#oh the dumb things i consider for music

[halcyoncyrus]

Delaney Davidson coming to the UK but his only two shows are London and Reading (practically London) oh I'm gonna be sick

[comradecowplant]

i've still been feeling bad about things not working out with the sad neighbor lady with the busted leg, even though SHE was the one who 180ed and pushed me away, but then i start thinking about all the shitty little -isms (mostly race) she said, some of which i confronted in the moment & some that i picked my battles over given the circumstances, and then i feel less bad :)

[anniflamma]

So I’ve received a couple of anonymous messages telling me that they were really disappointed in me for liking Elian's Antinous fanart. Instead of answering them individually, I’m just going to make an angry rant post instead. Most of if probably won't make sense anyway.

This post have talk about SA, and homophobia. Be aware. I don’t ship genuinely Telemachus and Antinous, if that’s what you’re wondering. I didn’t even consider the possibility that ship could even exist. At the end of the day, I don't care about that ship.

And do you want me to explain that I know SA is bad? Or that I’m aware Telemachus/Antinous is a toxic ship? Do you think I’m dumb and don’t know that? You don't have to explain to me either, I know that SA is bad, I have experienced it, you don't have to explain to me, trust me I know.

I like Elian's art because it’s really beautiful. Her work is a huge inspiration and encouragement for me when making animatics. But do I REALLY have to spell out, word for word, that I know Antinous is an antagonist and tries to do bad things? Does it mean every time someone draws Antinous and I like it, I have to explain that I like the drawing because it’s well done, not because I support Antinous’ intent toward Penelope and wants to kill Telemachus?

I mean, I’ve seen tons of thirsty comments like, "I hate how Zeus treats women, but your design is really hot" or "Even if Poseidon SA Demeter, this Poseidon I'd go down on all fours for!"

I have seen some stuff….

I guess I could just imitate something like that????

But I know it’s a joke and I know its a fantasy that someone is expressing. Its not real, its fictional. I know all those thirsty ppl who simp over Poseidon, Zeus, or even Antinous aren’t supporting hatred and violence toward women. And yes, I am expecting that you should already know this too. Because if we gonna assume the worst of ppl… Then everyone who likes Greek myth/Epic the musical are pro SA. "Do you like Crice from Epic the musical? That means that you support her actions, you support SA!" "Oh you like Odysseus?! He killed a baby and all of his female slaves cuz they got SA by the suitors! You support infanticide, slavery and SA!" Do you hear how dumb that sounds? To be honest, I wouldn’t be that surprised if there are some who think like this. I mean, this discussion wouldn’t even be a thing, right.

And if you don’t know, I literally make thirst art of Poseidon (and that includes Zeus and Hermes), and you don’t see it as a bad thing??? It’s Poseidon… Do you know what he has done to women in the myths?!

Im going to ramble here and I will bring up stories from greek myth that have SA in it. So be aware.

One example is the story of Caeneus. When Caeneus was a woman, his parents left him to take care of the house while they were out running errands. Poseidon took that as an opportunity to break into the house and sexually assault him. This is probably the only myth where Poseidon actually feels bad after what he did, so he grants Caeneus a wish. Aww, how sweet~~~ /sarcasm.

Do I need to give an example of Zeus? We all know what Zeus does. But hey, I’ve made Poseidon/Hermes ship art. And guess what? There’s a story where Hermes breaks a woman’s leg so she can’t run away from him, and then he sexually assaults her. Isn’t that cute~~! /sarcasm

Heck, I can even go on with my biblical ships. David/Jonathan—David, a serial assaulter and murderer, and Jonathan, a mass murderer. But do I support their actions? No, I do not support mass murder, and its really dumb that I have to spell it out for you.

Daniel/Darius is even questionable too! It's literally a king and his servant, and that power imbalance is so big I don’t know what to tell you! Do I have to spell it out that I know that, in real life, king/servant relationships aren’t cute at all?!

All of these characters that I’ve listed have done or represent horrible things. And I have to tell you that I don't support their actions?! Really? You really can't think outside the box?

But do you see what I’m trying to tell you? We can simp over other ancient mythological figures but Antinous is the red line that we can never cross??? It’s hypocritical and immature, that’s what it is.

Right now, ppl loves the Ody seduces Zeus art I made. And that "ship" is well really questionable too! But nobody have called me a witch and tries to burn me at the stake yet. 😐

And the thing is, I can separate these fictional characters from the real world. I can also separate the fictional material from other fictional interpretations. Exemple, I like The Song of Achilles, in it, they are the same age, but I am also aware that in the Iliad, Achilles is 16 and Patroclus is 26. But do I automatically assume that Madeline Miller likes teens? No! Do I assume that everyone who likes The Song Of Achilles like that shit? No!

But we still can have a disscussion about it without making it into a witch trial.

As long as we can separate different fictional materials, then everything is fine. It only becomes a problem if a person can’t separate them. Then we have a problem. I can acknowledge that my depiction of King David from the bible is not the same as from the original story and that he is horrible person towards women. If I couldn't acknowledge that, then its bad! The same goes for Antinous if someone makes an AU or headcanon about him. If someone want so make AUs about Antinous, my first thoughts isnt "Oh they like to SA ppl!". At the end of the day, this is just a group from tiktok who didn’t like a toxic ship and decided to bully an artist while acting like they have superior morals.

And I get this type of shit from christians when I make my queer bible interpitations, both from those that don't like the queer stuff but also those that points out that David and Jonathan were horrible ppl.

So I rarely answer comments like this because they usually end up spewing beliefs filled with homophobia and Islamophobia. Heck rasism sometimes, apparently, Christians don’t know that the Bible takes place in the Middle East, and they are angry at me for drawing them looking like Arabs! I just delete their comments before they gets there. Making queer biblical animatics on TikTok that go viral on the Christian side is not fun at all guys....

And hate to say it but tiktok Epic fans sound really similar. You are acting like you’re on a pedestal, holier than thou. Its just a different font.

+ I haven’t forgotten all those homophobic comments I got on my David/Jonathan animatic that I posted right after my Ruthlessness animatic. Epic fans were saying they didn’t want “that gay shit” and wanted to see more Epic stuff. Hate to break it to you all, but the Epic fandom isn’t that innocent.

[genderkoolaid]

Do you mind giving a list of the transmasc artists in that sp*tify playlist, I wanna listen to transmasc artists but I hate sp*tify soooooo much

Sure! I wouldn't use spotify if I didn't have a cracked version of premium, it truly is fucking awful lmao.

I'm adding specific songs of theirs I like because I know other people also find it easier to get into an artist if they are recc'd a specific song. Also the artist bandcamp when applicable:

Dreamer Isioma / Sunset Drive + Dumb In Love With You

Tobre / FTMLOVE

Joe Stevens / Daughterson

Anjimile / Baby No More + Animal

Jake Edwards / Holy

saint hills / Lavender

Athens Boy Choir / Fagette + Tranny Got Pack

Malaika Mfalme / Good Man

Art Project / Gender Nightmare + Enemy Estrogen + Pretty boy

Miles McKenna / Boys Will Be Boys

Schmekel (and all the jewish tboys cheer) / FTM at the DMV

Skylar Kergil / Brothers

First Ever Boys / Guts + Friends Who Kiss

Mavi Phoenix / Aventura

Ryan Cassata / boy on boy

Beverly Glenn-Copeland / La Vita + People Of The Loon + Africa Calling (love his music so much. it makes me feel the same way bell hooks writing does)

Zann Foth / Hindsight Cinema

Dazey and the Scouts / Sweet Cis Teen

Saint Wellesley / Captain, Oh Captain!

Freddie Lewis / Best Dressed Ex + Bell Jar

Mal Blum / Things Still Left to Say

Dump Him / Pretty Like a Boy

Ezra Michel / I'm a Faggot I'm a Dyke

Jay Page / Invincible + Am I Here

The Oozes / Bitchboy + Ultrasound (consider donating to one of the band member's top surgery fund as well!)

Grumpster (ty anon for reccing them!) / Roots + Growing Pains

[fruity-fruition]

Tenma siblings headcanons from the top of my head

--

I'm a FIRMM believer that Tenma siblings are very physically affectionate (i.e. hugs, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, high fives, shoulder bumping, cuddling, hair ruffling, etc)

This takes Toya fully by surprise when they do it to him outright, without any room for denial.

--

Tsukasa was eating breakfast with Saki and Toya before realizing he was going to be late for a meet-up with Wondershow.

He has this thing, where he instinctively kisses Saki on the forehead before he heads off, so he does. But, in his unfiltered older brother instinct and disarray, he kisses Toya on the forehead too. And just. Leaves.

Toya kinda blue screens before snapping back and being like "what."

Saki doesn't even bat an eye lmao she just kinda looks at him like he's a little weird.

Toya: (literally saw Tsukasa kiss Saki's forehead first before beelining to him without any hesitation) "I think... he mistook me for you"

Saki: "Toya you dumb fuck (/affectionate) you've been one of us since you stepped foot in our house"

--

Tenma siblings cuddle a lot, usually on the couch during movies. Tsukasa in the middle, Saki to his right, and Toya to his left. They aren't aware of the set position but whenever they switch, all of them all at once just think "something is not right rn"

While cuddling, Tsukasa often uses his right hand (which Saki is leaning on) to either scroll his phone, read, or so show work (costume designing, script writing, ideas, etc). He always leans his head on Saki's. He uses his left hand to run through Toya's hair.

--

Toya starts referring to Saki and Tsukasa as his siblings and family outside sometimes.

Saki and Tsukasa listens to pop music sometimes. Not their main music taste, but enough for it to be significant.

This culminates to a very confusing moment for VBS, who've met Toya's biological, douche, emotionally constipated classical music family, when they hear Toya say "Oh, yeah I know Taylor Swift. My family listens to her sometimes."

Which scared VBS to their core because why is Harumichi Aoyagi listening to western white girl music

--

Tsukasa loves baking and cooking. It's a stress reliever thing for him. This is a huge bonus for his siblings (mainly Saki. Toya's not a huge sweets person) because there's always sweets in the pantries.

Toya never sneaks into the kitchen alone, he wouldn't dare. Plus, again, not a huge sweets person. Saki, however, is a horrible influence. They often have 2am gossip, accompanied by brownies and vanilla ice cream.

--

Toya and Saki can't cook for their life. (I know canonically, they're okay-ish, but hear me out.)

Toya, raised as a rich kid for most his life, has never cut a single raw ingredient in his life until his late teen years.

Saki's been hospitalized for the majority of her life.

Tsukasa's the only Tenma sibling with cooking and baking skills (considering he had to fend for himself for a while)

While they were baking together, Toya and Saki managed to get the batter on the ceiling AND explode the microwave because the batter had too much eggshells in it when they put it in. Tsukasa had to call Rui over to fix it.

Tsukasa: "I can't pay you for now, Rui I'm so sorry-"

Rui: "Don't worry about it, Tsukasa"

Tsukasa: "I'll repay you in sweets when we're done?"

Rui: "...preferably not ceiling ones but yeah I'd like that"

--

Speaking of,

Ruikasa starts dating and Tsukasa swears that Rui had nothing to worry about when it comes to his family. They're welcoming! They're open! They'll love him.

Rui decided to not tell him about the glares coming from a certain pinkish blonde and split haired boy when they announced the news. (At least the parents were sweet)

Toya and Saki actually has no real gripes against Rui. They're protective, sure, they will eventually corner Rui and interrogate him, but Saki just thinks it's funny and Toya is just Toya. Rui's paranoid lmao

--

Akito punching Toya in the main story left a bruise (as seen in the official animation) which Tsukasa and Saki got really concerned about during their arcade hangout (Toya's first 3* side story).

Tsukasa figured out that Akito was the one who did it, and ranted to Saki about it. But he retracts it when the duo made up.

Saki isn't letting that shit go, oh no. This GINGER punched her brother?? Then, she started hearing about how Akito likes messing with Tsukasa, even insulting him to his face sometimes.

So she has a personal beef with Akito. Who didn't even know she existed.

When Akito first step foot into the Tenma household, he was dreading the presence of Tsukasa, but to his shock and horror, Tsukasa is actually more tame at home.

His biggest worry should've been the girl with pigtails, who, upon seeing him, got up from her chair and heads straight to her room. not breaking eye contact.

It takes a while, but Saki and Akito gains an unlikely alliance.

--

Names I gave to the Tenmas:

Tenma siblings: All three of them, at once

Tenma Twins: Saki and Toya

Tenma brothers: Tsukasa and Toya

Prototype Tenma: Tsukasa and Saki

(real original I know)

--

Kohane is Wondershow's number #1 fan, probably Tsukasa's number #6 fan (I love her but her competition is Saki, Toya, and Wondershow. Idk what to tell you. At least she got a number)

She absolutely loses it when Toya got them all free tickets to one of their shows.

Akito dreads going. An is slightly excited. Kohane is radiating pure joy.

Akito nearly cries when when Kohane admits that she actually likes Tsukasa as a person, not just a performer, when she properly meets him.

Akito: "An you're my only hope. Toya's biased, Kohane's insane"

An: "idk dude Tenma and Kamishiro are pretty cool when they're not actively trying to blow the school up"

Akito: "An please"

--

I have so much more idk maybe I'll post more later

[kingconia]

hello! could I request something along the lines of the housewardens watching a scary movie or playing a horror game and how they would react<33

TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS AND HOW THEY ARE REACTING ON HORRORS

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— As you put a random horror movie on the screen, Riddle assures you that he, in fact, doesn't find anything exciting or scary in such things. If you do, that's fine! He is going to protect you;

— ...Yet, one thing you don't know about Riddle is that he had never seen a horror movie in his life;

— Watching movies or shows, in general, wasn't something he did often, since his mother thought that it were a mere distraction. But horrors were completely prohibited due to his mother's belief that it negatively affects on heart rate and mental state, and blah-blah-blah;

— So, Riddle has not a single idea what horror movies should be like, and therefore, each jumpscare, even the most stupid one, makes him scream, and throw a caramel popcorn all over the floor. He is so embarrassed by the end of it.

