes out.

"where are your friends?" matthew's voice interrupts your peace.

"why?" you question with hesitance, your glare pointed as you look towards him.

he laughs briefly, although it sounds more like a scoff. "god, you're so tightly wound! i'm just trying to make conversation."

you're taken aback for a moment, blinking quickly as you take in his words. with a quiet, irritated sigh, you look away from him once again. "you really don't need to."

you peer down the road, praying you see the uber that somehow has magically sped through time. matthew scoffs again. "why don't you like me?"

"besides the obvious?" you question condescendingly, eyes not leaving the road in front of you.

"sure, besides the obvious."

you spin on your heels, which in hindsight isn't the smartest decision because your stumbling dangerously. matthew's eyes widen in concern for a moment, but you catch yourself before he has the chance to reach out. you eye his flexing hands with anger, a grumble leaving your stained lips. "you're just, ugh! insufferable."

his brows raise. "i'm insufferable?"

you nod. "yes."

"really?"

"yes, matthew! god this, what you're doing right now is quite literally the definition of insufferable. like, if you looked up the definition a video of this interaction would play." you breathe roughly, gesturing between the two of you like a crazy person. at some point during your rant, you'd stepped closer to him—close enough that you have to tilt your head back to properly look at him.

matthew's lips slowly contorts into a smirk, one that sends your blood boiling. "you're such a nerd ."

you laugh in disbelief. "que the insults!"

his eyes change then, his smirk dissolving as a more serious and intense expression takes over his face. matthew licks onto his bottom lip, gaze pointed. "it's wasn't an insult."

your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you watch him…watch you. before you can say anything—do anything—the sound of tires screeching to the curb has you pulling away.

the passenger window rolls down, and a middle aged man come into sight. "uber for y/n?"

"yeah, that's me." you say quickly, walking away from matthew as fast as your feet allow you, and practically jumping into the running car, as soon as the seatbelt is clicked into place, the uber is moving, sending you falling back against the seat.

you watch through the window as matthew looks at the retreating car—not talking his eyes off the vehicle until you're nothing but a set of break lights in the distance. you swallow roughly, blinking away the flurry of emotions pulling and pushing at your chest.

STAGE 2: Shifting

almost a week has passed since your...interesting? annoying? pointless? conversation with matthew outside the bar, and you thankfully haven't seen him since.

which is surprising considering you've been at his apartment almost every night with lucas. as much as you hate to admit it, and as much as it makes you angry, you were curious about his whereabouts. anytime you'd been cuddling with lucas on the couch, watching some shitty show he liked—your mind would wander, and anytime there'd be any noise in the hall, you'd wonder if it was him.

where was he? what's was he doing? is he avoiding you? but no, because matthew loves pissing you off too much to just avoid you...right?

you curse yourself everytime matthew pops into your mind, quickly distracting yourself with whatever task you could get your hands on. like right now, ruffling through the snack display on top of the counter at work.

the arena is extra cold today, and as your arms touch the metal basket containing the various chips and crackers, you shiver—not even the team branded zip up around your torso is helping.

"y/n," the floor manager, jason pops into the booth. "we need some more pineapple. can you get some from the players kitchen please? just the frozen stuff for smoothies." his voice is hopeful, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

you sigh gently, kissing your teeth as you turn to look at him. "sure."

he smiles in your direction, but just before he leaves, jason doubles back. "oh! and a few protein bars, i'm starving."

"sure." you nod curtly.

"and while you're there, grab me a green juice?" this time at least jason manages to look somewhat guilty, his grin almost doubtful.

you almost find it amusing, and you raise your brows as so. "why not."

jason cheers. "you're the best."

with that you make your way out of the room, not fully shutting the door behind yourself as you know your arms will be too full to use a handle when you come back. the walk to the players section of the facility isn't a long one, and it's only a few minutes until you're entering the 'smoothie room' — as you like to call it.

it's always in pristine condition, and you almost feel guilty for simply breathing in there. quickly, you grab everything you need from the room, including the bag you'd filled with frozen pineapple and some nasty smelling green drink for jason.

with your arms full, you leave the room and begin making your way back to the snack bar. you round the corner into the most open part of the corridor, expect this time it's not empty, and around 10 of the guys have started kicking the ball around—a pre-game warmup that a lot of them liked to participate in.

you plan to just sneak through, keep your head down and try to not too badly interrupt the ritual—for lack of a better word. timidly, you begin making your way towards the rowdy group, eyes focused as their voices get closer and closer.

the sound of the soccer ball smacking against the wall has you freezing, and before you know it the inflated ball is soaring towards you. you don’t have a chance to react, and it hits you right in the chest, sending everything you'd been previously holding scattering to the floor.

embarrassed and irritated, you sigh, crouching down as you begin to attempt and salvage the mess at your feet. an all too familiar pair of running shoes appear in your vision, coming to a squeaky stop as they approach. "damn, you alright?"

you look up, squinting from the glow of the fluorescent lights lining the corridors. like you thought, it's matthew. his expression almost resembles one of concern, which has you pulling a disgruntled face.

he's slightly breathless, running around and kicking a soccer ball at you must be the cause. he's alive, you think reluctantly.

you look away from him, grabbing the two bottles of green juice and tucking them under your arm. thankfully, neither plastic bottle cracked when they hit the tile.

he sighs roughly, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes. matthew slowly bends down as well, grabbing the astray protein bars from the ground. "good talk." he mutters condescendingly.

your eyes dart up, a scoff tumbling past your lips. the audacity of matthew to be annoyed with you is just beyond comprehension. "sorry i'm not in the mood for small talk with you matthew after you just kicked the ball at my chest—i'm going to have to throw this fruit out now, thanks."

the pineapple is a wet, spilled mess across the floor. the bag had split when it dropped, and the ball has smooshed the fruit as it fell with it. you're not even sure what to do about the mess—looking at it hopelessly.

"I didn't kick anything at you, but sure it's my fault." he grumbles, looking at you once again.

"really? then who did?" you tone is dripping with doubt, looking at matthew with nothing but exasperation.

"ask your perfect little boyfriend." matthew immediately looks like he regrets his words, eyes widening momentarily before his gaze darts away from your face.

"my perfect little boyfriend who's also your friend?" you scoff.  "god, touch some grass matthew." you know it's a terrible rebuke, and the way matthew smirks in disbelief following your insult has you feeling even more irritated with your choice of comeback.

you don't dwell on it much longer as the sound of somebody else approaching you both captures your attention. you look up just as lucas joins you, standing behind matthew with a tiny grin. "hey! babe you okay?"

you stand up, clutching the drinks to your chest. "fine." you nod.

lucas smiles again, moving to wrap you in a hug. it’s awkward, with your arms pushed against your chest and the green juice pressing into your boob uncomfortably. he kisses your head quickly. "sorry, we were all just messing around and I didn't see you."

your face falls, and you pull back from your boyfriend. "it was you?"

"yeah." he repeats, looking anything but guilty. "said I was sorry."

you unwrap yourself from his hug, stepping back. the whole conversation with your boyfriend has rubbed you the wrong way, and even if he didn't mean to kick you with the ball, his apology wasn't enough of a sincere gesture as you would expect from someone who supposedly loves you.

"I gotta get back." you say quietly, eyes downcast as you further back away from your boyfriend. instinctively, your eyes flicker towards matthew's tall stature. you both hold eye contact for a moment, unknown words lingering in the air between you.

you blink, picking up pace as you walk through the hall.

jason beams as he spots the pile of protein bars in your hands, taking two along with his green juice before skipping out the room. trying to shake off the weird feeling from the interaction with matthew in the corridor, you get back to work, organizing the fridge in preparation for tonight's game—you know how much the minnesota students love their alanis, and you need to make sure that fridge is fully stalked.

there's a good 5 minutes of silence, nothing but you, your thoughts and the loading of the fridge—until there's a knock at the open door.

you look over you shoulder, and there matthew is again. you don't know what to say because you don't know why he's here or what he wants. is he here to gloat? to apologize? to taunt?

matthew takes your silence as an invitation, stepping into the snack booth with a neutral expression. he's still dressed in his sports clothes—a team branded sweatshirt with matching shorts overtop compression pants, completed with his backward basball cap. it oddly suits him, and your stomach drops at the realization of what you've just done.

you kinda sorta checked him out.

"here." matthew interrupts your thoughts, clearly unaware of your wandering eyes and the inner turmoil happening in your brain. he walks further into the room, and that's when you see it—a bag of pineapple clutched in his hand.

in your rush to leave the corridor, you'd completely forgotten to run back and get more fruit.

"where do you want me to put it?" he questions.

"uh," you hum lightly, eyes moving around the room for some available space. it's kind of a mess in here, and you really need to get your shit together before you open. "just beside the coffee machine for now."

matthew does what you ask, putting the frozen ziploc beside the kureig on the side counter. he doesn't say anything else, and walks out the room without so much a second glance in your direction.

you bite your inner lip, knawing the soft skin as you blink furiously— trying to collect your whirlwind of thoughts. above all, you're angry. angry that you were hit with a ball, angry that matthew was right about who kicked it, angry that lucas gave you a shit apology, and that matthew didn't even attempt to annoy you when he'd brought you the pineapple.

—

lucas presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, pulling you into his chest on the outskirts of the lit up courtyard. around you is busy, lingering students and staff members alike chat and walk through the space with an upbeat pace.

every year since you've been attending the university of minnesota, the hockey team and staff members would host a barbecue and movie night in the schools courtyard. it was always an amazing turnout, and for only $5 dollars to get in and get something to eat and watch a throwback film (this year being freaky friday), it was quite the rage. plus, the money went to a fundraiser that helped public schools in the area have breakfast. so it’s a win win.

so not only do you go with the intent of supporting the youth of neighbouring schools, but your boyfriend is one of the co-organizers of the event. so of course you show your face.

which brings you back to the current moment, pouting up at lucas with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage. lucas sighs gently, running his hands over your jean jacket covered arms. "don't give me that look."

you don't let up, but your lips begin to form into a grin. "what look?"

"the look you're doing right now." he laughs once, squeezing your biceps tightly. "you know I have to be all over the place, babe. I can't just stand with you."

your exaggerated, playful pout quickly changes into a real frown—even though you don't want to show that emotion. because lucas is one of the co-organizers of the event, he's got lots of duties to attend to while the event is happening. so although you're technically here to spend time with your boyfriend, you'll barley get to see him.

plus, cora is sick and had no choice but to stay back at the apartment and watch re-runs of friends, and rachel wouldn't be able to come until the movie starts—coinciding with when her shift at work ends.

"I know but..." you trial off, taking your bottom lip into your mouth anxiously. you've never been a huge fan of crowds—especially when it's tightly gathered in a confined space—and the idea of having to be alone right now is rather daunting. "can't I just help you? like just go with you?"

lucas sighs again, eyes flickering out to the crowd around you. the smell of cheap burgers and hotdogs are already filtering through the air, providing the most perfect early spring atmosphere for the evening. he meets your eyes once more, "it just won't work like that. hey, you'll be okay."

he kisses your cheek, doing his best to reassure you, but you still feel down. "right, okay."

"get yourself a drink and just chill—i'll find you when I can, okay?"

you send him a closed mouth smile, breathing through your nose in a gentle exhale. "okay."

with that he turns away, quickly moving through the lingering crowd as he makes his way into the courtyard. you huff lightly, looking around the sea of people to see if you recognize anyone—literally anyone you can stick with until rachel gets there. but nobody is there.

you eventually follow the crowd, entering the lit-up courtyard. it's decorated in various streamers and balloons representing school colours, along with a spread of beanbags and camping chairs set up for the movie. it looks really good, and even though it's not the warmest temperature due to the night sky, the collection of bodies and decor have the place feeling cozy.

you spot a long table through students, full of what seems to be drinks—various waters, juice and sodas lining the gray fold away surface. you sneak your way through, eyeing the options before inevitably deciding on water. caffeine will just make you anxious, and your favourite juice flavour wasn't an option.

in your peripheral vision, you see a member of the hockey team standing on the other side the table—presumably keeping track of beverages and taking payments. without properly looking up you begin shuffling through your clutch, "how much for the water?"

"it's free."

the all too familiar and cocky voice of matthew knies has you freezing. slowly, your eyes creep upwards, only to be met with the light eyes of his. he'd been the hockey player in your peripheral, and you curse yourself for not noticing sooner.

his brows raise, anticipating a snarky remark. but much to his dismay you turn away, walking back through the crowd and away from him.

he turns to mitchell, one of his teammates, patting his shoulder quickly. "mind watching the table for a sec—gotta do something." matthew doesn't even wait for a response before he's following you, easily making his way between the bodies crowded around.

matthew catches sight of you off to the side, seemingly unaware that he’s hot on your trail. he approaches you swiftly, getting your attention as he speaks. "you're like really bad at the whole socialization thing."

your eyes widen briefly, watching as he casually leans against the nearest table.

"maybe I just don't want to socialize with you." you retort, eyeing him pointedly before taking a slow sip from your water bottle.

matthew smirks. "that's mean."

"don't care." you answer, looking back out into the yard.

a beat passes. "you come alone?" matthew questions, seemingly curious.

you cross your arms. "sort of."

"sort of?" matthew parrots, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. "what's does sort of mean?"

you look at him again. "well I came with lucas, but he's busy so now i'm here...with you." the last part has you pulling a face, scrunching your noise is displeasure.

he snorts. "don't pretend like you don't enjoy my company."

"enjoying isn't quite the word i'd use to describe how I feel about you and your company." you retort lightly, brows pulling tightly.

matthew sucks his bottom lip, containing his grin. "okay, so why aren't you mingling? this is supposed to be a event of socializing."

"I'm not a fan of mingling." you tell him earnestly, clearing your throat in a moment of venerability. "or crowds. besides the fundraiser, I only come for lucas."

"yeah crowds aren't for everyone." matthew's genuine tone has you taken back, and you eye with an almost shock like gaze. "sorry that you're dealing with it alone."

you feel weird—why does the sincerity in his voice make you tingly? "well," you begin. "i'm not alone because you've insisted on coming over here to annoy me."

his smirk is back. "it is my specialty."

you laugh a real laugh, a very brief moment of quiet joy that takes you by surprise. the way his eyes twinkle and smirk widens at the sound of your giggle goes unnoticed by you.

"babe." lucas voice calls out, jogging up to you and matthew. "hey." he greets, pulling you into his side and kissing your temple. "I got a minute, thought i'd see what you were up to." his eyes flicker to matthew's. "see you've found a friend."

matthew's eyes don't leave you, waiting and watching for your reaction to your boyfriends words. you swallow gently, "he was just keeping me company."

"she's not a fan of crowds—thought i'd take a few minutes from work to make sure she's settled." this time when matthew speaks, he's only looking at lucas, and you don't miss the underlying message in his words.

lucas seems oblivious to the hostility underlying his teammates admission, a smile overtaking his face. "anyways, I gotta get back. gunner was telling me about this new club out on main—i'll catch you guys later."

as soon as your boyfriend is out of ear shot, you send matthew a furious glare. "what was that?"

"what was what?" he questions innocently, eyes yet to meet yours again.

"i'm not stupid, matthew, you were trying to..I don't know? like one up lucas by insinuating he's a bad boyfriend for not spending time with me. what the fuck." you spit angrily, gaze tinted with fury.

"I'm not insinuating anything, i'm simply just calling it as I see it." matthew retorts.

you breath a shocked laugh. "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're lucky he didn't catch on to your stupid little coded message." you take a breath, arms tightening over your chest. "he's your friend—why are you trying to ruin that?"

matthew takes a step towards you. "like I said, i'm just calling it as I see it."

"bullshit." you chime. "what's it to you that lucas is busy tonight and he's not able to spend time with me? seriously."

his brows raise, an amused expression on his face. he knows he shouldn’t argue with you, especially when what he wants to say will only further upset you—but he can’t help himself. "he's too busy to spend time with you, yeah? but tell me why we're in the same job position and I haven't left your side since I saw you. so call whatever you want bullshit, but the real bullshit is the guy standing next to his teammate doing absolutely nothing but making you look stupid."

matthew's words have you pulling back, face faltering. you feel emotion clawing at your chest, flushing your skin a rosey pink as the embarrassment and anger about the situation hits you all at once.

his face flashes with remorse, looking down at you with a lingering guilty gaze. his mouth opens slightly, as if to speak—but nothing comes out.

