#she also has like no filter and often says things that come across as mean and insensitive

[arolesbianism]

I've been slowly dipping my toes into dst character modding and finally decided to start chipping at my test dummy girl's dialogue and I am starting to adore her a lil she's such an ass

[knavesflames]

hiii el! :D u may know me from ur messages a bit ago (PLS I SUCK AT USING TECHNOLOGY AND I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO ASK A QUESTION) but i wanted to ask for u to write maybe just some like cute morning arle fluff? sorry if it’s a bad ask 😞

also, could i be 🩵 anon?

Hi <3 of course you can! It is NOT a bad ask, I’ve been meaning to write a lil bit of fluff anyway. I was quite excited to write this :’) enjoy!!

Content: fluff, arlecchino is soft and tired

Word count: 1.1k

Utc <3

People say that once you get used to sleeping next to someone, it becomes impossible to sleep alone. You thought it would be the opposite. You enjoyed sleeping alone, preferred it, even. You like the space to move and roll around and you like to wrap the blankets around you to form you into a burrito-like shape. It became somewhat of a joke between friends that when you finally did find a partner, you’d end up sleeping in separate beds. Secretly, you agreed.

For Arlecchino, nobody assumed she’d even find a partner. The woman is so closed off with her feelings that one wonders if she even had any, if they died along with her best friend and Mother so many years ago. When the topic of relationships was brought up (seldom as it was to even get past the first two sentences- she would shut it down before anyone could get anything out of her), her excuses were dismissive, claims of work taking precedence over any interpersonal relationships, claims of the not-so-secret but somehow very-secret project the Fatui are working on, and her biggest excuse yet- the children. “The children need a stable figure to guide them as they grow. Relationships are most definitely not stable. It does not teach them how to fight. Sorrow and anger make you weak, yes, but I would argue that love makes you defenceless.” would be a sentence she uttered often.

Of course, that was not the only reason. Processing what had happened to the people close to her is something she neglected to do, and she does not need to be haunted further by yet another shadow, or even worse, another conscious body following her around the way Clervie had, whether as a manifestation of her bloodfire, or a manifestation of her conscience rearing its head when she had worked so hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. Love is not something she should get herself involved in, she has told herself time and time again. She has stared into the mirror an endless number of times, both as a newly appointed Father and more recently, when she finds herself alone. Her priority has always been the children, and she refused herself the privilege of living comfortably. Until you, obviously.

When you first began sleeping next to each other, you had been dating for a while. It took a while for her to even let you into her house. You seem to notice that her house has the faint smell of citrus. Lime, perhaps. You wonder where it comes from, but you assume it's some sort of air freshener. When you first began occasionally sleeping over, her touches were few and far between. Not in any malicious way, of course, but almost like she was restraining herself. You were too, in a way, not wanting to overstep any silent boundaries she had set. It was an awkward time.

Now, though, after a long period of time of getting her to open up, she clings to you like a moth to a flame. Case in point, this morning. You wake up to the soft light entering your room, filtered by the curtains covering the glass. The first thing you notice other than the light is a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around your middle, clutching you and keeping you close. You let your hand gently move across the marred skin, feeling each scar and muscle of the arm holding you so tightly. A face is buried into the back of your neck, gentle breath tickling the skin, and displacing the hair there. Arlecchino’s body is warm, warmer than the normal person's body would be due to the balefire that courses through her veins. You try (and fail) to escape from her grasp with a little wriggle, but her arms only pull you closer, her voice coming out hoarse and gravelly.

“Stay,” she mumbles into your hair. “It’s early. There isn’t a need to get ready for the day yet.”

“I have to, there’s so much to do today.” you yawn, twisting your body to face her. Your arms snake around her, one under her neck and one around her waist. There’s sleepiness in her dark eyes, and she looks up at you groggily. She looks vulnerable like this, and you think she’s almost smiling. Almost. She groans slightly as she stretches out, her muscles rippling as she does so. Arlecchino’s face buries back into you soon after, and her grip on you doesn’t loosen in the slightest. One of your hands comes to gently caress the waterfall of snow white hair, occasionally painted with black streaks (and the one red one she touches up every six weeks), massaging the scalp and gently scratching whenever she lets out a soft sigh.

“You smell good.”

“I just woke up, I’m not sure there’s much to smell.”

