#legit for the past few days i've just been opening it

[longing4yesterday]

i'm soooo glad i've been able to get out of the writers block for the bad trip fic cause now i can FINALLY write without staring at my document like

[mocchii-writes]

hey, saw your requests were open. could you do a fic with Jun Ho (squid game) where it's set in the start of the second season and the reader is like friends with choi woo-seok and Jun ho doesn't take her seriously cause she's kind of goofy and a criminal. then during the mission she saves him and shows her strength, and he kinda just falls in love. idk if that's cringe but thanks :)

Ever since I was a kid, I've been legit

Paring: Hwang Jun Ho x fem!reader Summary: Jun Ho thinks you're too unserious for this mission. Words: 850 Warnings: Guns, Swearing, Written on mobile :<

A/n: Hi Anon!! It's not cringe (to me, at least), and I hope I did your req justice, I wasn't entirely sure if I understood it right ♡

~🍡🍡

Choi Woo-Seok's voice comes with a crash on the glass door of the motel bathroom. "Mr. Seong, you can't trust cops!" He says, listening in to the tense conversation between Gi Hun and an officer. You're seen soon after next to him.

"I've never seen cops helping people like us," you say, less urgently but with a firmness in your voice. You hadn't gotten a chance to look at the detective until now, being so busy knocking him out. He was cute. He looked disheveled currently, but you weren't complaining. "You un-cuff him, and he'll cross you as soon as possible." You were hoping you were wrong, but your past didn't fight against your word.

Gi Hun looks back to the cop, and he almost walks away, but they continue talking. You groan dramatically and turn to the messy room before you. Eventually, they emerge with peace, and you all set off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, some ex-military men had been gathered, and you and they were trying out the weapons Mr. Seong had acquired. Woo-Seok is introducing them all, and then he gets to you.

"She... She's good with guns! She's got a criminal record and -" He groans as he feels an elbow to his ribcage as you laugh.

"And he's just an ex-cop," you tilt your head to Jun Ho, feeling his disapproving gaze when you turn back to your target, laughing.

You later pause and listen to the 3 of them discuss entering the club on Halloween. "I can go with you," you say, "into the club?" Seong looks at you for a minute, and then another voice is heard.

"I'll go with you." Jun Ho says, breaking the silence. "She probably can't handle herself, let alone a guard." He says. You scoff and look elsewhere.

"Neither of you are coming," Gi Hun says, "The guards have seen you before. They might recognize you." He looks to Jun Ho, who looks a little disappointed. "You… I just think you would be more useful outside." He says to you, trying to be nice. You roll your eyes as you continue shooting with precise aim.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night of the meet-up, you 4 sit in the car as Mr. Seong and Woo-Seok leave for the club. Silence follows, and you and Jun Ho avoid conversation. Luckily, Woo-Seok's voice is heard, checking the tracker and earpiece.

You both soak into the quiet again, but you soon see 3 guards outside the club. You look to Jun Ho, who is already looking at the guards. He tries to contact Mr. Seong, but he's not heard. In a split-second decision, you bolt out of the car, and he's soon following.

You approach the entrance but are stopped. You feel a hand push you back as Jun Ho settles the bouncer with a gun. You scoff at him as he mutters, "Stay out of the way" as you both enter the club.

"Glad to know you can handle a situation peacefully." You say, knowing he's not listening anyway. As you see Seong Gi Hun leaving, Jun Ho finds your partner tased on the bar.

He calls for the soldiers as you both make it to an alleyway. However, you see one guard waiting for you in the alley with a gun, as a white limo drives away. "Shit," you mutter, feeling Jun Ho push you back again and grab his weapon.

"Let me." He demands but is soon humbled when the gun is knocked out of his hand by the fast-moving guard. You take this opportunity to lift a hard kick to the hand of the guard, grabbing his jacket and kneeing him for good measure. The guard, briefly stunned, looks around for his gun, only to see it pointed at his face.

"Where is that limo going?" You ask, a sense of strength in your voice, unfamiliar to Jun Ho. After the guard tries to grab your gun, you don't hesitate to pull the trigger as you put away your weapon and look at Jun Ho. It's only now that you notice the way he's staring at you. "… What?" You scoff, knowing the answer.

"Let's go." He says, running to his car to catch up with the group. You follow, and he swings open the back door for you, something that didn't go unnoticed, but you didn't point out. You could tell he was distracted as he kept in touch with the soldiers.

You hop to the front seat as the cars are shot at. Jun Ho begins trailing the limo but is soon victim to a shot at his tires, causing him to skid into a, thankfully empty, intersection, losing the limo.

It isn't until you both calm down that you feel him let go of your hand and reach for his phone. You both exit the vehicle as you listen to Gi Hun volunteer for the games.

You sit in silence again as he calls for "Plan B" and you look around awkwardly. Soon, you hear him again. "Sorry. For being rude. I should've given you a chance." He says, avoiding your eyes. You smile and walk around to his side of the car.

"You owe me." You smile, looking into his eyes, probably for the first time. He looks at you and laughs, nodding.

"Alright," he smiles, looking back at you in a way you hadn't seen before, "Deal."

I hope this was kinda what you meant! I wasn't sure what you meant by "saves him," but let me know if you need any changes ♡

~🍡🍡

[fadingdaggerr]

first of all, your writing? phenomenal. absolutely obsessed with the way you portray everything. I've always struggled with being able to picture what I read, but the way you write makes it surprisingly much easier.

second, if you are open to it, could you maybe write a melissa/reader fic inspired by the song "Dessert Rose" by Lolo Zouaï? I listened to it for the first time in a minute the other day and have not been able to stop thinking about a melissa schemmenti fan fic to this song.

be my protector

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above, based on desert rose by lolo zouaï | 5.5 k

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, so much dialogue oops, r is scary dog privilege, slightly ooc mel

warnings: homophobia, religious themes/iconography, themes of guilt/shame

italics are flashbacks | st. rita - matron saint of impossible causes

translations: faccia di culo (assface), dolcezza (sweetness), cogliona (stupid)

note: this song is about a fight between identity and faith. however, i know legit nothing about catholicism since i was raised pagan, so if my info is wrong im sorry.

You’d forced yourself to spend a few nights apart so you could finish your own work, always too distracted by Melissa’s presence to even think. Three days at your own apartment was torture, but the motivation worked as planned. A little smile crosses your lips as you look at the Go Away mat, playing with your keys under the porch light until you find the one with the pink dot of Melissa’s nail polish.

Before you even get the key in, the door swings open to Jacob, shaking like a geriatric chihuahua, “oh thank God you’re here tonight.”

Ridding yourself of your jacket and shoes, you chuckle, “you made me sync our calendars, you knew I’d be here. Where’s Mel?”

He knocks his head to the side, “pacing and muttering in the kitchen. I interrupted and got called a ‘faccia di culo,’ but I think that’s a type of bread.”

“Not even close,” you say, patting his shoulder. Moving past him, you lean against the doorway of the kitchen. Eyes closed, Melissa mutters to herself as she walks back and forth. Nails of one hand dig into her side through her shirt, knuckles white from the pressure. The other hand fiddles with her saints, rubbing them between her fingers. Flushed cheeks puff with each breath, clearly trying to calm herself down.

Walking in, you seat yourself at the island, letting her come to you. A sigh passes her lips, telling you that she knows about your presence. After a beat, her pacing stops, and your hand reaches out to take away the harsh grip from her side. She tries to shake your hand away, but you insist. 

Letting you this time, she keeps her eyes closed as you gently massage the tension out of her fingers. Green eyes crack open, looking drained and still lingering with anger. Entwining your fingers, you pull her to stand between your legs. Bringing her hand up, you press a kiss to soft skin, a quiet plea to know what happened.

The shake of her head is a stern not-right-now. Entirely not calm enough to speak without yelling, her head just drops to your shoulder. You lean your head against hers, squeezing the hand laced in yours. Her weight rests completely on you after a moment, letting your arms wrap around her to keep her upright. The hand clenched at her sides relaxes, coming to rest on your thigh. Scratching up and down her back, you feel the stiff breaths fade, replaced with deep sighs.

Coming to hold her hip, you push her back from you. Nodding up, you silently ask her to go upstairs. Melissa squints at you, a silent rejection of your treatment. Cocking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows in a silent plea.

Green eyes speak for her, I’m not a child.

Just let me take care of you, yours say back.

With a heavy breath, she pulls back from you. Trudging from the kitchen, she completely ignores Jacob’s wide gaze that follows her. Loud thuds of her footsteps go upstairs, with you trailing behind her. You look to her roommate, giving him a thumbs-up as you make your way up.

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you move to sit next to her on the bed. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you,” you start softly. “All I need to know is if I need to break out my brass knuckles.”

Melissa lets out a dry laugh, keeping her eyes on the floor, “no, no knuckles. Just Seamus. He invited me- us- to dinner at his place. This weekend.”

“Okay?” You say slowly, finger pointing into your chest. The youngest Schemmenti sibling is over at least twice a month for dinner, the only you’ve met, but adore nonetheless. “Why’s that making you so… this?” You gesture to her tense posture and she gives you a sly look.

“He always comes here. The boy can’t cook, what’s he even inviting us over for?” She moves her gaze to the floor, “it’s fishy.”

You nod silently, thinking for a second. If she had ever given you a straight answer on what happened with the other siblings, this would be so much easier. Seamus is only still acceptable because he was too young to have done anything. Every time you tried to broach the topic, she’d just say they were dead to her and that it ain’t good to talk about the dead. It had been months since you tried, after she nearly broke a door off the hinge over seeing her sister in passing at the charter school. 

“Well I certainly won’t force you to go,” you start slowly, “but it’s dinner, baby.” Leaning into her, you grab her hand and lace your fingers together, “he’ll probably order some takeout, so no worries about him poisoning us. Plus you got me, I’m always on your side.”

Looking at you, Melissa scans your face as she weighs her options. A small smile toys at her lips, “how do you always do that?’’

“What?”

“Make everything better?” Melissa gives a faux pout, hand grabbing your cheeks into a smoosh.

Pulling her hand away from your face, you press a kiss to her palm, “I don’t, I’m just telling you my thoughts.” Rolling her eyes, her fingers graze your cheek again with the faintest of touches. Just as she's about to lean in, you add, “go apologize to Chicken Little, he’s probably used Google translate by now.”

Pink lips form into another pout. Raising your brows, you motion to the door. Biting her tongue, Melissa stands up and walks to the door. Just before she opens it, she strides back over to grab your face, planting a solid kiss on your lips. Turning back, she smirks to herself as she walks down the stairs.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti loved her family and her family loved her. Once.

Family dinner every night was always loud with so many conversations happening at the same time. Tony and Kristin Marie are always chatting about the show they watched together, John Anthony trying to recount his whole day to no one in particular, Mary Camille pestering Melissa about how they should rearrange their room again. There was a sense of peace in the white noise her family created. A comfort in the routine.

Once she was in high school, most of the family did not attend anymore. Tony was always off with his friends for days on end and Marie stayed up in her room, taking her plate silently with her. Melissa always stayed, directly at her mother’s side, holding her hand as they said grace. With every dinner, she always had to kick Kristin Marie to remind her to shut her eyes, unless she wanted to face the disgusted glint in Teresa’s eyes.