•

”Oh, come on,” you coo, gently hugging Riddle as he hides in the crane of your neck. ”It is okay to be scared of horror movies. It is why people watch them, after all, Riddle.”

”That is stupid,” his voice comes out muffled. ”I hate it.”

You smile, placing a kiss on the top of his head. How cute. You definitely should watch horrors more often, if he is going to react like that every time.

Leona Kingscholar. 💛

— He is the worst person to watch movie with. Not just horrors, but every single genre to ever exist;

— The way movies are so slow, always puts him in sleep. And you know how absolutely boring the beginnings of horror movies can be, right?

— But if Leona puts effort in staying awake for a while, he doesn't get scared at all. More to say, he simply rolls his eyes at every single plot or scene;

— If both of you are not impressed, then, he would rather have a discussion about how awful this movie was. But if you got scared, Leona is absolutely pleased to see you snuggling close to him.

•

”So, how was the movie?” You ask, turning to face Leona as you sit on his lap.

”Characters are dumb, the plot is stupid, and it was not scary at all,” he yawns. ”But I liked it.”

You blink in confusion.

”Why would you like something you just called stupid, Leona?”

”Well, if this stupid thing makes you squirm and cling to me, then, I can deal with that.”

You sigh.

You cannot fix this man.

Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵

— Oh, yes, another ”i-am-not-scared-of-these-movies” type of person. He absolutely brags about how unserious this films are. Like, is anyone really considers them to be scary? Couldn't be him!

— He very benevolently allows you to squeeze his hand or to hide in his embrace during the movie, though;

— ...A-and, then, the movie starts, and both of you shivering in fear, clinging at each other desperately, and closing your eyes as soon as intense music starts;

— Jade and Floyd drop in your room from time to time, just to scare you even more by screaming out of nowhere, or touching your shoulder behind the couch. The chaos ensues...

*

”Just as I expected, that wasn't that fearsome,” Azul says with a very concentrated expression on his face.

You glare at him, hair in disarray and face still pale after all the terror you experienced in two hours. This man has no rights to act as if didn't almost broke your hand and left you deaf from his screams!

”Azul?”

”Yes, angelfish?”

”You either come to the bed and stop bragging about how absolutely not scared you were, or I am turning lights off, leaving you in the darkness, in the middle of corridor.”

They way he scrambles to your side is just hilarious.

Kalim Al-Asim. 🧡

— Perhaps a controversial opinion, but he genuinely is not scared of horrors? He likes watching them, especially since���I think—Jamil looks like a hardcore horror fan, but he is chill about it;

— I actually think that he laughs through the movie... Like, you know, some horrors have these cliche stupid scenes? He considers it to be comedic, if anything;

— He is very happy that you suggested him to watch the movie together, of course! He genuinely says that if you feel scared, or disgusted by some scenes, you can easily take his hand in yours! Or, you could just switch movies in general, he doesn't mind it;

— If the movie wasn't really interesting, Kalim allows to nap on his shoulder, while he watches it till the end. Either way, he will never tease you!

•

”So, how was the...” Kalim blinks, noticing only now that you accidentally fell asleep on his lap.

When you put your head on his lap, he first thought was that you merely wanted to rest for a while like this. But it seemed, you just fall asleep eventually. How cute!

Of course, he is not planning to wake you up. Sleep as much as you want, treasure. Kalim is going to be here, when you wake up anyway.

Vil Schoenheit. 💜

— Oh no, another man, who brags about how stupid horror movies are... Well, at least, he genuinely considers them to be boring most of the time, and doesn't get scared at all;

— I feel like Vil mostly watches these movies to criticise their writing style, speak about how bad the acting was, and how poorly character's line were written... He works in this industry, he knows what to do;

— If you manage to choose a proper film, that Vil will approve, he will be absolutely invested in it! He will watch it closely! He is not going to be scared, but his excitement will be absolutely sincere;

— If you are easily scared, Vil will find it mildly amusing. He likes seeing you experiencing emotions over movies. And, he is not going to be a prick about it. He will coax you softly, and that's it.

•

”I am sorry,” you mumble, slightly embarrassed for yelping so loudly during the movie. ”I don't get scared easily, you know...”

Vil chuckles, pushing bangs out of your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

”Now, now, don't be. That is very sweet,” he smiles. ”And, I must say, I am very satisfied by the choice of the movie. Thank you, potato.”

Idia Shroud. 💙

— He invites you to play some horror games, much like Phasmaphobia, where a few players required! Idia assures you, that he is a pro, and there is nothing scary;

— Of course, half of the evening he spends on explaining the lore of the game, monsters, and rules. You listen to him attentively, and both of you are very determined to play it seriously!

— But, of course, in the end both of you are just idiots. As the game becomes more or less intense, you both begin screaming loudly in each other's ears all the time;

— You still think it was fun. Sadly, others would disagree...

•

”...I just got the message from Leona,” you murmur as Idia turns off the computer, while you check your phone for the first time in the evening. ”He says that our screams is the reason he missed his sleeping schedule.”

Idia rolls his eyes.

”It is not like he heard us from here, right...?”

You scroll unread messages, seeing more and more aggressive remarks from your schoolmates: Azul, saying that you just bother his customers, Malleus asking if anybody died, Ace spamming with repetitive 'shut the fuck up'...

”Right?”

”I am not so sure, Idia...”

Malleus Draconia. 💚

— Oh! Malleus is very excited! He wonders if anything could be more scary than rageful Lilia! Spoiler: no;

— I feel like he has a lot of expectations about all of these movies, but in the end it is not as thrilling as he wanted it to be? But it is not necessarily movie's fault... I mean, it is Malleus we speak about;

— Interrupts movie all the time just to ask questions, like: ”Why would they go separately in this situation?” or ”Why did she went here alone?”, and a constant ”I don't understand”;

— If you get scared in the middle of it, Malleus is more flinching from your reaction than from the movie itself... Like, the only reason of his fear is your own, lmao.

•

”It probably wasn't as interesting as you thought it will be,” you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your neck. ”I am sorry.”

Malleus blinks in surprise, tearing his eyes away from the title screen to you again.

”Oh, no. It was very entertaining, child of men,” he offers you a soft smile. ”And... I am grateful for being invited. I would love to see more of them.”

You smile, nodding instantly.

”Then, we will.”

[were-wolverine]

batfam as new girl quotes

steph: where are you, tim? this place is fancy and i don’t know which fork to kill myself with.

***

dick (16 y/o): i’ll take you through the whole thing. i’ll be like your guide.

jason (13 y/o): like gandalf through middle-earth?

dick: ok, first of all, let’s take the Lord of the Rings references and put them in a deep, dark cave where no one will ever find them.

jason: except smeagol. he lives in a cave.

***

tim: you text me “happy monday.” what am i supposed to do with that?

damian: oh, i don’t know. maybe have a happy monday?

(he’s trying to be nice)

***

jason: would you consider us adorable?

dick: no! we’re adult men.

dick: we’re cute.

***

cass: you always see the worst in people.

damian: yeah, because people are the worst!

***

steph: i mean, bruce, we love you, but…

steph: but you’re not a man of the people.

bruce: of course i’m not a man of the people. i’m above the people.

***

cass: we’re a family. families talk about things.

jason: no, families ignore things until they go away.

***

new parent bruce: dick, do you want to go to sleep?

9 y/o dick: no way.

bruce: if you do, i’ll write you a check for $6,000.

***

duke: what are you doing in here?

tim: eating cookies and avoiding confrontation.

(in the bathroom at a gala)

***

steph: jason, come on, that’s like the president and the vice president not being best friends.

jason: they’re not best friends.

steph: come on. everybody knows they’re best friends.

***

dick: i’m in love!

damian: titus, clear my schedule. i need a word with our brother.

***

steph: duke, those shoes are not brown! they’re green!

duke: you guys are idiots! they’re as brown as money.

cass: what color is kermit the frog?

duke: brown! he’s a brown frog.

tim: duke! you’re color blind, dude.

***

bruce: darn it! has anyone seen my croquet cleats?

***

tim: hey guys, do you think i’m a good person?

steph: you’re a terrible person. it’s hilarious.

***

dick: i’m very quick on my�� uh…

jason: did you just forget the word ‘feet’?

dick: feet, yeah.

(he’s been awake for 72 hours without sleep)

***

duke: i can’t believe i didn’t notice this before but damian, you are legitimately crazy.

damian: i think we’re all a little bit crazy, don’t you, thomas?

duke: no, i mean, you’re like aging ballerina, child chess prodigy, professional magician crazy.

damian: it’s my grandfather’s fault.

duke: yeah okay fair enough

***

tim: if i was doing something stupid, you definitely would be involved.

dick: yeah, you’re damn right i would be. and i would probably be there to make it even stupider.

***

bruce: has anyone seen my good pea coat?

***

steph: i brake for birds. i rock a lot of polka dots. i have touched glitter in the last 24 hours!

steph: and that doesn’t mean i’m not smart and tough and strong.

***

jason: are you insane, bruce? we’re not ready.

jason: that’s like taking a musical from rehearsals straight to broadway. you got to workshop it first.

(pushing the theatre kid jason agenda)

***

dick: you realize i say goodnight to you every night and you never say goodnight back?

dick: what is the problem, jason? do you not want me to have a good night?

jason: oh my god you’re so overdramatic

***

tim: please don’t mistake my measured blank tone for calmness, as i am filled with waters of rage.

(he’s at a gala)

***

bruce: damn it! i can’t find my driving moccasins anywhere!

***

duke: what a dumb idea.

duke: do it.

(he is an enabler)

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part nine)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: an album release forces some feelings and conversations — one thing's for sure though, Eddie will always be thinking about you.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

“We are here this morning with a true music icon in the making, who’s hits like Compromising Positions and most recently Honesty took the world by storm. Now, Eddie Munson is just a few short days away from releasing his sophomore album with his Corroded Coffin bandmates, Assistance is Futile. Welcome to Eddie Munson everybody, yes!”

“Happy to be here, Charles.”

Good Morning America was definitely not the type of talk show the rockstar pictured himself ever getting invited on. He didn’t think his personal style, or the music he was putting out there with the band, would be something the producers would welcome. Considering especially the whole thing was televised live. No cuts, no edits, no take backs. Whatever is said remains out there forever. Quoted and interpreted until the next schmuck makes a fool of himself.

Hosts, Charles Gibson and Joan Lunden, were also known to be quite blunt with their guests. Blunt, but not in the rude sense of the word. Given their history on the network, their experience, they're simply good at what they do, which sometimes means effortlessly picking at a topic until they get a satisfactory reaction or better yet, television worthy answer. Of course there’s always a list of pre-agreed questions, carefully discussed with management and PR teams, but things have known to… slip out.

But Marianne trained him. Extensively. She flew out to New York the second this interview was arranged and spent hours in Eddie’s penthouse hotel room going over details that to most people, people not from this world, may seem minor: how to sit, how to smile, what to laugh at, the amount of seconds it should take him to answer a question. The list goes on. And now she was here, at the studio, to make sure Eddie saw a friendly face in the crowd. Someone to look at in case he got flustered at any point during the fifteen minute round.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty,” Joan begins, crossing one knee over the other, “Eddie, why don’t you tell us a little about how you and the band first got started?”

So Eddie talks. He’s charming as he tells the story, sparing a few details ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time. He does however, crack a few jokes, including one about the list of names Gareth and Jeff brought to him one night before they all agreed on Corroded Coffin. Charles laughs before asking the next question about the band's success so far, and what he makes of it.

“Oh man, it’s so insane,” Eddie answers truthfully, “I still have days where I don’t think any of this is real. All of us in the band feel incredibly lucky, for sure.” He nods along as he speaks.

Joan and Charles take turns asking a few more general questions about the band plus the other members who couldn’t make it out today, before settling on the whole reason Eddie agreed to do this interview in the first place: promotion for the new album.

Assistance is Futile was a collection of songs about you — but that was not going to be an answer he gives today, accidentally or otherwise. Instead, the rockstar focuses attention on how the record was built. Technical language that he dumbs down slightly to make sure he’s continuously captivating his audience (Marianne’s advice). He tells them what instruments the group played around with that may not have featured on their last album, which was more classic rock than this new project. And he’s excited as he talks. Passionate.

He continues to lay out the facts. List the number of tracks it features, eleven plus two bonus songs on the extended version. He talks about the writing process, still carefully avoiding mentioning the influence. He won’t say he wrote them all during the aftermath of your breakup. He hasn’t even admitted that to you, despite the fact that you spent every waking moment together since the afternoon at Cove City Sound Studios. He knows he won’t be able to hide that for much longer, but until the album comes out and you hear the songs for yourself, he’ll keep it to himself because things have been so… great.

Sure, things weren’t back to normal. It can’t be the way it was until Eddie finds the time to speak with your management and nip this whole evil grandmother blackmail thing in the bud. At least he’s got you in some capacity. He gets to talk to you again, laugh with you. He gets to hug you, kiss you, touch you. Friends with benefits, or whatever the term is. Eddie’s just glad to be around you.

“Now, here at the studio, we got an exclusive, sneak peak listen to Assistance is Futile, and there’s a little bit of speculation between the crew about the meaning behind some of the songs.”

Boom. There it is. The dreaded topic. And it was going so well.

“Care to share where the inspiration for these lyrics struck you? Who, in particular, they might be about?”

Eddie smiles. “Give into the charade”, Marianne’s words ring in his ears, “But by any means, don’t confirm their suspicions”. Not an easy task. A slippery slope by all accounts. He ever so slightly glances in the direction of his manager who nods her head to show encouragement.

“Who do you think they’re about, Joan?” Eddie bounces the question back.

The presenter smiles. She knows she shouldn’t say. Yes, it would be good for ratings, but bringing up your name is not something that can be done lightly. She knows that. Hence why Joan hoped Eddie Munson wouldn’t be smart enough to avoid the initial question. But the rockstar’s been trained and he’s not about to mess up with two minutes to spare.

“Well, I’d say my friend Charles here. He’s got, what was that one lyric, legs for days and a wicked smile.” Joan deflects. Ever the professional.

The whole studio starts laughing. Eddie joins in, satisfied with the way this worked out. 