“That may be the point. You do not need to put on any fragrance, I enjoy the scent of you. Just you.”

“You say, as if you don’t fill your home with the scent of limes. Limes, of all things.”

“That is not what we are conversing about. We are conversing about you, not some citrus fruit.”

You can’t the small chuckle that seems to escape your lips. She’s so soft like this, you think, you can barely believe her status in the Fatui (you’d forget entirely if it wasn’t for the glint of the dagger placed deliberately on her nightstand. She says it’s for your protection- you know she had it there before, too, but now she has a reason to keep it there). Her nails, filed to perfection, trace circles on your back, and her free hand pulls your thigh over her hip, bringing you as close as you can possibly get.

“Must you go? Surely, you can push back any arrangements you have today and stay with me a little longer.”

“You know I can’t, and neither can you. Do you not have that meeting?”

“Yes. With some other Fatui, but none of them are worth my time when you’re here. They mean nothing to me. You mean everything.”

“That is why I'll be here tonight. You can hold me again.”

You find yourself reassuring her a lot that you won’t disappear. You don’t mind. Eventually, after five minutes of pretend bickering, you relent to ten more minutes before she drags herself out of bed. By the time she’s changed from her pyjamas into her usual suit, her hair brushed and pinned back into her signature ponytail, any trace of the sleepy, clingy Arlecchino is gone. What remains is a stoic, unreadable woman who lovingly kisses your forehead before she leaves, a slight plea in her voice when she tells you: “See you tonight.”

[nalyra-dreaming]

Holy shit?!

src

“Louis is still fighting to get to something, to unlock the memories that have curiously evaded him. "The pursuit of memory and truth is the driving force this season. It motivates Louis to get to where we're going to get to by the end of it," said Zaman. "Season 1 proved that his memory's completely shot in lots of ways, but who, or what, did that — that's the question I think we're going to have to answer."…

“It all begins with Louis, a textbook unreliable narrator, though Jones and Anderson both bristle a bit at the term. "One self delusion knits itself to the rest of your life," Jones said. He argued that Louis' memory might be "80-90 percent" correct, though it only takes one mistaken detail to muddle a timeline and cancel someone out entirely. "To unwind that, you call into question all this stuff. It doesn't mean that all this stuff isn't right. It's just this thing has altered it a little bit."

…

To Anderson, Louis' unreliability matters less than the vivid reality of his feelings. "It's not necessarily that Louis is a quote-unquote unreliable narrator," he said. "He is, because what he's saying is completely subjective. But I think it has just as much to do with how something felt, the feeling of a person or the feeling of an experience, than it is him actively trying to deceive anybody." That comes out most strongly in Dubai, particularly in the second season. "He's really, genuinely trying to find the closest thing to an objective recalling of events that he possibly can."…

“I like writing for Sam Reid, and I think in terms of how this thing is structured and what's going on in this headspace, it wasn't a big leap to go, 'Oh, he's haunting. He's inside Louis,'" Jones said. When we see Lestat at the beginning of the season, he manifests as what Anderson and Reid referred to as "dream Lestat" — not quite himself, not quite a ghost, not quite a memory, but some blend of all three, filtered through Louis' guilt and grief.

…

"Who is Louis remembering, and how is Louis remembering [Lestat] is always on my mind," said Reid when we first spoke at the Television Critics Association winter press tour in February. "I'm always thinking about it, and I'm always talking about it, much to the chagrin of pretty much everyone." (From across the table we were crowded around, Anderson heckled, "I can vouch for that.") Later, when we met one on one over Zoom, Reid elaborated, "Louis is speaking to himself, so he speaks like Louis. But he's also speaking to Lestat, and he's choosing to speak to Lestat when he's speaking to himself." The first time we see Lestat in Season 2, he materializes before Louis as a gory vision during a moment of mental deterioration, vengeful and overbearingly loving all at once. What was already a blurry line between the ex-lovers has now become indistinguishable.“…