Arriving home late after tutoring, Melissa’s brows furrowed. It was so quiet in the house, eerily so. Walking towards the kitchen, she could smell the vegetable risotto, it was always her favorite. Following her nose to the table, Melissa pouted at Mary Camille in her usual seat next to their mother. The only open chair was at the very end of the table, facing only Teresa. Taking her place, she peeked up to her family, met with everyone’s eyes already on her.

Maria Christina, who was always glued to her side, was leaning away, shoulders bumping with Tony’s, who was surprisingly home. Looking at Kristin Marie, her gaze was not met. The sense of calm that had been flowing through her was ripped away. The edges of her vision frayed as the seat at the head of the table was filled. Green eyes that match hers stared back, unblinking and devoid of care.

Manicured hands rested on the table, nails tapping. The face across from hers so alike her own, it had always felt like the future peering at her through a furrowed brow. Tensing, she knew not to break eye contact.

“Melissa Ann Caterina,” her mother said, slow and acidic.

“Ma,” she answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Red nails dug into the wood, “who is Bianca?”

Biting her inner lip, Melissa looked at her mother with wide, terrified eyes. Teresa stayed stoic, brows only raising slightly, still demanding an answer to her question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Your dolcezza on the swim team,” her mother spat. A small pink notebook was placed on the table, bent edges flattened. “Does this ring any bells, cogliona?”

No one knew where her diary was, other than who she shared a room with. Her eyes flicked to Mary Camille, who looked as if she’s about to cry when her hazel eyes met green. If fear wasn’t pumping through her veins, she would have strangled her sister right this very moment. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Melissa nodded in response to her mother.

“Selfish,” Teresa hissed, “everything I’ve taught you, that Father David taught you, gone. You spit in the face of blood, of God? St. Rita won’t even want you.”

“I listened,” Melissa whimpered out, voice and hands trembling alike.

“Clearly not.”

The eyes of her siblings dropped from her frame, all watching their laps as their mother yelled relentlessly. Air hurts to breathe, skin crawling, bones aching in guilt. Melissa wished she could run, but she couldn’t even move. Her shaky hand rose to her neck, grasping at her chest. The gold pendant felt like it may just burn her.

—☽—

Wild eyes shoot open, body sitting up in the bed. Heaving, she tries to catch her breath, fingers squeezing at the comforter. To her left, you’re still sleeping, facing her with a hand reaching out. Trembling, Melissa removes herself from the bed, trudging to the ensuite. Looking at herself in the mirror, she still sees that sixteen-year-old girl, puffy-eyed and red-nosed.

The walls were too familiar. Brick everywhere, plastic over the lampshade, worn down rugs faded and fused to the floor. It’s the same, it never changes. The grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hall gives away the occasion.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Melissa leans against the cold wall to soothe her clammy skin. Her hands splay out in front of her, tightening into fists then relaxing, attempting to rid the tension instead of punching the mirror. Tears burn her eyes but do not fall, she refuses to let them get to her again.

Always seven o’clock. Always the open seat at the end.

In bed, your hand brushes across the warm space where Melissa had been. Cracking open an eye, you pout at the empty spot. The light from under the bathroom door draws your attention, staring at it as you wait for her to come back. Flickering eyes pop open at the sound of rattled breathing from the other room.

Stumbling off the mattress, you drag yourself in front of the door. Knocking softly, you rest your forehead against smooth wood, “baby? You okay?”

“Fine, hon,” comes her muffled reply, “just go back to bed.”

“Can’t without you,” you say, more awake now. No reply comes, just the sound of her breathing, still fast. The stuttering gives away her attempt to calm herself, desperate to lessen the weight in her chest. “Let me in, Mel,” you beg quietly, fingers tracing the grain of the wooden door.

Without answering, the door opens to reveal her, wearing only your t-shirt and a frown. Fat tears cling to her lashes, her stubbornness keeping them from her cheeks. Shuffling past you, she sinks herself back on the mattress, looking at you expectantly. Joining her, you open your arms to let her curl into your side.

Burying into your neck, Melissa releases a deep breath that had been stuck in her chest since she awoke. Letting her weight rest against you, her arm wraps firmly around your middle. Twirling sections of her hair, your eyes flit across the ceiling while the gears of your mind turn.

Melissa is so glad she’s not facing you, croaking out, “was just a bad dream.”

“It’s not just a bad dream if it makes you cry, baby,” you say against her hair, pressing a kiss there. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Shaking her head, she settles further into you. Hand dragging down, she tucks it under your shirt, splaying across your side. Pressing her lips to your neck, Melissa silently hopes that you’ll take it instead of an answer. Another kiss lands on her forehead, an acceptance.

Sleep finds you quickly, but Melissa’s mind evades it at every chance. Leaning away from you slightly, she simply watches you. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your head turned as she pulled away. Her eyes trace your face, attention catching on the slight scrunch of your brow. Guilt bubbles in her throat, hot tears stinging once again. Tucking back into your side, she places another kiss to your neck, this time an apology for making you worry.

—☽—

It’s better to not pry, no matter how much you wish you could right now. Melissa’s eerie silence has filled the morning, and you’ve found yourself thankful that Jacob fell asleep at Janine’s movie night. Sweet and well-intentioned as he is, his overactive heart might just land him with worse than an assumption of focaccia.

Rounding into the bedroom, the redhead sits at her vanity, diligently applying her eyeliner. Watching her place it down, you come up behind her to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Wordlessly, you detangle the necklaces beside her, arranging them. Moving her hair to the side, you put on the diamond her Nonna got her for her thirteenth birthday. Then her cross, silver to match the other chain. Her three golden saints finish it, matching the rings adorning her fingers.

Melissa hums a silent thanks, unscrewing her mascara. Stealing her room temperature coffee, you lean against the vanity. “You’re beautiful,” you say into the mug.

Melissa turns to you, black coated lashes on one eye, still-blonde lashes on the other. With an unamused face, she mutters, “only you think that right now.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” you match her quiet tone, tilting your head down to look at her through your lashes. Flicking your gaze over her, you finally realize that the sweater she wears is yours. A grin passes your lips, leaning to press another kiss to her head. Pushing off the vanity, you leave her to get ready alone, the silence making you slightly jittery.

Flopping onto the couch in the living room, you stare at the ceiling until in wait, losing yourself in your mind. Melissa’s fear about going to her brother’s was still so puzzling, clearly eating at her despite her refusal to acknowledge it to you. Just a bad dream, she had called it. As much as you didn’t believe her, and still don’t, you left it alone.

The creak of Melissa walking down the steps pulls you from your mind, sitting up to look at her over the couch. How small she looked, nervous and bundled in your ancient sweater, fiddling with the frayed edge of the sleeve. You extend your hand over the back of the couch, inviting her closer. Sitting up on your knees, you tug her into your space.

“We don’t have to go,” you say, “can just blame it on me, say I’m sick and need you to nurse me back to health. Or that I got shot, whatever works.”

A sudden laugh shoots from her lips, “oh, of course, the only two options for an excuse.”

“I went out in a blaze of glory, so sorry Seamus,” you say with a false solemn tone, bringing her hand to your heart in a double-handed clutch. “My last wish was beer and mediocre Chinese food, a shame we must miss it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Melissa fights back giggles. “We’ll go. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”

You know that she’s speaking more to herself than you, so you just nod. Freeing her hand from your grasp, Melissa shoves her feet into heeled boots. Looking over her shoulder, her expectant gaze pulls you from your seat to put on your Converse.

Grabbing the keys before she can, you pull the door open to motion for her head out before you. As you start the car, your hand hovers over the gear shift, debating if you actually leave with her so clearly stressed beside you. A soft hand falls over yours, wrapping your hand around the shift in silent permission.

A quiet drive leads you to the other end of the city, in front of a brick building with only a few cars parked on the street. Removing the keys from the engine, you get out to jog around the car, opening the door for Melissa. Green eyes scan the street, eyeing each vehicle with suspicion, but relinquishes once you wrap a steady arm around her waist.

Pressing the button with the crossed out name, knowing well of the Schemmenti habit, you wait for the buzzer. The click of the door unlocking comes, and you tug it open, holding it open for Melissa. With a deep breath, she walks in. Immediately, her hand grasps your own, almost walking behind you as you walk down to Seamus’s apartment.

Knocking is unnecessary as the youngest Schemmenti opens the door with a massive grin, “you actually came!”

You chuckle, shrugging off your jacket and grabbing Melissa’s from her, hanging them on the hooks beside you. Leaning into his side-hug, you joke, “well, I was promised sesame chicken.”

“It’ll be here, I called like fifteen minutes ago,” he says, wrapping an arm around his big sister’s shoulders. “And worry not, Melly Bean, I got a double order of crab rangoons.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at the nickname, fighting the grin on her face. Pulling from his side, she brings herself over to you, arm tucking itself around your hips. Your own goes around her shoulder, the other offering her a freshly opened beer. Immediately, she chugs half of it, not even bothering to look at your reaction of pursed lips.

The pre-game shows appear on the TV, announcers talking about star players and underdogs of the season. Leaning against your side more, Melissa tucks her head into your shoulder. Squeezing her shoulder in silent question, you feel her nod softly.

Half way through your beers, Seamus looks up from his phone, eyes staying clear of either of yours or Melissa’s eyes. Standing, he awkwardly lingers, “the- uh- the food’s here. So, I’m gonna grab the food… because it’s here. The food.” 

Your brows scrunch, looking him over. The slight shifting of his weight gives away his anxiety, as if his repetition wasn’t enough. Without really thinking, your arm wraps tighter around the redhead’s shoulders. Pushing back your skepticism, you say, “then go get it?”

“Yeah, kid. Don’t need permission, it’s your place,” Melissa’s dismissive tone makes you turn. So tuned into the game, she hadn’t picked up on his tone, let alone his tense posture. Turning quickly, Seamus nearly runs out of the room to leave the apartment. Keeping your eyes on him, you watch him take a deep breath before stepping out the door. Simmering, you turn back to the TV, unblinking gaze barely focusing. What is this little shit up to?

When the door reopens after five minutes, two voices come through it. The tension in your body finally catches up to Melissa, head flying off your shoulder so fast, you swear she could have gotten whiplash. Turning to face you, a mix of fear and anger crosses her face. Glossy lips fall into a deep frown, stern eyes in place to fight her tears.

“I knew it was a setup,” she grumbles, pulling away from you to rise from the couch, “never shoulda fucking came here.” Following behind her, you keep your space.

In the doorway of the kitchen, Melissa pauses, staring at her mother. Sensing the eyes on her, Teresa turns, judging eyes flicking over her daughter before a crocodile smile crosses her face. “My Melly,” she says, opening her arms. “Come here, let me look at you.”

Shuffling, Melissa approaches her mother cautiously with crossed arms. Stopping just outside her grasp, she asks, “did you make him do this?”

“It was him that asked me if I wanted to see you,” Teresa says. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He left that part out,” Melissa says, nails digging into her skin through her sweater. “What even got you here?”