“You’d be right on the money there, Joan.” The rockstar nods with a wide smile before continuing, “Charles Gibson has been a constant inspiration for Corroded Coffin songs. There’s not a lot to do in Hawkins, where we grew up. Gotta write what you know and my uncle has an affinity for this show.” 

He turns to the camera to say hi to Wayne, “I know you’re watching.”

Then shifts to look at the hosts once more, winking at the gentleman sitting across from him.

“Charles, you sexy devil, you.”

The laughter continues. People start to clap, whistle along to Eddie’s perfectly curated response. Marianne is beaming with pride because for a brief moment, she didn’t think he could do it. There've been so many mishaps in the past, wild things the band — the curly-haired frontman in particular — have done that she’s had to either smooth over with the media or keep hidden from the public altogether. This morning she finally exhaled. He did well.

You’re laughing too. Feeling proud too as you watch him through your television screen, just like you promised Eddie you would.

Blanket covering your body, all the way up to your chin, as you sit comfortably on the couch. The smile on your face is as genuine as they come. He’s so good at this. Considering how nervous he was, how much time he spent with Marianne going over every possible scenario until his head hurt. You took a mental note to tell him later that he really had nothing to worry about. He’s a natural.

The question about his inspiration for the album didn’t surprise you. It’s pretty standard for these types of press junkets. Even more given the fact your relationship has been the talk of the town for months, especially when the two of you weren’t even together. People love to speculate.

When Eddie told you about the upcoming album, one night after you came down from another intense orgasm, you assumed he wrote about your relationship — especially the failures. Honesty came to the rockstar after only one night. Makes sense that a complete record would be next. He didn’t confirm it though, because you didn’t ask. You would know once it came out, when you purchased your own copy to listen through. Artists supporting artists, and whatnot.

“Corroded Coffin’s Assistance is Futile. Coming to a record store near you, this Thursday, October 14.” Charles Gibson announces, holding up a shiny compact disc to one of the cameras, showing off the album’s cover art: a thundering night sky, with something sinister looming inside the blood red clouds. An ode to the band's Dungeons & Dragons days.

“Eddie Munson, thank you for your time today.” Joan Lunden flashes a pearly white smile.

The rockstar returns the expression. “Thank you for having me.”

Backstage, Eddie gives Marianne a big hug. Thanking her for being here. While returning the embrace, she reassures him that’s never going to change. “Or at least until the contract ends,” his manager teases and ruffles his already wild hair before sitting down on the velvet sofa.

“So, tell me, am I flying back to LA alone?”

Eddie picks up a bag of previously opened Funyuns before leaning against the vanity. He shuffles the remainder of the onion-flavoured corn chips inside the plastic, then starts eating them, one by one.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it was an obvious answer. “We’ve got the release party for the album. The guys would kill me if I missed it.”

“I’d kill you first.”

He smirks. “Then why ask me the question?”

Marianne gives him a pointed look. One that says, no, screams, he of all people should know why. Eddie got on a private plane to New York so he could “sort something out”, then ended up staying for weeks longer than intended with no explanation. Marianne called him at the hotel multiple times, asking for a return day, but he always gave a vague answer. Then Gareth called, as did Jeff (who sort of already suspected the reason for the delayed homecoming, kudos to Holly), but Eddie continued on the road of avoidance, all while Page Six posted about sightings of him with a certain pop sensation.

“Eddie, you haven’t been this happy since—”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know and yes, to whatever you’re thinking, but I don’t wanna talk about it now because there’s something I need to do first.”

“What do you need to do?” She asks, puzzled because in the time they’ve worked together, the rockstar has never once left her out of action. She did everything for him. That was her job. One she did gladly because she’s grown to care for these boys.

Eddie sighs, wiping his crumb covered hands on the material of his trousers. The bag of chips lays empty on the table next to him. Of course he contemplated telling Marianne everything on multiple occasions, but each time he chickened out at the last minute. He knew she could fix everything in the blink of an eye. Simply, the rockstar just didn’t feel worthy of that. 

His entire life, Eddie ran away. From situations, from people, from feelings. Anything that was messy, or just became messy. He ran until the distance felt comfortable enough to continue with his life. Growing up in Hawkins, he didn’t have a Marianne. He didn’t have anyone that would stand up for him, so running became second nature. Running fixed his problems. 

By the time the band hit stardom, running turned to escapism in the form of drugs and alcohol. The bubble. Under the influence, the rockstar didn’t care who cleaned up after him and Marianne was so good at her job that most of the time, Eddie didn’t even know there was a problem to run from until it was resolved.

The situation with your grandmother however, was different. It involved you. 

He gave into his instincts and ran. Only this time, Eddie ran to protect you. Threats were made to potentially ruin your career — fucked up, considering the person that made them was also the person who helped kick-start your fame. And as selfish as he may seem to people that don’t know the real him, the rockstar wasn’t willing to gamble everything you built for yourself. He ran.

But Eddie was done running. He was going to fix this and he planned on doing it alone.

“What’s going on?” Marianne stands and takes a step closer, crossing her arms. Concern is starting to fill her veins, though she’s trying her best not to show it. Trying and failing.

Maybe solving this alone wasn’t the way to go.

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he admits eventually, reluctantly. 

“What?!” Marianne just about shouts. “Who? For how long?”

“It’s uh…. It’s a complicated story.”

“Well, fuck.” She’s slightly annoyed ‘cause how could he have hidden something like this from her? This is why the band has her. Managing them, planning shit to maintain their career is only a small part of her job. Protecting these boys is a priority and blackmail is a big fucking deal.

Exhaling, Marianne lets her arms drop and proceeds to take a much less confrontational stance. 

“Eddie, you know I’ve always got nothing but time for you, so spill.”

And he does. Starting right at the beginning with Chrissy Cunningham.

-

When Eddie stops by your place later that afternoon, he kisses you, the second you open up your apartment. He kisses you fully, deeply. He’s kicking the door closed with his boot, lips continually locked together, his hands holding you firmly by the waist. A man on a mission and the mission being to make you feel like you're floating all the damn time. 

You smile against his soft lips. Mission accomplished.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Hello,” he whispers back, also smiling. “How was your morning?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” you answer his question and turn in your spot, wanting to lead him to the couch. Eddie’s hands remain on your waist as you do so, no inclination of letting go.

MTV is on. The wild-haired rockstar instantly feels at home — a stark contrast to that first night he showed up at your door. Adrenaline pumping. Unsure of the outcome. But it was better than he could’ve imagined, dreamed. Back in your arms with little to no arguments. Back where he for sure belonged.

Honesty comes on. The video makes him smile as he effortlessly pulls your legs over his thighs, hand settling on your soft flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The memory of that day with you on set. Eddie wouldn’t call it acting. Hugging you, kissing you on camera. Not a tough act. Natural, actually. That was a good day. You’re thinking it too.

“Magnetic.”

“Huh?”

Eddie can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “You’re magnetic. Utterly. I almost forgot, but I didn’t really, you know? I-I think about that day often and how much fun it was,” he rambles. It’s sweet. 

“But what I replay in my mind the most is how fucking talented you are, sweetheart. A goddess in front of a camera, I swear.”

You smirk, your own mind flying to something much, much dirtier than what Eddie meant, and he flicks your leg at the institution, all while glancing at you from the corner of his brown eyes. Because there was a video camera left under the rockstars California King bed with a tape inside, a tape that could get you both — although the sexist industry you’re lucky to be a part of would blame only you, mainly — in a lot of trouble, if it ever saw the light of day. A tape for private eyes only. And Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were near damn a goddess.

“Wish we could work together again,” he says, then quickly adds, “Professionally, sweetheart, before you get any kinky ideas.”

That makes you laugh.

“Think you should focus on the album the band is about to release, hotshot. Once that’s a sure hit, then we can talk about doing something together.”

“Well, there is a box in my room, back in LA, with notebooks full of songs…”

He’s trying to be encouraging. Motivational. Really what Eddie’s doing is building up the courage to ask you to go back to Los Angeles with him. In a complete roundabout way, to be honest. The guys would call him a pussy. He was being a pussy. There was however, a lot he still needed to tell you. This whole thing with your grandma, for one. But Marianne was handling that now, and once she gave him the agreed upon sign, there was nothing stopping Eddie from screaming he loves you from all available rooftops — which he hoped to do for the first time at the place you two officially met. 

And with his manager on the case, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

“Eddie, you’re a dumbass.” Marianne states. There’s a frown on her face, but it’s not serious. Accompanied by a smile that’s giving him a little bit of hope.

“I know—”

“No,” she interrupts, “You don’t.” 

He exhales. “I do, though.”

“Eddie. If you came to me when this first happened, you would’ve never lost all this time with Little Miss Perfect. The fact that you didn’t, the fact that you didn’t trust me with this information, makes you a dumbass.”

“So, you can fix this?”

“There’s a little thing called a Cease and Desist,” Marianne says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And in a way, it is. “No one is going to threaten the career of my favourite client and get away with it.”

Eddie smiles. Genuinely. Something reminiscent of relief is flowing through his body, down to the tips of his toes, until he no longer feels heavy. The burden of this situation is slowly lifting.

“With your permission, I’d like to approach her team with this information. They’ll most likely also issue a cease and desist, so that her career is also protected.” Marianne says. “But I guess since all you’ve tried to do is keep her out of harm’s way, the only way you knew how, I’m assuming I have your permission without even asking for it?”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He’s repeating over and over and over, wrapping his arms around Marianne. A hug they’d both cherish forever.

“Like I said, let’s get you to survive this record release first, okay?”

You’re looking at each other now.

“Take it day by day, Eds.”

“What if I want to skip ahead?”

There’s a lot hiding behind that question. The future is uncertain in many ways. He knows that he wants you, you know that you want him. That’s enough, but at the same time it isn’t. Day by day is easier than thinking about tomorrow, or the next day. He just loves you, which he’ll tell you soon. That’s what he wants to skip too.

On the other hand, you’re terrified. Giving into him again brought no shortage of anxiety about his past behaviour. Eddie Munson hurt you, twice. Second time worse than the first. You forgave him, yet the fear was still there. The question remained: what if he did it again? He wouldn’t, but what if he did? So taking it day by day, as it came, was easier. A shield, of sorts. Protection against hurt. 

Also, it was a lot more fun to act without consequence. To just be. 

Existing with him felt almost normal, even though there was nothing normal about the various interviews and photoshoots the rockstar has been doing promoting Assistance is Futile while in New York, or the long phone calls with his manager and bandmates in preparation for the release party. Nothing normal about your own career, which you’ve slowly been defrosting following the short heartbreak hiatus. Pivoting slightly towards acting as a new form of expression. So you’re reading scripts, rehearsing lines. All without expectations. Day by day.

“Skipping ahead means you, going back to LA for the release party,” you point out.

“You could come with me. The invitation is there, you know that.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more than to be there for you and the guys, Eddie, you know that.” You lean in closer, pressing your body weight into his. “But if I make an appearance, it will overshadow the album you worked really hard on and that’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, pressing his lips to the side of your head, leaving a soft kiss while inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. He slowly nods against you, understanding your point of view.

“So we won’t see each other for a while then, huh?”

“Well, I got that recurring part in Law & Order which is filming here, so that’s a couple of months, at least, that I’ll be stuck here in New York.”

“I can visit,” he jumps in almost instantly, “And you, maybe… You can come out to see me whenever you have breaks in filming?”

“Sounds good, Eds.”

There’s a moment of silence. It shifts towards the heavy side. Eddie’s biting his tongue. He wants so badly to tell you everything he’s been keeping secret, but he knows it’s not a good idea until Marianne confirms she’s consulted your team and the cease and desist letters have been sent out. He’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not even for a little while. He just got you back. You’re also lost in thought. Reuniting with the Corroded Coffin frontman has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, in the best way possible. Having him here, next to you once more, kissing and touching you. And you know it was limited. That time would come knocking and he’d have to go back, while you’d need to stay. Bittersweet would be the word to describe how you feel. 

“How about we focus on right now, hm?” You offer, lifting your head so that your sweet gaze catches his chocolate one. Then a short inhale later, you kiss him. Gentle, at first, although not quite a peck. His eyes close on impact as his hand reaches for your face, attaching itself like a magnet. Cradling, squeezing your cheeks. 

And you smile. Fucking smile. Eddie loves it when you smile while kissing him. It drives him crazy knowing his touch makes you that happy. So he can’t help but smile too. Teeth knocking against each other in the process. 

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” the rockstar admits.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Eddie Munson.” 

The hand that held his toned abdomen just a mere second ago is now not so innocently sliding in a downward trajectory. You fiddle with his leather belt, unbuckling it rather effortlessly with one hand after you press your lips against his once more. Deeper this time. Wanting.

“But distracting me from a conversation about what’s mph… next,” he mumbles as you tug at his zipper. You’re not giving him a chance to breathe. “Isn’t going to - Jesus - work.”

“Okay,” you’re teasing. It’s a whisper and Eddie’s brain short circuits ‘cause your perfectly manicured fingers are sliding into his boxers, reaching for his semi.

-

“So, you guys are like back together now, huh?” 

Steve’s question lingers in the air for a moment. He’s glancing at his small-town friend turned worldwide phenomenon from across the table, swirling black coffee in his takeaway cup.

Eddie looks out the window at the clouds passing by. 

After getting over his initial fear of flying, since he hadn’t been on a plane until his early twenties, the rockstar decided he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would. Things were peaceful up here — especially since he could now afford private jets. Just him and his guitar. Even when he travelled together with the guys, they all got lost in their own thing too, as did Marianne.

The upcoming release party however, prompted an invite to his little sister as well as Steve. So he knew that unfortunately this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Something like that,” Eddie answers, turning his attention back to his friend.

Harrington nods. “That’s good, man. She’s great.”

“That she is.” Eddie fails to contain a smile.

“I’m happy for you.” Steve’s words are genuine.

“Thanks, dude.”

The short exchange is interrupted by Max’s snort. The two boys look at the redhead currently splayed out on one of the recliner seats. A book in her lap, one that she’s not really reading, but she’s keeping up appearances anyway.