“With dream Lestat assuming a number of dispositions, all dictated by Louis' headspace, separating dream Lestat from the real Lestat was crucial to Reid. "It's clear that Louis is putting the words into his mouth," Reid said. "Who's the guy that he's forced to see looking back at him, saying the words that he thinks he should be saying?" The presence of dream Lestat means that the state of the real Lestat is unclear when the season opens, but becoming this slightly unreal version of his character built on the groundwork Reid had already been laying. Going back to the first season, he often rejected Anderson's impulse to play their scenes together as if they were true. "I know this is not how this happened," he said of Louis' version of events, "which allowed me to kind of lean into the more sow's ear version of Lestat in specific moments, because I knew that we might be revisiting them."…

“For Claudia, Lestat's influence will always linger. "That's his daughter," Hayles said simply. "He doesn't need to be a ghost. He's in her." Louis and Claudia know each other inside and out, and Louis' love for Claudia is all-encompassing, but she sees the writing on the wall the moment he meets Armand: What happened with Lestat will happen again as Louis chooses another man over her.“

(much more behind the link!!)

UPDATE: link to the author’s tweet, Allison Picurro

[zukosdualdao]

i promise i'll do better (i will soften every edge)

zutara month, day 11: "mom and dad are fighting again", @zutaramonth

summary: kya interrupts an argument between katara and zuko.

warnings: reference to (implied) abuse/domestic violence, wrt to ozai's treatment of ursa.

other notes: lyrics from 'light' by sleeping at last. don't ask me how timelines work idk. yes there is a zutara daughter named kya here (separate entity from the lok kya.) she wears her hair in a southern water tribe braid and zuko calls her firecracker and it’s very cute. not really relevant but in this story i’m imagining she’s a nonbender.

“Katara, you know I agree with you.”

Across from him, she crosses her arms, and Zuko sighs. The throne room is empty, save for the two of them, and Zuko feels trapped, claustrophobic in the walls. They’ve made a point of opening up windows in the castle, letting light filter in, getting rid of old, haunting portraits, and making something new and beautiful together. 

But the throne room doesn’t have windows to open. On a day like today, at times like these, it’s all too easy to remember the staunchly severe figures both his grandfather and father made here, walling themselves as they did behind high, towering fires.

Maybe they shouldn’t be having this talk here. It's too late now, but something to note for the future.

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Of course I want to increase reparations soon,” he insists. “That’s the plan, and that’s always been the plan. But we have to be smart about this,” he tries to remind her. “We can’t do it all at once, or people will try to block—”

“Oh, so now you’re all about thinking things through! Those instincts could have served you well years ago, you know.”

Zuko closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. The words are biting, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Things have been tense again in the Fire Nation lately. Better than ever before in some ways. Worse in others.

The first years after the war were a turbulent time in the Fire Nation—riots from those not happy with the changing of the old guard, strikes from workers contesting the need to pay reparations to the other nations, whispers of loyalists to the old regime plotting to get either Ozai or Azula back on the throne. A few assassination attempts, all handled efficiently but reason enough for concern.

Ten years past the end of the war, though, and things have started to stabilize. The plan has always been to increase reparations once the Fire Nation’s economy has improved, and Zuko intends to keep his word. But part of the system he’s trying to build means that there are representatives from all over the Fire Nation, as well as the other nations, and they each have their own agendas. It’s a tricky thing to navigate; he has to take all of their concerns seriously, of course, but also act according to his own principles. To live up to the promises he made years ago, and that he’ll continue to make for years to come.

Katara looks at him with a combative raise of her eyebrow.

It’s taken a strain on their relationship. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, they’re both a little too good at lashing out, both a little too good at saying the thing that will hurt, even if they immediately regret it.

But usually, by the end of the day if not before, they can remember they’re on the same side, for all that their perspectives might differ.

“Can we pause?” Zuko asks of her, and her features soften. “Just—try to hear each other out? Katara, I understand…” but before he can finish, the large door to the throne room creaks, and Zuko watches as one of the serving maids guides their daughter into the room.

“See?” Kya points to them, eyes wide with alarm and lip quivering. “Mom and Dad are fighting again.”

Something in Zuko’s stomach drops. He doesn’t want her to worry about this. About them. He’d had to worry about his parents, to worry about his mother, Ozai looming over her, and sometimes Zuko was pretty sure he saw fear in her eyes where there should have been love, and then—

She’d been gone. And he’d drawn his own conclusions, quietly and with little reason to question them.

“She coudn’t sleep,” Hina says apologetically, and Zuko only waves a hand. “She was asking for you both.”