“I can’t want to see my daughter?” The only reply the question gets is a raised brow. Teresa caves, “he said you had a new boyfriend. Well, partner, like the younger kids are saying now. But I wanted to meet him anyway, he here?”

The sigh that passes Melissa’s lips can be felt from your spot around the corner. It was her telling you to get over to her, forcing the bandaid off. With all your strength, you school your features, keeping the daggers from going to Seamus. A smile crosses your lips, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself, “nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Teresa says, eyes fighting a squint. The expression is so similar to Melissa’s that it makes you pause. Retracting your hand, step back next to Melissa. Green eyes meet their match, and the staredown between mother and daughter feels as though it may start a fire.

“Food’s ready to eat,” Seamus says through his voice cracking, “grab whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Seamus,” you say with a sickly sweet smile, stalking towards him to make plates for you and Melissa. Stepping back as you get closer, he keeps the island between you and him, moving when you move. Your eyes flick to Melissa, watching her wide eyes stare at the floor as she seats herself at the end of the island. Pushing her plate over to her, she silently accepts it, waiting for you before she starts eating.

The silence over the table is deafening, somehow reverberating off brick walls. Seating yourself next to Melissa, you push around sesame chicken until someone else takes a bite. Across the table, opposite of Melissa, sits her mother, twirling lo mein with precision. It’s a one sided stalemate, Melissa’s eyes never leaving her plate.

A scoff from Teresa echoes in the room, all eyes turning to her. “Seriously?”

Green eyes stay on the rangoons, “what, Ma?”

“You do this to me again?” The acid in her tone makes Melissa’s eyes squeeze shut. The more her mother speaks, the tighter they get, stars appearing behind her eyelids.

It feels the same. The brick walls. The long table separating them. No one touching their food. The way Seamus’s eyes falter when he tries to look at her. It’s as if the universe is hellbent on her repeating this moment. Black seeps in the edges of her vision, crackling and dense. Her mother’s voice feels like it’s in her head, like it never left. All the warmth in Melissa’s body sits in the center of her chest, fire burning beneath her pendants.

“Again and again, you defy everything I’ve taught you,” her mother continues. “I thought this little game was done, but of course not. Not for you.”

The anger bubbling inside you begins to spill, white knuckles gripping the edge of the table. Mask dropping, the disdain for the woman in front of you palpable. Whether it's your grip or Melissa’s shaking that vibrates the tables, you can’t be bothered to care.

“I prayed and prayed, begging for St. Rita to help you, to give you a chance. But you’re longer just a lost cause, you’re an abomina-”

“Lady, shut your fucking mouth!” You bark, standing up. Leaning forward on your hands you seeth, “you do not speak to her that way. Ever!”

Melissa’s eyes fly from her plate to you, brows practically meeting her hairline. Scanning over you, she can see the anger seeping from you. It’s unlike any other time she’s seen you mad, you’re beyond seething. Your name passes her lips, trying to get you to stand down, but her voice fails her.

Teresa rises from her seat, “you do not get to speak. You are not part of this family.”

“I’m not part of your family, thank God. But Melissa, she’s my family. And I don’t like people fucking with my family.”

The glare she gives you, it's so similar to Melissa’s once again. The thought alone makes a small smirk cross your face, looking at her like you’re daring her to try you. A face so similar to Melissa’s could never intimidate you, even if it’s worn by someone who hates you.

“If you have anything else to say,” you step closer, “you say it to me. Not her.”

“Okay-” Seamus tries to cut in and defuse the tension. Both you and Teresa turn to look at him with equal warning, immediately putting him back in his seat. Looking back at each other, the older woman points a finger at you.

“My daughter rejected her family, her God. And now, she’s burying herself deeper with encouragement from you,” she spits, lips curling in anger.

Stepping closer again, you meet her pointing hand. Voice low, you duck into her space, “was it her that rejected you, or you that rejected your daughter?”

Turning away, you join Melissa’s side, and hand wrapping around her bicep. A gentle tug pulls her from her seat, walking her to the door. Grabbing her coat, you wordlessly place it around her, avoiding her eyes. Shrugging on your own coat, you announce into the apartment, “feel free to not come by next week, Seamus.”

Opening the door, you motion for Melissa to walk out first, feeling her stern gaze on you. Silence in the hall follows you to the car. The second the radio begins to play, Melissa turns it off, just staring at you as you start the car and begin to drive home. Mouth agape, her words falter. Flicking to the steering wheel, she watches you flex your hands against the leather, desperate to smother the fire inside you.

Her eyes never leave you until you pull into her driveway, immediately throwing herself out of the car and climbing up the steps. Pausing at the door, she groans, knowing you have the keys. Stepping in, you both stay quiet as you take off your shoes and jackets.

Trudging up the stairs, Melissa follows you. Neither of you speak as you change into your pajamas, nor as you get in bed. Facing away from you, Melissa stares unblinkingly at the outline of her dresser. Turning to face her back, you watch her breathing, seeing the stuttering in the rise and fall. Leaning forward, you press a tentative kiss to her shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, patiently waiting for her echo. All you get is a little hum, and her face burying into her pillow.

—☽—

Heavy eyelids crack open as sleep crumbles away. Instinctively, you look to the side, seeing Melissa still sleeping beside you. Curled in on herself, she seemed to have shuffled further away from you before falling asleep. The thought alone makes you look away, turning to the clock. Only six in the morning, on a Sunday no less. Sighing softly, you roll out of bed, blindly grabbing a sweatshirt from the chair in the corner. Quietly as possible, you walk out of the room, sure to avoid the creaky floorboard right outside the door. Slowly moving down the stairs, you round into the kitchen.

Feeling too lazy to bother with the French press, you scoop grounds into the coffee maker. As the pot sputters, you reach above to the cupboards for three mugs. Part of you hopes that Jacob doesn’t come down for a while, leaving space for you and Melissa to talk when she finally gets up. The other part sort of hopes he does, that way you can delay whatever this conversation will be.

Stirring your coffee, you hear the door of the bedroom open, slow steps coming towards the kitchen. Hearing the familiar shuffle in her steps, you make Melissa's coffee, adding sugar to hers unlike your own. Leaning against the counter, you hold it out the moment she enters the room.

  Taking it with an averted gaze, she gives a slight hum in thanks. Resting against the butcher block, she finally looks at you. Fading mascara and eyeliner crumbles around her eyes, lips no longer glossy. Even if she wouldn’t agree, she’s achingly beautiful. Her tired eyes are just as hard to read as usual, too many thoughts circulating behind jade.

A moment of silence falls over the space, both of you sipping out of your mugs in contemplation. Melissa places her mug down first, breaking the tension. Tilting her head, she prompts you to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, placing your mug on the counter next to you. “I shouldn’t have yelled- or swore- at her.”

“No,” she mutters, “you shouldn’t have. But why did you?”

Feeling your face warm a little, you look down at the floor, eyes tracing the grain of the wood. “For the same reasons I said. You’re my family, I love you,” your fingers flex against the marble counter. “And hearing her talk to you like that, I couldn’t just sit there. Even if she’s your mother.”

“I love you, too. And how much you love me,” Melissa says. Stepping closer to bring your attention back to her, her brow raises as she speaks, “and you need to keep your temper in check, especially if shit like that ever happens again.”

Scanning her face, you can see that the lingering anger from last night is entirely gone. There’s something close to appreciation, and a hint of warning with her cocked brow. Pursing your lips to keep from grinning, you just nod.

A hand releases from the counter, drawing an X over your heart, “no brass. Real or metaphorical, promise.”

“Good,” Melissa mumbles with a smile growing on her lips. Grabbing your wrist, she hauls you towards her. Soft lips press against your own, slow and gentle. Pushing into her, you back her into the butcher block, hands locked on her hips. Your tongue glides across her lips, immediately let in. Delighting in the sighed moan that follows, you smile against her. Her hands slide up your arms to cup your face, keeping you close as she deepens the kiss.

Eager fingers slip underneath her shirt, gripping warm skin. Goosebumps rise up your neck as Melissa’s nails dig into you ever so slightly. Just as your hands move to her thighs, ready to sit her on the counter, fast steps descend the old staircase. Jumping apart, you fix Melissa’s shirt, rolling your eyes at the interruption. Grabbing your mug, you press a kiss to her cheek before shuffling back upstairs to shower.

When you come back down, Melissa has migrated to the couch, sprawled across as she watches whatever was on. Rolling over the back, you carefully drop on top of her. With a quiet oof, her arms wrap around you loosely, letting you get comfortable. Tucking into her shoulder, your eyes linger on her neck, tracing the chains. Your hand comes up to fiddle with the saints, thumb brushing over in indented designs. They’d become faded, time and her anxious rubbing of the metal taking the impression away.

Feeling your attention, Melissa peeks down. Her own hand comes to single them out.

“This one’s from Nonna,” she says softly. “Mary, basically every little girl gets this one. And this one’s from Barb, John Baptist,” her thumb brushes over it, “he’s for teachers.” She pulls up the last one, the least degraded of the three, “and this one’s Raphael. Healing.”

You hum, fingers more so tracing her skin than medal anymore, “who’s he from?”

“Myself,” she says coyly. “Kinda against the rules, they’re normally gifted, but…”

You press a kiss to her shoulder, cuddling into her further, “rules, shmules. Intention is what matters. At least I assume it is.”

Melissa doesn’t answer, just tightens her grip around you. Tears fight to fall down her cheeks, and she lets them silently go. So free and comfortable in this moment, with no separation between either part of who she is. It has taken her so long to allow herself the duality, to strip away the bits of her faith that didn’t allow her to simply live. With the family she’s built herself, her Abbott people and now you, there is no choice that must be made.

note: thank you sweet anon for the compliments, they mean the world. this was genuinely one of the hardest reqs i have had because i didn't know this song previously. i went down a rabbit hole to understand the meaning and find a way to incorporate themes of the verses and chorus. thank god for my christian family for giving me something to pull from /s

as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. love you big time xo

[rowancries]

STARMAN — REMUS LUPIN X READER

in which a tall, alluring boy & and loud chaotic party girl have unlikely chemistry.

A/N: OK so this story was legit writtrn for wattpad and it SHOWS… (btw my wattpad is rowancwries heh chapter 2 is up there). anywho this is a new series i worked SO hard on so feel free to show it some love and i’ll continue to cross post it :)

wc: around 2k+ warnings : use of (y/n)

CHAPTER 1 🪐

THE HUFFLEPUFF COMMON ROOM was buzzing. Hufflepuff had just beaten Ravenclaw in the first match of the season, and everyone in the house seemed elated to finally get a win.

The door to the common room swung open, and Charles Prescott, Hufflepuff's star Seeker strutted in. A cheer erupted from the crowd and Charlie grinned, like he had been expecting it all along.

"CHARLIE!"

(Y/n) (L/n) was standing on one of the couches in the corner, waving her firewiskey above her head to grab his attention. Aurora (often refered to as Rory) Clementine, her best friend, was sitting criss-crossed beside her, looking unimpressed.

Charlie spotted them immediately and made his way over. With a dramatic sigh, he flopped onto the couch.

"It's exhausting being this talented," Charlie groaned, letting his head fall back.