“To think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius,” she retorts, a smirk now present on her face.

Eddie laughs lightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking out the window again. His mind turns to you. He misses you, even though he saw you not even a half hour ago when you said goodbye before he got on the plane. He misses you. Anxiety building since neither of you are really sure when you’d be able to see each other next. “And that’s okay,” is what you said to him in between soft kisses. He’s repeating it now.

“She’s not coming to the party, right?” Red asks her older brother, briefly breaking Eddie away from his thoughts. 

The rockstar shakes his head. “No.”

“You’ll see her soon,” his sister reassures, reaching for his forearm across the aisle, squeezing. 

“I know, I know.” 

“Then why the sad face?” Steve points out.

Eddie wishes he was alone. Then no one would be questioning him, even though he knows it’s coming from a good place. They just care, he tries to level his emotions, they’re asking because they care.

“Our last goodbye wasn’t so good,” he answers plainly.

Luckily both Max and Steve understand. They exchange a glance between themselves before returning to whatever activity they were engaging in prior to the start of this conversation: Red buries her head in the book she wasn’t really reading and Harrington resumes listening to music on his Walkman.

Eddie is once again glancing out the small jet window. He’s once again thinking about you. 

And he continues to think about you when the plane lands. In the car, on the way to his Hidden Hills home. He continues to think about you when the house fills with people that are there to style him for the release party. He’s making small talk, his mind still centred on you.

You remain the centre of his attention, even when Eddie and the band arrive at the venue, and he’s being ripped ten thousand different directions. Picture here, sign this, talk to this person. He enjoys a drink and he’s still thinking about you. He’s wishing you were here. 

The guys are introduced to come up on stage and even though Eddie is on cloud nine for this release, super proud of the record they put together, he’s wishing you were here to celebrate this with him.

He thinks about you as he sings one of the songs. Breaking News — a song about you, of course.

There comes a point during the night, a split second during which Eddie stops thinking about you. Not for any particular reason. Nothing spectacular happens for him to do so, he just… does. But it’s only a fleeting moment. He regrets it as soon as he realises. He especially regrets it when Marianne approaches him, a concerned look spread across her usually composed features — although the rockstar doesn’t pick up on her expression immediately.

“What did you think of the performance?” Eddie asks, smiling wide.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for the half-empty glass in his hand and sets it aside before exhaling a sigh.

He furrows his brows, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Eddie, there’s been an accident.”

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

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& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[ddejavvu]

The Right Person - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You're good friends with Jack Hotchner, and his dad finds you crying at a house party.

Contents/Warnings: best friend's dad!hotch, legal age gap (reader is over 18), mutual pining, soft!hotch, mention of alcohol/drugs, cheating (reader's unnamed, faceless boyfriend), hurt/comfort, fem!reader

WC: 3.6K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Very few things are more embarrassing than crying at a party. You're wading through a sea of high, hammered young adults, and even if they're too out of their minds to notice the tears on your cheeks, you feel like a fool for letting them fall.

You probably shouldn't have been as naive as you were going into your relationship. You'd been blinded by the prospect of someone being interested in you, and you hadn't stopped to consider the odd behavior he'd presented. You didn't want to be the overbearing girlfriend and check his phone, but walking in on him sucking face with someone else was just about all the evidence you'll ever need.

So now you're crying, stumbling down the hall and into the front yard for a breath of fresh air. Inside it's stuffy, booze and weed clouding the air and burning at your lungs. The front steps feel like a new beginning, away from your asshole (now) ex-boyfriend and the shitty music blaring from the house.

You're not offered much solace, though, because sirens blare through the streets. You squint through your teary eyes at a squad of cop cars that screech into the driveway, black SUVs trailing behind them. Fear drags your stomach down to your feet, because despite knowing that you're sober, you still probably hold some accountability for whatever drugs they're doing in there.

You're the only one outside, save for a couple moonbathing around the side yard, but the cops start for the front door. It means you're scrambling out of the way, tempted to put your hands up just in case.

"Miss," One of the officers glances at you, "Go home. We're shutting this down."

"Oh- okay," You stammer, nodding and wiping a tear from your eye, "I-um... I have to call an uber."

The officers don't pay you any regard after that, streaming into the house. It's only when you're fumbling clumsily with your phone that anyone engages with you, and the booming voice that travels over the lawn brings immense comfort to you.

"Y/N?" It's Aaron Hotchner, Jack's dad. You'd become fast friends with Jack through a couple of shared community college courses, and you'd come to know his dad from study sessions and movie nights.

"Mr. Hotchner," You breathe, reaching up to smear a tear off of your cheek, "I- Are you- what's going on?"

"The neighbors complained about the noise" He explains, jogging across the grass to reach out for your shoulder, "What happened? Are you alright? Why are you crying?"

"I'm okay," You sniffle, now infinitely more embarrassed to be caught blubbering by your best friend's very attractive dad, "We all have to leave?"

"Don't worry about that," He murmurs, shrugging his windbreaker off of his shoulders and wrapping it around your own. Your top is sheer and too-short, and the cold air had been nipping at your skin. His jacket is warm, soft, and you realize with an aggressive heat to your cheeks, it smells like him.

"Now," He tries again, keeping his jacket securely over your shoulders, "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm alright," You shake your head, chin to your chest, "It's dumb, it's nothing. I- I need to call an uber, I'll-"

"I will drive you home," Aaron promises, voice soothing as his hand brushes over your back, "But I need to know what's wrong."

"I don't-" You stammer, eyes rolling at how silly you sound while another wave of tears streams down your cheeks, "It's just- my boyfriend, I saw him kissing someone else. Really, it's dumb, it's nothing."

Aaron doesn't respond, not right away, but you know he's heard you. You know by the momentary tightening of his grip on your shoulder, the way that his fingers dig into your skin like he's trying to make a fist but you're getting in the way. Then he eases up, touches all soft and gentle.

"I'm sorry, honey." He coos, stepping against your chest to wrap you in a hug. He rubs your back, up and down, up and down, up and down, until you're sniffling and sobbing into his chest. He keeps his arms around you, strong and firm, his cheek flush with the crown of your head as partygoers stream out of the house around you.

He's the epitome of comfort, all sweet, low reassurances and grounding touches. He murmurs only loud enough for you to hear as you curl your fingers into his shirt, 'He didn't deserve you, honey.' and, 'You're better off without him.'

"I just didn't see it coming," You admit lamely, your voice muffled against his chest. He doesn't ease up on the hug, and you're grateful for that. The last thing you'd want to do is make him uncomfortable, but he seems to realize you need comfort right now.

"Jack... always had his thoughts about him." Aaron admits, "But I think he kept them to himself, he didn't want to ruin things for you."

"I could tell," You sigh, nestled snugly into Aaron's chest, "I... I thought they just needed time to get used to each other, you know? Like, get to know each other. But I guess not, I guess Jack was right."

"Don't tell him that," Aaron teases, "It'll go straight to his head."

You laugh, albeit weakly, against Aaron's chest, and he takes it as a win.

"Okay," He hums, giving one last broad sweep of his hand over your back, "Let's get you into the car. It's late, you should get home and get to sleep."

"Thank you for taking me home," You sniffle letting him lead you with an arm around your shoulders to one of the SUVs, "Are you sure it's okay to just take one? Weren't there other people riding with you?"

"They'll figure it out." Aaron assures you, knowing Derek will have to bite the bullet and sit in the middle seat of the back row, something he always takes an extra SUV to avoid doing, "It's okay."

Aaron helps you into the passenger's seat, even tugging at your seatbelt when you struggle to wrestle it over his jacket.

"Here," He reaches for the strap, easing it up and over a fold of the jacket that it was stuck in, "Let me."

He clicks it into place for you, and you smile tearily up at him.

He leaves you with a pat to your knee, then shuts the door.

You hear him call something to, presumably, another agent, trying not to think too hard about whatever team member of his you're depriving of a seat. Aaron doesn't let you think much about it, though, because as soon as you're pulling away from the curb, tears no longer pouring down your cheeks, the interrogation starts.

"What were you doing at a party, anyways?" Aaron glances over at you, a frown creasing his brows, "You're not the drinking type."

"I didn't go to get drunk," You shrug, "I went 'cause my boyfriend invited me."

"He invited you," Aaron repeats, "And then... wow."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Aaron looks at you, stopped at a signal just outside of the neighborhood, "Really. That's awful. You deserve so much better than that."

"Thank you, Mr. Hotchner," You sniffle, "I really appreciate how kind you're being. The ride, and- and the jacket, and-"

"It's no problem," He assures you, looking you in the eyes through the mirror, "That's what you deserve, sweetheart. You don't need to thank me for it."

You have the ironic urge to thank him again.

"And you can call me Aaron." He reminds you, smiling knowingly at your reflection, "You know that."

He's made a point to tell you time and time again that you're allowed to call him by his first name. During impromptu, mid-study-session dinners, at pick-ups in the college parking lot, but you've never felt acquainted with him before, not like this. Wearing his jacket while he drives you home after a ten minute hug seems a lot better of a reason to use his first name than seeing him in passing while you're laughing with Jack.

"Aaron," You mumble, and he chuckles warmly.

You don't have much time to enjoy the sound, even if it flips your stomach into cartwheels. You wish you could savor it, but you watch Aaron take a wrong turn to your house, and a frown tugs your brows down.

"Uh, I live that way," You point behind you, "It's okay, you can just turn up there, I think."

"We're stopping somewhere first," He explains, car bouncing as he pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store, "Come with me?"

You nod, wordlessly, climbing out of the car. He's already around to your side when you step out, looking only a little upset that he hadn't gotten to open the door for you. He shuts it, though, and catches his jacket when it slips from around your shoulders.

"Oh-! Here," He holds the material open, urging you to fit your arms through the slots, "Put it on, honey."

You blame his honey-sweet tone of voice for how clumsy you are in slipping into the jacket. It's unfair, really, how he's treating you like a precious thing, wrapping you in his jacket and driving you home. Then he zips it for you, all the way up to your chin, and you think you're in love.

The cool night air feels even more now like a fresh start. Thoughts of your awful ex-boyfriend have been looming over you the entire time, but they ebb away with each caring gesture Aaron shows you. It takes every ounce of self control in your body not to tackle him into a kiss when he takes your hand, leading you into the convenience store.

He beelines for the frozen section, grabbing a handheld basket on the way. He stops you right in front of the ice creams, only dropping your hand to gesture at the display case.

"Go ahead," He urges you, "Pick some. That's proper breakup ritual, I hear."

"Aaron, no-!"

"It's a rite of passage," He cuts you off, something stern in his eyes even if they're primarily kind, "Just- here. You like cookies and cream, right?" He eyes a container of the flavor behind the glass, and you nod tentatively, wondering how he'd remembered. You'd only eaten it once at his house, and he'd only known because he'd caught you washing your bowl out, and insisted on doing it himself because you were a guest.

He pushes the basket into your hands, and you watch begrudgingly as he takes two quarts of ice cream from the shelf. You protest weakly as he ushers you to the counter, but he shushes you gently, stepping in front of you to pay.

"Aaron," You mumble, cheeks hot and voice whiny as he waits for the cashier to ring him up. You knock your face against his back, burying it there for safekeeping, and he reaches back to pat your side.

The total isn't egregious, but it's more than you're happy with him spending on you. Of course, you don't have cash, so you're unable to pay him back, either. You'll have to slip Jack money the next time you see him, but you have a sneaking suspicion he'd use it at the school's vending machine instead.

"Thank you," You gush, voice still thick with embarrassment and cheeks still burning as Aaron leads you back to the SUV. He's slipped his hand back into yours, and he tucks the ice cream at your feet when you're settled into your seat.

"Again," He urges, resting his hand over your own where they lay in your lap, "Don't thank me. I'm only treating you like you deserve."

If he notices the monumental smile you try to bite back, he doesn't tease you about it.

He pulls into your driveway shortly after, with no further detours. You're renting a little ground-floor condo, and he walks you to your door with your ice cream in hand.

"Alright," He sighs, passing the bag over to you, "I think you have to watch a romance movie with this," He glances at the bag, "It's the law, I'm pretty sure."

"Oh, yeah?" You grin, the expression brighter than it would have been a half-hour ago, "What if I don't? Are the police gonna show up?"

"I will," He threatens, a warm smile on his face, "And I'm a bit of an ice cream fiend, so don't tempt me."

"Well there's two quarts..." You raise your brows, a silent invitation.

"I don't want to intrude," He starts, but you cut him off before he can even try.

"Mr.- Aaron," You hesitate, voice coming out meager where you want it confident, "I really don't want to be alone right now."

You almost expect him to leave. Sure, he'd been sweet to you tonight. But you're nervous that his sympathy was temporary, and that it's waning. So you stare at his shirt instead of his eyes, and you miss the way his gaze softens.

"Okay." He nods, one foot stepping forwards towards the threshold of your condo, "Okay honey. I'll stay."

Your condo isn't much. You're a college student, not a CEO, and your shoddy furniture tells that story. Aaron doesn't seem to mind, though, setting the bag on the counter and rummaging for spoons.

"You sure you want to share?" He eyes you where you've sat yourself on the couch, quarts and spoons in hand as he joins you.

"I'm sure," You nod, reaching for the tv remote, "I think I'd get sick if I ate two cartons."

A romance movie isn't hard to find, but you feel yourself developing a pounding headache from the exhaustion of crying. The ice cream is sweet on your tongue, cookies crunching between your teeth and staining them dark. You munch through the first half of the movie, digging into the carton with a greedy spoon each time. You don't even breach the halfway point before you have to stop, eyes closing and head pounding.

Aaron's similarly engaged with his ice cream, spoon upside-down in his mouth as he sucks it clean. You try not to stare at his mouth, but you're bashful as you place the lid back on your ice cream tub.

"I'm gonna beat you," Aaron boasts, digging his spoon back in for more ice cream, "Quitter."

"Go ahead," You sigh, head lolling back against the cushions. Your voice is colored with defeat, sad and dull. Aaron suspects it's not just about your unspoken ice cream eating contest.