“Thank you for bringing her.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry,” Katara says, walking over and lifting Kya up onto her hip. “Things are just tense right now,” she says, with a guilty sideways look to Zuko, who smiles weakly. “It’s not anything for you to worry about.”

“Promise?”

Zuko walks over to join the huddle and places a kiss atop her dark hair, which is twisted in a braid. “Promise, little firecracker. Mom and Dad are just trying to figure out the right way to handle something.” He meets Katara’s eyes and tries to impress the sincerity of his words on her. “But we will figure it out. We always do.”

Katara smiles at him and uses the hand not keeping Kya secure on her hip to touch the small of Zuko’s back in a gentle gesture. The three of them stand huddled together, and for the first time in… weeks, probably, Zuko feels his body relax, just a little.

He smiles back, a little exhausted but a lot relieved—to have Katara with him, there to both challenge and support him, to have Kya with them, creative and funny and quick as a whip as she is, and at only age four. He’s glad to have his family.

They are okay. Right now, they are okay. Whatever else may come.

[twothpaste]

there's a bunch of little guidelines, unique to each character, that i use when writing dialogue. helps to give em unique voices, and keep them distinct from one another. it's also a list of headcanons in & of itself. figured it'd be fun to write 'em out and share 'em here........

lucas speaks as plainly as possible. tends not to use big words - or many words at all - if he can help it. only says what's necessary to get his thoughts across (or often much less…). his internal monologue is long-winded & rich & dripping with metaphors, but when he opens his mouth, what comes out is plain, simple, and always accommodating. though he uses informal language & comes off real casual-like, he's actually very careful with his word choice. if he's gonna speak up, he's gonna be deliberate about it. rarely imposes upon others, even if he's answering a question or making a judgment. while lucas does often talk quietly, and is prone to hesitant pauses, he almost never stutters. southern accent realness.

claus speaks boldly, usually without thinking first. may use an excessive amount of words. he meanders through sentences sometimes, cuz he's just blurting bullshit as it comes to him. has a cartoonishly brazen manner of speaking, like he's hyping himself up as the smartest funniest guy in the room, but you can kinda tell it's just a playful performance. uses mostly casual language, even when discussing serious or complicated topics. sometimes he tosses in big words to keep you on your toes and remind you he's smarter than he seems. will often try to sound calm and unfazed even when he's definitely Fazed. when he's for real emotionally compromised though, he completely flips, lapsing into the masked man's unnervingly brief, blunt, stagnant speech. southern accent realness as well.

kumatora speaks extremely casually. lots of slang. slathers the most basic statements in irony, pop culture references, and naughty language. whereas lucas won't impose upon others, kuma does exactly that, fully intending to make a big impression with everything she says. even when she's being rude as hell, she usually means it all in good fun, she's just got an abrasive edge to her manner of speaking. sometimes others are put off by it - therefore, she deems those folks unworthy of her company anyways. when she's genuinely angry or sad, she tends to cut the theatrics (though not the swearing). might occasionally lapse into metaphorical language to describe complicated feelings, especially when emotionally strained. shortens words and uses contractions as much as possible.

duster speaks really gently, with a lot of uncertain mannerisms. whenever he has to use more than a few words, he tends to hesitate and meander, like he's not quite sure he's got the right words to make himself clear. prone to hesitation, "um"s and "er"s, and occasional stutters. the way he phrases things is kinda soft & malleable, rarely stating his opinion definitively, cautiously leaving room for others to disagree or add their input. never swears - instead he opts for "gosh" and "heck" and so on. very informal, with a profound southern drawl.

boney's animal telepathy "dialogue" is simple to a goofy degree. little guy will directly state whatever is presently on his mind, oblivious to any social etiquette. sometimes his lack of filter makes for funnily rude or ill-timed interjections. he uses only plain words (though kumatora's unfortunately introduced a few swears to his vocabulary).

flint speaks a lot like lucas, plain and simple and quiet. though he doesn't have the same delicate consideration for the words he's choosing. he says what he means as bluntly as possible, in as few words as possible, and leaves it at that. (secretly he's very aware of how awkward and imposing he comes off, but he hasn't the faintest clue how to remedy it.) prone to hesitant pauses, but only when emotionally compromised. heavy southern drawl (where do y'think the twins got it from).