"fuck you." you hiss quietly before turning on your heels and leaving. everything in your body feels like it's on fire, walking through the courtyard with a determination you didn't even realized you had. you can feel matthew's eyes boring into your retreating figure, but you don't dare turn around and look.

he's right—god, he's fucking right. matthew not only calling out your boyfriends shitty behaviour but your obliviousness to the truth about the situation, stings you hard, and you didn't know what else to say or how to react besides the way you did.

you’re even angrier about the fact that even within the little attention matthew had given you tonight, was more than lucas had all day—and the time matthew spent at your side in the bustling courtyard, had your anxiety about the crowds fizzling.

STAGE 3: Denial

the sound of basketball shoes squeaking against the polished wood of a court has always been one of your least favourite things. it's a high pitched, constant sound that has you cringing every time.

you eyes flicker up towards the scoreboard—it's almost half time. it's a relief, and you are almost giddy at the fact that the stupid squeaking while be on a momentary pause.

lucas squeezes your thigh, right over your jeans. you look over at his gently, met with the sight of his curious grin. "what's up babe?"

you shrug, "just watching the timberdogs!"

"it's the timberwolves." he corrects you, eyes twinkling with amusement. you laugh it off, looking back out into the basketball court, eyes following the players as they zip back and forth on the length of the floor.

lucas' dad has always been super into basketball—like more that the average person. he's got a room in his childhood home that's designed to resemble the minnesota timberwolves court, as well as a plethora of jerseys and seasons tickets for every year.

you're not sure why his dad couldn't make it to this game—lucas had told you in the car on the way to the game but you'd been too distracted with everything else going on inside the vehicle to truly pay attention. maybe he was sick? it also could've had something to do with his car breaking down? you don't recall—but regardless, the tickets weren't being used, and they were offered to lucas.

you assumed it was just two—because lucas didn't have any siblings, and you would think it was just his parents attending these games. but no, there's four tickets, because it was always a group of 50 year old men attending together.

so what you hoped was a date night between you quickly turned into a little group outing with your respective roommates. which wouldn't of been such a problem if you weren't still reeling about the last conversation you had with matthew—in the courtyard when he practically called out your entire relationship.

the reminder makes you shift in your chair, angling yourself away from matthew even further. you can hear him sigh to himself, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as his leg bounces up and down with a feverish pace.

it's annoying—more than the shoes on the court. you huff, turning to look at him. "can you stop moving, it's distracting."

he turns to his head. "how is it distracting?"

"i'm trying to watch the game." you retort.

matthew's brows raise incredulously. "you've been watching anything but the game since it started."

"that's not true." it is true, and his call out has you feeling even more infuriated than when you first got to the arena. "I love basketball."

"sure you do." he nods, unconvinced. "instead of watching me then, get back to watching your timberdogs." matthew messes up the name of the NBA team on purpose, teasing you with your own fuck-up.

you huff. "you are so-" the sound of the buzzer echoing loudly throughout the court silences you, whatever insult you'd been conjuring up dying on your tongue. the players begin filling off the court as halftime begins, leaving the crowd to begin freely moving and walking throughout the stands and hallways—replenishing snacks and/or drinks.

on the opposite side of matthew, cora leans forward, looking at you with wide eyes. "hey! i'm going to get another coke. do you want one?" her voice is loud, and even still it's barley heard over the rowdy crowd.

"yes please." you smile. your roommate nods in understanding before getting up, making her way down the row of seats before disappearing out of sight—leaving you with only lucas and matthew.

matthew snickers—mostly to himself—eyes downcast as he fiddles with a loose thread on the knee rip of his jeans. "didn't think you were capable of such manners."

"didn't think you were capable of such big words! woah, i'm impressed." your face falls, words dripping with sarcasm as your annoyance builds higher and higher.

you shoot a look towards lucas, but are only met with the sight of him engaged in his phone—playing fucking candy crush of all things—completely unaware of the tension rising between you and his friend.

"of course your impressed." matthew insists, "everything I do impresses you."

the lingering crowd around you seems even more roudy than before, but your too enthralled with matthew to even look away and glance around. despite the noise, you can hear him fine—too fine, if you're getting specific. 

your mouth drops, a tiny puff of disbelieved laughter leaving you. "oh so we're back on the 'y/n is obsessed with matthew train.'"

matthew slowly leans closer to you, his elbow nudging yours on the tiny shared armrest between your seats. his cologne invades your space—something clean like fresh laundry mixed with a spicy cinnamon. it's almost intoxicating, and you're left frozen in place.

"we never got off that train." his words are dripping with a teasing undertone, licking his bottom lip slowly.

a hand nudges matthew shoulder from the row of seats behind yours—gathering his attention. curious, you turn as well, finding a guy seemingly only a few years older than you, looking down at you both with a sheepish grin. "you guys are on the jumbotron."

both your heads whip back around, darting up towards the jumbotron hanging from the exposed ceiling of the court. much to your horror, you and matthew are on the screen—the image framed in a heart filter with 'kiss cam' scribbled across the bottom.

you and matthew both flush—although your heat is definitely more visible, trailing down your neck and appearing in splotches over your exposed chest. "no." you say, making a cut off motion beside your neck with your perfectly manicured nails. "we're not together."

it's no use— the jumbotron can't hear your pleas. matthew shakes his head, joining in on your attempt to get the camera off you both. through the screen you see matthew shift his attention to you, which has you whipping around to look at him. his gaze is almost soft—curious, maybe.

suddenly the crowd gets louder, their unison chants echoing through the building. "kiss kiss kiss!"

the commotion finally has lucas looking away from his phone, and at the sight of what's happening in front of him—his face falls. his brows furrow slightly, gaze switching between the jumbotron and the both of you—staring at one another.

lucas quickly grabs your face, turning you away from his roommate and planting a messy kiss on your lips. your eyes widen slightly, but eventually flutter closed—allowing your boyfriend to move his lips along yours.

matthew swallows roughly, looking away and back towards the screen. the camera has since shifted, showcasing you and lucas in the last lingering moments of the bruising kiss. the crowd cheers, but as soon as you pull away from him, the couple on the jumbotron changes.

lucas expression shifts, lips pulling into a frown as he pulls away from you—his hand quickly retreating back into his lap. "why didn't you nudge me?"

your mouth open and closed quickly, "I-I don't know."

"you don't know?" lucas's tone is quite, but firm, clearly unhappy with the situation that just transpired—even though nothing really happened.

you shrug, and blush once again, but this time is purely from embarrassment about the scolding from your boyfriend. "no, the crowd was looking and I just, I tried to say no but the camera wasn't hearing me. are you seriously mad at me?"

your eyes quickly flicker around the immediate area, making sure nobody is outwardly eavesdropping on your hushed argument.

"should I be?" lucas retorts, pulling your attention back to him. he's looking at you curiously, tinged with something that seems like hope as he waits for your response.

you swallow roughly, once shake of your head following. "no."

lucas exhales shakily, the corner of his mouth sliding into a grin. "okay," he mumbles, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "then i'm not mad."

you allow yourself lean into him easily, but your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and a million unknown feelings, and when you try and even begin to understand them, you're just left more confused.

the crowd begins filtering back into the arena, finding their original seats as the halftime clock begins winding down—the third quarter approaching quickly. cora comes back down the isle, squeezing past outstretched legs as small apologies spew past her lips.

you catch her eye, and her smile grows. "a coke for you." the posh, royal tone she often uses comes to a slow halt, passing you your drink as she eyes your somber expression.

you take the plastic cup. "thanks."

cora gives you a knowing look—one that says your sudden shift in mood will be discussed later in the comfort of your shared apartment. you're not sure why you're dreading that so much.

just as the buzzer sounds throughout the arena again, signaling the resumption of the game, your eyes flicker back towards matthew again. his jaw is tight, and you can see the tendons moving under his skin as he grinds his teeth together. matthew's leg is bouncing again, faster than before—his gaze locked on the court.

it's a longer glance than you intended, but you can't help yourself—something inside you is unwilling to look away.

that dreadful noise of shoes on the polished floor pulls you away, your nose scrunching as you inwardly cringe at the sound.

quickly, matthew's eyes flicker to you—only to be met with the side of your face. he watches gently as your face drops from the previous tight pull, your smooth skin stretching over your perfectly shaped nose.

the puffiness of your lips and the lingering blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair cascades down your back in the most delicate blowout...matthew can't help the way the faintest grin ghosts over his face.

the rest of the game thankfully goes by quickly, and before you know it you're all back in lucas’ car, making the drive back to your apartment located near campus. thankfully cora and lucas fill the lingering silence with pointless conversation—you and matthew only chiming in when necessary.

you don't know what exactly happened, but you know something has shifted. you don't know what it means, or what will happen because of it—and that has you feeling really weird.

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own apartment, cora smacks her purse down on the counter, gathering your attention with the harsh sound. "what's going on with you?"

your shoulder deflate. "I don't know."

she frowns, walking further into the apartment where you've decided to flop dramatically on the couch. your pants pull uncomfortably around your waist, and the button is digging into your belly pouch like nobodies business.

cora sits down beside you, facing you with curious eyes. "did something happen at the game? it felt like when I went to get the drinks, I missed something."

"I was on the kiss cam." you breathe.

"okay?"

"with matthew."

"oh." she is momentarily taken back, blinking three times quick as she digests your words. cora is very much used to your and matthew's supposed hatred for one another, even though she's never believed it. but the look on your face at the game isn't adding up to just 'being on the kiss cam with matthew'.

cora's brows pull tightly, creating a deep wrinkle between them. "what else happened?"

"I think," you start, voice dropping as if you weren't the only two people in the room. "I think matthew wanted to kiss me."

her eyes widen to an unfathomable size. "what?! how do you know?"

your mouth opens, a sharp breath passing through your lips. "I just....I don't know, there was something about the way he looked at me. am I being crazy?"

instantly cora shakes her head, a gentle frown on her face. "no. the eyes never lie."

your expression droops in a mixture of confusion and fear, eyes beginning to glaze with emotion as you look at cora.

she continues, "and if he tried to kiss you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know." you exhale shakily.

you hear your roommate coo gently, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed hug. your eyes pinch shut, holding onto cora's arm as you continue the embrace.

you are so screwed.

—

how lucas managed to drag you to another loud and obnoxious frat party is honestly beyond you, but there you were—doing your best at mingling and letting loose while lucas was off doing god knows what with his teammates.

rachel thankfully ended up being at the party, and as soon as she ran up to you and made herself known—you didn't leave her side. which in hindsight maybe wasn't the best idea.

you love rachel, truly, but she's never been the best influence—especially when alcohol is involved. one minute your sipping your first seltzer, and the next you're stumbling over, 10 drinks in and screaming chappell roan lyrics like nobodies business.

which means right now you're hammered, sluggishly walking through the busy frat house as you attempt in finding your boyfriend. because drunk you is clingy—and a little horny—and all you want is the warm touch and attention of a man.

unaware, drunk bodies bump into from both sides—too caught up in the party atmosphere to even notice you. it makes the journey a bit harder, but somehow you haven't managed to fall on your ass, so you'll count that as a win.

"y/n?"

the sound of your name has you blinking, looking around the room until you locate the culprit. matthew's hand touches your exposed shoulder, grabbing your attention. his brows pull together, and he bends his knees slightly so he's able to properly look into your eyes. "hey are you with me?"

you blink. "your eyes are like really pretty." a fit of giggles follows your slurred admission, tumbling forward slightly as you clutch your belly.

matthew's hands steady you easily. the combination of your shitty balance and surprisingly playful and kind words tells him all he needs to know about your current state—you're drunk.

"where's lucas?" he asks you, beer can abandoned on a side table beside one of the terribly stained couches lining the makeshift sitting area. matthew eyes you again, "or did you come with cora?"

you shake your head. "cora's a loser and had to work—so here I am."

he can barley understand you due to the slurred, sluggish string of words, but he catches the jist of it. "so you're alone."

"no..." you retort, huffing like you're annoyed. "lucas is here. wait! have you seen him?"

"not for hours." matthew tells you. "I think you need to go home though."

you whine a protest, shaking off the hand he'd still had on your shoulder. matthew isn't having it, and before you can register what's going on, he's grabbing the meat of your biceps, guiding you to the couch before sitting you down.

"hey!" you huff, falling back against the cushions—wow, for a frat couch it's really comfortable.

"i'm going to find lucas, okay? stay here." matthew tells you firmly before walking back into the heart of the crowd, on a mission to find your boyfriend. it's actually not a hard task, and he's only looking for a minute or two before he spots lucas—in the back corner with a couple guys from the team and some mystery girls, all laughing and passing around a joint.

"hey," matthew starts firmly, grabbing the groups attention. lucas brows pull, taking a slow drag from the joint resting between two loose fingers.

"lucas man, y/n needs to go home—she's practically black out."

lucas groans, passing off the joint to the blonde girl closest to matthew—the same girl who's been eyeing him since he walked up to the group a few moments ago.

"fuck, man. I forgot she was here."

his word have matthew's jaw ticking, eyes squinting pointedly. "you forgot your girlfriend was here?"

lucas, ever oblivious, doesn't catch the irritation lacing his roommates words, and he only shrugs nonchalantly before taking a hearty sip of beer. he looks at matthew, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "listen, I'm still having a good time. can you like, take her home?"

matthew can barley hold back a scoff. "seriously?"

"i'd really appreciate it." lucas says. "I can trust you, right?"

that really rubs matthew the wrong way, because what the actual fuck is he even trying to insinuate with that comment. before he can bite his tongue, matthew's anger comes boiling to a point. "yeah, because i'm not some no good boyfriend who's spending his time doing drugs and flirting with 18 year olds while my girlfriend is alone and vulnerable."

lucas blinks, taken back—but matthew doesn't care. matthew sends one more harsh glare towards him before leaving the area, weaving back through the party.

when he reaches you again you're practically sleeping, holding your knees to your chest and using them as a pillow. your face is squished, your blinks slow.

"we're going." matthew tells you, gently nudging your knee.

you groan, lifting your head. "where's lucas?"

"he's not coming."

"oh." you sigh, blinking with unshed emotion. your hair is wild, like you've been sweating and running your fingers through it all night—which you have. and if matthew wasn't so frustrated with his roommate right now, he'd probably tease you about it.

matthew helps you off the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to provide you with some stability as he guides you both outside.

the fresh air is shocking, sending you into a fit of shivers almost immediately—despite the mid may warmth. thankfully it's not a long walk back to the apartment, and matthew only has to stop with you twice because you claim you're going to throw up—spoiler alert, you don't.

you stumble out the elevator, tripping over your own two feet. matthew grabs the back of your tank top, halting you back up. "okay, slow down."

"but i'm tired." you whine, head falling back dramatically.

"you're gunna be real tired when you smack your face off the ground and end up in the ER." matthew let's go of your shirt, but takes ahold of your wrist, practically pulling you down the hall towards your apartment door.

"I don't want to go to the ER." you tell him, eyes widening with panic.

matthew's almost amused, sending you a small smirk over his shoulder. "okay, then let's get you inside."

"okay." you nod in agreement. thankfully the door is unlocked, because matthew didn't even want to start asking you about the whereabouts of your keys while you're this obliterated.

you sigh happily, kicking off your shoes messily before stumbling through your dark apartment. blindly, matthew finds the switch beside the door, flickering on the overhead light.

as soon as the room becomes illuminated he located you again, lounging half on the couch. he moves towards you, his smirk growing. "that's not your bed."

"it's not?"

he stifles a laugh. "no."

you whine again, head lolling to the side dramatically. "can you take me there?" your arms extend out towards him, resembling a mummy. "please. don't be mean."

matthew gulps gently, but takes ahold of your hands, pulling you back into unstable feet. "i'm not mean." he tells you, letting go of your hands. it proves to be a mistake because your immediately falling backwards.

matthew curses, grabbing you before you hit the couch and pulling you back up. you laugh, feeling very much like a ragdoll. you look up into his eyes, "you are too."

"you're mean too." he says, wrapping an arm around your hips and looping his fingers through your belt loop. he begins walking you both down the hall, "you're the one who calls me names."

you gawk loudly. "i'm only defending myself, matthew."