"Oh, poor you," Rory said flatly, handing him a glass with something there Professors would not approve of inside . "It must be so hard being Hufflepuffs newest hero."

(Y/n) smirked and leaned forward, shoving his shoulder. "It's getting harder to put up with your ego every day."

"I'm humble," Charlie argued, completely serious as he took a huge gulp of his drink.

"You're the opposite of humble," Rory deadpanned.

Charlie grinned. "Unbearably charming, then."

Before (Y/n) could come up with a retort, Charlie leaned toward her. "Speaking of unbearable," he said, "how many drinks have you had? You're looking a little too happy tonight. Should I prepare for you to need rescuing?"

She snorted, waving him off. "Please. This isn't my first party, Prescott."

"Oh, is that a challenge?"

Rory rolled her eyes, muttering something about the two of them being "basically insufferable" as they bantered back and forth. She reached for a handful of popcorn just as the conversation shifted, but her hand froze halfway.

"Don't look now," Rory muttered, leaning closer to (Y/n), "but Creepy Gryffindor is staring at you again."

(Y/n) frowned, glancing over her shoulder. Sure enough, Adam Abbott was standing by the snack table with a few of his Gryffindor friends. He had this smirk on his face that instantly made her regret looking. When he caught her eye, he raised his drink like he was toasting her.

She turned back around so quickly. "Why is he here?"

"Because ugly Gryffindors don't know how to stay in their own common room," Rory said.

Charlie, who had been watching the interaction, looked between the two of them. "Do I need to punch him?"

"No," (Y/n) said, though the idea of someone dumping pumpkin juice on Adam's head was tempting. "He's just... being werid. Like always."

"If he gets creepier, let me know," Charlie said, sitting up a little straighter. "I've been told my right hook is impressive."

Rory snorted, leaning back against the couch. "Yeah? By who?"

"Oh, you know, the guys," Charlie said casually, waving a hand like it was obvious.

"What guys?" Rory pressed, smirking. "Your favorite Gryffindor nuisances? Because I don't think their judgment counts for much."

Charlie scoffed. "No, not James and Sirius. Like the guys. Quidditch guys."

"Quidditch guys," Rory repeated slowly. "You mean the ones who can't walk past a mirror without checking their hair? That's your judge of character?"

"Hey, just because they care about their hair doesn't mean they don't appreciate a solid right hook," Charlie shot back, punching the air.

"Right," Rory said dryly. "Because when I think of someone who knows combat skills, I definitely think of Quidditch players."

"Laugh all you want, Clem, but my hook's legit. Ask MacMillan—he still flinches every time I go near him."

Rory rolled her eyes, fighting back a laugh. "You probably tripped and accidentally hit him."

"Okay, there was the one time but that an accident," Charlie admitted, "and it still worked, didn't it?"

"Sure," Rory said, dragging out the word. "Very intimidating, Prescott. Truly terrifying."

"I am terrifying," Charlie said, puffing up his chest dramatically.

(Y/n), who had been quietly sipping her beverage and watching them bicker, chimed in. "Charlie, the only thing terrifying about you is how seriously you take your hair routine."

"Oh, come on!" Charlie groaned, throwing his head back. "Not you too, (Y/n)."

"You use more product than I do," she said, grinning.

"That's because I'm an athlete," Charlie argued. "Do you know how much wind damage my hair takes? It's called self-care."

"Sure, Charlie," Rory said. "Wind damage. Not vanity at all."

"Whatever," Charlie muttered, crossing his arms. "At least I'm not letting some creepy Gryffindor guy wander around thinking he's hot stuff. I'll punch him if I have to."

Rory grinned. "You're all talk."

"Am not."

"Are too," she shot back.

"Want me to prove it?" Charlie challenged, leaning forward like he was about to march across the room and confront Adam then and there.

(Y/n) put a hand on his arm to stop him, laughing. "Okay, tough guy we get it. You're very strong and scary."

"Thank you," Charlie said, sitting back with a satisfied smirk.

Rory rolled her eyes again, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're ridiculous, Prescott."

"And yet you can't get enough of me," Charlie said, flashing her a grin.

"Yeah right," Rory scoffed, acting annoyed despite the smile she was fighting to suppress.

—

The party raged on, people were packed into every corner. At some point, the "infamous" Marauders made their grand entrance, causing a ripple of excitement to sweep through the crowd.

Sirius Black and James Potter burst through the door each of them holding a bottle of firewhisky in one hand and wearing matching grins that promised nothing but mischief.

Sirius was devilishly handsome as always. His dark, shoulder-length hair was messy, yet well kept. He strode into the center of the room like he owned the place. Nobody could ever enchant a room as quickly and confidently as Sirius could. Well, maybe James.

James was glowing with his chaotic energy. His jet-black hair stuck up in every direction, a clear sign that he'd been messing with it as usual. He had his usual smirk, an obvious indication he was up to mischief settled on his face.

Arriving a few seconds later was Remus Lupin, who didn't try to command attention the way his friends did. His brown hair was neatly combed, though a few strands had fallen into his face. There were faint scars that traced his face and hands. Unlike James and Sirius, who radiated chaos, Remus had a calmness about him.

The room erupted into cheers and laughter at the sight of the trio, Sirius immediately raising his firewhisky bottle in a toast to no one in particular. "Hufflepuffs know how to party!" he declared.

James, however, had spotted someone in the crowd (Y/n). His grin widened, and he cut through the crowd with ease, ignoring the people around him, calling for his attention.

"Oi, (Y/n)!" he called, his voice cutting over the noise.

(Y/n), who had been sitting in the middle of the couch next to Charlie, raised her eyebrows as James approached. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," she teased, with a fond smile.

James plopped down on the empty seat next to (Y/n), sprawled his legs across their lap. "And miss the biggest party of the year? Not a chance," he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Besides, you'd miss me if I didn't show up."

"You saw me like three days ago," (Y/n) said, rolling her eyes but laughing anyway.

"Three days too long," James said, grinning. "What've you been up to? Causing trouble without me?"

(Y/n) smirked. "Unlike you, I try not to draw attention to myself."

"Rubbish," James said, leaning closer. "You were just as bad as me when we were kids."

"That's because I didn't know any better," (Y/n) shot back, nudging him playfully.

(Y/n) had grown up with James; their families were close, and almost all of her earliest memories involved running through the Potters' backyard with James, both of them covered in dirt and laughing about something only they found funny. Even as they grew up they never grew apart, and James never changed. He was still the same loud and funny kid (Y/n) had met when she was four.

While James and (Y/n) talked, Sirius had started leading a group in a random drinking game Peter had told him about the day prior. Remus, however, had found a quieter corner, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand. His dark eyes occasionally flicked toward (Y/n) and James, a frown creasing his face as he watched them.

(Y/n) glanced over at him briefly and caught his gaze. For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade, and she felt a warmth rise to her cheeks. Was it all the alcohol in her system or was it the way Remus looked at her, so calm and observant?? She quickly looked back to James, hoping he hadn't noticed.

James, of course, was oblivious, already launching into a story about some ridiculous prank he and Sirius had pulled. (Y/n) listened, but her mind kept drifting back to the boy in the corner.

He leaned against one of the bookshelves, watching the chaos with that soft expression he always seemed to have. He wasn't like his friends—loud and dramatic and always at the center of the action. He was quieter, steadier. He didn't need anyone to notice him the way Sirius or James did.

(Y/n) noticed, though. She glanced over at him more than once, catching the way his hair fell into his eyes when he looked down, or the way his lips quirked into the faintest smile when James tried (and failed) to charm one of the badger statues into dancing.

(Y/n) tried to follow along to James' stories, laughing at all the right moments, but her focus was slipping in and out. The warmth from the firewhisky she'd been sipping earlier still buzzed pleasantly through her veins, making her head feel light. It didn't help that her gaze kept wandering across the room.

Her eyes landed, again and again, on the boy in the corner. (Y/n) kept glancing over at him without even meaning to, catching his movements. She shook her head, trying to focus back on James's story, but her thoughts kept drifting.

"You're staring," came Charlie's amused voice, far too close to her ear for comfort.

(Y/n) startled, the sudden voice causing her to nearly spill her drink. She twisted to glare at him, her cheeks already heating. "I am not," she hissed, voice a little louder than intended.

"Oh, you so are," Charlie said, grinning. He leaned back, resting his elbows on the couch's backrest with the kind of confidence only a Prescott could manage.

(Y/n) groaned, her face burning as she pushed his shoulder weakly. "Shut up, Charlie."

"No, no, this is important. I'm just stating the facts," he said, feigning innocence. "And for the record, you're not very subtle."

"I hate you," she mumbled, covering her face with her hands to block out the smug expression on his.

"No, you don't," Charlie said with a smirk, snatching her half-empty drink off the table beside her. "But it's okay. Everyone's a sucker for a quiet, brooding type. He's got that mysterious thing going on."

(Y/n) peeked through her fingers to glare at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks for the insight, cupid."

Charlie simply winked, taking a swig from her cup. She turned away from him with a groan, her mind already drifting back to the boy in the corner.

Remus hadn't moved, but his eyes had flicked up, meeting hers for the briefest moment. She quickly turned back to Charlie, pretending to focus on his nonsense, but the warmth in her cheeks was impossible to ignore.

Charlie raised a knowing eyebrow but, for once, didn't say a word. He just leaned back into the cushions with a smirk.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Matz Travel Vlog - Part 1

It's been a very weird weekend.

I went to Manchester to visit my sister and it's the first time I've been back since I saw Ateez there a couple of weeks ago. Post-concert bues is definitely a thing, but I wasn't prepared for how hard being back would hit me emotionally. As soon as I got off the train the arena was right there. But there were no Atinys giving away freebies and no general buzz of anticipation and excitement.

I hopped on a tram and saw that the lunar new year lanterns that Wooyoung posed with were still up. Then I went past a bunch of the shops and restaurants we visited while we were there and I legit started tearing up.

I'm sure at least part of it was because shark week and general tiredness but I wasn't expecting to get so emotional over the whole experience.

And then while I was away, going back to the topic of this post, the Matz travel vlog dropped but I couldn't watch it because it's over an hour long and I was visiting family.

But I'm home now and ready to watch it. And because I need somewhere to scream about all my feelings I've decided to make this your problem and liveblog it.

I haven't been fussed about avoiding spoilers so I've seen a few screenshots and gifs but nothing major.

So lets accompany Hongjoong and Seonghwa on a trip to the Star Wars wedding location in Italy. I'm sure this won't be romantic and ridiculous at all.

FFS even the opening credits look like an old married couple's honeymoon home video

Hongjoong making sure we all know Seonghwa isn't late for their date

This is just reminding me of when @storkmuffin was doing commentary on the lego live and said Hongjoong kept praising himself. Yes, baby, you are very good at toast.

Seonghwa hasn't even sat down yet and Hongjoong is making sure he gets his coffee

Sweetie, you look like you were carved out of marble by Michaelangelo himself

You can tell from Hongjoong's amused smile that he is used to this nonsense

Orders coffee for Seonghwa without prompting. I'm fine.

I'm not going to dwell too much on their relationship with food because it honestly just makes me sad.