"C'mere," He sighs, jamming his spoon into his ice cream and wrapping his now free arm around your shoulders. He urges you against his shoulder, something that you'd wanted to do since the moment you'd sat down, but didn't have the guts to.

"I'm sorry, honey." He reminds you as you lay your head against his shoulder, his constant slew of sympathy warming your chest, "He's an idiot."

"I feel like the idiot," You admit, voice in a low grumble, "I should have known it was too good to be true."

He pauses, stiffens, shifts. He's turned to face you, now, nudging your head off of his shoulder so he can look you in the eye. He's frowning, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like... I dunno." You sigh in defeat, "I wasn't exactly everyone's dream girl in high school. And when I started college and everyone seemed older and more mature, it was comforting, like a fresh start. And then he took an interest in me, and I felt like things were finally starting to work for me, like I was finally a girl that guys liked. And then... well, you know the story. It just feels like I should have known better."

All the while, through your confession, Aaron's face has twisted itself into the deepest frown you've ever seen on the man. It looks like it's embedded permanently into his features, like he's stuck there from now on. It's almost cartoonish, and you'd laugh if you weren't so sad.

"Don't say that." He orders, voice stern.

"What?"

"Don't say that." He repeats, "This is not your fault. You were not supposed to see it coming, nor does it mean that people don't like you. College boys are..." He deliberates carefully on his word choice, seeing as he has one himself, "Impulsive. And impulsivity can sometimes be channeled into some pretty stupid shit. Like cheating on your girlfriend. Okay? It's not your fault that college boys are stupid."

"But-" You start with a choked voice, and his disapproving glare intensifies, "He wouldn't have cheated on me if I wasn't doing something wrong, would he? Or- or maybe I just am wrong, maybe I'm just not the type of person that's good enough to make someone stay."

"That is," He rushes to reply, reaching up to thumb a tear away from the apple of your cheek, "The dumbest thing I've ever heard." His hand rests there now, flush to your face, and there's a cold stripe down the middle where he'd been holding his spoon. His fingers are chilly too, but they warm against your skin.

"You are not wrong, there is nothing about you that makes you 'not good enough'. I can think of a thousand things that make you wonderful, but not one dealbreaker. Listen to me, please." He's leaning in, getting closer and closer with every word that tumbles from his lips, "There are people who fall in love with serial killers. No one is unlovable, certainly not you."

"But- but those people fall in love with serial killers because they're serial killers. That's- that's a thing about them, that's a lifestyle that people glorify. No one glorifies mediocrity, Aaron," Your heart sinks, "And that's what I am. I'm mediocre, maybe I'm good enough to take home for a night but I'm not good enough to live with."

In all of your frantic blubbering, you'd avoided eye contact with Aaron. Snapping back to focus, though, you see that it's impossible now, that he's close enough that your noses are brushing, and his breath is fanning over your mouth. Your own breath hitches in your throat, and your heart pounds.

His eyes, once stern and disapproving, are soft around the edges. They're chocolatey, and they speak to his sweet soul that's compelling him to stroke his thumb over the pudge of your cheek. You think for all the world that he's going to kiss you, you almost beg for it, but at the last minute, he tilts his head down, not forwards.

His forehead presses to your own, and his eyes shut.

"You are," He murmurs, holding you close, keeping your face flush to his, "The perfect girl. You're sweet, you're kind, you're funny, you're caring, you're so pretty, you're hardworking, you're resilient, you are... I could name a thousand other things. And, one day," His eyes flutter open, staring into your own as best he can at such a close proximity, "The right person will tell you that."

Aaron is the right person. He has to be, you can't imagine anyone else in the world being as kind or sweet with you as he is. And after all, that's what he says you deserve, right? The way his hand fits around your face seems like a piece of your puzzle you'd never known was missing until it snapped into place, and if you could steal his voice sea-witch style just to hear it all day long, you would.

It's a staring contest, and you blink first.

"I'm glad you told me," You admit, voice thick with emotion. You're not sure whether he picks up on the fact that you're designating him as the right person or not, but you choose not to think about it as he pulls you impossibly closer.

"Don't thank me," He reminds you, "it's what you deserve. Are you tired?"

"Yeah." You admit, slumping your forehead against him even as he tries moving away. It means that your skin slips against his lips, and he presses them into a pucker against your head. You'll savor the feeling forever.

"Go to sleep," He urges you, hand still on your cheek to guide it back to his shoulder. You curl into him much easier now, feeling lovey enough even to wrap your arms around one of his own. The movie plays forgotten on the tv, and your eyes shut to the vision of Aaron's lap, ice cream abandoned between his thighs. It's a nice image, but one you can't think too hard about while sleepy.

His hand comes up from where it had been draped over the cushions behind you to rub your back. He applies soft, gentle pressure, stroking up and down over the fabric of your- his jacket, one that you hope he doesn't take off of you before he leaves. It's grounding, and it only makes you burrow into him more.

The way you know he's the right person for sure is by fighting sleep. You want to conserve your time with Aaron, and you don't want to forget the feeling of his tender touches. You're in that floaty space between sleep and consciousness, somewhere with bodliy sensation but little cognitive ability. Your brain is pleasantly cloudy, and Aaron's hand on your back never stops.

When your breathing evens out, Aaron thinks you're asleep. You feel him shift ever-so-slightly, and you're worried he'll leave you. But he doesn't, he gets even closer, and you feel his lips land on the crown of your head.

"Perfect," He murmurs into your scalp, vibrations thrumming through your skull and wriggling their way into your brain, cementing the thought there, "G'night, sweetheart."

You drift to sleep knowing, without a doubt, that Aaron is the right person for you.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[avvwritesstufff]

𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙄𝙩 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠

𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒- For nearly eight months, Nicole and Paige had been secretly entangled in a relationship that felt equal parts thrilling and dangerous. They’d always known each other, but everything shifted during last year’s tournament. Paige, the star basketball player, and Nicole, the cheer captain—it was the kind of romance that belonged in a teen drama, full of stolen glances and whispered promises. Paige was known for being a player, but with Nicole, it was supposed to be different. Paige swore she loved her, that she’d do anything for her. And for a while, Nicole believed it. Even when she caught Paige in compromising situations more than once, she let it slide. Paige always promised it wouldn’t happen again. Nicole wanted to believe her. She needed to believe her.

𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙎- Angst, gaslighter!paige and gullible!oc

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏- 1.8k+

𝘼/𝙉- this is NOT read over or anything and it’s so bad so i’m sorry i had to curse your tumblr with this☹️

It was a chilly evening in Storrs, the kind of night where the crisp air made everything feel sharper, more alive. Nicole had just gotten back from her late-night class, feeling the fatigue of the day settle in. Usually, evenings like this were reserved for hanging out with Paige, but tonight was different. Paige had canceled last minute for some team bonding activity that her Coach had insisted on. Nicole didn’t take it personally—she’d been through plenty of those herself and understood how it went.

Still, the change in routine left her at a loose end.

As she kicked off her shoes and considered an early night, her phone buzzed. It was her friends, Hailee, Angie, and Brooklyn.

“You have to come out with us tonight,” Angie insisted. “We haven’t seen you since school started! You’ve practically gone ghost!”

Nicole hesitated, guilt creeping in. They weren’t wrong. Ever since things with Paige had deepened, she’d pulled back from everyone else without really noticing. “Okay, fine. I’m in,” she finally agreed, knowing they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The best part of going out, Nicole thought as she rummaged through her closet, was always the getting-ready phase. Her dorm buzzed with energy as Hailee, Angie, and Brooklyn arrived, makeup bags in hand.

Loud music blasted from the TV as they crowded around the small mirror, trading tips and compliments while brushes and eyeliner flew around. For the first time in what felt like forever, Nicole let herself relax, laughing at their inside jokes and soaking in the warmth of their company.

“Alright, Nikki,” Angie teased, narrowing her eyes as she applied her lipstick. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Nicole froze mid-swipe of mascara. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on,” Angie pressed, smirking. “We’re not dumb. You’ve been MIA, and don’t think we haven’t noticed that hickey on your neck.”

Nicole’s hand shot to her neck instinctively. She laughed awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not like that. My classes have just been insane this semester.” She stood up quickly and made her way to the kitchen.

Angie raised a skeptical brow, following her. “Right, because classes leave perfectly placed hickeys on your neck. Sure, Nikki. Tell us another one.”

Nicole sighed, realizing she wouldn’t win this battle. “Fine! Yes, I’ve been seeing someone. But it’s really not a big deal.”

Angie’s eyes lit up. “Oh my God, spill! What’s his name?”

Nicole hesitated, thinking fast. “Um… Paul. His name’s Paul. He’s sweet. And hot.”

“Paul?” Angie repeated, tilting her head. “Alright, what’s his last name? Let me look him up on Instagram.”

“Oh, he’s not on Insta,” Nicole replied quickly, pouring herself two shots from the freezer. “He’s more of an off-the-grid kind of guy.”

Angie frowned but before she could press further, Nicole checked her phone. “Wow, would you look at that? It’s already 9:30. Time to go!”

The subject was dropped—for now—as they hurried to get their coats and head out.

The four of them piled into Hailee’s boyfriend’s car, who kindly dropped them off at the local bar. As they walked in, Nicole took in the lively atmosphere: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the low beat of music in the background.

The girls claimed a corner table, but Nicole made a beeline for the bar. She ordered a Dirty Shirley—Paige’s favorite—and as the bartender handed her the drink, it hit her.

She hadn’t talked to Paige all night.

PB💕

3:36 pm

Coach said I can't be

on my phone during this

thing, I'll call you later if

I'm not exhausted

Love you💕

(nikki❤️this message)

hey p,

i haven’t heard from

you and wanted to make

sure everything was going

good, i love u❤️

Nicole set her phone down and glanced up, and there she was—Paige. In the middle of the crowded room. With another girl.

Nicole froze. The world around her seemed to blur, her focus locked on the scene unfolding before her. All she could do was sit there, paralyzed, as disbelief washed over her. Paige wasn’t just with someone else—she had lied. And to Nicole, that was the most jarring part. Paige never lied. At least, that’s what Nicole thought she knew.

Time dragged, stretching what was barely a minute into what felt like hours. Finally, Paige looked her way. Their eyes met. Nicole felt a tear slip down her cheek, unbidden and unwelcome. The moment Paige saw her, Nicole broke the connection, pushing herself up and weaving through the tightly packed bodies in the bar. She needed air.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face as she sank onto the steps, staring blankly ahead. Her tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away, determined not to let them win.

The door burst open behind her.

“Nik! Nicole—thank God. Please, let me explain!” Paige’s voice was frantic as she scanned for her.

Nicole didn’t turn, didn’t flinch. She just stared ahead, her face expressionless.

Paige moved closer. “Ma, come on—” she reached out, her hand brushing Nicole’s arm.

“Don’t touch me.” Nicole’s voice was flat, cold, devoid of the warmth Paige once knew. She jerked her arm away.

Paige knelt in front of her, her voice softer now, pleading. “Let’s go home, Nik. We can talk about this. You’re the only one I care about, you know that. I don’t even know that girl’s name—she came up to me, I swear.”

Nicole hesitated. Her mind raced, torn between fleeing and confronting the betrayal. She exhaled sharply.

“Fine. But let me say goodbye to my friends first.”

Paige nodded, following closely as Nicole re-entered the bar. Nicole wiped her face quickly, masking her turmoil as she approached her friends.

“Guys, don’t kill me,” she said with a forced laugh. “I’ve got an important assignment due in an hour. I promise I’ll stay longer next time!”

They groaned but hugged her goodbye, none of them catching the storm beneath her calm exterior.

Outside again, the silence between them was heavy. Once in the car, Paige started the engine, glancing nervously at Nicole.

“Nicole, you know you’re the only one I want. I was trying to push her off me, I promise—”

“No.” Nicole’s voice cut her off, sharp and steady. “Stop that. You don’t get to promise or swear on anything anymore. You’re a liar, Paige. And I’m not stupid. This isn’t the first girl, and it won’t be the last.”

Her voice cracked, but she kept her eyes fixed ahead. Paige reached out, but Nicole flinched.

“Baby, come on. You know I’d never—”

“Stop calling me that,” Nicole snapped, her voice rising. “You’re a narcissistic piece of shit, and I never should’ve agreed to this. You can’t commit to anything but basketball.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling over. “Nik, what the fuck. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

Nicole let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m saying. How many, Paige? How many girls have you cheated on me with? Actually, forget it—I don’t want to know. Let me out.”

“What? Are you serious? The car’s moving, Nicole!” Paige veered onto the shoulder, her voice rising.

“Let me out!” Nicole fumbled with her seatbelt, finally yanking the door open.

“Nicole, stop! You’re drunk!” Paige shouted, pulling the car to a screeching halt as Nicole stumbled onto the pavement.

Ignoring her, Nicole began walking down the dark street.

“Nicole, get back in the car!” Paige called after her, panic lacing her voice. “I’m not leaving you out here in the cold!”

“Leave me alone, Paige. My dorm’s two blocks away.” Nicole’s voice was slurred but defiant as she staggered forward.

Paige caught up to her, grabbing her arm just as Nicole tripped. She steadied her, their eyes meeting. For a brief moment, Nicole saw a flicker of the Paige she had fallen for—the girl who had made the last eight months feel like a dream.

Without a word, Nicole turned and walked back to the car. Paige followed, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto her face.

“Just because i’m in the car doesn’t mean we are good paige” nicole states turning toward the door and leaning against it

The ride back was short, but the silence between them was deafening.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Paige helped Nicole out of the car, steadying her as they walked to her dorm. The night air was cold, but the silence between them was colder.

At the door, Paige hesitated, then pushed it open and followed Nicole inside.

“Out,” Nicole said, her voice low and sharp, pointing at the door.

Paige ignored her, forcing a soft smile. “Baby, you’re just drunk. I don’t wanna leave you alone like this.” She closed the door behind her and gently guided Nicole toward her bedroom.

Nicole didn’t argue, too drained to fight. She sat on the edge of her bed, watching Paige through tired, narrowed eyes. Paige set her phone down on the nightstand and knelt in front of her, slipping off Nicole’s shoes with care.