hinawa speaks kinda like claus, tossing out a lotta thoughts and words in a merry stream of consciousness. hugely exuberant. singsongy, even. she's a bit teasy, and very whimsical, but never offensive or impolite. fond of nicknames. her word choice tends to be informal, though she probably does have a more vibrant vocabulary than she lets on. heavy southern drawl of course, peppered with homely little hillbilly-isms.

fuel is funny to write, cuz he has a loose jokey less-than-sincere manner of speaking, which comes off lackadaisical & carefree. but you can sorta tell he's actually mopey & nervous under the surface. if not by his frequent hesitations and dodgy replies, then at least by his body language. very informal and hickish, and prone to swearin', like the workin' class guy he is.

nana's one of my favs to write, cuz she is a fountain of run-on sentences, always babbling some tangential story off the top of her head, winding this way and that, and by the time she's done talking you've learned like 5 mildly intriguing and hilariously irrelevant new things about her. remarkably formal diction, paired with a flat tone that does not quite match her long-winded rambles. rarely if ever uses exclamation points. doesn't swear. no accent.

ness' speech is probably the most basic out of anybody's. ordinary and casual, with no particular accent or flair to it. big & fancy words are completely out of his wheelhouse. he peppers his dialogue with a few dorky dad-isms every now and then (like callin' folks "sport" or "pal," or dropping a wholly unironic "see ya later, alligator"). though he's not a nervous guy, he does get a little mopey or unsure of himself sometimes, which causes him to pause and mumble a lot.

paula speaks pretty formally most of the time. she says shit like "furthermore," and "precisely," making her stand out distinctively from her fellow dorks & dweebs. is she playfully talking clever in a tounge-in-cheek kinda way, or is she Actually Just Being A Smartass? depends who you ask! paula likes to flex her robust vocabulary, and lace her dialogue with snark & sarcasm. her delivery's comedically dry. when she's reaching out to someone in earnest sympathy, though, her speech gets a lot softer, with thoughtful pauses and gentler language. when she's upset, she gets really flustered, swapping her calm & cool veneer for frantic exclamations & italics!! she does have a southern accent, but she takes care to enunciate each letter in the words she uses, so it's subtle compared to characters like lucas or duster.

jeff speaks as flatly as possible, and keeps his word count to an absolute minimum. his standbys are answering questions with a blunt one-word reply, and asking questions with a period instead of a question mark (cuz he delivers them with virtually no affect). though he knows a lot of academic language, he tends not to use it in casual conversation, afraid of alienating others or coming off like a smartass. his speech is generally bone-dry and very constrained. which makes it all the more special when someone manages to choke a sappy blabber or a furious snap out of him. oh. and he comes with a british accent, of course.

poo's another surprise favorite of mine. my take on him is really charismatic, and genuinely quite funny. he's able to swap between casual and formal mannerisms on the fly. sorta in reference to his mimic ability, he tends to match the energy of whoever he's talking to. so he can turn on a dime from talking real candidly plain & chill with ness, to snarking it up shakespearean style with paula. sharply attentive, he's both clever and empathetic, wily and kind, often sassy but never hurtful. chooses his words very thoughtfully. he has a lot of big feelings bottled up, and fancies himself a poet, so he sometimes goes on sappy wistful metaphorical tangents. he knows full well they sound indulgent, perhaps even dorky, but you'll cut him some slack, won't you? a guy's gotta breathe a little.

porky is the fucking worst and i love him so much ❤️. he treats every conversation like a war, and will deploy snide ruthless underhanded tactics to emerge victorious. he's sardonic, haughty, vitriolic. if he thinks he has the upper hand, he'll cooly sit back and try to pick you apart with biting insults & blows below the belt, trying to find your weak points. if he feels cornered, he'll start furiously barking whatever he thinks will hurt you most. he speaks with an uncanny blend of boyish casual language, pretentious big-brained scrabble words, and swearing (which thinks make him sound Very Mature). will wax poetic about human nature like he thinks he's on par with socrates, then whirl around and call you a snot-nosed dweeb for daring to question his wisdom. my very favorite thing about writing porky's dialogue (and his internal monologue) is that almost everything he says is Wrong. like. as a rule, if he claims something, he's probably got it backwards. and while he is certainly trying to convince others of his bullshit, he is even moreso trying desperately to convince himself. maybe if he repeats his miserable lies & false convictions enough, louder this time, they'll finally stick.