"whatever you say, y/n." he hums playfully. "which room is yours?"

you tell him that it's the room at the end of the hall, and allow matthew to continue guiding you to your bedroom. he nudges the half open door with hip, opening the threshold completely.

he drops you to the bed, and you go easily, falling against the unmade pile of blankets with a smile on your face. "where are your pyjamas?"

you lazily point towards the tall dresser next to the door. "top drawer."

matthew nods, pulling it open and immediately stifling through the jam packed drawer. he manages to pull out a t-shirt and plaid pants—ones he's seen you wearing at his place before. he tosses the items beside you. "think you can manage that?"

you sit up quickly, a lazy scoff falling past your lips. "yes." you grab onto the pyjamas, and before anything else your eyes widen, glancing back to matthew. "turn around."

matthew snickers at your tone—obviously he was going to turn around, but seeing you get so worked up over it has him left amused. he turns on his feet, broad back facing you as he looks into the dark hallway—patiently waiting for you to change.

you begin taking off your tight, alcohol sticky clothes, desperate to get into something comfortable and climb under the blankets. you lift your shirt over your head, and the momentary lack of vision has you stumbling, falling into the chair beside your vanity.

you hear matthew's quiet snicker. "shut up." you grumble, pulling on the pyjama shirt.

"didn't say anything."

"you thought it." you retort. eventually you get into the pants as well, and immediately climb into your bed. the sound of your delightful sigh and ruffling sheets have matthew peeking over his shoulder, making sure you were decent.

once he sees that you are in fact dressed, he faces you again. "do you need to be sick?"

you pause, is if you were assessing yourself to find an answer. a beat passes, "don't think so."

he hums doubtfully, walking towards your vanity and taking ahold of your tiny trash bin sitting underneath. you'd emptied it that morning, so there was nothing but a makeup wipe and a few q-tips in the bottom from when you'd gotten ready. matthew puts it beside your bed. "just in case you're lying."

"excuse me," you huff, squinting pointedly. "I don't lie."

he ignores you, picking up the stuffed zebra sitting on your bed, wedged between the pillow and the headboard. matthew snorts, examining the matted fur and scratched button eyes of your most prized possession. "awh, who's this little guy?"

you push up, snatching your zebra from his hands and bringing it to your chest. "don't touch ross with your filthy hands."

"his name is ross?" matthew snickers as you cuddle the stuffed animal, rubbing your cheek against the top of its head.

you nod. "yes."

"cute." he hums.

your eyes feel heavy with sleep, and it has you falling back towards the pillows, your beloved ross smooshed against your face. matthew swallows gently, watching the way your breath begins to even out and your blinks become slower.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispers.

matthew walks out your room, slowly shutting the door behind him—but just before the latch click, you mumble his name. it has him pausing, slowly pushing the door open once more.

you're looking towards the door lazily. "can you stay with me.”

matthew's face falls, swallowing roughly at the sight of you—laid out on your bed, completely relaxed and pretty. you don't even know what you do to him, and it drives him insane. he sighs. "no. I can't."

you pout, a breathy wind blowing past your dry lips. "pleaseee...lucas never stays with me."

the mention of your boyfriend has matthew scoffing, the conversation they'd had earlier coming back to him in a angry wave. "lucas is a dick."

he's expecting your to scold him, so matthew is surprised when your gentle giggles float through the room. "such a dick." you slur in agreement.

a moment passes, and your quiet giggles slowly die. wordlessly, your hand comes out fromunder the covers and pats the spot beside you—inviting him on your bed.

matthew's breath hitches, but he doesn't walk away. matthew softly shuts the door before walking back through your room, stepping over stray shoes and your discarded party clothes on the way to your bed.

"I don't bite." you grin teasingly.

matthew can't help the smirk that makes its way onto his face. "doubt it."

your smile mimics his, and that has matthew getting onto your bed, sitting atop the covers and leaning his upper body against your plush headboard.

it's only a few more minutes before your gentle snoring is heard throughout the room, a tell tale sign that you've fallen into a deep sleep. matthew watches you for a moment, letting the peace linger between you—a peace that has never been between you before.

matthew's eyes begin to feel heavy, and before he knows it, your soft snores are lulling him to sleep.

STAGE 4: Ignorance

when you woke up the following morning, you were in a state of confusion, still dealing with the lingering affects of alcohol and trying to re-collect your memories from the night before.

with a groan, you got out of bed, shuffling down the hall and into the living room. thankfully, cora is still sleeping after he late night shift—so you're in complete silence as you pour yourself a hefty glass of ice water.

it comes back to you in flashes, each blurry memory worse than the last—rachel convincing you to have another drink, followed by another, the loosing rachel at the party and having to walk through the house while hammered. then matthew is bringing you home, without lucas for a reason you don't recall—matthew in your room, changing behind his back, him touching ross...you pleading for him to stay.

your breath hitches—a mixture of embarrassment and hangxiety hitting you at full force. then you feel yourself panic, your stomach dropping. had you even checked beside you this morning? was your boyfriends best friend still in your bed?

you quickly—much quicker than you should be moving when you're that hungover—make your way back down the wall, sheepishly peeking into your bedroom.

he's gone. and that makes you feel worse than before.

you don't see him for the whole day, and then the next day comes and you still don't run into matthew knies. not in the hallway of your apartment building, and certainly not in the elevator. you don't see him at school, or even at the hockey rink. the one time you spend the night at your boyfriends, matthew is nowhere to be found. almost two weeks pass, and you haven't seen him at all.

it's making you anxious, and not only can cora tell—sending you looks of pity anytime you're making dinner together—but lucas can tell something is up with you too.

anytime he'd ask, you'd brush it off with a easy excuse—you're tired, or you have a headache—but it was never believable, and it was becoming repetitive.

did you say something to him? did you do something to him? you're reeling with possibilities of what could've happened between you and matthew knies to have him actively avoiding you.

but honestly, you're no better, and after a few days the anxiety of it all was getting to you—and you begin actively avoiding him as well. you  call in sick to work anytime your shift is during a game, and you've only spent time with lucas if it's at your apartment. you leave early for class with the hopes of avoiding running into him, and you stay behind late for the same reason.

it was exhausting but you couldn't help it.

so when cora texted you this afternoon about meeting up for lunch between her classes, you easily agreed. wednesday's were your free days, with no classes to take up your schedule—moping around your apartment while dealing with the mess of emotions in your head wasn't your most ideal choice of productivity.

so with only an hour until cora's lunch gap, you strip out of your pyjamas, tossing on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. you throw your hair up, only intending to wash your body and hopefully clean off any lingering lazy and anxious energy from your skin.

you sigh, pulling back the floral printed shower curtain. immediately, you scream, jumping backwards as the sight of a large, brown spider that greets you—scurrying up the walls before slipping back down.

your eyes begin welling up with tears as dry sobs rack your body—of course there's a fucking gigantic spider in your bathtub.

you rush out the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door, pulling it open with the upmost urgency. you don't even close it, speed walking down the dimly lit hallway until you're at your boyfriends apartment.

your knocks are frantic, perfectly capturing the emotions your feeling. thankfully it's only a few moments of your panic stricken knocking before the handle turns, the door opening to reveal not lucas.

matthew's taken back at the sight of you—hair piled on top of your head with a makeup stained robe around you, bare feet on display. quickly, his eyes land upon your face, and the sight of your tears and pale skin has him faltering. "what's wrong?"

you swallow roughly, a few tears trailing down your blotchy cheeks. "I went to take a shower, and there's a huge fucking spider and i'm so scared of bugs—I don't know what to do, I need help." you're a babbling, sniffling mess, eyes darting between matthew and back down the hall.

"it's okay." he says quickly, stepping out into the hallway. "i'll kill it, okay?"

you nod, blowing out a shaky breath. "okay." for as long as you can remember you've had a crippling fear of any and all creepy, crawly insects. something about the way they scurry around quickly, unable to know what it's thinking and what it's planning to do to you, never fails to leave you shaking.

your fear has completely taken over your body, and it's the only reason you're able to speak to matthew knies without remembering the past few weeks between you—or rather, the lack there of.

you follow him back to your apartment timidly, trialing behind his broad shoulders like a lost puppy. he breathes gently as he enters, grabbing one of the extra shoes at the front door—the spider killing weapon of choice, clearly.

"it's in the tub." you mutter, eyes darting down the hall. matthew nods, walking towards the bathroom like he's not about to battle the eight legged beast residing in there.

he pulls back the shower curtain further, and you peek around his bicep—locking eyes with the creature. you shiver, a disgruntled moan leaving your mouth. matthew looks back at you. "sure you wanna watch?"

in all seriousness, you nod. "I need to know it's dead."

"okay," he hums, grip tightening around your floppy, strappy sandal. the spider is still crawling around, attempting to escape over the lip of the bathtub but inevitably falling back down.

it's definitely not as big as you described it, but matthew doesn't even dare bring that up. at least, he won't until the spider is gone and you're returning back to a normal heart rate. he brings the shoe up before quickly bringing it back down, but before it can be smooshed, the spider scurries away.

you squeal once again, eyes filling with salty tears as you grip matthew's arm—hiding your face is the soft material of his sweater. "its moving!"

he has a hard time stifling his laugh, looking down at you with an amused expression. "why are you cryin?"

"i'm scared." you mutter, fingers digging into his arm muscle. "hurry up and kill it—oh my god, i'm going to be sick."

matthew rolls his eyes, the action laced with fondness rather than irritation. "well I can't kill it if you're holding onto me for dear life." he watches the way your eyes dart towards the grip on his bicep, and you quickly release him, taking a small step backwards.

now with his arm free, he approaches the tub again, and this time when he brings the sandal down, it finds the spider, smacking the unwanted insect with a sickening plat.

you practically gag, wringing out your hands in disgust at the sound.

matthew looks at you again. "you good?"

hesitantly, you nod. "yeah."

thankfully matthew cleans up the remnants of the spider from your white tub with some toilet paper, eliminating any disturbing evidence of its existence.

as he does, and your frantic state comes back down to normal, you come to the shuddering realization of what's happening—matthew, the man you haven't since since your impromptu sleepover, is standing in your bathroom—all while you cry and stand naked under a robe.

he flushes the paper down your toilet, the hallow flush echoing through your ears. matthew turns back to you, sending you a closed mouth, awkward smile.

you hate this—this isn't the matthew you know. you hadn’t realized how much you missed his annoying remarks and infuriating smirk until you no longer had them. you're panicking again, expect this time it's because you don't want him to leave and you never see him again.

you clear your throat, stepping in his path. "I haven't seen you."

his brows pull tightly, eyeing you up and down curiously. "what do you mean?"

"you've been avoiding me." you huff, nerves settling low in your belly. you’re not even worried about how desperate you sound, and you play with the string of your robe with nervous, trembling hands.

"only because you've been avoiding me." he retorts firmly.

"what?" you breathe roughly—exasperated. even though you so badly want to say that you haven't, it would be a lie. you have been avoiding him, and clearly he's caught onto the fact. so you decide to play coy, and somewhat petty, crossing your arms. "i'm literally with you right now."

matthew snickers. "not by choice."

"and since when have I ever spent time with you by choice?" you question lightly.

matthew's almost playful expression falters, and a more serious look blossoms over his features. he swallows gently, adam’s apple bobbing prominently. "since you've never decided to walk away."

your mouth opens, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. you blink once, and then again, feeling nothing less than speechless from matthew's words.

his eyes dart over your face, taking in your seemingly surprised reaction. he too blinks roughly, shaking his head slightly as if he didn't mean to say that aloud. matthew clears his throat once, "i'm sorry for being all weird these past couple weeks," he pauses, eyes finding yours, "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you frown. "you didn't." a gentle, shaky laugh leaves you, "if I'm remembering correctly, I begged you to stay."

his lips quirk upwards in a smile, "more like pleaded."

"okay!" you laugh in amused disbelief, covering your eyes with a still shaking hand. "don't remind me."

"but you see, this reaction is going to make me remind you at every possible opportunity." matthew teases, reaching towards you until his fingers gently brush yours, moving your hand away from your blushing face.

your eyes flicker back to his, smile falling as you blink up at him. you gulp gently, feeling your stomach swoop with a combination of emotions—nerves, confusion, fear, denial...need.

matthew's eyes slowly trace over you face, lingering on your damp lips before reluctantly tearing his gaze away. but he can't help but to drink you in further, admiring your exposed neck and collarbones—the fuzzy peach housecoat and the crazy hair—the silver initial necklace hanging around you, dangling above your sternum like the perfect accessory. it's all so new and so you.

your gazes meet again, and this time you sigh, a breathy noise that shoots right through matthew.

you blink, and without knowing what to do, you look away, back towards the shower. "how do you know there's no more spiders?" you question timidly, an awkward, unsure laugh following.

matthew holds onto his sigh, turning back to the bathtub. he puts his hands on his hips, stepping closer. "hello? anybody here?" he directs into the shower, looking around the porcelain white walls comically.

you smile fondly just as he looks back to you. "no more spiders."

something is seriously changing between you and matthew, and that makes you feel even more anxious than before. as you finally shower—speedily because you're still scared of the possibility of more creatures—and get ready for lunch, you can't help but wonder.

the what ifs and possibilities all involving your boyfriends roommate are very prevalent in your head, even as you begin to walk to a local campus cafe. as soon as you sit down, you're spilling your guts to cora.

no, you think, you can't like matthew because it's wrong—it's crazy. you're in a relationship, and a few months ago you hated him...at least, you thought you hated him.

and as you expressed it all to your friend, she listened with nothing but love and understanding. when you eventually stop your panicked ramble, cora sighs, looking at you like she just knows.

in that moment you know—the eyes never lie.

STAGE 5: Breaking

you scan the page of your textbook carefully, reading the history material in the hopes of applying it to your research assignment—but your mind is in a million other places.

since you've come to the realization 3 days ago that you have some sort of feelings for matthew, you haven't stopped thinking about him. you're still not sure what it is exactly you feel, so in all honesty you don't feel guilty about it—at least, not yet.

you blink, focusing your eyes as you attempt at reading the same paragraph again. the library is thankfully empty, meaning there's nobody to provide any type of distraction—the last thing you need is another distraction.

well, you're not completely alone, lucas is sitting across from you, typing away on his laptop as he attempts at starting his assignment that was due tomorrow. god, just thinking about that stresses you out. his legs stretch out underneath the table, invading your space, as well as his things spread across the tabletop—providing little to no breathing room.

all day there's been a lingering, awkward energy between you and lucas. he's been unusually quiet, and anytime he did talk to you it was quick and uninterested. unfortunately you've been too busy within your own head to notice the sharp glances he's been sending you, and the way his lips pull into a frown anytime you'd make a sigh of frustration or worry.

it was constant—and lucas was at his breaking point. as you have to restart the scentence again, a tiny huff leaving your lips, he shuts his laptop, the heavy click echoing throughout the library.

you look up quickly, brows pulled together as you eye him. "you okay?"

he huffs in disbelief, "your mind is like somewhere else recently—it feels like you're just a host of a body. it's like you don't even want to be with me." lucas tone is dripping with frustration, sounding nothing less then condescending and irritated.

you blink quickly, taken back from his sudden outburst. slowly, you put down the pen you'd been using to follow along with the words, eyeing lucas with a confusing tilt. is he joking? the last person who should be complaining about anything like this is lucas.

his face stays stern—looking at you like he's just watched you kill his dog. he's not joking.

you scoff quietly, but the disgusted tone is more than prevalent. "seriously? that's rich coming from you lucas. it feels like you haven't wanted to spend time with me for the past three months."

"that's not true." he retorts quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"is it not?" you question sarcastically.

"no!" lucas practically shouts, leaning on the table as he eyes you wildly. "you sound stupid right now."

the remark that you had dies on your tongue, mouth snapping shut. your jaw clicks as it tightens, anger coursing through you at lucas' insult. "how come you didn't take me home at that party a few weeks ago?" you question softly, a knowing look in your pointed gaze.

he wasn't expecting that, and it has him flattering slightly, leaning back as he blinks two quick times. lucas runs a hand through his unruly, light hair, tugging at the root in frustration—trying to think of answer.

"I don't know...fucking seemed like matthew had it under control." he swallows, pausing for a moment. "why does it matter?"

his admission give you confirmation you hadn't realized you'd been looking for. you laugh in disbelief, "yeah, well it seems like matthew is the only one who cares about me."

it was a low blow, one that has lucas' anger rising rapidly—but it was your truth, and you know that now.

"yeah too fucking much." he snarls.