Aww Hongjoong saying he prefers to be around other people and he gets sad when he has to work in his studio alone. I remember him saying something similar on Fromm a few months back. I think they were flying somewhere as a group after some time off during which Hongjoong had done a bunch of solo projects. He was saying it was nice to be at the airport with the others instead of just by himself.

Oh, good. I thought Seonghwa was going to skip breakfast after saying he ate a lot the night before.

Haha! Seonghwa accidentally put sugar on his eggs.

Hongjoong admitting he did some research on where they could go for the day. We all knew!

This is the opposite of the Lego live where Hongjoong was like 'I didn't wear my glasses because I thought you'd wear yours'

Hongjoong really isn't a morning person. And it's not even that early. He said they'd arranged to meet at 10am

Oh we have noticed!

Hongjoong be like 'I'm happy to just watch you do your thing'

JFC Seonghwa

Apparently you're not allowed to say YouTube on a YouTube video

God, are they like this all the time? Just kidding I know they are.

Poor Hongjoong is stressed already and they haven't even got to the train station yet

This is honestly so fascinating. I imagine most of the time their staff arranges everything they want to do for them so they don't have to worry about things like standing on a train for an hour because there's no seats.

Just like me when I'm travelling, especially in a country where English isn't the main language.

It's funny because when we did our Ateez trip we had one extrovert who was always 'I'll just ask someone' and two introverts who were like 'we can look it up on our phones/figure it out without speaking to someone'

And yet you still look great

Aww! Seonghwa being able to relax because Hongjoong has planned everything. I can relate. Usually I'm the one doing the planning and organising so when I don't have to it's great.

Oops apparently I'm at the image limit already and I've only watched 20 mins of this. Oh well, see you in a bit for part 2!

Part 2

[bendersmind]

From '69 to Release (Giggity)

Is "giggity" still funny? Did I mention I'm fucking ancient? Because I am. I saw the premiers of South Park AND Family Guy my dudes. That's how old.

Speaking of cartoons, I've been watching "Scooby Doo, Where Are You?" for the past 2 days. You should too. It's on Tubi, my favorite source for both garbage films and weird cult shit that only I (and a small amount of freaks) watch. It's great. This has NOTHING to do with my Ghost post, I just thought you should know.

Well, not nothing. The relationship is that Scooby Doo premiered the night of the Ghost show where Nihil fucked everything up. Behind the cut you'll find some potential spoilers for "Sister Imperator #2" based on the released preview pages. If you don't want to read it come back to this post after it's released. It releases on April 16th and will make the following post ENTIERLY meaningless and wrong. So let me waste a bit of your time . . . under the cut.

Alright, so information from the preview is kinda iffy. The biggest thing, which isn't probably related to the plot of the issue itself (something about some suspicious dude following the circus Imperator is in) but it's important for lore purposes.

There are a few things we learn.

A man we presume is Nihil has been touring away from the main circus on and off for 2 years.

At this point in the story, Imperator has been with said circus for those 2 years.

The man we assume is Nihil has at least 1 brother.

Said brother has a bunch of kids already

Okay. So lets look at number 3 and 4 as being the "point" of this post. 1 and 2 set up Imperator and (probably) Nihil's relationship.

Nihil tells us that his brother has several "pups" when Imperator accuses Nihil of leaving a bunch of French maidens sad after he left. The implication is 2 fold, Nihil's brother is a ho (and I say that with love; nothing wrong with being a ho) and he doesn't wrap it before he taps it.

The last frame of our preview shows us a dinner table with circus folk and 3 women each with young children. 2 with babies and 1 with a toddler. This occurs sometime between '53 (the start of Imperator #1) and '69. It's not super clear how old Imperator is when the comic starts but she is probably 10-13. She leaves home after her stepfather murders her sisters and presumably when she was a teenager. It's hard to say when, but I'd say 15/16ish. This means she's somewhere around 20 when Nihil comes back from France. Per my timeline this would be around '60. Nihil would be around 20 then as well(based on his death being in 2020 at 80). Let's assume that they are close in age(and Imperator aged gracefully, Nihil . . . not so much).

The toddler looked to be around 3ish (I legit know shit all about kids so please correct me if I'm wrong) and is potentially Papa I (or maybe my favorite pre canon theory, Mystery Papa); the babies are likely Papa II and III. I'd like to correct my already partially incorrect post from a while back; Papa I, II, and III are confirmed to be brothers; and based on the current information we have, Nihil is probably their uncle. It'd make more sense as to why he was cool with just murdering them.

Sister Imperator #2 will probably give us more of an idea of the family structure for the Emeritus bloodline and exactly how many brothers Nihil has. Based on what I'm thinking both Nihil's father and Nihil's older brother are dead by '69. This would open the line for the next oldest son (or daughter; we actually don't know anything about female descendants in the church). That would be Nihil.

When Nihil's bid for fame failed miserably after the show at Whiskey A Go-Go he was clearly replaced. By who? Probably the next in his father's line. And so on up until the last son of his father and then on to the oldest son of the oldest brother of the last generation of Papas.

Lord in hell that's a clusterfuck of a sentence. Basically, it'd go to Nihil's older brother's oldest son. This could be either Papa I or Mystery Papa (2008 - 2011). We just don't know yet.

I think the most interesting part of this whole thing is the "old world circus" that the church comes from. The biggest question for me is where does the circus "end" and the church "begin". That is to say, how do you go from circus performer to clergy? Is everyone in the troupe an agent of Satan? Or were the Emeritus line stashed into traveling shows to hide them from potential assassins?

That would actually give us an explanation as to why Copia and Perpetua were split up and raised apart. The current theory is that Mrs. Psalterian is Marika from the comic and thus the person who raised Copia. But where was Perpetua? Someone suggested with all of his Venice carnival schtick he was raised somewhere near Venice. I think that's a fair assessment. While the Ministry is (in canon) located in Linköping, Sweden, Italy is REALTIVELY close. Also Europe has the fucking trains that get you goddamn anywhere so it isn't even like living on different coasts of the US. (Fucking Europe and your . . . excellence)

Anyway, the raising of the twins is neither here nor there; until we get some more about Perpetua we'll be lost in the surf. I really look forward to seeing how he works with the crowd. Whatever we get it will certainly be interesting.

Points of interest: What is the structure of the Clergy exactly? Why has Marika always called Copia "Cardi"? Was his name when he walked into the story we are seeing "Cardinal Cardinal Copia"? Is the circus "Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show" from "Something Wicked This Way Comes"? Does Nihil already know the nature of his family? Has the church always been hidden in a traveling circus or was it in other itinerant entertainer groups(bards, theater, fakirs, etc)? Was there a magician Papa? Please tell me there are puppets! I fucking love puppets.

[starlightiing]

literally going to copy and paste this from my vent in my server because i'm going to be 100% real and open and communicate with ya'll, I want hugs.

my heart condition is very very very mild and harmless, a non issue really, harmless arrythmias i'm medicated for. but some days i legit am not mentally or emotionally strong enough to handle the irregular beats when i feel them. like i'll feel that fluttery stirring in my chest and my entire body turns cold and my stomach drops and i just want to cry.

and i KNOW it's harmless, it's fine. i've had a ton of heart tests (stress tests, echocardiograms, ect) and been on a few heart monitors, been extensively auscultated a ton of times, and had 342343 EKGs and its fine. all the doctors I've seen have told me the same thing. it's harmless, don't worry about it. but the feeling of PVCS/skips/flutters is really uncomfortable and my body has a visceral reaction to them and it genuinely will latch onto my mood and bring it down so bad to where I just wanna cry and do nothing else for the day despite knowing the flutters are harmless, its fine. heart doing heart things.

but anyway i just had like 4 little flutters/skipped beats in a row and it felt shitty and it's just brought my entire mood down and now i'm anxious and upset and i feel stupid for it

[ilkkawhat]

I can't believe it's almost been a year since AW2 was released. It really changed my life. For better or for worse? Who can say, but I've been having fun.

lol it's so surreal to me that it's been less than a year that I bought and played Alan Wake 2 (one month past release, in November) purely on a whim because I saw people on the silent hill subreddit talking about it and someone even made a meme about "friendship ended with silent hill now alan wake is my new best friend" and I kid you not within just a few days my life just...changed entirely.

I have a lot of depression and anxiety and somewhere in 2023 things just...went wrong and I stopped creating. stopped giffing, never thought I'd write again and drawing lmao forget it, that shit's been hard for me to do ever since a very discouraging experience back when I was maybe like, 11 or 12. stopped going on tumblr, had given up on discord a long time before then and became a miserable ghost doing nothing but burying myself in work in what i will admit is a toxic, overwhelming and stressful environment. I still played games, still watched shows but nothing was like. Sticking with me, I guess? Not like to obsession levels and minus some good vacations I was just...empty.

And playing Alan Wake 2 for the first time was a legit terrifying experience for me--not on the levels of the first time I played Silent Hill 2 maybe (legit locked myself in my room and put on my lamp in the middle of the day cause of the sound of footsteps behind me in that game lol and my dishwasher at the time sounded like that one chugging sound in the apartments) but the dread I was feeling as I got legitimately lost in the woods of Cauldron Lake and turned around in Coffee World (having basically explored it all before triggering the parts where the enemies spawn in) and the basement of Valhalla Nursing Home was thrilling and I was excited to be playing something that was so disturbing and mind bending and emotional, too. Not even knowing the story of Alan and Alice, my heart broke during Alice's final tape. Not knowing Alan's character outside of what I saw in the second game, his "fuck it" moment where he went back into the Dark Place felt so heroic. I felt an odd sense of nostalgia watching the Koskela brothers commercials, like I had known them my whole life. Alex Casey (both the FBI agent and fictional detective) is my favorite kind of wise-cracking guy who has a heart of gold, the old guy who I wish could be my dad. Tom Zane was that mysterious wild card that you know under the surface has something sinister, unsettling esp with his manipulation of Alan but is just so fascinating to watch. Of course I saw so much of my obsessive self in Rose with her shrine for Alan. Saga's time in the dark place felt so real to me, I cried and still cry every time I read that note from her mom at that part of the game (I know you can read it sooner but it packs a bigger punch with Saga's fight to get out of her own mind.) All of the characters quickly stole my heart and ran with it and maybe it was over a few days, maybe it was all at once the floodgates just...opened within me.

I started writing again. First with a character that I never thought I'd write for again because at the time, even just thinking about him legit hurt me. Then I started scheming up fics for Alan. Then I started giffing even from self-captured gameplay footage that I don't think I've ever done before. Then I started drawing in my Alan Wake journal--a journal which, I had not done since the peak of my CSI obsession during my teenage years and even then it wasn't to the extent of what that journal is now (which admittedly, has not been filled out in quite a number of weeks and maybe that's partially cause I tend to journalize myself on here too) And then one day I couldn't contain it anymore. I started sharing again. I don't talk to anybody really like, ever outside of these asks and occasional replies but I truly never thought I'd be part of a fandom again. I worried I'd fuck it all up again (still worry about that) for myself, or others. Or both. But all the kind messages, the kind tags, the awesome people I've started following because of Alan Wake, I wouldn't give any of that up.