picky peter is practically his brother's antithesis. if every conversation is a war, he chooses to lay down his weapons and avoid the fight entirely. he white flags his way through dialogue, keeping his statements simple and brief and unobtrusive. harshness or accusations make him retreat, essentially playing dead or gray rocking 'til the threat dissipates. kindness catches him off guard, making him "er…" and "um…" and scramble sheepishly to find his words. he does have a lot of barely-repressed bitterness in his guts, and might take on a subtle hint of snark or spite under pressure. his vocabulary is not very broad. he's got a dry fake little laugh he does when he's trying to be friendly ("haha") - but when he's genuinely cracking up, he'll snort instead.

tracy is fun cuz she shares ness' plain & casual "just some guy" manner of speaking, but she's like?? kinda fuckin' mean?? she thinks she's too cool for most folks, adopted a tough exterior to one-up her childhood bullies - and especially admires paula. but she hasn't quite mastered the art of being snarky without coming off rude or edgy. so she speaks sarcastically, teases others, seems bluntly disinterested all the time, and it just makes her sound like a careless teenager (which is exactly what she is). thankfully ness sees through her attitude and knows she's full of love deep down. and paula knows she'll probably grow out of it. peter weirdly enough feels very at ease with tracy snarking at him, cuz he's used to that sorta abrasive talk, but he finds solace in the knowledge that it's harmless here, he knows she doesn't actually mean it. tracy reveals her soft side when she's nervous or troubled, prompting gentler language and lots of unsteady pauses, sounding a lot more like her brother in moments of uncertainty.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

MUSE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANON GAME FOR DOE AND MAPPLETHORPE AND DOE AND GONZO (separately!) | original meme

THE MEMES ARE BELOW THE CUT BECAUSE LOOOOONG

also gotta tag Billie cause OUR BABIES @frieddiscjockey & @coastercrushed

DOE & MAPPLETHORPE (the sacred Moe ship)

who curses more? it's a real tossup, but I would say Mapplethorpe does in a casual sense. Passing curses, using fuck as an adjective, it's not for anger, but like, aussie slang is curse laden, and Mapplethorpe is a wild child who doesn't have a filter at the best of the times! So like, I'm sorry, he's swearing constantly. BUT LIKE WHEN IT COMES TO ANGER AND PAIN?? Doe puts Mapplethorpe into the ground with the sheer VITRIOL she spews. She curses less in comparison, but her curses are like, ten in a single minute, and she's cursing your bloodline, your favorite basketball team, your fifth grade teacher, the last person that smiled and you AND your mother. Sorry. ASASDJSAD

who is more patient? Doe, no question there!

who does the driving? Toss up, Doe is a better driver than Mapplethorpe, she can keep her attention focused on the task for much, much, much longer than he can, but he's the one running to the car first. He likes being in control and likes it when she's the one in charge of the directions. She explains them in a way he understands best. That and when they get takeout, she'll lean over him and he LOVES that.

who is louder? who is quieter? Mape is louder and Doe is marginally quieter but I'm sorry you can hear these two across the fog, they're so obnoxious and loud. ASDJASD

who is more physically affectionate? MAPPLETHORPE, Doe is bolder and more willing to instigate things but sorry, he's climbing into her lap and laying across her starfish style. He wants kisses and hugs and everything!!

who is more likely to tease the other? DOOOOOE, she thinks Mapplethorpe is so so cute when he's blushing bright red and looking at her with his big, shocked and enamored eyes.

who is better with time management? Doe, Doe likes on a routine existence down to the seconds, per her issues with trauma and anxiety, so she's helpful to Mapplethorpe in that regard. Sometimes he needs to hold her hand though and remind her, it's not the end of the world when there's a fifteen minute delay.

who wins the arm wrestling matches? ASDASD DOE I FEAR. Mapplethorpe INSISTS he was letting her win. She disagrees though! Mape is strong! Strong enough to lift her, but she has him beat in the lower arms!

who controls the music in the car ride? They alternate depending on who's driving! Driver's never allowed to be in control of the stereo though, that's how you get in car accidents, or worse, get hit with the autoplay CURSE!