"sorry that he cares about me—unlike you."

lucas jaw tightens, eyeing your face with a look you've never seen before. "we need to break up."

you look at him with disbelief and disappointment, your lip beginning to quiver. "so you're not even going to deny it? not even going to try and fight for me?"

this conversation has taken a turning point you weren't expecting—at least not today. there's nothing but anger between you, but yet you're not upset about being broken with. you're upset because you feel stupid, and everything you've feared about your relationship is true. lucas may love you, but he doesn't care about you.

his eyes flicker with something unknown, and he sighs, "I don't think you want me to."

you close your textbook and shove it into your bag, pushing off the table as you hastily get to your feet. "you're a dick." you don't wait for his response, leaving the library with your heart in your hands.

you push open the grand doors, and immediately you're enveloped in rain. you curse, tightening the hold on your book bag as you begin speed walking in the direction of your apartment. it seems that the rain only gets harder as you go, pelting against your skin like mini bullets and completely soaking you.

it's the cherry on top of everything, and you can't wait to get home, strip completely naked and cry in bed.

the sigh of relief is loud as you finally get back to the apartment building, walking into the lobby like a wet dog. you make a b-line to the elevators, not making your usual stop in the mail room—something that was habit anytime you'd come home.

you wring your hair out between your hands, the water hitting the elevator carpet with a small plopping noise. thankfully, it doesn't stop and you make it up to your door without any interruptions.

you sniffle away the emotion creeping up your chest, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. you only make it a few steps before a door is opening, distracting you.

it's lucas and matthew's apartment, and our steps the latter, gym bag slung over his shoulder. you come to a slow stop without meaning to, looking at him with a soft, yet curious gaze.

his eyes dart to you, but as soon as he sees the state your in he's moving, stepping closer to you with a worried expression. "woah...you okay?"

just the caring tone of his question has you welling up with tears, and it feels like everything is crashing down on you all at once. the confusion, the anger, the heartbreak, the lust, the curiosity...it's all there, drowning you.

you shake your head, mouth opening and closing unsurely. "I-I don't...i'm so." your voice is shaking, and you're borderline hyperventilating as you attempt at getting a coherent sentence out.

matthew lets his gym bag slip off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a hard thud. he takes ahold of your biceps, squeezing the fleshiest part firmly. "take a fucking breath, y/n, you're gunna make yourself sick."

closing your eyes, you take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down from the sudden emotional attack set upon yourself. it takes a minute, but eventually you feel yourself begin to relax, your heart rate slowly creeping back down.

you let your eyes flutter back open, meeting the concerned ones of matthew. your brows pull tightly, a nervous gulp following. "why are you looking at me like that, matthew?" your question is barley above a whisper, as if you were almost scared of the response.

"like what?" he breathes, not once breaking eye contact.

it's almost intimidating, but it's also confirming of so many things. but of course, you're hesitant—heck you're scared and nervous and so unsure about what's going on between you. your brows are still drawn together, creating a tiny indent in the middle of your forehead.

matthew has to fight every urge in his body to not run his thumb over the indent to smooth it out.

"like...like you fucking care about me. like you want me." you answer firmly, eyes frantically moving around matthew's face as you attempt at gauging his reaction.

he doesn't release the hold on your biceps, his gaze turning completely soft. "y/n." he says your name knowingly, fingers gently running up your arms. that’s his answer.

"matthew." you exhale shakily, distracted by the gentle pressure of his fingers on your skin. "you're making me all..."

"all...what?"

"confused." you say honestly, looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he's seen.

matthew swallows roughly, jerking his hands off your body like you just told him that's he's burning you. "i'm sorry"

the soft, hopeful look on his face doesn't falter, and if anything it increases. "no," you shake your head, "stop."

"what? stop apologizing?" he questions with a frown.

"no," you repeat, "stop looking at me like that."

a moment passes before he speaks again, his words laced with desire— stressing his words. "I can't."

another beat of silence, nothing but the hitching breath of both and you matthew to be heard. you lick onto your bottom lip, "lucas and I...we broke up."

"you did?"

you only get one nod out before matthew rushes forward, grasping your face like he's been waiting for the opportunity since he was put onto the earth. you tilt your head back instinctively, and it's just timed as matthew leans down to kiss you.

the kiss is instantly desperate, the clashing of lips and teeth alluding to so. your tongues glide across each others like second nature, elevating the kiss to a higher, more intense level. it's exhilarating—it's right.

you sigh into his mouth, trembling hands reaching up and grabbing onto matthew's wrists—keeping him against you. you've completely forgotten that you're soaked from head to toe, and how you've just had a fight with lucas that lead to a break up...it's all lost in matthew.

his hands slide farther back, fingers intertwining with your wet strands of hair. it's a gentle and welcoming pull, and you can't help but sigh in pleasure.

matthew follows suit, groaning into your messy kiss. it's been months and months of tip-toeing around one another, too scared to admit the truth in fear of ruining everything and everyone else along the way. but now it's just you two, and matthew can't help but moan at the thought.

the elevator doors slide open, and you’re both pulling apart instinctively at the sound.

but as lucas stands there, jaw ticking with anger as he stares at you—you know it's too late, and he's just seen you making out with his friend. or better yet, he's seen his friend making out with his newley ex-girlfriend.

"are you two fucking serious?"

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. it looks bad, you know it it does—mostly because it is bad. you've been thinking about matthew for much longer than you care to admit, and the first thing you did after getting broken up with is run into his arms—letting matthew kiss you like you're both horny teenagers.

"lucas..." matthew trails off, turning to his roommate with a guilty laced hesitation.

but lucas is only looking at you, that same disgusted smirk on his face from the library. "can't even remember the last time you kissed me, but yet the first thing you did after leaving the library was make out with my roommate. I didn't realize you were such a slut."

you inhale sharply, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

matthew rushes forward, and before he can logically think of the consequences of his actions, he punches lucas square across the face.

"matthew!" you gasp, moving towards the two men with concern pulling at your face. "no."

he doesn't hear you, looking at lucas as he clutches his jaw. matthew's gaze narrows, shaking out his hand. "don't fucking talk to her like that."

your ex-boyfriend laughs in a mixture of shock and disbelief, stretching his jaw out before he looks back at you. lucas doesn't say anything else, turning and leaving down the buildings stair well.

you're shocked, embarrassed and guilt ridden—your watery gaze locked on the empty space lucas was only moments ago occupying.

"y/n?" matthew questions gently, snapping you out of your own head.

you blink hard, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, I just need some space." you turn away from matthew before he has the chance to answer—mostly because you're too scared that if he begins to speak you'll crawl right back into his arms.

matthew watches you walk away, and all he can do is stand there, focused on your fleeting figure as he slip into your apartment—your lip trembling without another glance in his direction.

his face is contorted, not in anger, but in a look of concern. guilt flashes across his features, and he can't help but groan, running a palm over his face in frustration. did he just loose you for good?

you shut the apartment door behind you, and the tears begin falling down your face at a rapid pace. your lips tug into a frown, a sob wracking through you as you lean back against the door.

cora rounds the corner at the sound, her eyebrows pulled in concern. "what's wrong?" she breathes, rushing towards you.

"I did something terrible." you admit through your stuttering gasps, looking at your roommate with a million different emotions.

"honey..." she coos, wrapping you in a hug. your tears intensify as cora squeezes you in the embrace, and you bury your face in her shoulder to mask your desperate cry.

Epilogue

“god miller! just kiss me already!”

“no, not like this!”

you groan, falling into the couch cushions. the scene on the tv illuminates the room, the late afternoon sun hidden behind the blackout curtains you’ve had drawn since this morning.

nick and jess from new girl have not only been giving you entertainment all day while you mope around, but they’ve also been stupid cute and in love—it makes you want to die.

you’ve only been two places since the chaotic ending to last night; your bed which you cried in all night, and the couch which obviously you also cried on. you keep running through the events of yesterday—the breakup with lucas, finding matthew in the hallway, borderline confessing your feelings to him…kissing him. it felt good—so so good.

but just like that it was snatched from you, and the guilt riddling your body is just nerve wracking and wrenching. while you were kissing matthew, the last thing you were thinking about was lucas, and the possibility of him finding you both like that wasn’t even in your mind. but it happened and now everything feels like a mess—and you feel like an awful person.

you’ve clearly hurt lucas—that much was evident in the awful things he said to you. when you told cora everything last night, eyes stinging with tears and snot dribbling from your nose, she was quick to remind you that lucas never treated you good, and that no matter what he shouldn’t of said that to you.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, making you sit up—brows furrowed in question.

lucas

are you home?

you pause the tv quickly, all while reading the text over and over again as you try and make sense of it. what does he need? does he want to talk? is he going to yell at you? is he simply just curious? does he want to fix your relationship?

you hold your breath as you shakily type your reply.

y/n

yea

you exhale as it goes through, and in habit you bring your thumb to your lips, nerves consuming you as you begin gnawing on the skin around your nail.

your phone buzzes with an incoming message again.

lucas

can I come talk?

you swallow, sitting up straighter as you read his message. this can’t be good, you think—you’ve done nothing positive in the last twenty four hours that warrants a civil talk with your ex. you desperately want to ignore him—throw your phone across the room and get back to new girl on the tv.

a show that you only started watching because it’s matthew favourite—your brain reminds you. you look down at your phone again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate.

you deserve not only closure, but happiness—not matter what.

y/n

sure

you barley have a minute of speed running the apartment, picking up the empty tub of ice cream and what feels like hundreds on snotty tissues from your crying, before there’s a knock at your door.

even if you didn’t know he was coming over, would could tell it was lucas by the weight of the knock. it was soft, almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually be at your door. it always sounded like that.

before you back out, you pull open the door, revealing yourself to a deadpanned face lucas who’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. he gulps, eyeing your figure briefly. “can I come in.”

you nod reluctantly, stepping to the side to create enough room for him to slip inside your apartment. lucas sends you a forced smile as he enters, moving through your place like he’s done many times before.

the door shuts with a gentle click, but the room is so tense and quiet it sounds like a bomb. you follow suit, walking into the living room where lucas stands stagnant—eyeing around the apartment with an unsure expression. suddenly his eyes meet yours, “did you cheat on me?”

“no.” you tell him. “I would never cheat…on anybody.”

he sniffs, the sound annoying and disgusting—it’s like he’s trying to stay calm. “but you like him, right? you like matthew?”

you’re so used to trying to please him that you want to stay quiet—because you know if you admit your feelings for his friend, everything is going to completely change…more than it already has. and as lucas looks at you now, his gaze nothing but knowing, you decide you’re done trying to hide from him.

“I do.” you confirm. “but nothing ever happens, and…I didn’t even know when these feelings started. i’ve been so confused for the longest time, and I was scared because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” you pause, wringing out your trembling fingers as you collect your next thoughts. “but i’m sick of doing things for everyone else…and I need to let myself be happy—whatever that ends up being.”

lucas stay silent for a moment, but you can see his mind running a mile a minute. his eyes dart all over you, analyzing your face and body language—you’ve never seen him look at you so intently, and it has you wanting to shy away.

he sighs, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m sorry, y/n—for everything.”

your shoulders deflate, and you feel the emotion you’ve been suppressing since lucas texted you coming back to the surface. “thank you. i’m sorry too.”

“can I give you a hug?” his hesitance is evident, looking at you like he’s unsure of your response—how you’ll react. looking at him right now, you can’t be mad at him. not about your relationship, the breakup or the name he called you in his rage. lucas is a good guy, you know that—he’s just not the guy for you.

“yeah.” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

lucas takes the three steps of distance between you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he brings you into his chest. your hands find place around his waist, holding him against you in a wordless goodbye. his cheek rests on the top of your head, a comforting gesture that has your eyes flickering shut.

he takes a deep breath—his words quiet as he speaks. “I think we met for a reason, y/n. and that reason is matthew.” you feel lucas swallow against you, like he knows what he just said is the final nail in the coffin—everything starts now. “have you noticed how he looks at you?”

you pull back, and watch as the corner of his lips begin to turn upwards—the faintest smile growing. lucas may not like it, but he’s accepted it, and it’s feels better than anything you could imagine. your own smile begins to show, and you nod. “I have.”

matthew knies was an enigma—a giant, infuriating mystery that you never expected to entangle yourself in. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that you’re easily intrigued, especially when the enigma has always cared for you, no matter how rude and stupid you acted towards him.

perhaps you never hated matthew, but rather the way he made you feel. you hated the idea of being in love with him because you had a boyfriend, so you'd turn into an easily irritated girl, who secretly wanted nothing more then the attention of the boy down the hall. the boy who was more of a boyfriend than lucas could ever be. the boy who you don't hate, but love.

of course, there’s still the lingering feelings of confusion and nervousness—because you don’t know where you and matthew will go from here.

but later in the day, on you way back from your evening class, as the elevator doors open to your floor and matthew stands there—a grin growing on both your faces at the mere sight of one another…you think you have an answer.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

playlist

every breath you take (i'll be watching you) by the police

pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine

wrong by zayn

your needs, my needs by noah kahan

do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

each time you fall in love by cigarettes after sex

if I can't be with you by olivia obrien

I would by one direction

[erenstitanweave]

❥HOW WE LOVE III

pairing: various x reader (vi, caitlyn, vander)

rating: giving/receiving love language headcanons

a/n: so, this is officially a new series! please keep in mind this will be my first time writing for all upcoming characters, respectful criticism and advice on how to write them is welcome! SPOILER ALERT!! reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy!!

VI

giving:

poor vi, her eldest daughter syndrome bleeds through every aspect of her life (relatable but we move on)

all jokes (are we joking though??) aside, i think vi would be hesitant to love quickly or even love at all

vi isn't someone who shows her love through words though, so i feel like if she really began to care and love you, she would show it though her actions

i feel like her main type of acts of service would be protecting you in some manner, whether it be verbally or physically

she's genuinely afraid of losing you, so the protective nature would be slightly overbearing in cases where she's on the edge, but other than that, it's pretty standard.

quality time is another big one for her, not just because it's also a way for her to trust you, but because she'd quite literally just want to get to know you better

i could see this being the case whether or not you live the same type of life (i.e: being a zaunite or not)

i feel like she's seen enough to know that regardless of what side you're on, experiences vary for everyone, and she'd just want to know yours and through that, open up to you

small side tangent, but she's TOUCHY.

once she's attached to you, so are her hands. they quite literally are always on you in some way, whether that be through subtle touches (i.e: letting her hand graze against your side when she walks past you, her hands lingering too long as she's holding you, etc.) or through much more obvious ones like an arm wrapped around your waist

receiving:

although she is a protecter by nature, this causes her to be very wary of people and not very trusting of just anyone

i feel like she wouldn't just prefer acts of service but she would need it in order for her to begin to trust you

acts of service, subconsciously or not, are vital to slowly letting down her walls and letting her become trust worthy of you, but once they're down, it's game over

we see in the show how she is once she trusts someone, she shakes off the shell she shows the world and just becomes herself.

i feel like she'd love someone who can't keep their hands off her (except in the obvious situations)

even lingering gazes would make this girl WEAK and she knows it, so just imagine what having your hands all over her does to her brain (short answer: she short circuits)

much like vander, i think a part of her craves words of affirmation because of how her past mistakes constantly haunt and consume her being

even though a part of her knows it isn't her fault things turned out the way it did, a part of her mind won't allow her to believe it

even if she never might truly believe or accept this fact, hearing you tell her good things about herself and praise her makes her head spin with this feeling she can't explain, but all she knows is that it's one she'd never let go