And of course things branched off, crushing so hard on him I got obsessed with Ilkka. I played some of Remedy's other games (still working my way through Max Payne 2 and Quantum Break very very slowly) and went back to the first Alan Wake, of course which if I had known about earlier or had an Xbox I'm sure I would have loved it back then as much as I do now. Hell I even platinumed that and Alan Wake 2 and as someone who is notorious for not finishing games other than like. The Legend of Zelda series and playing some other endless games...think it says something that I've managed to beat and complete (I always do the rhymes, stashes, lunch boxes, every playthrough) Alan Wake 2 almost 10 times now.

I was happy. I'm still, for the most part when I'm not at work, happy. Call it what you want, a delusion brought on by a distraction of obsession, a dangerous escape threatening the part of me that is still rooted in reality in the way that like, what if I become too crazy about it where it blinds me to certain things or experiences or chases people away from me because I'm too weird about it (a very real thing that has happened before)

But damn with all of that...I'm having fun with it too.

[never-not-ever]

So today I met with my PACT therapist and since my Ellie therapist is now officially out of the picture I'm going to stop saying PACT and just refer to them as my team.

It was a really good session but ultimately things are changing and I left feeling weird.

So in the session we talked about yesterday, the medical leave, the group chat etc.. We laughed about how I ended up getting off easy with not having to do a "proper termination". We talked about how things will be moving forward. She's very DBT which is fine by me cause it's been effective for me in the past and if I want to allow myself to have any kind of future and let some hope seep back in I know DBT is going be the thing that helps me.

She told me how she has this intern working under her and she's going to be meeting with me separately and teaching me the skills. So I'll be meeting with my therapist in the beginning of the week and her intern at the end of the week. This was kind of relieving to hear because I was able to see my other therapist twice a week so it's nice to have the same amount of support.

I met with my case manager right after my therapy today. I don't know if I've mentioned this before on here but she's also a peer specialist so she's able to talk about her lived experience with mental health and she's around my age, I think younger though. When I first discharged I felt like I was just wasting her time/didn't really understand what her role was so I canceled some appointments. But I've been seeing her more regularly now so it's been nice. I told her how these past few weeks I feel like our appointments are like debriefs from therapy and she said that's totally fine!

Here's my confliction about all this. I feel like I have a solid team. I'm shocked that I actually like all of them because I've had some not so great experience with community mental health clinics before. My therapist actually joked about this today but it's true. I was so worried when I left inpatient that I wouldn't click with my team and it's the complete opposite and I'm so grateful. Even my psychiatrist who was described to me from my inpatient doctor as this "older white guy", so I had some reservations on him. Ironically my inpatient doctor used to work my current psychiatrist "back in the day", she legit knows everyone. Anyways I actually like my psychiatrist! I've only seen him twice but I'm seeing him on Monday.

Ugh it's like I'm worried that things are too good to be true. Like this whole fiasco with the therapist who I've been the most close to out of all my providers, like losing her even though I was going to end that. It's just.. I can't explain it. Like in a way I'm not getting any closure with her and I'll be left wondering and worrying about the whole thing. I know I have attachment issues, like insert inpatient doctor... so like I'm worried with having this solid team, opening up more, getting attached and then something happening and losing them or myself.

Okay I need to end this, I feel like I've been typing for hours and these past couple text posts are the Queen of essays.

[mostlymilkwood]

HEY HEY!! I just finished my first playthrough of fire emblem three houses and wanted to gush about it with someone! It's my first fe game and I'm now in love?? Is engage as good as three houses?! And I'm curious who you shipped in the black eagles! I liked Caspar with Bernie and Dorothea with Petra. (Unfortunately didn't get their slides in my playthrough 😔 also I've had the fire emblem tag blacklisted to avoid spoilers so if I am asking obvious questions, thats why lol)

oh man congrats on finishing your first Fire Emblem!! Three Houses was the first FE I played on day one of release so it's got a special place in my heart :) I'm glad you liked it too! (my actual first FE was Awakening but it had already been out for a few years by the time I got round to it).

Anyway, as for my Eagles ships I'm such a sucker for Byleth/Edelgard, trusting and maintaining the humanity of each other while taking down a corrupt church state? Peak!!! If I'm shipping purely within the eagles, no Byleth allowed, then I also really like Edelgard/Bernie, the way they're able to be more open about their past traumas and help inspire each other to grow and be better is some A+++ stuff.

Also love Dorothea/Petra - Petra is so respectful and sweet to Dorothea and honestly, if Dorothea really wants to marry a noble than Why Not marry a queen, hm? I'm lowkey a fan of Bernie/Hurbert too, their support was funny and their paired ending is really nice, but I can totally see why you liked her with Caspar, that's another great one for Bernie (I'm sorry you didn't get their paired ending 😔). Caspar is legit my fav eagle boy, heart of gold, head of bricks, love him lol.

As for Engage, I really liked it but it's a bit different from Three Houses. Gameplay and visual-wise it's far more polished than 3H, so it's fun to play and look at but it doesn't have the same kind of story as Three Houses. I'd say it's got a more similar tone to a shounen, flashy fights, power of friendship, all that good stuff but I can understand why that might not hit the same way after playing Three Houses, which is a more character focused war story. It's also a celebration of all past Fire Emblems so it can be a fun introduction to past characters throughout the series, or have a bunch of units you'll meet and think "who?" or "oh, I've seen fanart of them."

So yeah, Engage is a really fun game and I do rec it but it does have a different tone from Three Houses. If you're looking for something similar than Awakening is also very good (it's on the 3DS tho so you'll have to pick it up second-hand or emulate it). If you like dynasty warriors style games then defo check out Three Hopes, it's a cool alternate timeline to Three Houses, kind of a what if sort of story (the what if being: What If Byleth Hadn't Been the One to Save the Lords)

[ruinouss]

NAME: Mads

PRONOUNS: She/her

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?　Faye lol. Idk why I ever try RPing others. I'll be good for a while but I always come back to this idiot

◈　RP PET PEEVES?　I have a few but of course, I don't remember the majority now that I'm asked about it. But the main one is when I see someone complaining about not getting any interactions or anything and you and others have been liking starter/plot calls or sending memes over and over and nothing ever comes from it. In my own personal experience, the person crying about not getting interactions is only looking for it with a certain follower(s) but won't try and initiate the interaction. It's understandable if you legit are struggling for interactions and you get crickets but when it's clear people are trying to interact...man that grinds my gears. It's extremely inconsiderate and I usually bounce when I see that. Another thing is one-sided plotting/RPing. I usually always try and come up with a few ideas, even if they're basic or the usual trope because sometimes they turn into something exciting but this also depends on both people being open to trying to keep it moving. It's no fun when one person isn't giving anything to work with. Though, sometimes one person will have a good idea and can lead but again it needs some help from the other person. I have others I'm sure, but these are the two main ones. I like to think I'm pretty chill.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS　Close to 2 decades probably. I've been RPing since gaiaonline and AOL/Skype

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT　 All of it, I think there's a time and place for each. I do tend to prefer angst because I love character development and pushing characters to their breaking points and seeing them go beyond their limits or reacting in high-stress situations. I love it when they discover new things about themselves. Fluff is fun for shorter threads when you need something light hearted in between the angst lol. And then smut...well I'm so out of practice I refuse to even have it on my main blog lol. I don't need to embarrass myself. I think it's fine and fun but I do get tired of it if that's all there is. Again, I'm here for the character development.

PLOTS OR MEMES　 Either. I don't have a preference but I try and see what my partners prefer. Sometimes things work better when you plot things out so you have an idea to follow but sometimes, especially with new interactions its easier to just have a random meme. I also feel like sometimes it may take a few tries before you find the right thing that clicks for a good thread or character interaction.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES　 Depends on the day. Sometimes it's nice to have a shorter reply but I do admit sometimes they're hard for me to do because I want to make sure there's enough going on to keep a thread going. But sometimes the brain just doesn't want to work so longer threads, even if I'm super excited for it just don't happen.

TIME TO WRITE　Whenever I get the chance lol. Sometimes its easier in the morning because I haven't used all my brain power but its so rare I can even do so I take what I can get.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)　As far as Faye? Uhh...only a little bit lol. Mainly just her love of the ocean and space and the fact we're both red heads. But she's way more wild/reckless than I am and gives less fucks about what others think or say about her. She also is always looking for trouble to get into while I prefer to fly under the radar. My other muse I currently play on a different blog is also a level headed doctor so I guess with him we're both chill and love pineapple lmao. Even characters in the past I've only shared one or two things. I dunno, I deal with myself on the daily and would rather explore something different than myself. Obviously, I need some things to align so I can understand the character but eh.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘　 the fantastic @ferinehuntress (thank you ;; )

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆　@vendettavalor @trashcollected @dimensionalspades @imprvdente @manufactoredxbyxdesign @musezieren @hellshire & anyone else

[gifsbysimplysonia]

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests. You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!” He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

Do we not adore a woman after our own hearts? :) Honestly, especially when I find out in the next sentence that it was chocolate mousse.

Ahead there be

Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now. He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?” “Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

This is so interesting to me cuz I've read these two being intimate, but being royal and an arranged marriage, they are still just learning each other at this phase AND there's ALWAYS this sense of formality in the relationship.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

He's still drawingggggggggggggggggggg LOVE THIS for him! I love in AUs when certain canon elements are still called back and drawing for Steve Rogers ALWAYS hits.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes...

Appreciate the acknowledgement here lol

“Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?” “Come with me and find out.” His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

Interestingggggggg cuz, like, doesn't he have to have a guard with him at all times? Or, like, if not him doesn't the Queen have to? And then they are going barefoot?? Intrigued.

Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret.

See, Aspen, you like get my mind lmaoooooooooo so thank you for working that out for me cuz my damn brain would have been ITCHING if not, so this is *chef's kiss* for me.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

This legit made my eyes well up with tears. Steve never got a chance to be this vulnerable or open up in the MCU canon, so whenever I get to read fic where he's actually working on letting someone know the real him or he's opening up about his past, it gets to me SO bad/good. To me, it speaks to the fact this king feels safe besides and with his queen, and in an arranged marriage, that is truly special.

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

That Steve's ma came up with a tradition for equinox is so lovely. And being that I'm doing my own research on rituals that revolve around nature and such, I really love getting to read about other characters holding reverence for the occasion. Especially Steve because in canon, he seems less inclined to be one to participate in these things even though he KNOWS about so many otherworldly possibilities. So I love that in this 'Verse, it's not only something he participates in, but something he holds very near and dear. I love this side to him.

“I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

I am SOBBING into my pumpkin pillow, omg. Getting to see into his heart like this is so meaningful.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks. “And what are you giving up to the wood?” “A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

I diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie with his answer, omg.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

LOVE the eyeroll, that's the energy I love in a couple, but also that she's gets that he's playful but can still read his intentions. That's how well she's getting to know him and how much she has been paying attention.

You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

I wish affection and love were highlighted MORE this way; it should never be about completing each other or being half of a person without your partner. It should be about your partner adding value to your life and elevating you, and vice versa so I LOOOOOOVE that this is where these two are.

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

Me toooooooooooooooooo.