“I got you,” Paige murmured, her voice soft, almost tender. She helped Nicole out of her jacket, then started removing her makeup with a tissue from the bedside table.

Nicole didn’t say a word, just stared at Paige, trying to decide if this was love or manipulation.

“I’m gonna grab you some water,” Paige said, standing up. “Try to lie down.”

As Paige left the room, Nicole let out a shaky breath. Her eyes landed on the phone Paige had left on the nightstand. It lit up with a notification.

Snapchat: Nessa🤫🍑📞

Nicole’s stomach churned. She picked up the phone, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it—no password. The messages stared back at her:

Nessa🤫🍑📞: When are you gonna be here? I neeeed you, Paige.

Nessa🤫🍑📞: Bro, are you seriously ignoring me because of that girl you’re “with”? Like, come on, Paige. You know I’m the one—not her.🙄

Nicole’s blood ran cold. Every doubt, every suspicion she’d tried to push aside slammed into her like a freight train.

Paige walked back in, a glass of water in hand. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Nicole standing there, holding her phone.

Nicole handed it to her without a word. “Get out.”

Paige opened her mouth, but the look in Nicole’s eyes stopped her. It wasn’t anger; it was something colder, something final. Nicole stepped past her and opened the door, standing silently as she waited.

Paige hesitated, her fingers tightening around her phone. She wanted to fight, to explain, but she knew better. She could come back tomorrow. She always did. Say she was sorry, promise Nicole the world, and somehow, break it right back.

Without a word, Paige walked out.

Nicole closed the door, locking it behind her. She leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. The tears came then, silent but relentless, each one carving out a piece of the love she’d held for Paige.

For the first time, she let herself wonder if she could ever put the pieces back together.

[visualtaehyun]

I'm not making the same dumb mistake twice in a row so- 'Chop' Anon, please find the long answer to your ask right here! And curse this hellsite for eating asks...

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏

Anon, my answer is gonna be twofold. The word ชอบ /chaawp/ = 'like' comes up a lot this episode and you can see that it can be used exactly the same as in English, platonically or romantically, it really just depends on context. And as you said, Jane does have the context of catching Ryan staring at him, getting flustered, trying to act nonchalant, talking to himself, zoning out, and generally acting real fucking weird lmao all throughout the episode. It's no wonder that he assumes Ryan's hangry or mad again, even checking for stomach rumbles 😂

The word 'like'

Thai has this fun feature where you don't always need to use pronouns or any other qualifying words to denote who or what you're referring to which can be both a boon cause it simplifies talking by assuming others will know the meaning from a previous or given context (or you intentionally omit that meaning!) and a curse cause it makes translating nuance a bit of a struggle sometimes 🥴

For example, this routinely happens in short question-answer exchanges but I'll let you be the judge:

- Pie: แกชอบป่ะ /gae chaawp bpa/ = You like [it]? - Ryan, only staring at Jane: ชอบ /chaawp/ = [I] like [🤡?]. - Jane, turning around: [🤡?] - Me @ translating stuff like this: 🤡

เขาดูเหมื่อนชอบพี่เจนนะครับ /khao duu meuuan chaawp phi Jane na khrap/ = I'm jealous because Khun Joy keeps hitting on you. lol just kidding subs are right on

- Jane: แบบนี้ ชอบไหมครับ /baaep nee, chaawp mai khrap/ = lit.: Like this/this way, [do you] like [it]? -> this sounds like an odd thing to say to a client in both English and Thai lmao clearly you'd usually ask if it's 'okay' or 'good' or something like that but the script needed to set up Khun Joy's flirty answer - Joy: ชอบตั้งแต่แรกแล้ว /chaawp dtang dtaae raaek laaeo/ = [I've] liked [🤡?] since the beginning.

I'll get back to Ryan's last 'like' at the end~

Jane and pronouns

The second part of my answer is how interesting and, frankly, puzzling I find Jane in how he talks to Ryan. Up until part [2/4] Jane actually completely omits any pronouns with him, as he's done frequently in the past. But when he does use them with Ryan- boy oh boy, he's kinda all over the place this episode! If Ryan wasn't so busy stewing in his confused feelings and jealousy, he might've noticed that Jane keeps flip-flopping between very different choices. Kudos to P'Baimon for catching Jane acting like a lovesick fool too that one time he's smiling at the printer 👀

Here's every single instance of Jane using 1st and 2nd pers. pronouns with Ryan, every other time you read any 1st or 2nd pers. pronouns in the subs in conversation with Ryan, he actually omits them, which is most of the time!

1) When they're unseriously fighting in front of the printer:

เรานี่แหละ ประหลาด /rao nee lae, bpra laat/ เราเป็นเด็กฝึกงานของพี่ /rao bpen dek feuk ngaan khaawng phi/ -> 🫣 that last one got me a bit shy with the ของพี่ /khaawng phi/ (= mine, my [...], lit. phi's [...]) and I think the editor agrees with me there, considering the music cut out lol

2) When Jane discovers the broken bottle debacle and turns to Ryan:

คุณไปรอผมที่ห้อง /khun bpai raaw pom thee haawng/ -> back to formal pronouns again, either because they're not alone or because he's about to scold Ryan or both even

3) When Jane scolds Ryan:

ถ้ามีคนเป็นอะไรขึ้นมา คุณรับผิดชอบไหวหรอ /thaa mee khohn bpen a rai kheun maa, khun rap phit chaawp wai raw/ -> still formal

แล้วมีพี่ให้โทรหาคนเดียวหรอ /laaeo mee phi hai thoh haa khohn diiao raw/ พี่รู้เรื่องนี้คนเดียวหรอ /phi ruu reuuang nee khohn diiao raw/ -> arguably softening his scolding a bit by switching to the more familiar พี่ /phi/ they established at the end of last ep., maybe because of Ryan's voice too which at this point sounds close to tears

And then Ryan is crying 🥺 Oof. Honestly? Jane was actually harsh this time! But rightfully so too, and it's very much in line with his principles and character. And he does immediately apologize for raising his voice and being so harsh, exactly like he told Ryan he would, in ep. 3, if he did wrong by him:

ที่หงุดหงิดเนี่ย เพราะว่าพี่เป็นห่วง /thee ngoot ngit niia, phraw waa phi bpen huuang/ = That [I got so] angry is because I was/am worried. แล้วก็ขอโทษด้วยที่พูดแรง ๆ เมื่อกี้ /laaeo gaaw khaaw thoht duuay thee phuut raaeng raaeng meuua gee/ -> no pronouns here again

This is probably just me being me lol but it's giving Lian harshly scolding Kuea in Cutie Pie when he puts himself in danger mishandling a knife and then immediately softening when Kuea starts crying.

ถ้ามันมีคนได้รับบาดเจ็บ ตัวแกเองนั่นแหละจะเป็นต้นเหตุ /thaa man mee khohn dai rap baat jep, dtuua gae eng nan lae ja bpen dtohn heht/

By this point, I was literally like 'Huh. What even is going on, he's so all over the place in terms of pronoun use, where did this แก come from all of a sudden?' My reading of this is that he's actually just as unsure and confused about Ryan and his feelings for him as Ryan has been all episode.

แก /gae/ is an informal familiar 2nd pers. pronoun that's a little impolite but not nearly as rude as มึง /meung/ and can similarly express closeness with someone you know well, it's used between age mates or for someone younger. In Thai BL, you hear แก /gae/ a lot more from or between girl friends than the rude pronoun of choice between guy friends, มึง /meung/. If you scroll back up, you'll see that Pie called Ryan แก /gae/ as well! The kids are a different story though, they all use a variety of different pronouns amongst each other, depending on context, mood, situation, individual relationship, ... I ain't getting into that lol it would take forever to explain, please no one get any ideas asking me about all of that 🥴

So here we are again with the word 'like'

ผมชอบงานนี้ ชอบที่นี้ /pom chaawp ngaan nee. chaawp thee nee/ แล้วก็ชอบพี่ดว้ย /laaeo gaaw chaawp phi duuay/

Arthur meme meets 😦 emoji

Sometimes Jane looks at Ryan like he's trying to solve a puzzle. It seems like he just realized that they're having two different conversations. But judging from his subtle reactions-- He's not dumb enough to assume that Ryan means it any other way than romantically, considering Ryan's odd behavior all throughout the episode too. Looking at the preview, I think he's gonna refuse to acknowledge Ryan's clearly romantic feelings though, not least of all because HR is already looming in the background, ready to go 🚨!!!

หรือเป็นเพราะผมบอกชอบพี่ไปแล้ว [...] /reuu bpen phraw pom baawk chaawp phi bpai laaeo/ = lit.: Or it's because I've told you I like you [...] -> บอกชอบ /baawk chaawp/ = lit. tell like; tell someone you like them (romantically), confess to liking someone

So! ชอบ /chaawp/ isn't exclusively romantic, same as the English 'like', but there's just no way around how Ryan meant this. And Jane knows it 🌚🌝 Hope my rambles satisfied your curiosity, anon!

[frankenkyle19]

Glitter On The Floor After The Party

description/warnings: Peter x reader at a New Year’s Eve party, Peter admits that he’s never had a New Year’s kiss and against better judgement, reader decides to give him one. Smut, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), teasing, just a bunch of tenderness and it’s so cute okay thanks bye

Based off of the amazing request I got from our lord and savior @silverzoomies I hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

word count: 4.6k

Loving you,

Isn’t the right thing to do

How Can I

Ever change things that I feel?

If I could

Baby, I’d give you my world

The soft background music of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” played amongst the chatter and laughs of conversation across the room. You stood leaning against the wall, sipping on a solo cup of lemonade as you did one of your favorite things. People watching. 

You didn’t like to be in the middle of a conversation, but listening to it from the outside was something you did enjoy. You didn’t try to snoop, if someone was having a conversation they obviously intended to keep hush hush, you moved on to listen to a louder, carefree conversation instead. 

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come. 

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever. 

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move  at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable. 

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous. 

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia. 

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for? 

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here. 

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up. 

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question.  It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing. 

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten. 

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you. 

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope. 

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong. 

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system. 

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching. 

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet. 

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here 

We’re just two lost souls 

Swimming in a fishbowl 

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7… 

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have 

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you. 

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other. 

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man. 

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed  and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch. 

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second. 

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed. 

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad. 

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him. 

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it. 

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten. 

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available. 

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you. 

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face. 

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.  

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily. 

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies. 

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

Maybe this new year wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Perfume Regret

ExBoyfriend!Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: A fic inspired by Attention by Charlie Puth. Your ex-boyfriend Miguel O'Hara left you heartbroken and no matter how intense the effect he has on you still is, you're determined to use this party to get even.

Warnings: +18 meaning SMUT AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI OR SO HELP ME GOD. Also there's angst and good old anger-fueled sex. The ending isn't heartbreaking don't worry.

Word count: 4K

I know that dress is karma 

Perfume regret 

Got me thinking 'bout when you were mine 

Nightclubs had never been your scene. 

While you weren't strictly averse to them, you didn't thrive in that element as much as some of your friends did. Yet, whenever you decided to make an appearance, it wasn't the stroboscopic lights, the promise of a few drinks with friends, or the energizing music that made the night worth it. 

It was the hunt. 

And the preparations began long before you even set foot out of your apartment, from the moment you stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a fluffy bathrobe, your face a blank canvas. Getting ready with your favorite, emboldening playlist was usually a luxury but not tonight. Judging by the way you struggled to apply eyeliner over your lids with such shaky hands, tonight, you were in dire need of a crushing amount of confidence. 

So much so that a glass with one remaining sip of red wine stood next to your makeup bag, waiting for you to take that last bit of liquid courage. 

Yes, the mere thought of the chase always made your chest swell with excitement. The stolen glances from across the dancefloor until someone gave in and tried to make contact. Loud music left people no choice but to hold conversations in loud whispers that tickled your ear. The desperate attempts to make themselves worthy of your time and the small concessions you made to make them feel like the most special person in that tiny, packed, overpriced club. Flirting was a tango meant for two, and not knowing what kind of partner you'd be dancing with was exhilarating. 

Not this time, however, you thought as you picked up the glass and poured the remaining wine down your throat. Tonight you were after a much too familiar prey that you'd once been dumb enough to let get away. 

As soon as you got the digital invitation to the Alchemax Innovation Department New Year's Eve party, you knew it was time to settle the score. 

A short buzz coming from your phone interrupted your train of thought as the screen lit up with a text from whom you considered to be your work best friend, Liz. 

Heyy :) u coming? 

Yep. Be there in 20, is everybody there already?

O'Hara is missing. Idk if he's coming, though. 

Oh. 

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of all of this being for nothing. Whatever,. Who cared? You weren't doing this for him. You were doing it for yourself because you wanted to go out and have fun. 

A weak smile tugged at your lips when you couldn't even convince yourself with that blatant lie. God, you felt like a terrible feminist at the moment. Screw you, Miguel O'Hara. 

Those had been the last words you said to him before marching out of his apartment and slamming the door after you. Ever since that week during which he’d vanished from work with no explanation, your boyfriend had started to cancel your dates at the last minute or still be out at odd hours, and when he started to simply disappear and not answer your calls or texts several times throughout the day you began to worry.

When he asked if you could talk about something important, you figured you'd be getting an explanation, not dumped. 

The reason, according to him? He was dealing with some personal issues that he could not tell you about, but he'd single-handedly decided it was in your best interest to just move on with your life, so he'd decided to break things off. His face when he said all of that remained engraved in your brain since that day. Cold. Logical. As devoid of any visceral emotion as a doctor would be when recommending you to give up carbs or red meat. 

Two years of your life you'd given to him. You were planning to move in together. You were happy. For what felt like the very first time in your life, you were in love. 

You took a deep breath to keep tears from running down your cheeks and ruining your mascara. 

Even almost six months later, your heart painfully fluttered at the mention of his name.

Carefully, you dried your eyes with a piece of paper and took another deep, slow breath. Your eyes, beautifully framed by a smoky eyeshadow, slowly traced the reflection of your body in the mirror. A sleek, simple dress with a small slit on the side hugged your figure. You loved the color: a nearly black navy blue that matched your chosen makeup palette. 