VANDER

giving:

vander to me is probably one of the more protective characters in the show and i think his love languages in terms of giving reflect that heavily

i personally think he'd adore quality time the most, being the man he is, he doesn't really get much time to himself outside of his kids and dealing with the Lanes

it doesn't really matter what kind of quality time to him either imo, i think he'd be most comfortable with just being in your presence, even if you two aren't saying anything

one of his favorites moments though, is seeing you with his kids

he adores seeing you with them, the sight warming his heart knowing the family he works so hard to keep together is happy

words of affirmation i can see being another huge one for him, he'd definitely let you know that you're doing good in whatever you may be doing or even just making it through each day

he'd often pull you aside to let you know though, wanting his words to only be for you and not the prying eyes of others (or the kids potentially listening in on you both)

i could see vander being into physical touch, but only very slightly if it's in public

if you were behind the bar with him, he'd ever so slightly graze the small of your back with his palm or subtly grab onto your waist as he cleaned off the bar

he's an asshole though (lovingly, of course) and would do this especially if you were talking to someone just to get a laugh out of it

he'd be extra careful with this though, as he knows that he constantly has eyes on him, ones that could be dangerous to you if he overdoes his affections

receiving:

i could see vander loving words of affirmation in return, he definitely needs to hear that he's doing a good job taking care of his kids (especially when he feels like they fuck up because of him)

i also can see him holding a lot of doubts about past decisions in all aspects, so just hearing you tell him that he's doing good and that everything will be alright grounds him more than anything

even just telling him that he's a good father, even with his faults and past mistakes will make him feel so much better, no doubt making him fall for you even more than he thought possible

he's the biggest sucker for physical touch too, especially really subtle ones just for the two of you

don't get him wrong, he loves big gestures of physical affection, but he's not alone with you often, making the subtle ones happen a lot more often

he definitely loves holding hands and interlocking fingers especially, the latter being the one you two do more often when around most people

but when the last drop is closed to outsiders and is usually just benzo, the kids, and yourselves, he's all over you

he'll mostly have you in his lap if you're not off with the kids, or just hugging you from behind

CAITLYN

giving:

this girl is a bit of a tough one for me i won't even lie, but she's very well meaning in most aspects

i feel like she'd be into quality time and gift giving honestly

hear me out though, living in piltover her whole life and only recently seeing for herself how the world is and how things can change in an instant makes me think she'd gravitate towards spending time with you in one way or another

it doesn't even have to be explicitly spending time together either, just the fact that you'd be near her would be enough, especially if you're close enough to where she could protect you if need be

her protective nature is one reason why time with you is so sacred to her, not only that she'd be able to cherish her time with you, but that she'd truly be able to appreciate life in it's entirety

the gift giving aspect simply stems from her being wealthy (well not really)

i just see her as someone who expresses herself and what she wants to say with actions, and those actions are gifts

doesn't matter what you like honestly, she'd get it somehow. luxurious clothes? boom, right there on your shared bed. foods or sweets? she somehow has the entire stock right in front of you with a small smile on her face

both of these, to me, just stem from her innate desire to make you happy

she wants to give her lover the world, and with all she's seen in such a short amount of time after being spoonfed certain things about the world, she wants to make sure you're happy with her for as long as you both live

receiving:

receiving is a slight improvement but honestly she screams physical touch and words of affirmation yearner

think about it, being as skilled as she is, she's probably gotten praise about it from everyone

from you, though? it's way different in her mind, especially if you actually talk about why you give her the praises you do

she's expected the praise by now, but to her, it'd feel different because with you, it didn't feel..obligatory or forced

it wouldn't feel like the stuffy, fake pleasantries she'd be used to being in such a high place of power all her life, but something much more sincere and loving

she'd crave it, even going so far as to push herself beyond her limits just to hear you praise and support her for doing so

physical touch to me is another big one for her, i could see touching being a huge factor for her simply because of the intimacy

she most likely has never had anyone as close to her as her lover, so the sheer intimacy with even the slightest of touches knowing that she will only allow this from you is mindblowing for her in the best ways possible

[14dayswithyou]

Ren's favourite colour is dark red!

How would ren/reacted react if angel said that she saw him as more than a friend, but in the end angel completed it by saying that she saw him as a younger brother?

⌞♥⌝ Regardless of how Angel views Ren, so long as they put him above everyone else, he'll be satisfied. All he wants is to be their top priority and the only person they go to for anything, so he genuinely wouldn't care if the relationship ends up being strictly familial and/or platonic. Ren is also very codependent-y by nature and wants Angel to be the same with him.

Canonically though, I doubt Ren would do anything to give off "younger sibling" vibes in the first place!! He's very upfront about having romantic attraction towards Angel in the game, so it'd be hard to think of him in that way. But if Angel desperately wanted someone to fill that role, he'd likely introduce them to his sister — before showing just how awful having Hannah as a sibling can be.

[mattsbows]

surfer!chris. . .meets you

chris was flying down the curvy roads of kauai, tapping his fingers along the steering wheel to “walking on a dream” by empire of the sun. he was careless and worry free like always, a distinct change to his personality after moving to hawaii. the smell of salt water, coconut, and sunscreen wafted through the doors of his open air jeep, reminding him just how much he loved living on this island. he was pretty sure he could stay here forever and never tire of it. it didn’t matter how many times he drove by the endless palm trees that lined the road or the quaint acai bowl stand on the left. 

as he drove, chris thought about how he had gotten here. just one year ago he had been a burnt out content creator, struggling to thrive in the oversaturated market that was modern youtube. eventually, he’d given up on the dream, making one last “goodbye” video for his subscribers, packing his bags, and getting the hell out of LA. 

being a lifeguard wasn’t what he had planned, but when his brothers matt and nick had invited him on a trip to hawaii as a way to cool his head, he’d fallen in love with the islands and just never left. it wasn’t exactly the most well paying job, but it was work regardless and it left him with plenty of time to do the activity that had kept him here anyway: surfing. it didn’t matter that his bank account had taken a significant hit since his content creation days. he was happy, and that was that. 

sure, it wasn’t a particularly glamorous lifestyle, but he had money for groceries, gas for his jeep, and rent for his small, beachy apartment. saving people’s lives should’ve earned him a little more than $15 an hour, but money was money. 

chris’ tank top blew in the wind as he hit the gas pedal. the fabric was becoming more wrinkled by the second, but he didn’t care. he rarely work more than a pair of swim trunks at work anyway, allowing him to earn a nice tan that definitely boosted his ego.  

everything was fine. better than fine, actually. he was mellowed out, now on island time. life was peaceful, even right now as he drove to work. that changed, however, when he saw you run out in the road, forcing him to slam on the brakes. 

“kid, what the hell are you doing?” chris cursed. 

“sorry!” you yelped, turning to face him. “there was just this really pretty butterfly and-”

“let me get this straight,” he said, leaning around the side of the jeep. “you ran out in the road for a butterfly?”

you nodded meekly, the way this unfamiliar boy said it making you realize how reckless your choice had been. you were taken aback though by the way he looked at you. there was a smirk on his tanned, freckled face, clearly an indicator of how comical he found the situation. it was stupid, really. you knew that, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to wipe that smirk off of his maybe, slightly, possibly gorgeous face. 

“you could’ve gone around me,” you stated with a shrug, trying to make the butterflies in your stomach not show on your face. “that was an option, y’know.”

chris rolled his eyes. you couldn’t be serious. you had to be joking. thankfully, you were a good actor because he seemed to believe that you weren’t. he simply rolled his eyes, climbing back into the jeep and smirking at you once more as he restarted the engine. you were pretty, there was no denying it, but chris wouldn’t let you know that.

“try not to get hit again.” he yelled at you as he sped by. 

and that was how your first, and definitely not last, interaction with the surfer had played out.

a note from the author: surfer!chris has my whole heart and soul. hope this helps ❤️ enjoy!!

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz @colorthecosmos444 @lockettesstage @mattyblover07 @marrykisskilled @beautyloves @nicksbestie @mrsarnold @st7rnioioss @sturn777 @sophand4n4 @mattsdolll @lottieluhvs @reidshearts @sturns-mermaid @lovergirl4gracieabrams @emely9274 @blahbel668 @khlolovessturn @ncm9696 @raesalvatore @sturniololuv08 @sturniolosymphony @eternaldesi @irene-martinez777 @mamamadssss @sofieeeeex @courta13 @blushsturns

[the-crooked-library]

My favourite part is how movie repeatedly shows us that Orlok is Ellen's true soulmate and in a way husband. From lilacs being the thread connecting them before Thomas even showed up, to the Ellen's dream about marrying Death in place of Thomas and being happy about it, to lock of Ellen's hair that smelled of lilacs for Orlok, to Ellen re-marrying Orlok and having a sweet sensual wedding night and mutual tender embrace in dying. The message was not even subtle.

Exactly, it’s not subtle at all! I personally think their belonging to each other becomes incredibly obvious when you consider the difference between the parts of the narrative that are decided for Ellen by other characters, vs the few times she gets to make a choice herself.

She has to devote herself to her husband - but she sends a lock of her perfumed hair with him to the Carpathians, in a locket that is never opened until it is in Orlok’s hands. She has to argue and rebuke the monster - but she comes close to him to do so, until they’re almost touching, even though she usually argues with people from across the room. She has to sacrifice herself and save the city - but she wears a wedding dress for it, undresses both herself and Orlok, indulges in a tender night with him; and she didn’t need to do any of that, considering that he wouldn’t have been able to resist her offered blood regardless.

What also gets me is that the same applies to Orlok, too. He is a vampire, a monster, a villain. He must be inhuman, he must haunt her, he must kill her loved ones, he must devour her - and he does do these things!.. Except that he also lingers over the smell of lilacs, he begs her to join him; and amidst all the carnage he causes, she remains intact. When he does drain her, he is reverent, tentative, and he kills himself for one more minute with her because she asks him to stay.

It is almost as if they know they’re in a story. Ellen definitely knows how it will end from the beginning, and I don’t really believe that Orlok cares, as long as they get to be together. They act out the overarching plot points just to allow themselves the stolen tenderness in between.

[just-your-average-shiz-student]

Agreed to everything, but I think another aspect of the narrative that creates this double standard when it comes to Glinda and Fiyero – despite the fact that they’re extremely similar in some of their flaws – comes from the audience’s perspective regarding actions seen and unseen.

I see it as an accidental effect (I don’t think the musical meant for Glinda to come off half as unsympathetic as she does to the people criticising her actions, nor Fiyero to come out as unscathed as he does in their perception), but real regardless. The core of it is:

We see Glinda reject the offer from Elphaba.

We actually get to see their falling out, the cruel words exchanged in the beginning of the song, the tears, the brief hope, the heartbreak and the separation.

Similarly, contrary to Fiyero, who we don’t get to see doing all the horrible things being captain of the guard would demand he do --

(I need people who call him a double agent to shut up; he’s been doing it for years! He’d have to do questionable and outright bad things regardless of his real moral posturing or actual acts of defiance here and there, otherwise people would’ve gotten suspicious and potentially imprisoned or executed him)

-- Glinda does get to show the audience what she’s been doing this whole time! That’s what Thank Goodness is! We see her doing her work as a mouthpiece for everything that the Wizard believes (or at least what he needs the Ozians to believe), all while Madame Morrible is silently watching, a constant shadow keeping an eye on her every step.

Spewing propaganda against a woman she not only knows has done nothing wrong but who also has a deep emotional significance to her is, indeed, objectionably terrible, but it’s also a job that requires way less direct violent action than what Fiyero is doing, and yet people choose to focus on all the wrongs GLINDA has been doing and all the ways GLINDA has betrayed Elphaba, while Fiyero’s wrongs seem to go unnoticed or even dismissed.

Because contrary to Glinda’s, we don’t see them.

And in storytelling, having something not be shown is almost the same as it never happening in the first place, at least for the person experiencing the story.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m painfully aware that some people are just more willing to point fingers at Glinda and justify every single thing Fiyero’s ever done because of the usual “Woman does bad thing: Evil; Man does bad thing: He had his reasons” mentality. Nothing new.

However, I also think that the way the musical is structured contributes, albeit unintentionally, to this perception of their characters. The second act in particular has some pacing issues, and I feel like it’s not given nearly enough time to resolve or even explore all the subplots and loose ends left by the first act.

I’m not bashing it, Oz, no! It’s my favourite musical. But I am more than glad that the film format allows for much more time focusing on character motivations and each step they take before acting. It worked wonders for Part One and I have high hopes that it will continue to do so in Wicked: For Good.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[therightbeaches]

𝐬𝐮𝐛-𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you grapple with the weight of your position in the bau (and, worse, your feelings for your boss.) [3.2k] contents: bau!reader, angst, PINING. basically this entire fic is pining No Joke and reader is not nonchalant about it, brief bed sharing, sort of ambiguous ending? there is no resolution of aforementioned pining, reader is lowkey sulking the whole time a/n: i'm definitely still trying to get comfortable writing for hotch so again, the characterization probably isn't perfect 🙂‍↕️

Hotch is very likely the nicest person you know. The smartest one, too (actually, the second smartest if you think about it, because Spencer has an IQ of, what, 190? But, well, in the emotional intelligence department he sometimes lacks — you still like him bunches but the truth is the truth.)

You know the rest of the team might disagree with the statement Hotch is nice, but there’s an unspoken bond between you and him that’s been present since the day you joined the Bureau, and he doesn’t play favorites but if he did you’re sure you’d be it.

Regardless, meeting Hotch was like scoring a really nice vintage Coach purse at the thrift and opening it to find a crumpled twenty dollar bill stuffed into one of the inside pockets. Lovely on the outside and even nicer on the inside.

Really, you could go on a whole tangent about how sweet and passionate and generous and thoughtful he is. For your birthday, he’d showed up to the office with a four-pack of cupcakes and held your shoulder while you blew out the candles. On Christmas, he’d appeared on your doorstep in the snow to give you a copy of his favorite novel with his annotations scrawled into the margins.

You’ve found yourself in Alaska again. This time, thankfully, there’s a substantial lack of bodies. Rossi had ushered you and Hotch away to participate in a college guest lecture on criminal psychology for aspiring FBI agents — just don’t tell mention the janky coffee makers, he had instructed half-heartedly while seeing you off on the tarmac.

It was strange. Given, the seminar went off without a hitch, but leaving the lecture hall you’d had this horrible sense of unease. Hotch had the good conscience not to ask you what was troubling you when the imaginary bruise that your lecture pressed down on was aching. More a festering rot that eats through skin and fat and muscle than a bruise, in fact, if you don’t seek to sugarcoat it.

The lobby of your hotel is luxurious but empty. There’s a big window overlooking the expanse of nothingness beyond the hill, squishy velvet couches of emerald green, high-backed armchairs, scratchy wool throw blankets with tassels dangling to the ground. A big fire crackles in the hearth into the silence. The spillage of lamplight outside through the glass only stretches a few feet till it tapers off into the void, an endless pit of tar dotted by twinkling city lights miles away.

You exhale through your mouth and it turns into a smear of fog against the window. This job destroys people. Whittles them down till their bones are so brittle that they collapse under their own weight. You think of Elle, of Gideon, of Jordan, even, how it had eaten them alive inside-out until they had nothing left. You think of Hotch’s torn-apart family and his late wife, of his son who’d lost his mother, and the weight of Spencer’s abduction, his addiction, how it still affects him so deeply today. You think of JJ’s face when there’s a case involving a baby close to home (in a slightly altered timeline, it could just as easily have been hers), of the tough-guy façade Derek puts on, because what else can he do, let the work tear him apart?

There’s only so much someone can bear, only so many back-to-back days of another child missing, another dead body gutted and dismembered and dumped like garbage, another grieving family who lost a son, a daughter, a sister or a brother, a parent. And it’s difficult, more difficult than anyone can articulate, to know that it will never end. So, what’s the reason? Why are you still here, letting this job take and take and take everything you have to give?

Because you’re helping people, argues one half of your mind. You’re changing lives. In turn, the other half: but while you can help in one place, in a thousand others there are countless people getting hurt by cruel hands. What then? What makes one life more valuable, more worth helping than another? There isn’t a good answer (and it’s the reason that you think JJ needs a raise.)

Then, amidst the quiet, there’s the tap of shoes against mahogany floorboards, and Hotch’s distorted reflection materializes behind you. Your own is one you hardly recognize. Worn down to the bone, self-loathing, lonely. Drowning in a three-foot deep pool because you can’t get your legs straightened out beneath you.

“I thought you went to bed,” you say to the window.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He tracks your gaze to the outside. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I couldn’t either.”

“What’s on your mind?”

Profilers, you think mournfully. Hotch can read body language accurately to a scary extent, and maybe now it’s because you wanted him, wanted someone, to notice. Notice my struggle. Notice that something is wrong.

You rub a stiff hand over your jaw. Self-soothing. “I don’t know. This job is just hard. And of course I understand the appeal, but...”

“…But you don’t know why bright college students would want to commit to something so macabre.”

It’s an extension of yourself, really. Why did you want to commit to something so macabre to begin with? He gives you a look in the reflection that says talk to me. He’s your boss but he’s your best friend too. You tend to suffer in silence rather than burden a friend with personal qualms, and it’s why you don’t respond.