“In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

Same exact reaction to him calling her out like this too

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Cuz he's not doing it forcefully or making her feel bad/making an accusation. He's sharing how it makes HIM feel because he wants to be able to support her too and that is just ... GUH. This is not just a marriage but a partnership.

"The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

The conversation they have at this point in the story is so poignant and it shows how a couple can be hesitant, be concerned, but still actively work through worries and fears WITH each other. I am super in love with these two because they always surprise me. In most arranged marriage situations, it would not be the way it is here and that's (one reason) why I love them lol I love seeing healthy approach of topics, honest scary conversations and actual resolutions.

He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

The way you managed a non explicit description but I'm still DYYYYYYY-INGGGGGGGGG

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core.

Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about [REDACTED CUZ GO READ FOR YOURSELF] – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey...

OF COURSE I LOVE THIS NEW PART OF THEIR STORY! I live for these two, Aspen, and I cannot thank you enough for sharing them with us!!

I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Title: Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k

Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.  

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[sakizm]

okay so i've watched the live action avatar series twice now and here's my non-spoilery review:

it's far from perfect, but it's not terrible - i went in cautiously optimistic with low expectations... i found myself surprised in both good and bad ways. first few episodes i struggled a bit with the pacing cause it seemed all over the place and not cohesive. after that, it flowed better with the episodes leading up to the northern water tribe.

obviously i didn't like how so much had to be cut out... but trying to fit 20 episodes worth into 8 episodes? that's A LOT of material to cover! i have questions on some scenes i saw because some of it didn't make sense.

i honestly believe that if they were given more number of episodes instead of short 8 ones which is the norm these days - there would've been more scenes to expand on and flow better with the story we know in the original series.

the scenes that did get adapted from the original series? i absolutely loved the little expanded moments in the live action (see episode 6: masks for example).

after watching the live action series, did i love it? eh sort of. but did i enjoy it? absolutely yes. and i genuinely hope there's a season 2 and 3 because i want to see where this goes.

review with spoilers under the cut:

getting the complaints outta the way first here -

BUMI. idk guys but i felt like he wasn't bumi and got replaced by an bitter old man who wanted to fight a literal kid because he had some 100 yr old resentments. (also wasn't it bumi who told aang that the world had changed in 100 yrs and that he needs to defeat the fire lord, but not without his friends???) that's why i legit cannot get over what they've done to bumi in the live action.

i really did not like how the past avatars kept telling a 12 yr old kid to not rely on friends. and what happened to roku being the main guide since he's literally the previous avatar before aang?

i have mixed feelings on the opening scene, idk if showing the attack was necessary. it kinda defeated the impactful moment of aang's return to the southern air temple had with showing how abandoned it was and discovering gyatso's bones.

i really really really hate to say this but... those sukka moments? idk if it was just me but i cringed which made me sad cause I LOVE AND ADORE SUKKA in the original series.

where was haru and jeong jeong? i felt their original episodes were impactful to the story.

i was not expecting the nomads to be there or even the secret tunnel cause that's not introduced until season 2. i enjoyed the nomads but i didn't like the direction they took with the badgermoles.

they should've brought back dee bradley baker. (if don't understand, pls listen to momo)

what is the point of hei-bai if not going to show how aang helps the spirit? instead it sidetracked with koh the face-stealer and the fog of lost souls (wasn't that in korra???) i'm just confused with how all that went.

aang turning down katara's offer of teaching him what she knows of waterbending? i was baffled and confused. also we never see aang waterbend.

gran gran's goodbye and blessing before sokka & katara leave home, where was it? in original series she literally tells them "aang is the avatar. your destinies are intertwined with his"

speaking of gran gran, idk if i liked how they had her tell the tribe that aang is the avatar instead of having him reveal it during the fight with zuko.

NO MARBLE TRICK what a travesty you guys.

now onto the stuff i actually enjoyed -

more aang & gyatso moments! i looooooved seeing more of them

i actually wasn't mad about seeing the mechanist & teo in omashu (and i absolutely loved the actors cast as them)

MY CABBAGES!!!

suki! the kyoshi warriors!

that small mention of the great divide, the pirates, and the village with volcano by the patrons in senlin village

the fact that they had zuko keep a diary lmao

admiral "the moon slayer" zhao

the scarf scene from zuko and katara (i'm dead serious i went into watching the live action with zero shipping preferences but nice to know that i will absolutely lose my shit over the crumbs even 19 yrs later)

speaking of them, their north pole fight!!! (bummed no iconic sun & moon line)

episode 8 masks is my fave you guys - it was a nice blend of "the storm" and "blue spirit" episodes into one and i love how they expanded on zuko & aang talking while waiting out the soldiers.

and don't even get me started on the crew being the 41st *sobs*

not mad about princess yue being able to bend. i actually enjoyed that she could and was more attuned to spiritual matters.

pakku & katara fight!

katara telling pakku to stop being "stuck in old times" and rallying the women waterbenders to help fight.

liked how the waterbending scroll was introduced via gran gran rather than stealing from the pirates.

and lastly, all the zuko & uncle iroh moments!!! they really took it to another level. that scene after lu ten's death? after zuko's banishment "i have everything i need right here on this ship"? their hug and talk at the north pole? legit teared up.

[zepskies]

Ooooh I'M so excited to see what you thought of the ATW finale!

Lol aww you remembered!! ❤️‍🔥 I've legit had this scene for this story in my head since that convo! But you're too kind to me, friend, thank you so very much. 🥹🥹 This is a lot shorter than how long my usual series run, so I feared it was a bit rushed, but I'm so glad you've enjoyed the ride. 💕

And yes, I did steal your other Ross gif! 🤣

There's legit a Friends gif for everything.~

Such a strong and hot start, wow! 🫠🔥 Full honesty, as a writer, starting chapters with smut always freaks me tf out. Like, where do you put the damn "keep reading" line without flashing some innocent people at work 😂

We're starting off with a bang! 😝 (Sorry, even I hate my self for that pun.)

Oh God, yeah. How do I include a hook to get people to read this chapter while keeping the steamy stuff under the cut? 🤣🤣

Ooof, I know the exact feeling you're describing here. Kinda like when you're taking a hot bath but the room is cold and so everything not covered by water is freezing... 😅

Yes exactly! The kind of cold that just exists in the air like a frigid blanket. 🥶

Oh, here we go! Executed to perfection 😏

Ahaha thank you, my lovely. 😏❤️‍🔥

First of all, I was just reading this whole, intensely scorching scene with a thundering heart and squeezing my damn thighs hard 😂 Secondly, I loooove this trope! It's sorta romantic?! Idk 😅🤷‍♀️ Kinda gives "waiting for the right one and not in the mood for anyone else" vibes. I did that kinda with Russell recently lol But I love the extra intensity and specialness it gives, y'know? ❤️‍🔥

omg I love that trope too (clearly lol)! Yes that's exactly it on it being actually romantic -- and if you mean on Part 3 of Exit Strategy than I'm even more excited to read that chapter when I get a chance -- hopefully later this week! 😍 I'm loving how you're writing Russell. 💗

But yes I agree it adds an extra spark here imo, knowing Dean has been unintentially "saving himself" for her lmaoo.

Loved the callback of him hearing her again, although his instincts had taken over. It shows how much he cares about her and respects her 💕 And I truly wonder what Sam will say when Dean comes back with a mate lol

Aww that's exactly what I intended as well! He's not so far gone that he doesn't consider her and what she wants (with him). 💕

You know what, a few people have requested seeing an epilogue of some kind where Sam gets to meet the reader and she gets to meet him and Dean Jr., so I may have to sketch something soon for my next little project. 🥰

Lol I was gonna say, "How long do you guys plan on being here? This might take a while" 😂 But I'm so in love with their little afterglow bonding session ❤️❤️❤️ I honestly could read about their convos forever. They're so cute 🥹

Lolll right? They could be here for a week just going over the past 15 seasons. 😂 But they have to start somewhere, right? John's journal can only cover so much. And I wanted Dean to start expressing himself to her in words and start to open up to her in a way he hasn't done for anyone in years.

Aww I'm so glad that you love them together! 💗 In this story I found that the small moments and day-to-day convos between these two were just as important as the bigger action/dramatic moments.

We've already talked about this when he mentioned Dean jr. the first time, but my headcanon is, too, that Dean would be super happy, incredibly sad and lonely, and definitely a little envious and sour lol 😂😂

Ugh that's exactly it, poor baby. 😭 A perfect description of Dean post S15 here (gotta add envious and sour lmao).

You really nailed him here! I could hear every word out of his mouth, too!! 😂🫶

Omg thank you!! I feel like Dean's the one I can hear most clearly in my head when I write for him. 😂😂

Can totally seeing him doing all of that and arguing with her throughout lol Our hero 🥹💚

Oh absolutely. These two would probably be driving each other crazy while still being crazy in love with one another -- bickering all down the mountain. 🙄😂

(Dean grumbling, trying to stamp down his smile: "Shoulda left you for the damn bear.")

Oooh, I completely forgot she doesn't yet!! Aww, she loved him before she knew he had a cool car. This is like finding out he was a millionaire and kept it a secret to find true love and weed out the gold diggers 🤣

Bahahaa I LOVE that comparison. 🤣 I just imagined him pulling up like--

This had me DEAD 🤣🤣🤣

lmfaoooo I meannnn, is he wrong? 😂😂

A year???? Jesus fuck, this is even sadder now!!! Sam was really like, "Ciao, jerk." lol

Yeeeeah maybe this is something I'll explore if/when I write that epilogue, but Sam really is off having his new life. Granted, in my mind he reaches out to Dean to check in, invite him over, etc., but even though Dean's happy for him, it's hard to be around Sam's life when Dean himself feels so aimless (and kind of empty inside). So he probably did a lot of the "staying away" in the situation. 💙

Oh she's about to find out how much 😂😂💚

Oh she's about to find out a lot of things about her man that she never thought possible. 🤣🤣

("You've died HOW many times?!!")

That was such a perfect ending! They literally drove off into the sunset together *swoon* 😍🫠🫶 (And I could totally see Dean singing along to the lyrics at the end there) I seriously enjoyed this series so much, friend!! 🤍🤍🤍 Totally gave me those vibes 🥹💕:

Aww thank you so, so much, Wayne!! 💕💕 They really did have their Hallmark movie moment lol. (Oh, he SO would be singing along -- loudly! lol)

omggg I'm honestly honored that it gave you Mondler vibes. 🥹 I always loved them more than Ross/Rachel tbh, so that's literally the best compliment ever. 💗

Thank you again so much for reading and always brightening my day right up with your wonderful, insightful, hilarious comments on my writing, friend. 💞

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him. 

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder. 

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

 Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house. 

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right. 

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says. 

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips. 

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says. 

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between. 

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues. 

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas. 

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling. 

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention. 

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.” 

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips. 

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks. 

So you tell him. 

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes. 

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn. 

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate. 

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason. 

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide. 

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.” 

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat. 

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.” 

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him. 

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss. 

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital. 

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement. 

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh. 

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live. 

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.” 

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb. 

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question. 

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school. 

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his. 