At the sound of your phone, your eyes drifted down to the lit-up screen. 

Oh, nvm, he just got here. 

The game was afoot. 

As much as it hurt your pride to admit it, you were decidedly nervous as you made your way into the dimly lit nightclub, your eyes discreetly scanning the crowd in search of a particular set of brown eyes. 

Suddenly, a voice made your face in the opposite direction. 

"(Y/N)! Over here!" Liz called from the bar, waving at you with a huge smile that you returned as you walked towards her after wistfully looking at the busy crowd one last time. It wasn't until you reached the bar that you noticed she was sitting next to a man you didn't recognize. 

"So, this is she," she nearly yelled right next to the man's ear when you got close enough to be heard above the deafening electronic beats. 

"Hi, (Y/N), right?" He said, reaching out one hand, "I'm David. Liz has told me a lot about you," 

"Dave here just joined the team," Liz explained, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "I thought it would be nice to make him feel welcomed. I'll leave you to it. I have to go say hi to a few people," She continued as she left the bar, not before giving you a certain look that made you realize you'd walked straight into a trap. While David was decidedly handsome, and you could've considered him to be your type under different circumstances, right then, your mind was somewhere else. 

"Sure," You replied distractedly, "So why did you choose to work here?" 

That should be enough to keep him talking for a while about his college education and how all he'd ever wanted to do was work for this company and so on while you focused on the matter at hand. 

Where the hell was he? 

Could it be that he'd just popped in to greet a few people and had left before you arrived? Before the countdown? 

Maybe he was celebrating New Year's with somebody else? 

"Sorry, one shot of tequila, please," You loudly called as the bartender walked past you. 

"Make that two, thanks man," David added with a flirtatious smile that you returned out of politeness, mentally praying for Liz to come back soon, knowing damn well that if she'd done this on purpose, there'd be no way out of this conversation. 

You downed the shot as soon as it was placed in front of you. 

David asked you something, but his voice reached your ears as if he was underwater. For a minute, you wondered if such a small amount of alcohol could make you feel so dizzy until you realized it was something else. Your eyes had landed on the back of a familiar head. Brown, scruffy hair and a hearty laugh that had your hands shaking again as you placed the glass back on the wooden bar. 

"God, I'm so sorry. My head's all over the place right now. You were saying?" You said, leaning closer to David. 

"I asked if Alchemax tends to go easy on the new guys or kick them to the curb at the first mistake." 

You laughed as if he'd just told an amazing joke, your eyes covertly going from his face to your target right behind him. At the sound of your laugh, his back stiffened, and you could see he was about to turn around. Right before he did, you quickly tore your eyes off him and glued them to David's face. 

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be just fine. I'll tell you what, I'll look out for you. How's that sound?” You replied, a more relaxed smile plastered on your face. David's eyes lit up. Poor guy. He probably thought that out of nowhere, his luck had shifted. 

Slowly and without losing the amused grin, you peeked over David's shoulder and found Miguel O'Hara's searing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike you, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he let those same calculating eyes unashamedly scrutinize every inch of your body that your gorgeous dress didn't cover and secretly fantasize about what it did. 

Another loud laughter leaving your lips made him snap out of a trance-like state and look into your eyes. Hunting on grounds you were no stranger to had its advantages, such as knowing what to do and when. And so you didn't look away. You held his gaze, undaunted, as you took David's unfinished tequila and brought it up to your lips to take a sip, barely sticking out your tongue to slowly lick the last droplets off your lower lip. You mouthed an apology to the man before you as you walked away from the bar, both for the stolen tequila and for what was about to happen. 

Trying your hardest not to smile or look at him, you made your way through the crowd straight toward Miguel, whose eyes you knew had remained with you since that intense visual exchange back at the bar. You felt them so intensely that you wondered if he could make you burst out in flames just by looking at you. You clenched your jaw as you got close enough for the scent of his enticing cedarwood cologne to fill your nostrils and travel all the way down to your chest, where your heart beat so strongly that it physically hurted. 

You only had one shot. This was it. 

It wasn't until you walked right past him that you finally acknowledged him, gifting him a faint smile as you stepped around him and walked toward the restrooms. 

As soon as the door closed after you, you found the two stalls were empty. After confirming you were alone, a nervous grin took over your features. Biting your lip, you approached the mirror and distractedly began to comb your hair back in place and even retouched your nude lipstick, your eyes set on the reflection of the bathroom door. 

Almost as if you'd timed it, the second you finished applying your makeup and threw it back into your purse, Miguel stealthily slid inside and shut the door after him. 

A minute that felt like an eternity to him transcurred while you kept patiently tucking strands of hair behind your ears, concealing a smug grin. Something had to give. More often, sooner than later. 

"Mind telling me what the fuck was that?" 

His voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears like a once-favorite song you hadn't heard in months. 

"What do you mean?" You calmly asked, never interrupting your task. 

"(Y/N), stop that and look at me." He commanded, his patience wearing thinner by the second. 

"I am looking at you," You nonchalantly replied, your eyes transfixed on his tense shape in the corner of the mirror as you slowly wiped some smudged lipstick off the edge of your bottom lip. 

Outside, the one-minute countdown began. Neither of you could care less. Inside that dimly lit, empty nightclub bathroom, time was irrelevant. 

In less than five steps, Miguel reached your side and, placing his hands on your shoulders, firmly spun you around to face him. 

"Carajo, ¿Tú no entiendes, verdad?" He hissed, his next leaving his mouth after an ominous pause, "Now look at me."

Not happy with the way you were being handled, you shoved him away and shot him a glare with your arms folded before you. 

"There, I'm looking. What do you want?" 

"I want you to tell me who's that asshole and why you seem to think he's so damn funny," 

"I'm sorry, O'Hara, that's none of your business anymore, is it?" You spat out.

"It was none of my business,' He agreed, wincing at the dry use of his last name, "Until you showed up in here looking like that, laughing like a dumb teen at some guy's dumb jokes, making sure I'm watching after you did some pretty extensive research to make sure I was coming."

Wanting to rebuke that argument, you immediately opened your mouth just for him to interrupt you. 

"What? You thought I wouldn't find out, bonita?" 

Miguel started to move towards you without giving you a chance to explain yourself. Still, you weren't sure of what you would've said had you been given the time. Three seconds later, he was standing right before you, trapping you against the cold stone of the sinks.

"Why are you doing this?" He absentmindedly asked, as if he was actually questioning himself or already knew the answer. Before you could react, he suddenly leaned in, burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath, taking in the scent of your perfume along with something else that you couldn’t perceive but seemed to pull him forward so violently that he had to use both his strong arms on either side of you to hold himself back. Still, he kept babbling against the soft skin of your neck, “I didn’t want to do it…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…mi amor, I just wanted to protect you,” 

“Protect me from what?” You asked in a breathy whisper, your self-control flaking when you felt him move even closer until your backside was pressed against the sink and your front...

You pressed your lips together to keep a noise that would be much too revealing from leaving your lips. 

Still, you realized your trials and tribulations weren’t over when his hands slowly moved closer to your thighs until his thumbs were tracing faint circles on them. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a hoarse voice before burying his nose behind your ear once more. You had to want him to stop. Before you could gather up the courage to tell him off as you should, you leaned forward and feverishly pressed your lips against his in a kiss that was all but sweet. Without breaking the kiss, in a display of both strength and coordination that was new to you, Miguel slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, placing you on top of the sink with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the way he nudged your legs out of the way so he could grind his lower half into yours. This time there was no way in hell you could contain your moans. 

Pleased with the beautiful sounds he was eliciting from you, Miguel’s hands found their way back up to the thin straps of your dress, which he gently slid off from your shoulders before gripping your chin in his hand and tilting your head to the side so he could devour every inch of skin available, occasionally trapping it between his teeth to make sure it’d leave a mark. Even in your haze, you could notice there was something new to the way he was ravishing you. It was as if he was desperately trying to be gentle, to take things slow, just for something primal to take over and coerce him into taking you for himself. 

Once again, you stopped thinking when he pressed the hard bulge in his pants against you, the friction over your barely clothed clit throwing all logical thoughts out the window. 

“We don’t have much time,” You urged him, not even sure if he’d locked the door after himself. However, deep inside, you knew your motives had less to do with the little privacy and more with the way he unhurriedly worshipped your body and peppered kisses all over it, how his hands gently roamed it as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. It reminded you of what you two had in a way that was still too painful to remember. You wouldn’t lose yourself to the memories of your past and miss out on how good he was making you feel right now. Tonight you weren’t two people deeply in love with one another trying to fight back the regrets of letting go of what was most precious to you, but two strangers about to fuck in the bathroom of a nightclub. 

As if to reinforce that thought, he swiftly pushed you further back onto the sink and pushed your legs apart even more, your dress ridding up almost all the way to your waist. You shivered as new skin was exposed to both the cold beneath you and the heat from Miguel’s skin as he fumbled with the fly of his pants. Meanwhile, you kept yourself busy trying to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands and silently thanked he wasn’t wearing a jacket in the first place. You needed to get him out of as many clothes as possible in the little time you had, needing to feel more of his skin against yours. 

Your desire wasn’t fulfilled until the shirt slid off his tan, broad shoulders, and you were pressed against his bare chest, his hands resting at the curve of your lower back as his head barely slid over your soaked slit, prying a raspy moan out of his throat that sounds almost painful. Still, even when you slid your hands around his shoulders and intertwined your fingers behind the nape of his head, he didn’t move further. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathlessly asked, arching your back towards him with a huff just for him to move his hips away, escaping your touch, trying to regain some control over himself. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” He muttered. Shit. Not right now. Out of the whole night, he had to choose this precise moment? No. He hurt you. He owed you. And now it was his turn to shut up and take it. 

Taking advantage of his low guard, you hooked your feet behind his back and roughly pulled him towards you, another needy moan escaping your lips as you felt him right at your entrance, whatever remaining reluctance keeping him from sinking into you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from begging. 

“Alright,” He finally says, his hands sliding under your thighs to hold you firmly in place, “If this is what it takes for you to listen to me, bonita, así le vamos a hacer entonces.” 

He accentuated his words by slamming into you and immediately picking up a maddeningly fast pace, the loud music outside hopefully drowning out your endless string of broken moans. 

“I just…wanted you to be happy,” He spoke in a strained voice in between thrusts. 

“Shut up,” You snapped at him. You were happy. And it did nothing but further enrage you to see he was unaware of how miserable you were now without him. Or maybe he was aware because he reached that spot that always made your legs uncontrollably quiver and focused all his energy on it as if he was trying to make up for everything. 

“I love you,” He blurted out as he felt you clenching around his length, his hips stuttering for a second before the sigh that left your lips made him lift your leg further up his torso and slam into you with renewed fire, “God, (Y/N) I love you so much, I can’t do this anymore,” 

“Shut up,” You sobbed, this time as a plead and not an order. Your heart fluttered as you heard the words you’d waited months to hear, and feeling him roughly stroke your walls at this new angle became too much for you to bear. A string of ‘shut ups’ and sounds that resembled his name left your lips as your hands fell to his stomach, trying to push him away while paradoxically needing him to be closer, needing to feel more of him just in case this was the last time you felt him stretch you out in a way you were hauntingly certain nobody else would ever come close to. 

And he wasn’t doing any better. He wanted to pull your head against his chest and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to get on his knees and spend the rest of the night apologizing using his words or his tongue, whatever you wanted as long as you went home with him that night. He wanted you to live a happy, normal life. He couldn’t give you that anymore. Not after that night. Not after the accident. 

But those bad thoughts melted away in his brain when he saw your eyes pressed shut, your beautiful, furrowed eyebrows arching over them perfectly as you chased that high that Miguel knew only he could give you. Something that sounded like an actual sentence left your lips so quietly that he had to lean closer to get it. 

“What was that, bonita?” 

You pressed your lips together, unwilling to repeat yourself until another perfectly calculated thrust pried the half-coherent words out of your mouth. 

“Need you…inside. Please, Miguel, please,”  

Hearing his name being called out like that for the first time in months was all he needed to come undone, his pace faltering as he pressed himself against you, strong arms gripping your waist as he spilled his load inside you with one last labored moan. 

Nothing but extenuated pants could be heard inside the bathroom for a whole, tense minute before you finally moved, taking a few sheets of paper from the dispenser next to the sinks to clean yourself up. 

“What are you doing?” He asked as you straightened your dress and tried to somehow fix your disheveled hair. 

“You wanted to apologize, you did, and I forgive you,” You categorically answered, “But don’t expect me to come running back into your arms as if what you did was nothing,” 

Still, you needed him to know there was hope left for the both of you. So you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then his cheek, granting yourself one moment of vulnerability as you looked into his eyes with a gentle smile. 

“I love you too,” You whispered, giving in to the urge to kiss him again. You basked in his shocked look before turning your back to him and going back to the party, where you bumped into Liz less than five minutes later. 

“There you are! Where the hell were you? You missed the countdown!” 

It wasn’t until you looked around at the confetti-filled floor and the large numbers on a screen that you remembered. 

“I went to the bathroom,” You replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and reaching out to take a glass of champagne from one of the several trays atop the tables, “Where did your friend run off to?” 

“David?” Liz asked, a deep red blush spreading over her cheeks, “He had to go home. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re getting dinner next Friday,” 

“Don’t mind at all,” You replied with a bright smile, eyes already scanning the half-empty club, once again looking for that same face. The one you knew you’d always look for in a crowd for the rest of your life. This time, thanks to the small number of people left, it wasn’t hard to come across his eyes. Amused, you raised your glass at him with a soft, genuine laugh. He did his best to look annoyed, but the minute you tilted your head and gave him your best apologetic look, Miguel rolled his eyes and shook his head with a reluctant smile that made you laugh again before taking a sip of that cheap champagne. 

This was going to be a great year.

[lunatic-pudge]

Postal Dude SFW and NSFW Headcanons

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

I love Postal Dude. He reminds me a lot of Sniper, so that might not help. These can apply to basically any version of Dude you want, but I tend to use PD2 as the default Dude. Those some things would probably be different for PD1.