You wait with bated breath for something, anything, maybe searching for an answer that he can’t offer. This is one of the few things out of his field of expertise. He won’t give you some bullshit non-answer to make you feel better because that isn’t what you need.

Honestly, what you do need to do is take some time off, spend it somewhere tropical, and he’d give you the time off if you asked, but it’s the easy solution that you don’t truly want because it won’t fix anything. You can fly away in a luxury jet and drink a piña colada out of a coconut on a sunny beach somewhere on the other side of the globe and there will still be people dying while you sunbathe.

“If you had a do-over, would you still join the BAU?” Hotch asks suddenly.

He words it like this but it isn’t what he means. He’s asking if you can continue doing this. If, when you go home, he’ll find your gun and credentials on his desk. If the job is still worth it to you.

“I thought you didn’t really like hypotheticals.”

“In the right contexts I’ll… indulge.”

“And is this the right context?” you ask and turn to face him. The window is cold against the skin of your back.

“It’s something that’s making you upset, so I think it is.”

A beat, in which he levels his steady gaze at you and look down towards your feet as if your shoes can tell you the right thing to say. And, yes, you know that the right thing to say is the truth and it’s the truth that he wants to hear, but to tell the truth is to admit defeat in the face of struggle. You’re not the first agent to be ripped to shreds by the work you do and you won’t be the last but that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

All withstanding, there’s nowhere else in the world you can imagine yourself working at aside from the BAU. Never, not in a million years, not for a million dollars, would you wish to be apart from your family.

Never would you wish to be apart from Hotch, who’s changed your life in a million ways, all of which are for the better.

“I would,” you say, then bid him a despondent goodnight before retreating to your room.

The digital clock on your nightstand blinks 12:03 a.m. into the dark and you’re wide awake.

During the seminar, you’d touched on a few cases you’d worked and how the art of profiling directly correlated with catching your bad guy. The fundamentals: this is why we’re looking for a person fitting this exact description, and this is how we know, these are the classifications of serial killers. Oh also, once, three cops walked straight into a trap and I was the one who had to tell their families that we gave them the green light to breach the premises.

Of course, the last part isn’t what you said. It’s not a thing you can say because the FBI is always searching for bright-eyed, bushy-tailed applicants, but it’s the harsh reality that comes with doing this job that goes unsaid until rookie agents learn it themselves in the field. You still remember it. The first case you were on. The first time someone got killed in front of you. The first family you had to inform. The first videotape sent to the cops, the first letter addressed to you personally. The terror, the dread, the constant need to look over your shoulder, the ever-present fear of shadowy corners and what could hide within their tenebrosity.

It’s really fucking cold in your room. The radiator has to be busted, you think. It’s no better in here beneath your thick quilt than if you were bare naked outside in the blizzard, and there’s no way you’ll be getting a wink of sleep tonight unless… well. It wouldn’t be the first time you slept in the same room as Hotch. Two summers ago or so the coordinator had royally screwed up your reservations and booked doubles instead of singles and you’d roomed with him for the entirety of five agonizing days, in which you ate together and watched TV together and sat shoulder-to-shoulder on his bed over chow mein and case files.

He lets you in when you knock. Sets up the pullout couch for you but offers you the bed and relents with little resistance when you shake your head no. He gets you situated and turns the lamp off and it’s just you and him in the stagnant, suffocating silence.

“Do you want to know why I decided to hire you after the first round of interviews?” he finally asks, a low murmur so quiet that you can barely hear it.

You turn over onto your side, a curled palm sandwiched beneath your head and the pillow. “Why’s that?”

“Because I saw in you what I wanted to be when I first joined the BAU. Passionate. Dedicated. I know I made the right choice in hiring you and you reaffirmed it even more today during the seminar. I can’t think of a singular time you’ve let the team — let me — down.”

You roll back over, squint at the ceiling, trace the water damage stains turning white to brown with your eyes in the dim light from the window. You’re able to grab the tails of the curtains and tug them closed. Hotch is speaking with some secret, underlying, cryptic meaning to his words; he doesn’t sing praise just for the sake of singing praise. He must’ve forgotten you’re a profiler too, though it wouldn’t take a genius to decipher just what he means. I don’t want you to leave the team.

“Hotch, I-”

“People like you are what the Bureau needs,” he says sagely, as if you needed confirmation for his invisible meaning.

You sit up, pressing your back against the cushioned bottom panel of the couch. “People like you are. I mean, you’re such a good leader, Hotch, and I know how much you care. You always handle everything with so much grace and honesty, I think you’re great and so kind, you know, and…”

There’s the scrunching sound of fabric against fabric and the squeak of springs in the mattress as he props himself up too to stare at your silhouette in the dark, and you most certainly have given you and your stupid feelings away.

Your elbow bumps into the cotton upholstery behind you as you lift an arm to rub your eye. Your cheek squishes against the hill of your shoulder self-consciously. There are worse things in the world than you taking the bait (truthfully, there was no bait to tempt you in, but you think wanted to say it; it’s been a weight on your shoulders for too long now) and spilling your guts to the object of your affection, aren’t there? Not in this moment, you think, dejected, because you can feel his heavy gaze on you even in the pitch-black of night.

There’s a drawn-out pause, filled only by the sound of your shallow breathing.

His voice scratches when he speaks. “Is it cold down there, on the pullout?”

“What?”

“There’s still a lot of space in the bed.”

𑄻𑄾 ᵎᵎ.

The snowstorm outside has escalated overnight and has reduced visibility to zero. This means no plane travel until the storm wanes, and this also means you’re trapped in your lodging with Hotch for the short-term foreseeable future.

He finds you in the east-facing solarium the following morning sitting on a porch chair. Dressed in thin pajamas against the lesser insulation typical of a sunroom, you’re curled in on yourself with your knees to your chest, socked feet crossed in front of the backs of your thighs, chin atop your forearm.

Your conversation from the hotel lobby the prior evening weighs on you heavily. You would choose the BAU again and again if it came down to it, and when it did, you have chosen the BAU again and again. If anyone asked how much you like your job you might tell them how it’s saved you, how it’s given you so much of what you have. Your closest friends, your home, and selfishly, it’s brought you him.

How obtuse is it to weigh an individual at the same level as the comfort of your own space, as those you value most? Surely very, but he’s everything. He gives you everything you could ever ask for, he’s done the most to make sure you’re doing well, he’s held your head above the surface of your terrible, shallow pool until you could find your footing more times than you can count.

And, sure, it’s his job to do these things, his duty as your supervisor to act in the team’s best interest, but it isn’t his job to walk you to your car in the garage every evening. It isn’t his job to bring takeout to your front door after a hard case, and it isn’t his job to hold your hand in a big crowd so you don’t get separated, or button up your coat for you when you can’t get the button aligned with the opposing slit, or call you each morning to ask how you slept.

You know he’s behind you before you turn. An itchy blanket is draped over your lap from over your head.

“Where’s your jacket?” Hotch asks, neither kindly nor unkindly.

“It’s in my luggage.”

“I meant, why aren’t you wearing it?” A broad, warm hand smooths over the outer expanse of your upper arm to try and rub some heat back into your skin. “You’re going to get sick. It’s cold in here.”

“I don’t know,” you respond, saturnine, with words sticky like taffy in your mouth.

He settles into the chair beside you, passing over a plate with a still-warm scone from the buffet room across the lobby. Twin mugs of tea are placed on the glass patio table between you. The legs of the chair screech in protest as he turns it so his body angles towards yours, his elbows on his knees and his palms pressed flat together. His voice, when it comes, bleeds with the gentleness, the softness, he might use with a small, skittish animal that will startle and flee if he’s too loud.

“Look, I’ve been thinking, and if you want to put in a request for a transfer, I can have it processed by the time we get back to Quantico. I don’t want you to be unhappy, don’t say that you’re not, I know you are. You don’t need to keep suffering because you think you have some obligation or loyalty to the team.”

“Who says I’m suffering?” It comes out thickly, tone teasing the edge of wounded. You recoil at yourself and shake your head. “I’m not. I’m not unhappy, either. I love the team. I love…” You blink and suck in a breath. “I stay because I want to.”

“You must consider me to be—” he sighs and takes your hand into his own, brings your knuckles to his mouth, a ghost of his lips against your skin, “so bad at my job if you think I can’t read my own team.”

“I didn’t say that, Hotch,” you murmur.

He laughs. Your mood brightens marginally with the sound. “You didn’t say it, but you must’ve thought it.”

It’s hard to not want it. He’s done everything right. He’s hooked his kind claws into your tender, wanting flesh and you’ve no desire to get away, even if it hurts, even if it means the puncture wounds will have you bleeding to death right here in front of him. Or, a hand reaching into the gaping cavity of your chest, latching onto your heart and tugging and tugging and tugging till fibers stretch and fray and split, and what else can you do but sit still and let it happen?

The same hand opens doors for you and makes your coffee just the way you like it and touches you with reverence. And is that what this is, reverence? Love? To seek to dissect bit by bit, to pull you apart till but your innermost pieces are left? To flay and open you up with a neat incision, and force a loving hand between the gaps in your ribs and lay a gentle head upon your raw chest to hear, to feel his name thrumming in time with your heartbeat?

No, that is not love, but you love him still. Indubitably, irrevocably, impossibly so. It’s a harsh, mocking finger jabbed into your sternum, and it’s not something that you think you can come to terms with.

[prying-pandora666]

Mephistopheles, Old Man Coyote, Death? Or perhaps…?

Everyone is wondering who that shadow demon who took Abbott Emmanuel’s body was and what it wants. Olrox offers us two names for it (Old Man Coyote and Mephistopheles), but he also says that this being has many names and forms, so it could be anyone. Which got me thinking…

I can’t be the only one who noticed that the evil shadow entity only showed itself to people that Abbott Emmanuel cared about can I? (With one notable exception but let’s get back to that).

Mizrak

When Mizrak falls during the final fight, the shadow entity appears before him, terrifying Mizrak that the devil has come to claim his soul. Olrox shields Mizrak, chasing “Old Man Coyote” (as Olrox calls him) away.

Mizrak was Emmanuel’s right hand man. A soldier of the church who served Emmanuel faithfully and whom Emmanuel spoke to as a confidante.

2. Tera

At the end of S2 of Nocturne, we see a vampiric Tera in the shadows, smiling manically during an execution. The foreboding shadow monster lurks behind her, a wicked grin spreading on its features. Clearly she has made some kind of agreement with this entity.

Tera was the woman Emmanuel was in love with. So much so that he was willing to forsake his holy vows of chastity for her. He stayed away after their daughter was born because of their disparate social status and the backlash their union would bring if discovered, but he confesses tearfully under duress that he loves Tera with all his heart.

3. Maria

Multiple times in the season, the shadow entity stares with interest at Maria. Most notably right after she kills her father and has to be chased away by Juste, and at the very end at the execution when the entity stands behind Tera. It rises up and a wicked grin manifests on its features, revealing who its real target is.

Maria is Emmanuel’s secret daughter born out of wedlock after an affair with Tera. He expresses love for her and a desire to guide her away from her blasphemous activities as a revolutionary. When he attempts to sacrifice Maria in season 1, he seems to have entered a delusional state and believes he is recreating the binding of Isaac from the Bible, repeatedly asking why God hasn’t delivered a ram to spare Maria? So even during his worst point, he still felt enough for Maria that he needed a delusional justification for his actions. Not exactly father of the year regardless.

4. Olrox

Alright so this is where things get interesting. Olrox is the only person the shadow entity shows itself to that doesn’t have a bond with Emmanuel. However, the moment this shadow entity does come to Olrox is when Olrox is hanging around Emmanuel’s forgemaster-machine. The very thing the Abbott traded his soul for. How interesting that Olrox sees this being twice, and both times it’s when he’s hanging around something/someone Emmanuel cared about.

CONCLUSION

Whatever entity Abbott Emmanuel made a deal with and sold his soul to, they’ve clearly reclaimed him now.

Is it possible that the shadow entity we see is a twisted manifestation of Emmanuel’s soul itself? Now claimed and enslaved by the demon (be it Mephistopheles, Old Man Coyote, Death, or otherwise?), the shadow is still drawn to the people that Emmanuel cared about in life?

Perhaps we haven’t seen the last of the Abbott yet.

[gremlinpenguin]

Some semi-coherent analysis threads bc my dumb ass needs bullet points to stay organized:

—SEASON FINALE SPOILERS BELOW!!!—

I’ve been dissecting some of allegorical elements of the story- I’m not sure if these are intended or even completely accurate to the story, just my interpretation of how every single narrative element potentially ties together, which is insanely impressive. Some of these are speculations or extrappolations; it’s hard to confirm some things until we know Buddy’s backstory, but this is based on his statement that he’s “never been the hero in any story, not even his own” (AAHHAHAHLSJHSKHSSKJ)

Sorry if some of these thoughts make no sense feel free to me for clarification lol, and I might be repeating things that have been said before but idk. And if i quote anything then I pulled it from the finale

BUT THE WHOLE STORY WORLD IS A METAPHOR FOR ROLES, CONVENTIONS, AND BREAKING EXPECTATIONS

The stories and their roles parallel the characters’ interiority

- chase is defiant of his role

- Buddy believes that his role defines him

- “What the stories want” > the characters wanting to break out of their roles

“Maybe this isn’t the ending that was supposed to happen” > DEVELOPMENT

- difference between who we are vs. who we think we are

- Think we’re “supposed to turn out” one way according to roles

- World where hero <3 villain = breaking conventions and expectations

- Ties in with the roles were given

“Our roles are gone, the world is gone, but we’re still here”

- we are our cores, not the roles we’re assigned

- The world cannot change who you truly are

- The world/roles getting destroyed = allowed them to be themselves

- Buddy became the hero

- Chase showed his vulnerability

Character complexity: buddy is and isn’t a “hero”

- there is no black and white answer

- He’s a complex person who made mistakes that he deeply regrets

- At the same time, he never caused any physical harm to chase- and when he did, he was instantly remorseful

If you think about buddy’s perspective, he fits the role of a hero

- in a bad situation

- Needs something to fix that situation

- Someone is in his way of achieving that goal for what he’s been trained to believe are selfish reasons

BUT THE METAPHORICAL PARTS!!!

Every storybook fantasy world was fake

- literally the entire setting wasn’t real

- The whole story is a giant metaphor

- Roles in stories = roles we think we fit into

- How roles inhibit you from who you really are

We can all be heroes or villains, regardless of what role we’re given

- chase defies his role as a kid who can’t go to college and needs to make money > still dreams big despite the hand he’s been dealt

“Stories just want an ending even if it’s not the one you’d expect”

- direct metaphor- ppl want to be themselves regardless of their roles

- You can’t control who someone is going to be

- All that matters is that they like themself, no matter what they expected

- They want to be enjoyed > people just want to live

The story ending = just living regardless of roles

- the stories are all fake but a direct parallel to the human personality

- We put up walls and fake facades to hide what we actually are/want

- The roles don’t matter as long as we just live

- Roles are put in place to try and create smoothness/structure

- we confine ourselves into fantasy book roles - ie deacon being the helper - without realizing that we have full power to get out of those

- We tell ourselves stories of what’s real/what we’re capable of

-the stories themselves are confining to the multi dimensional nature of human possibility

And Chase was literally invented to defy the stereotypical isekai tropes. Every character is strongly defiant of what someone might expect a stereotypical hero, villain, and sidekick to be- they’re so much richer, they all have motives and desires. And they each want to feel like “the hero” but it’s so far out of their grasps. The storybooks set an expectation of what a hero is - by literally fitting people into roles - I mean come on how much more symbolic can it get than literally ASSIGNING ROLES with the keys - but they all have a complex idea of how “being a hero” fits into their lives.

But as silver said, people love the hero because they tried- and Chase, buddy, and deacon are all trying so hard to find peace in their lives.