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

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[littlespoonevan]

I've followed you for a while (for gallavich actually but your buddie fics convinced me to finally watch 911!) and we've always been of the same mind about the likelihood of buddie happening in canon. But after Buck fell asleep on Eddie's couch and now all of 6x13, I now feel like it's inevitable that the show IS actually going to make it explicitly romantic. How're you feeling about canon buddie these days?

ahh hey bud!!! i'm honoured i was able to convince you to watch the show lmao 🥰

okay i'm gonna try and organise my thoughts bc my brain has been going in a lot of different directions these past few weeks. so. i don't think i'll ever be able to confidently say buddie canon is happening until we get a very deliberate Moment with either buck or eddie where it's clear something has changed for one of them.

by that, i mean i need another 'just make sure you're following your heart, not christopher's' eddie-face-journey-esque moment where eddie looks at buck or buck looks at eddie and we know (and by we, i mean the whooooole general audience, not just the fandom) they're looking at each other differently

and it's not that i think everything that's happening right now isn't deliberate, it's more just that it's not quite confirmation in the overt sense for me???? particularly as far as them being attracted to each other etc. (i know they love each other, i know they're a family but are there feelings, y'know)

however

there has been a lot happening in the past two episodes that's been making me go 👀👀👀

firstly. the couch. that fucking couch metaphor has me by the thROAT and has done since 6x01. and genuinely i cannot explain the narrative of 6x12 as anything other than proof that eddie is the couch. like. i have an english degree. i legitimately analyse texts for a living and there is no other way to interpret this whole thing other than the idea that the couch that buck has been quietly searching for all season (which is repeatedly conflated with a romantic partner and happiness), is eddie.

buck wants to pick the right couch. margaret chooses for him but it's Not Right. buck goes to eddie's and falls asleep on his couch in seconds before opening up to him and effectively highlighting to us that his safe space is at eddie's house. it's just???????????

(also the fact that oliver said the other couch will be gone by the end of the season my mind is sPINNING)

next. the buckley-diaz family of it all in 6x13. i've said a few times this week that this ep felt like a speedrun season 3 (i'm also currently rewatching s3 which i think is why it's on my brain). as in, we have buddie and chris paired off while the other couples have their own plot. we did have that quite a bit in s4 and 5, don't get me wrong, but it was rarely something that wasn't tied to an overarching plot like the shooting and eddie's subsequent breakdown. whereas these were fun scenes just because. so we had the season 3 dynamic back but there was so much more weight to it because of all that's changed since then.

there are plenty of posts about it but their family unit was emphasised A Lot in 6x13. both in the scene with chris' homework and the baking for chris' class scene. like it's heavily established in this ep that whether it's at buck's place or eddie's, the three of them spend their days together. and not in an organised, 'let's have a movie night' kind of way. as in, they exist in the same space together the way any couple and their child would and that's so!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also the baking for christopher's class scene literally dO NOT get me started i can't believe they did that askjdfhsa

on a smaller scale, buck and eddie's dynamic had a very Particular energy about it in the poker scene. i don't necessarily wanna say flirty bc i legit haven't rewatched since i first saw it tuesday morning when i was barely awake but there was a sort of tension there that i'm very interested in tbh bc i don't think we've seen that in a long time??? also i'm soooo suspicious of captain mehta's re-emergence and how arbitrary the whole poker thing was in the first place @ 911 i have questions!!!!

finally. i can't quite articulate this yet. but something about the episode titles is making me very askdhfs

mixed feelings. performance anxiety. lost and found. love is in the air. it's just. like, yes every episode title has multiple meanings but also every episode title has a level of suggestiveness that has me paying attention. lost and found bc of the tsunami connotations and chris asking buck in his dream if he can help him find his dad. and love is in the air bc it's giving me buck actually vibes and we all know i fully believe buck actually is where buck's story post-abby really begins and i will clutch at every romcom coded metaphor this show throws at me askjdh

TL;DR at this point i think we're going somewhere. like, i feel as though we're on the precipice of something and all it would take is one tiny moment to fully tip us over the edge. if and when that moment comes, i can't say for sure but gOD i'd love it if it did ✨

[imagine--if]

Seo Moonjo SFW Alphabet

[The only alphabets on Seo Moonjo (from Strangers from Hell) are really dark and the reader's fairly innocent, but this goes along the lines of the reader being aware of what Moonjo does and him not being as cold and heartless towards them - so enjoy!]

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I feel like Moonjo's fairly touch-starved, so he'll be a little hesitant and wary at first, but once you give him a hug and you're patient, he'll be legit addicted to hugs and kisses and stuff. He's not really one for PDA, in the sense that he won't do much more than stay close to you or hold your hand when other people are around, but when some poor guy tries their luck, Moonjo has... uh... his own methods of scaring them off, without having to get all touchy with you. He gives affection at random moments too, and there are a lot of times in the day you'll find him just staring with a small smile, but he's not trying to 'be offensive to you' 😂

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It'd take a while for Moonjo to trust you like he trusts Eom Boksoon, but if you listen and don't cause chaos or whatever, he'll probably confide in you little by little. Maybe even tell you what he's planning before he does it? I guess it depends on how loyal and trustworthy you are. He'd put you first before the others and would be more protective.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Uh, yes. Definitely. Moonjo would most likely cuddle when you're at home alone together, where he's most vulnerable with you - needless to say, he's quite the tsundere. He'll cuddle in bed, like, in a very clingy way after he's gotten past the tensed-up and hesitant factor of being introduced to affection, and each time he'll open up a bit about his past and things like that. But it'll be a matter of keeping what he tells you quiet and not spreading it, or... yea. But you're trustworthy to him, so you're good 😜

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Moonjo can cook and clean really well, but once or twice a week he'll take you out to big restaurants and pamper you. Obviously, he's a cannibal, but he wouldn't force you into eating it if you don't want to. And if you do... he may or may not find that a hella hot 😏 Once you two have gone out for a few months, he isn't interested in anyone else, because to him, you're already a special masterpiece.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

The only way he'd ever break up with you is if you betrayed his trust in any way. And if you do that, he'd be pretty much impossible to reach by anyone else when they want to try to get close to him. He's learnt his lesson in placing trust on someone who doesn't value it, and won't ever make the same mistake again. But that's the only circumstance and a highly unlikely one.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage isn't much of a big deal to Moonjo, since he already only has eyes for you. When he does ask you to marry him it'd be at a private and meaningful moment.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's only ever going to be gentle with you, hands up. He's a great listener, and god help anyone that's giving you grief. He'll make sure that you're well looked after and if there's a day where you're not feeling your best, he'll cancel his workday at the dentist and stay with you, no problem. Since he hasn't been shown, like, any affection before you came into his life, it'd be very new to him but he'd catch on fairly easily and give you advice and hugs when you need them. If it's him that isn't feeling great, you'll do the same for him, which means a lot.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Like I've mentioned, he's very into cuddles and hugs and stuff, so when you two are alone, that's the hotspot for the fluffiness 💕 he's still a psycho, obviously, but he genuinely loves you and at this point will die and kill for you, and you're aware of what he does but don't let that put you off. So he does start the hugs often (he's actually an amazing hugger) and loves the attention.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This milestone will take him some time, but once he fully trusts you and all, he'll tell you, or whisper it to you when you're in bed or when he thinks you're asleep. He'll say it a lot since he feels the need to assure you, and at the times he doesn't, he'll show you through actions (which I'll get to in a sec)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn't trust anyone fully apart from you, which makes him a very protective person. However, he gets that you need your freedom too and won't be overly possessive, but when a boy gets too close or tries anything, he'll give them a warning through one of his creepy/deep lines, and if they don't care then their teeth are added to his collection. People are obvious when they try stuff, so Moonjo will and does notice. If you're uncomfortable, he'll kill them without any warning, and if you want to watch or request anything, he's all ears.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

WoOw okay--

Moonjo likes forehead and cheek kisses, like, before either of you go to work or something, but he's passionate in actual make-out kissing and stuff. It's the best cure for his busy mind and he's addicted to it and you, so its gonna happen a lot

Especially at the times where he's had an annoying day and he just wants to cuddle and stuff, its on big time, and often leads to more sUgGeStIvE things 😂😂

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't hate them, but he doesn't love them either. He's used to dealing with them since he's a dentist and all, but he wouldn't be keen on the idea of becoming a father, because that complicates things and he grew up in an orphanage, so he won't know how to look after them too well and wouldn't want to 🤣

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the mornings he's most vulnerable and soft, and he'd drag out staying in bed for as long as he can, just talking and cuddling and kissing. And if someone in the apartment wants to interrupt for an unimportant reason... they're in a dangerous place.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Similar to mornings, but he likes to go on the roof with beer with you or just for midnight walks every now and then. You guys talk about your day and things like that, so to any normal person its all 'couple goals' haha

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It will take him a bit to open up to you since he hates the thought of himself being weak in front of others, but slowly but surely he does open up about the orphanage and killing his parents. When you're understanding and hear him out it'd make him fall in love more since he's never been in a close relationship like the one you two have and he'll do everything he can to keep you with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It'd be almost impossible to get him angry, and I doubt he'll ever get angry with you unless you betray his trust (which is already covered) He's an extremely patient guy, but if someone's purposefully causing trouble and mucking up his plans he'll just get rid of them.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Everything. He's a very observant guy, so he's gonna remember loads of what you reveal to him, but never look down on you because of anything you say. He has the same favourite author as you and remembers your hobbies, so dates and nights out will often include them.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite moment was him watching you completely concentrating on a hobby and just looking so ethereal to him, so hard-core pining there no lies hehe

Or wearing his jumpers, that's another simp factor for soft boy Moonjo 💗

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Yep, Moonjo is a very protective boyfriend, and he's not in any way stupid, so you're his number one priority. He himself doesn't need much protection, but if you get any information he hasn't heard of and tell him it'll definitely help and it grounds his trust a lot too.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He spoils you rotten, ngl, so he'll put loads of effort into dates and handmade gifts and whatnot.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Um, let's see - cannibalism?? Maybe? 🤣🤣

As I've said though, if you don't like it he won't do it around you, but if you do then you share a common interest, and he's gonna LOVE it

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Moonjo is a little insecure about his scars, but with loads of praising and compliments from you, it won't bother him much. He looks after himself well, but he doesn't care much about how he looks to other people because they aren't important and don't mean anything to him.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. He wants you there with him when he goes about his killings or just in general, and you're always on his mind when he's supposed to be working or when you're apart.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Moonjo has a knack for making... uh... original pieces of art like bracelets and necklaces, so he'll take ages on crafting specially thought out accessories and give them to you as gifts when he's done. Full-on simp when he sees you wearing them around, no lie 😍

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He loves every little thing about you, okay?! So the only weird and kind of disturbing habit he has is cannibalism, and if he knows you don't like it, he won't do it around you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Clingy sleeper for sure. He's often the big spoon, but he's a light sleeper, so if you're having a nightmare he'll wake you up and comfort you, and if you try to get up you'll be practically yanked back into his embrace. Whispers sweet nothings a lot when you've both just woken up or are close to sleep.

So in conclusion, Moonjo is a psycho killer cannibal, but he'd never hurt or pressure you into anything. His only grip on sanity is with you, so give him a hug 🤣💗