who covers dinner when they order in? They alternate, Mapplethorpe usually does on the basis that he wants to eat out more often, but Doe does it every date night at HER insistence! She wants to spoil her prince. Which he is more than happy to take her up on! Haha

who is more outgoing? who is more shy? I will say Mapplethorpe BUT ON PAPER ALONE. Doe isn't shy after she's been acclimatized to her situation in most cases, but Mapplethorpe doesn't have these issues. What he DOES have is a difficulty socializing at other people's paces and taking the cue! He doesn't mean badly but in terms of actually bridging that connection and meeting them where the other person stands in a way that's less of an overwhelming wall of ENERGY and more like a pleasant handshake? Doe has him beat there.

who has the more outlandish fashion sense? THEY ARE EQUALLY MATCHED IN STUPID AND OVER THE TOP. They are the Jesse and James of the Fog. They take every opportunity to be over the top and wear matching outfits. They cosplay together in the modern verse. I know this, there is no contest cause these guys both give it their all and GET IT.

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them? Doe and like, honestly?? Probably the person forced to listen to them being stupidly obnoxious and adorable together. That or Mapplethorpe because he can't catch his breath.

who has the darker/more “edgy” sense of humor? Godddd, depends on the verse, I want to say Doe though, because where Mapplethorpe often tends to avoid the trauma of his death and circumstances by completely ignoring it. I feel like, while still emotionally distancing herself, Doe slips in more dark 'humour' when it comes into processing what she's gone through. By joking about it she's trying to reduce it like a joke, but these jokes often don't land and they're more worrying than anything. God, get this girl into some therapy PLEASE.

who is more competitive when it comes to games? DOOOE, guilty as charged, she needs to have the highscore everytime they play. It's just a fact, she's a sore loser too, but its okay, a kiss on the cheek and she's back to her normal self!

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth? MAPPLETHORPE!! Sorry, when he's hungry he's HUNGRY, Doe has watched him put away an entire sheet of (non-weed) brownies in one sitting cause they were warm and fudgy and she made them for him! How he does it is anyone's guess!

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public? BOTH OF THEM, Doe is more likely to throw the punch though! Mapplethorpe has a mean bark but his bark is nothing to Doe's bite! They are tag teaming when Mapplethorpe inevitably gets into a fight!

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them? Mapplethorpe and Doe respectively! She's a very social person but she can't take the heat of a whole gathering on her own! she prefers to be the join in assist making sure things are running, folks are fed and having a good time while he talks his heart out!

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other? Doe and OFTEN. These two aren't on the wealthiest side so eating in is often but Doe is a good cook and more than that, Mapplethorpe is a foodie! He loves to eat whatever she's serving up with plenty of compliments to the chef!

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior? DOE, no question there.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other? Doe, Mapplethorpe isn't as quick to notice and he does, he sometimes lacks the words to articulate it well, but he does and he's always there!

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)? They both do! I fear they're the people that strike up conversation casually with a server or other people in a store and their kids are CURSING them!

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support? DOE

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it? Mapplethorpe!! Doe NEVER goes down without a fight though!

DOE & GONZO

who curses more? DOE, Gonzo has his moments but he has much more of a filter than Doe does, especially when heated!

who is more patient? GONZO

who does the driving? N/A, sadly their main verses are locked into CFP. Gonzo takes the lead driving the go-kart around on romantic strolls while Doe is resting on his shoulder though!

who is louder? who is quieter? Doe is louder! Gonzo is more of a quiet lover all things considered!

who is more physically affectionate? DOE, Gonzo has his worries about being overly affectionate with her and potentially triggering things. He knows she's had a rough go of it and one of his greatest fears is making things worse, but Doe sees this and while she appreciates it, she wishes he was less afraid. She is headbutting him with love and slowly encouraging him with communication and gestures of physical affection!

who is more likely to tease the other? Toss up!! It's all in good faith though!

who is better with time management? Doe?? Solely because she has a watch though! Haha

who wins the arm wrestling matches? GONZO, no contest, he'll let her win once or twice though!

who controls the music in the car ride? N/A, again, they're stuck in the park, but Gonzo is the DJ! He offers to teach Doe! In truth he's a little curious, but Doe wouldn't trade his dj'ing and adorable tributes to her for the world!

who covers dinner when they order in? N/A, again, stuck in the park, but Doe is the one that does snack runs for them both in exchange for a kiss and a cuddle in the booth!

who is more outgoing? who is more shy? Gonzo is the more outgoing one and Doe, well, CFP!Doe is an entirely different beast! Haha

who has the more outlandish fashion sense? Gonzo, but in the 90s stoner way that's a bit more than the depression outfit Doe is forever stuck wearing!