Back to the finale-

All the story wants is a true loves kiss > it just wants them to be themselves

- love is love lol

- Roles don’t matter, you matter

Roles > chase never fit into his role

- strong foil for buddy, who fully defined himself by his role

- Chase believed he could choose his role regardless of what life gave him

Chase is all about breaking conventions and doing the impossible

- Embodiment of unconventionality

- First to break out of role/callous hero expectation

Buddy is the embodiment of surrendering to his role

- letting it control him through fear and low self-esteem

- Surrendered to his role because he feels like a villain irl

Something always goes wrong in the stories- people are not meant to fit into roles

- chase defying the stories = rebelling against societal roles and expectations

- Buddy being a stickler for accuracy- he doesn’t know how to escape his role

“Our roles are gone, the world is gone, but we’re still here”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHSJDKFKSDJFHSKSKSJFJSJSHAHDJGKKSJAHSHDHD

- BIG HEALING MOMENT BC NOTHING IS THERE TO CONFINE BUDDY AKA HIS BELIEF SYSTEM THAT TELLS HIM HES THE VILLAIN HES LITERALLY SHEDDING HIS ROLE BC THE WORLD HAS BEEN DESTROYED SO THEIR ROLES HAVE BEEN DESTROYED TOO AAAAHHH THIS QUOTE NEEDS TO PAY RENT BC ITS SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME IN MY HEAD

- I mean come on. Yes I am a simp for metaphorical apocalypses but THIS. THEIR ROLES HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. THE TWO OF THEM ARE LITERALYYYY ALL THATS LEFT

anygay

Dreams by night episode-

- the hero’s dreams come true- but not really

- In real life, your happily ever after doesn’t always happen

- The coffin: Buddy is mentally trapped in his villain role

- He doesn’t know how to get out

- The coffin is an emotional box that he’s stuck in

- Doesn’t believe he could be anything but the villain

- Buddy’s dream could be a flashback

- Blood on his clothes- possibly had to fight other “contestants”

- I think buddy was pit against other ppl but there was one who he really cared about and let down

- He’s definitely missing someone in his life who’s no longer here

- Fighting could have convinced him he was the villain

- Or failing to save the person he cared about

- Could have made him think he’s selfish = villain

- Or survivors guilt

- Mirror = reflection of himself

- Sees chase in his reflection = sees the part of him that he knows isn’t a villain

- Chase is making him believe that he could be good/worthy of kindness and love

- Chase symbolizes the part of himself that’s fighting to break out of his villain role

- Chase gives him hope

- Not even fully aware of his internal journey

- Chase is so clearly a fresh and new viewpoint in his life

- Surprised bc he hasn’t been cared for like that before

- “This is how it has to be” - he cannot break out of his villain role

- It’s been so deeply ingrained in him

- He doesn’t think there’s any way out

- Mirror is dark > conforming to the darkness of his role

Buddy was never the bad guy > he has a very strong motivation for getting the keys back, aka turning human again

- he never lied to chase

- He helped chase finish the stories

- He told him that he needed the keys back and Chase refused

- His pranks were only ways to accomplish his goal

- Trying to get chase’s location in beach boys > couldn’t comprehend why Chase would be genuine

- Used to humans being manipulative and unkind

- Why should he think Chase is any different?

Buddy has never done something outwardly bad and not apologized for it

- so fast to apologize when he cut chase’s face

- He’s aware of the line between good and bad

He never fights back when people attack him

- Just accepts all the bad things that happen to him

- Doesn’t try to stop people from hurting him

Both buddy and Chase have done “good” and “bad” things but Buddy has never had bad motivation

- all his motivation was in self-defense

- Chase also triggers him in many ways

- Reacting to his own past through his experience with Chase

Buddy doesn’t get <that> upset with Chase when he finds out about the key - “you think I’d kidnap a poor child?”

- he’s aware of others’ perceptions of him

- The fact that he doesn’t seem super betrayed or disappointed is even sadder

- “Why would anyone think that I’m good/trust me”

- Matches his original expectations and views of himself

- Probably felt like Chase was too good to be true

- He’s used to humans betraying him

- Chase lying = affirmation that his belief system is correct

Why buddy is kinda mean to chase at first- he thinks he’s the same as the ex libris guys

- Thinks chase is making selfish wishes

- Associates him with the people who (presumably) abused buddy to get their wish

- He sees chase as a threat

Chase is threat = have to fight back

- his pranks on Chase are meant to tire him out but also to look stronger

- Insulting Chase over his weaknesses = trying to be the tougher guy

- Literally boxed and suppressed

- Matches his need to be in control of situations

- Needs everything to go the right way > triggered by his helplessness irl

main reason why he’s mean to chase- thinks chase is privileged in the ways he’s not

- calls him a brat- oblivious, doesnt think he’s suffered

- thinks chase is just playing around, which buddy can’t afford to do

chase triggers one of his deepest insecurities- having what buddy doesn’t (or so he thinks)

- don’t know buddys backstory but it has a lot less kindness/goodness

- jealous of chase but also resentful of his attitude (initially)

why buddy messes with chase - he’s a pretty big attention seeker

- he gets annoyed when deacon is around

- wants his “rivalry” with chase all to himself

- attention seeking = byproduct of surroundings

- given a lack of positive attention

punko confirmed that buddy is lazy > lack of motivation

- people without love/support can lack motivation to accomplish things

- buddy is mistreated > no reason to strive for what he wants

- Could possibly feel undeserving

- Especially if he failed to save someone he cared about

- “laziness” is interloped with symptoms of depression

Chase uses the stories as escapism

- his real life is much harder

- Mom is sick, family judges him for not having a corporate job

Buddy insulting his voice on the heels of his visits to the aunt and uncle’s house- OUCH

- chase is so strong fr I’d prolly react more like franny

Buddy starts saving chase / being the hero after beach boys

- sick day- saves deacon and brings chase to safety

- Jailer- rescues chase from creepy guy

- Still waters- saves chase’s and everyone else’s lives

That’s all I have now! I love dissecting stories and picking them apart, but oh my freaking god the storytelling in this webtoon is next-next-tier. I’m just stunned at how incredibly detailed the characters are and how every scene is packed with subtext and emotion- funny moments, sad ones, heart wrenching ones, devastating but hopeful ones. I’ve been trying to find what makes Chase + buddy’s dynamic so strong between characterization, internal conflict, belief systems, behavior, backstory, etc. and I’m sure it all comes down to punko’s imagination and her unfettered love for the story. But if you’re a chronic overthinker and obsessive analyzer like me I’d looooove to hear your thoughts, theories, analyses, or anything at all!! Especially about the dreams by night episode IM GONNA CRACK THE CODE I KNOW I WILL

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

There’s nothing better than thinking of Nick Carraway and Jay Gatsby’s different accents slipping out at the oddest times. Nick is new to New York so he’s prone to slipping more than Jay Gatsby but he makes a commendable effort to hide it when he moves to New York and it only slips when he’s exhausted or emotional. Jay Gatsby’s would probably only slip if he was drunk. But not tipsy, I’m talking like ‘I’m gonna forget this in the morning’ drunk.

I am of the opinion that regardless of the time period, Jay speaks with a pretty startling trans-atlantic accent that he gained partially On Purpose from Oxford and partially because he spends a lot of time with Meyer on Broadway with the actors of the shows he’s producing (as a denizen of Broadway). He thinks it makes him sound Old Money. Vaguely European. Absurd Formality. That sort of thing.

It’s not so immediately startling in canon era, but he still does it in any of my modern aus, which I imagine is jarring for anyone who meets him. Except for nick of course who’s like 🥺🥺🥺 Hes so Quirky And Misunderstood ♥️♥️♥️

It’s fucking ridiculous.

And there are times where Jay will slip up a little. Say behg instead of bag. Or ope instead of Oh Dear. And he prays nobody notices.

Except.

Nick…knows where the Off button is.

He can get Jay to not only drop the fucking façade but blurt out just about any heinous curse I’m sure was made available to him in the fishing camps or aboard the Tuolomee or in the trenches.

And that’s all I’m going to say about that. Little secret between neighbors.

As for Nick, I think his family is mostly older and he spent more time with them than he really wants to think about, so even if the younger folks don’t tend to carry such a strong accent as the earlier generations, he still sounds like a Fargo extra. And he has no idea.

Not a fucking clue. Even the New Haven cunts and his fellow troops neglected to mention it to him.

So imagine nick’s stress when he arrives in New York and people start snickering with the first “You betcha”. “Oh no yah fer sher” gets him some strange looks. He asks for a bag at the grocery store and the clerk snickers and asks “a behg?” And nicks like “yah” and the clerk’s like “that’s five cents per bag” and nick says “oh no that’s too spendy but thanks” and rushes out before he can incriminate himself as Thee Midwesterner any further. Making sure, of course, to “lemme just sneak right past ya real quick” at the person who’d been waiting behind him in line.

It’s a harrowing experience for everyone involved. And I like to picture Chester McKee teaching Nick how to New York properly. For hours and hours and hours…

[thekeithmeister]

TikTok is dangerous! Get off it NOW!

I was an avid TikToker. I was on the app for 5 years. I had 25,000 followers. I found a huge transgender community there. I never knew there were so many of us. I had support, found laughter, friendship and comradery on that app. But the very SECOND the ban came down, it was like the platform had been flipped, like a light switch. The immediate message stating that "President Trump" would save the platform was alarming. Trump was the one who wanted the ban to begin with. And he wasn't even president yet at the time this message came out. Even if he was, NO president has the power to just snap their fingers and undo a law congress has passed and THEN was upheld by the supreme court. So the very next day, no more than 18 hours later, when a new message popped up stating Trump had magically saved the platform, I knew it was time to go. There are very few options here. Since legally there is no possible way Trump or ANY person could have saved TikTok in 18 hours, either: A) The "law" congress and the Supreme Court passed and upheld was completely fake to being with, and all this was an elaborate PR stunt for Trump. Or... B) Our country is utterly and completely IGNORING laws enacted by congress and upheld by the Supreme Court because "that man doesn't like it and he said so." I don't know which option is more alarming. That congress and the Supreme Court would willingly lie to the American public and willingly take part in such a PR stunt, or that people in positions of power are showing complete disregard for American Democracy and law. Both options are terrifying. But regardless of what is really happening behind the scenes, one thing is clear: TikTok, in the span of 18 hours, has become a propaganda tool for the new regime. Get off it NOW. It is NOT a safe platform anymore.

[itstobias149]

Oc Song Associations

Okay so- I don't have the brain cells to draw everybody's oc SOOO in just gonna tag you and explain! This will probably be a multi part thing!

This is songs that Marie would associate with you oc, and sure some are modern songs, so wouldn’t fit the the time line, but they slap- so fight me. I hope you guys enjoy! Cause I had a lot of fun doing this. This also contains some headcanons about your charters cause, I think they are neat! Some might have more than other, it’s currently like 3am-4am so-I’m super eppy so please excuse any gramma mistakes 👉👈✨

Ps: Marie is a simp, also question:

It’s 3am, rainy, and cold. Why does your character show up outside her door?

(Just need to know for art reasons)

Clementine

Clementine is @bazooka-overkill oc who is the manager for Mr.Sandman. I feel (hope) Marie and Clem are good friends. Clem helps Marie step away from time to time and regather herself. I feel that Marie would feel some type of bond, couldn’t place a finger on it though. I feel that he is just a good person who can be really grounding in all the chaos. Why this song? I… I really can’t explain it. It just makes sense in my mind, it oddly gives me grounding vibes. It’s a good chill out and look at the calling song.

Jacko

Jacko is a Greek boxer who belongs to @star-bliss8 ! Super loving kind guy, he’s a hugger not a fighter. (He’s a boxer lol) I feel like he’s a big pleasure to work with and has a high emotional intelligence, regardless of language barriers. I think Jacko and Marie definitely hang out outside of the rink, maybe had lunch from time to time. I assigned Se Thello, which is like one of my favorite songs. Antique is a really good early 2000s Greek group, highly recommend if you like pop it love songs. They have songs in both English and Greek.

Garcia

Garcia is a Mexican boxer who belongs to @hol-ymoly ! I sense a confident and collected man, friendly and committed. I feel like Garcia is one of Marie’s favorite boxers to work with because he is respectful. I feel like he’s keeps his opinions to himself and plays the bigger man. He definitely also always smells nice, I feel like he just looks like the kinda guy who smells good. So I assigned another one of my favorite songs. I think it’s to the correlation of handling emotions.

Barry

This man, creature- belongs to @stonedragonisnthere . Barry is a just a corrupt talk show honest, what more is there to say. He’s a smooth talker, quick witted (can be), and slick. I feel like Marie wouldn’t really consume his media, but as soon as she found out, she would be mad. But soon enough she would just roll her eyes and sigh, it’s how the world works. She wouldn’t agree with what he does, but would definitely be interested in the why. So she would definitely bring him around to pick his brain. Boom- the whisky blues vibes match his personality in her mind, plus he has to have a dark heart to do what he does.

Marie

Marie who is @nai418 character is a red in training! I love this character so much, definitely one of my favorites. Marie is shy, and kind, and sadly gets pushed around way too much. Marie(mine) would definitely stand up for her, and patch her up when things go south. I also could see things hanging out a lot. The Marie’s would be funny, someone calls out ‘Marie!’ And they both would come running. I would say Magnolia would be a good song, I feel like Marie(my Marie) adores her, definitely in a platonic way.

Pilsner

Pilsner is a Czech boxer who belongs to @thorkelsongirl . I love this man. Marie would love this man, doesn’t matter how hard he tries to be be tough, she would see through it. He is definitely a guy she would check on. Knowing he has stuff going on she would always try to comfort him, maybe not infront of the others cause she wouldn’t want to embarrass him. She would definitely stay up talking to him, even if it takes every language translating app or book. She would wanna know his story. She would associate ‘she will be loved’ with him, no matter what if he needed her, she would be there. End of story.

Mary Ryan

Mary Ryan is the sibling of Aran Ryan, created by @artformationcoreir . Love this little rascal! So spunky, so full of life and energy. Once Marie met Mary she would spoil her. She would definitely hype the girl up, glad that she has confidence. Marie would probably take her out for girls days to get her out and about. Definitely would associate Mary with Just a girl by no doubt! Good vibes, matches Mary’s energy big time-

Perry

Mm, yes. YOUSIF- Perry belongs to @abigblackfly and is Aran Ryan’s manager. Definitely off the walls sarcastic guy. But a good guy at heart, regardless of how much he is dragged up the wall. Marie would definitely be friends with Perry, especially when she had a decent friendship with Ryan. Marie and Perry would probably play pool together and talk about the weekly drama. Perry would remind her of “my alcoholic friends”which has that sarcastic energy he carries.

Roxy

Roxy is an Australian boxer that belongs to @luc1ano03 . I really like the design! I feel they are a pretty chill person but still bring the chaos energy. They are the goblincore alt friend to Marie, and Marie is here for it. I feel like Marie can be a little more comfortable in her alt grandmacore way around them. Have her hair down, put in her piercings, and just hang out other. ‘Ripe’ by screaming females, just screaming females in general would remind Marie of them, it’s a good band!

Pale Phantom

Pale phantom is a boxer charater created by @shykittensoul . I love his design and he seems so sweet honestly. I think Marie would see him and just be like,”This is my child now… thanks-“. He seems to be just a sweet kid character, and she would just adore that. She would probably make him stuff all the time like scarfs, sweaters, and so on. I feel like “not while I’m around” from Sweeney Todd would be how she is like, ‘this is my baby, and I shall protect him-‘

Wolf

Wolf Viking (Luke) is a Swedish boxer created by @leonscottwolfkennedy . Love the big locked in eyes tbh. Marie would do her best to calm his anxiety, and definitely try to help him find some ways to cope. Definitely another person who would be welcome anytime, into her home. She would be very gentle with him. One of the boxers she would bring things like snacks for. I think Marie would associate ‘Forward Beckons Rebounds’ by Adrianne Lenker. (I reached the song limit, sorry I couldn’t add it.) it definitely has the caring feel she would have.

Anyways I hope you guys liked this! Might do more, idk. I’m gonna sleep now-

[book-daenerys]

I'm replying because this post is on Daenerys' tag and you have a reasonable view of her, so there's enough common ground to keep the discussion respectful even if we only end up agreeing to disagree with each other.

1.)