So yeah, I got stuff that I need to finish working on. I'm halfway done with this one TF2 ask I got. So Imma try to finish that up ASAP.

And warning for sexual stuff and mentions of violence, but considering that this is Postal, the violence part shouldn't be too much of a bother

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

SFW

-Oh boy oh boy, where do I even begin with my baby boy Dude. Postal was something I always had a slight intrest in but now it hit me full force so here we are. Plus he's got some similarities to Sniper as well so it doesn't help either. I can't control myself anymore. I need this man pregnant and i need it NOW!

-But anyways, Imma start throwing some stuff out there. This poor babe has been through it. He's been through Hell and back, literally.  He's gotten better over the years, but there are times where things feel like they're getting worse again. He's gotten better with dealing with it. Though, he's not the best when comforting his partner if they're struggling mentally. He tries his best, but he's just so unsure of what to do. He's good at sitting with you, having an arm wrapped around you as you hold onto him, venting your problems out. It's easy for him to be a listening ear. Any advice from him is probably not good advice. If there's something you want, he'll get it for you. A blanket? Done. Some ice cream? Okay, what flavor. It's the little things

-If you wanna be with this mess of a man, you gotta be semi comfortable with the violence. He's gonna be coming home almost every night covered in blood, acting like he didn't just kill someone over a doughnut. And you gotta be comfortable with his massive collection of weapons. He'll teach you how to use them so you can protect yourself if he isn't around.

-Which leads me to the fact that he WILL kill for you. Whether it'd be to protect you, to prove that he loves you, or even out of jealousy. He can be convinced to not kill someone but it does take some persuasion. He just wants to keep you safe, and he trusts no one but you, especially since the people of Paradise are rather "interesting". Though, he might just wait for you to be out of sight to kill the person you wanted spared... Oops...

-His love language is acts of services and physical touch. Homie won't be able to keep his hands off you. Sexual or not, he NEEDS to feel you. It makes him feel sane to know you're there and real. And if you need help with something, he's there to help you with it. He'd love it if you'd go on errands with him. It'd make things less boring AND it means more time to spend with you

-Also, to be with this man means Champ needs to approve of you first. Champ is his baby, so if Champ doesn't like you then clearly you aren't worth his time. But if Champ approves of you and you love and spoil him, then you might just be marriage material

-He's such a goofball. He'll be constantly teasing you. Not a day goes by where he isn't lovingly tormenting you over something dumb. He does it cause he loves you. He means no harm with it and will let off it if asked. Don't let him know about any sensitive or ticklish spots of yours cause he WILL be using those spots against you

-Very big on being able to laze around with you and doing nothing. Laying together on the bed or couch, alcohol and snacks readily available, and music playing in the background. He's a bully in a sense where he would want his music playing, claiming to have good taste in music. So hopefully, you like the same music as him. So stuff like Tool, Nine Inch Nails, KMFDM, etc. (Though in my own little world, I could see him crying over Mitski, plz don't judge)

-If you're a crafty person and you make something for him, he could cry from how happy it makes him. He loves seeing you work your stuff. Doesn't matter what it is (drawing, painting, sewing, crocheting,  etc.) he likes watching. It's calming to him. He'd def cry if you made anything Champ related. If you draw or paint, youre art is getting hung up on the walls. If you sew, knit, or crochet and you make him or Champ something to wear, then they'll be wearing what you made them proudly. Though he won't wear said stuff outside cause he doesn't wanna dirty them. He'd feel bad for ruing all your hard work

-Have I mentioned how spoiled he is yet? Cause he is. He's a very needy baby. Constantly wanting your time, attention, and affection. Almost never giving you a second of privacy cause he needs to be in your personal bubble. Oh, you locked the bathroom door so you could enjoy a bath in peace for once? Too bad, cause Dude's already picked the lock and hanging out with you. And if you don't stop him, he'll join you in the tub, with or without clothes on. He's essentially a cat that will scratch at the door til you let him in. If you're at work or he's running errands, he'll be texting you nonstop. Keeping you updated on the chaos he's causing and spamming you with Champ pics.

-He also has an abundance of photos of you. Some of just you doing whatever (yes even sleeping), you and Champ, you and Dude, and even all three of you together. You may not even know all of the photos he has of you. And yes, he will show you off, proud he has such a baddie and no one else does. But you also need to know that he isn't scared to take some of the worst photos of you. We're talk 0.5x forehead photos that make it look like you got a big ass forehead. He doesn't care. He loves everything about you and nothing will change that.

-Love seeing you wear his clothes. He thinks it's so cute how big his shirts look on you, the smaller you are, the better. He's very encouraging of you wearing his clothes. Sometimes, it gets him a little too excited, especially when you don't wear any pants, may God help you when that happens...

NSFW

-Loves biting you, once he starts he can't stop. He will have you marked up from head to toe by the time he's done with you. He would like it if you did the same to him. He'll ecourage you to leave some extra marks on him and especially his more sensitive areas. Same rules apply for scratching as well. He loves seeing the all the bites, bruises, and scratches you leave on him. And he feels such pride when he sees them on you

-He's the perfect person to have a hand kink for. He's got them long, spidery fingers that can leave goosebumps along your skin. He'd gladly shove his fingers down your throat if you want. His hands do tend to be littered with cuts and burns but don't think that will stop anything. The extra pain adds to the experience for him

-Yeha, he's kind of a masochist. There's just something about the way you inflict pain on him that gets him going. You could come up behind him and bite him and that's all you need to do for him to get the message. He will let you WRECK him however you want

-Does like degraded by only a little bit. He wants to be called a slut and to be told how vile he is for wanting to be used like a toy. But sometimes he has limits. He does need praises though. He could go on for hours praising you, and he would like to be able to be praised as well. He'd rather be praised than degraded. Especially during aftercare. Tell him how much of a good boy he is and how well he did. He'll love you forever if you do

-Is it wrong to say that I can see him having a Mommy kink? This might be from hearing the one line of his but there's just something about him that screams "let me call you Mommy plz". halp

-I've been making him sound like such a total sub but he can be dominant if you want. He tends to be more on the rough side when he doms though so do be prepared for it. He'd love to have you tied up and blindfolded, helpless as to what he's gonna do next. Loves making you beg

-peghimpeghimpeghimpeghimpeghim, do it. Nothing's stopping you. You'll get some of the best noises out of him if you peg him. He's is such a dirty little slut. Peg him and make him beg!

[sheluvslani]

Makeup Session

Pairing: Max Fox x fem!reader

Warnings: none, fluffy, makeup, reader is described as shorter than Max, slight making out at the end

A/n: idk i never watched better things but Mikey Madison is hot, so… also, this is based on a request i had a long time ago. I had to do so much research about makeup, i hope yall like it

“Shit. Stop moving,” Max mumbled under her breath as she gently applied blush to your cheeks. The soft bristles of the brush tickled your skin, causing you to let out a few giggles.

The both of you sat on her bed as she did your makeup, you rarely wore it and she saw a new tutorial somewhere on her TikTok that she wanted to try on her test dummy, you. “God, this is dumb,” you groaned. She punched your arm in retaliation, earning a quiet wince from your lips.

“Shut up, dork. Iʻm almost done.” She had her phone propped up on her rose-quartz-colored Stanley that you got her for her birthday as it rested on the bedside table beside her. The vinyl player across the room gently played the Cigarettes After Sex debut album, the slow music flowing through the room as she leaned back to admire her work so far. She had only done your contour, eyebrows, and lips so far, but it had been pretty good considering she followed a 2-minute video. Her brows wrinkled as she scoffed in frustration. “I said to stop moving,” she gently slapped your thigh. “Now your blush is uneven.” She gently fixed it so your other cheek had the same amount of blush.

“Sorry, I canʻt help it. It tickles,” you muttered as she put down the brush. She picked up a smaller one, gently brushing it across a small eyeshadow palette with various shades of browns before gently applying it to your eyelid, causing your eyes to flutter under her soft touch. She picked up a dark-colored pencil from beside her and slowly lined your upper eyelid with the chocolatey brown color, the pencil going back and forth on your eyelid to bold the eyeliner.

“Keep your eyes closed for me, baby,” she grabbed a pair of false eyelashes and gently applied some lash glue before placing it on your left eye. She gently fanned her hand in front of your eyes as she grabbed the other eyelash and did the same to your right eye.

She grabbed a tube of mascara sitting on her lap and placed it between her teeth as she screwed off the bottom. She gently placed the wand from the root of your lashes and delicately went upwards until the wand reached the tip of your lashes.

She slowly fanned your eyes again, drying the mascara quite quickly. “Alright, you open your eyes now,” she whispered as she covered the tube again and cleaned up her brushes and the rest of her makeup supplies.

You hesitantly opened your eyes, her soft gaze meeting your own as her tender eyes gently traced your features. “You look stunning,” a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, a small smile gracing your own. “Oh yeah?” you asked her as you got up and walked to her mirror. You pucker your lips, appreciating the color of the lip gloss that she had picked out for you. You turned around to face her, “I look amazing, Maxie,” you said as she reached out to grab your arm and pull you close.

“I know, I should be a makeup artist at this point, huh?” She teased as she wrapped her arms around your waist and gently pressed her lips against yours, your lips parting in invitation as your curves molded into hers. Her tongue slowly slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours, eliciting a small moan from you.

After a few minutes, she pulled away breathlessly, licking her lips only to taste you on them. “Jesus Christ, you could kill me if you kept looking at me like that.” She gently tugged your arm, “Cʻmon, letʻs go take it off for you.” She smirked as she led you to the bathroom.

[lowkeyclowning]

Slashers reacting to the reader high/having a stoner partner

warnings: smoking, drugs, brief mentions of nsfw and torturing

I hope this is satisfactory, I haven’t written anything or gotten caught up with most of these characters in a while 😭😭

Chromeskull (Jesse Cromeans)

- he’s driven by your state, how expressive you are, and overall just how impressionable you become. He loves the control he has on you.

- He’d be a junky for it, if you were the kind of person to enjoy that he craves it; he’d take full advantage of that. Going out of his way to fulfill your desires and keep you relying on him.

- He’d buy more for you. Anything you like: edibles, pens, blunts, bongs, etc. As long as you pay him back in a way of his liking he doesn’t mind.

- He would get high with you depending on where you stand to him, if you were seen as his victim/obsession/infatuation he likely wouldn’t. He finds it so much more intoxicating to watch you come undone. If you were seen as a friend or coworker he might consider if you catch him in a good mood, about 75% he agrees

The Collector (Asa Emory)

- He is entertained to say the least, though his amusement comes with a sick twist of curiosity. He wants to see how your mind and body react to intense things under this state. He wants to see how quick you twist and squirm; You’d give in so fast, you’d be so easy to take.. that has his attention.

- He is going to toy with you if you’re his un-collected victim, such as standing in the corner of your room and watching to see how long you take to notice him and how you respond, only then would he decide what to do with you.

- Other than that he doesn’t all the much care for it specifically, it’s just a tool, a weak one at that. He would much rather observe harder drugs work their effect and build off that.

- He wouldn’t get high with anyone regardless of closeness. He’d never willingly be caught with his guard down like that.

Bo Sinclair

- Oh honey, he’s all over this. He is ecstatic to watch you during your highs, he loves to play around with you and make you laugh. Hearing the impact of his charisma through your high drives him crazy.

- He is very playful with you already, when you’re high he can’t stop himself from “accidentally” scaring you or telling dumb jokes that send you laughing so hard you have to hold onto him to prevent yourself from toppling over.

- Play fighting and bickering with you is another way he gets his entertainment, the way you struggle to make sense is pure gold in his opinion.

- He’d absolutely get high with you, he might even be the one to suggest it in the first place. Watching him unfold is euphoric. He gets clingy when he hits that peak. With that, intimacy is usually always the result. Keeping your hands off each other would be an obstacle among itself

Vincent Sinclair

- He doesn’t mind too much, though he is entranced by your behavior. Often caught staring and watching you, but he does that regardless of your high. He loves looking at you. You are his muse, his gaze can’t help but drift towards you.

- He is reliable to be around, he’s quiet and usually doing his own thing. If he gets this rush of infatuation towards you he may drift closer for a look, but other than that he tends to keep to himself.

- He’d prefer not to get high, it isn’t in his greatest interest. He’d much rather spectate and keep out of the way.

Ghostface (Stu Macher)

- He likely is a supplier or knows the best, as well as someone that is always ready to drop everything to smoke a bit.

- He might jokingly pout that you were smoking without him if he found you alone.

- Sometimes you’ll lay there with him listening to music, talking and laughing about funny things he said or some weird dream you had two or three nights ago.

- There’d never be a dull moment smoking with him, one moment you could be laying on a couch and the next you’re on your way to a gas station getting a ridiculous amount of food because he got the munchies and refused to go alone.

- 10/10 would love to smoke with him

Bubba Sawyer

- He wouldn’t really catch on to what was happening with you at first. He doesn’t have tons of experience with being taught to feel any sort’ve way towards the substance but he may express curiosity or worry for your odd behavior. You’d definitely need explaining to avoid possible worries.

- He is good support to be around when you are high, minding his own business for the most part. He’d curiously come over to you every now and again for attention plus the reassurance that you’re alright.

- I can’t see him taking his own high good, much less smoking, but he’ll blindly follow you into hell if you let him so you’ll have to know his boundaries for him sometimes. He’s still getting used to having choices so you’ll have to be patient with him.

Billy Lenz

- He likes watching you get high, it makes his head fuzzy to watch you get so vulnerable around him. It sends him into a craze whether you know he is there or not.

- He gets a kick from way you laugh at the littlest things,, but also how paranoid you get at times. Oh he loooves scaring you. His crooked grin smearing from cheek to cheek as you scream or jolt from something he did.

- I don’t remember much about Billy, but he looks like someone who has done harder drugs, so I’m going to say he’d be delighted to get high with or without you. If you are with him, prepare for the clingiest mess you’ve ever seen. If you weren’t with him, prepare for some disturbing phone calls.