Now, of course a lot of the incestuous characters aren't dragon riders, but it is noticeable that those that are copy the rhetoric of the Valyrians: "Your brother?" Ned said. "Or your lover?" "Both." She [Cersei] did not flinch from the truth. "Since we were children together, and why not? The Targaryens wed brother to sister for three hundred years, to keep the bloodlines pure. And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel... whole." (AGOT, Eddard XII) Elsewhere, we also learn that practicing incest is a cultural sign that the practitioner is "above" other men, not subject to the laws of society. A practitioner of incest, then, is above other men... just like a king or a god is: Why shouldn't I marry Cersei openly and share her bed every night? The dragons always married their sisters. Septons, lords, and smallfolk had turned a blind eye to the Targaryens for hundreds of years, let them do the same for House Lannister. It would play havoc with Joffrey's claim to the crown, to be sure, but in the end it had been the swords that had won the Iron Throne for Robert, and swords could keep Joffrey there as well, regardless of whose seed he was. We could marry him to Myrcella, once we've sent Sansa Stark back to her mother. That would show that the Lannisters are above their laws, like gods and Targaryens. (ASOS, Jaime III) The practice of incest is therefore not just abusive, but is also authoritarian, leans very heavily into the idea of blood superiority, and is ultimately just a little bit fash.

Your argument that the practice of incest among Targaryens/Valyrians is authoritarian, abusive and indicative of blood superiority requires us to accept Cersei and Jaime's views on the Targaryens as definitive. But should we? Both of them are explicitly shown to have limited knowledge of history:

"King Maegor's laws prohibit that, as Your Grace must know. It was by his decree that the Faith laid down its swords." "Tommen is king now, not Maegor." What did she [Cersei] care what Maegor the Cruel had decreed three hundred years ago? (AFFC, Cersei VI)

~

"And speaking of the Seven, why would Cersei permit the Faith to arm again?" Jaime shrugged. "I am certain she had reasons." "Reasons?" Lady Genna made a rude noise. "They had best be good reasons. The Swords and Stars troubled even the Targaryens. The Conqueror himself tread carefully with the Faith, so they would not oppose him. And when Aegon died and the lords rose up against his sons, both orders were in the thick of that rebellion. The more pious lords supported them, and many of the smallfolk. King Maegor finally had to put a bounty on them. He paid a dragon for the head of any unrepentant Warrior's Son, and a silver stag for the scalp of a Poor Fellow, if I recall my history. Thousands were slain, but nigh as many still roamed the realm, defiant, until the Iron Throne slew Maegor and King Jaehaerys agreed to pardon all those who would set aside their swords." "I'd forgotten most of that," Jaime confessed. "You and your sister both." (AFFC, Jaime V)

Cersei's disregard for Maegor's laws and Jaime's admission that he's forgotten important details of Targaryen history align with the fact that both of their statements about the Targaryens (the ones you quoted above) are incorrect.

Cersei's claim that "the Targaryens wed brother to sister for three hundred years, to keep the bloodlines pure" is inaccurate. There are lots of examples of Targaryens marrying non-Targaryens over the centuries: Aenys I/Alyssa Velaryon, Maegor I and his multiple non-Targaryen wives, Viserys I/Aemma Arryn, Rhaenyra I/Laenor Velaryon, Viserys II/Larra Rogare, Daeron II/Myriah Martell, Aerys I/Aelinor Penrose, Maekar I/Dyanna Dayne, Aegon V/Betha Blackwood, Rhaegar/Elia Martell and so on... Examining Dany's direct ancestors shows that her heritage actually combines Valyrian, First Men, Rhoynar and Andal blood.

Jaime says that the Targaryens were "above their laws" and that "septons, lords, and smallfolk had turned a blind eye to the Targaryens for hundreds of years". This, again, is simply wrong. Aegon the Conqueror was careful with the Faith to avoid opposition and assimilated into Westerosi culture to unite the realm. Aegon's sons, Aenys and Maegor, faced resistance from Westerosi lords and the Faith Militant, something Jaime admits to forgetting. Jaehaerys I and Alysanne had to create the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that would allow them to marry without causing backlash from the Faith. The Storming of the Dragonpit happened. There are countless examples of Targaryen monarchs making concessions, following Westerosi laws and customs and/or struggling against opposition from lords, septons and commoners throughout F&B and TWOIAF, so they were never "above their laws". Jaime's quote reveals more about his inaccurate and idealized view of the Targaryens than it does about the Targaryens.

2.)

Unlike the Targaryens, the Stark family tree is full of its members marrying outside the clan. Lord Stark's daughter was stolen by Bael the Bard, a man from another (wildling) clan, and their child continued the Stark line. Lyanna was stolen by Rhaegar, and in doing so joined ice and fire. Ned married Catelyn, uniting North and South. [...] Jon is therefore in the unique position of being a descendant of the anti-incest Starks and the pro-incest Targaryens, with his own parents being the union of two different "ice" (non-incest) and "fire" (incest) clans.

Again, I will repeat: there are lots of examples of Targaryens marrying non-Targaryens over the centuries: Aenys I/Alyssa Velaryon, Maegor I and his multiple non-Targaryen wives, Viserys I/Aemma Arryn, Rhaenyra I/Laenor Velaryon, Viserys II/Larra Rogare, Daeron II/Myriah Martell, Aerys I/Aelinor Penrose, Maekar I/Dyanna Dayne, Aegon V/Betha Blackwood, Rhaegar/Elia Martell and so on... Examining Dany's direct ancestors shows that her heritage actually combines Valyrian, First Men, Rhoynar and Andal blood.

Meanwhile, House Stark has its own history of incestuous marriages: Edric Stark/Serena Stark (uncle/niece), Jonnel Stark/Sansa Stark (uncle/niece) and Rickard Stark/Lyarra Stark (first cousins once removed). Additionally, Ned and Catelyn's marriage was unusual because it happened due to Rickard Stark's southron ambitions. Before that, House Stark had rarely married outside the North and other houses of First Men descent (such as Blackwoods and Royces).

So, since 1) Targaryens have intermarried with multiple noble houses and 2) the Starks have also had incestuous unions, including uncle/niece marriages (which is especially relevant when discussing a potential Dany/Jon relationship), I'd argue that framing the former as "pro-incest" against the latter as "anti-incest" or "fire" as incest to "ice" as non-incest is too reductive.

3.)

The practice of incest is therefore not just abusive, but is also authoritarian, leans very heavily into the idea of blood superiority, and is ultimately just a little bit fash. [...] The later Targaryens used incest and their "pure blood" to justify their right to rule.

First of all, it's not true that "the later Targaryens used incest and their "pure blood" to justify their right to rule". They actually started to marry outside their family more often since they no longer had dragons.

Second, GRRM has made it clear in several interviews that incest was a common practice among Targaryens/Valyrians mainly to help maintain control over the dragons:

Ashaya: Let’s ask about a couple questions about Valyrians that I have here… did Valyrians from non dragon riding families practice incest as well? And did Valyrians other than Targaryens have dragon dreams, if you can answer either of those? George: No, I don’t think they particularly would. I haven’t really thought about that. Ashaya: Okay. Fair enough. George: I reserve my right to change my mind, but no, I don’t think. There was a specific reason for the incest which was to uh, you know, I mean, obviously they don’t have… these are medieval people and ancient people. They don’t know about DNA or genes or any of that stuff, but they have some rough concept of it in which they attribute to the blood. This guy has blue eyes and his children have blue eyes, but if he marries someone with brown eyes, now all the kids have brown eyes, why is that? They have some things, so… we can control dragons, we don’t wanna lose that ability, not everybody can do that. So we better keep it in the family, so to speak, or at least with the other dragon riding families. Now there was, I haven’t gone much into it, but there was another very powerful group in Valyria who were not necessarily the dragon riders. And those were the people who practiced blood magic. And which, you know, there’s some overlap in the Venn diagram with the dragon riders, but not necessarily complete overlap. And then there were just the regular people. There were a lot of slaves cuz it was a slave society. There were a lot of poor people. I think of ancient Rome or something like that. I don’t know that they would have any reason to to practice incest. (source)

~

The Targaryens were interlopers from another culture and they had some unique factors that didn’t necessarily fit into the mainstream of the other Westerosi lords, such as their traditional incest, which was part of keeping the bloodlines pure so that they could better control the dragons… (source)

In the first interview, GRRM goes as far as to say that "there was a specific reason for the incest", which, again, was to preserve their ability to control the dragons. It's also worth noting that GRRM has acknowledged that the Targaryens have magical abilities passed down through their lineage and has stated that it's logical for his characters to factor magic into their decisions:

George R. R. Martin: “The Targaryens have certain gifts and yes, taking the dragons and dragon riding and dragon breeding was one of them,” he says. “But the other gift was an occasional Targaryen had prophetic powers and could see glimpses of the future, which they didn’t always necessarily properly interpret because, you know, they were fragmentary and sometimes symbolic. (source)

~

George R. R. Martin: This is a society where people believe in magic, they believe in sorcery and with good reason because it exists. (source)

So, rather than primarily driven by authoritarianism, blood superiority or serving as a justification for the later Targaryens to rule (in fact, again, later Targaryens often married outside their family), the Targaryens’ incestuous marriages had a more practical purpose: preserving their magical bond with dragons (a fact GRRM has confirmed). If GRRM intended Targaryen/Valyrian incest to be primarily associated with blood superiority (which isn't a problem exclusive to Targaryens/Valyrians, but more on that later) or with the later Targaryens' right to rule, he:

would have had all the Valyrians - even the non-dragon riding families - practice incest... but he didn't.

would have shown the Targaryens still marrying within the family even after the dragons went extinct... but he didn't. Instead, the number of marriages between Targaryens and non-Targaryens increased, which proves that the practice of incest was rather flexible and pragmatic rather than dogmatic.

Speaking of the idea of blood superiority... This isn't restricted to the Targaryens/Valyrians, it's widespread among the Westerosi nobility. Consider House Stark, for instance:

"King Robert has a headsman," he said, uncertainly. "He does," his father [Ned] admitted. "As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks. (AGOT, Bran I)

~

Catelyn smiled, but the smile was tinged with sadness. The Redforts were an old name in the Vale, she knew, with the blood of the First Men in their veins. His love she might be, but no Redfort would ever wed a bastard. (AGOT, Catelyn VI)

~

The gods of the sept had nothing to do with him [Jon]; the blood of the First Men flowed in the veins of the Starks. (AGOT, Jon VI)

~

Robb bristled at that. "The Westerlings are better blood than the Freys. They're an ancient line, descended from the First Men." (ASOS, Catelyn II)

Both Ned and Jon emphasize the Starks' descent from the First Men, Catelyn believes that Mychel Redfort wouldn't marry a bastard because of his First Men bloodline and Robb believes that houses descended from the First Men “are better blood”. This attitude is no different from the Targaryens or Valyrians taking pride in their heritage or viewing themselves as superior because of it. The idea of blood superiority is a problem across Westerosi nobility, not just with the Targaryens.

Also, using Viserys' belief that "Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men" as representative of his entire family's worldview is misleading. King Aegon V, for instance, was against incest and tried to prevent his children from marrying each other. As GRRM puts it:

I think it is a mistake to generalize about "the Westerlings," just as it would be to generalize about "the Lannisters." Members of the same family have very different characters, desires, and ways of looking at the world... and there are secrets within families as well. (source)

4.)

Can a good ruler be one half of an incestuous relationship?

According to GRRM, yes. He has described Jaehaerys I, who married his sister Alysanne, as a good king:

George R. R. Martin: I skipped over Jaehaerys; there's very little about Jaehaerys in The World of Ice and Fire because, you know, he was the Good King. He ruled through 55 years of peace and prosperity. What's duller than peace and prosperity? But when I was doing Fire and Blood, I said, "Well, I can't just have a three-sentence chapter that says Jaehaerys reigned for 55 years of peace and prosperity. I've got to invent some stuff that happened there." So I got into that, and I wound up writing another hundred thousand words just about Jaehaerys. And yeah, there was sort of peace and prosperity, but there was also, you know, a few murders and dragon fights and conspiracies and cool stuff. I had a lot of fun writing about Jaehaerys and his wife Alysanne, who was his queen. (source)

I would argue that there are other good Targaryen rulers who were involved in incestuous relationships, but I haven't found direct comments from GRRM to back this up. Regardless, the main point is that the author has already answered your question.

In conclusion, imo your analysis of the Targaryens is too simplistic because it doesn't take into account that 1) Cersei and Jaime, who both have limited historical knowledge, shouldn’t be seen as the final word on the Targaryens, 2) the Targaryen/Valyrian practice of incest was primarily aimed at preserving their magical ability to control the dragons, 3) the Targaryens married outside their family over time (which refutes the idea that incest was a constant justification for their rule), 4) neither incest nor blood superiority are unique to the Targaryens but instead widespread among Westerosi noble houses, including the Starks.

I don't ship Jon and Daenerys, even though they are among two of my favorite characters. I love them both as characters, but I don't see them as a couple.

A big part of it is that they are aunt and nephew, and we haven't seen a single healthy incestuous relationship in the main series, which is kind of the point.

The first one is the marriage of Dany's parents Aerys and Rhaella. It was already a loveless marriage, as Barristan noted there was no fondness between them from the start, and it turned abusive towards the end as Jaime could attest.

The next one is Jaime and Cersei's relationship which is pretty toxic and has elements of abuse. It was a pretty one-sided, codependent relationship with Cersei's desires always coming first, and using sex to get Jaime to enact violence on her behalf. Jaime also noted how much of her her narcissism went into the relationship as she saw him as her mirror image, and lived through him. When Jaime says tells her "No" for the first time, it's noticeably when Cersei starts turning to verbal abuse. Once Jaime starts individuating from her, and disagreeing with her, she responds with verbal and physical abuse.

Cersei has another one with her cousin Lancel while Jaime was gone, and it was clearly shown to be unhealthy and abusive as along with Lancel being a teen and Cersei being a grown woman, she is Queen while he is a squire as well as her ward at court. She used sex as a way of manipulating the inexperienced Lancel, and he admitted to Jaime he was in love with her. She had all the power in the relationship and abused it as she often does with power in her arc.

Jon's exposure to it as at Craster's keep. Craster is clearly shown to be a detestable person and abuser who rules his domain through violence and intimidation. He sacrifices his sons to get rid of potential rivals, and marries his daughters. Gilly is clearly shown to be a victim as are the other women.

Viserys wanted one with Daenerys as revealed by Illyrio, and or rather he lusted for her. After giving her a steady diet of physical, verbal and emotional abuse, he decided to add sexual abuse when he tried to rape her. Euron raped his younger brothers with Aeron's partying years and his identity as Damphair stemming from Euron's abuse.

All the incestuous relationships in the main series are tied up with abuse. There are elements of power dynamics whether they by patriarchy and/or royalty where the ones often pushing for it are often the ones in power being king, queen, older brother or patriarch.

Daenerys and Jon can find happiness in relationships, and I'm guessing they will, but not with each other. They would be better off as a aunt-nephew, or given Jon being slightly older, a brother-sister kind of relationship (not the Targaryen kind).

[palespawn]

something about yeah astarion has his own trauma and personal issues to sift through, but he will always turn up for people he loves and/or cares for when they need support. but it's not in a treat-you-with-kiddy-gloves type of way, he might do things a little unconventionally, he might be an asshole about the way he goes about it or the language he uses, but he won't give up on them, he won't downplay their feelings like he does his own. he might crack a joke or throw in a sarcastic remark here or there, but that's a part of his development and more often for his own comfort, especially if something has triggered him. in the beginning there's selfishness involved and resentment towards the world that didn't protect him when he needed it, but a part of his healing is also realising that he can at least try to help or protect others without needing something in return.

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

idk guys like zhao yuanzhou trolling zhuo yichen and wen xiao and everyone is funny and for sure he is just doing it for fun sometimes and to create safe distance other times but definitely a good chunk of the time he is genuinely like being vulnerable or trying to connect and being met with of course skepticism or some other refusal and then haha of course he was acting, he was just messing with them. Like he makes things jokes that didn’t start out as jokes. Right? Like even on day 1 when he was generally trying to be sinister and confusing like he was so happy to see wen xiao as happy as he could be about anything in that headspace anyway and really tried to tell her about his promise to protect the wilderness and then even after she scoffed and he decided to make it a joke, the “if even you don’t believe me—“ that part too came from something real, that is a real desperation that he is tamping down, and i think so many times pre-ep-17 wen xiao or zhuo yichen giving him that look, like ‘wait that seemed maybe real, or is he fucking with me again’ it’s not just because they’re naive, he’s really not so much more worldly than they are, i think it’s because they feel or see for a second that this isn’t a joke, and then either they decide no it cant be real that would be too— (too sad, too absurd, too much right now) or he decides first and either way haha what a good actor what a tricky demon. Can’t believe he got me again!