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them? Doe does!

who has the darker/more “edgy” sense of humor? God,,, I'd say Gonzo! Though his sense of humor is like, mostly about him being electrocuted! He's not mean about it! He just thinks it's funny!

who is more competitive when it comes to games? Doe!

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth? Gonzo, but solely cause Doe doesn't actually eat very much!

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public? DOE NO QUESTION, the fights with Mapplethorpe are inevitable I fear!

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them? Gonzo hosts and starts the gathering with the music, Doe is the designated babysitter sitting back and watching things to make sure it runs without fight and quietly basking in the energy.

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other? N/A, I would say Doe though on principle when Vi brings them food!

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior? DOE, she would straight up kill a person. and she has! Her murderer is now just as dead as she is, but he doesn't get a second chance!

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other? Gonzo!

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)? Gonzo, Doe is a little shy I won't lie!

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support? Gonzo and Doe both are equally likely but they had different capacities to help given everything about their deaths!

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it? DOOOOE, Gonzo gets spooked but hes not a vengeful sort! Haha

[luxisms]

Hogwarts Legacy Character Sheet — Veronica Delacroix

“The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.”

⛧ General ⛧

Name: Veronica Calliope Delacroix

Name Meanings:

Veronica - "she who brings victory"

Calliope - "beautifully voiced"

Delacroix - "of the cross"

Nicknames:

"Roni"

"The Black Dahlia"

"Petite Faucheuse" (“Little Reaper”)

"The French Slytherin"

"The Hero of Hogwarts" (2/4)

Gender: Female

Birthdate: October 31st, 1874

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Personality Type (MBTI): ESTP - The Entrepreneur

Species: Cambion (Half-Human, Half-Demon)

Blood Status: Pureblood

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Nationality: French

Ethnic Background: French, Greek

Languages: French, English, Latin, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, Japanese, Chinese, Romanian

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hometown: Marseille, France

⛧ Physical Appearance ⛧

Hair: Snow white and tightly braided down her back with a few stands framing her face.

Eyes: Forest Green (Pale Yellow when in her demon form)

Height: 172cm (5'8")

Weight: 64kg (142lbs)

Body Type: Lean, Athletic

Skin Tone: Pale white skin with an ivory undertone

Style:

Slytherin Robes

Gothic Steampunk (Outside Campus)

Accessories:

Black and green painted fingernails.

Black fingerless gloves.

Markings: The Sigil of Aamon is etched onto her left hand.

Scarring:

Magical scar on her right cheek.

Various scars on her body from fights and training.

Various scars on her body from the battle of the final repository.

CV: Charlotte McBurney (Amicia de Rune - A Plague Tale: Innocence/Requiem)

Faceclaim/Actress: Sabrina Carpenter

Personality:

At first glance, Veronica comes across as intimidating, especially given her snow white hair, piercing green eyes, and very noticeable scar on her cheek, and while she can get very intimidating and downright scary at times, those who take the chance and put in the effort on actually getting to know her will find that Veronica is one of the best people to have in your corner. Despite her initial attitude, Veronica is someone that cares about her friends deeply and will always come to their defense with a ferocity befitting that of a Gryffindor rather than a Slytherin. She can be quite blunt and a tad insensitive sometimes but Veronica truly means well, she just lacks a filter which often leads to some interesting situations…or unfortunate encounters.

First and foremost, Veronica is an adrenaline junkie with a devil may care attitude, very little bothers her and she tends not to take most things seriously, preferring to enjoy her life and live it to the fullest, she gets a rise out of either embarassing or irritating her friends by saying the most scandalous or teasing remarks. She's always seeking out the next big adventure or at least something to keep her occupied long enough until something else happens to catch her attention, it's why she loves dueling and fighting in general, being the strongest and more physically skilled in her friend group, it gives her a rush like no other even if it leads to her getting bruised, bloodied, and scolded by her friends.

Most people tend to write her off as just a battle-hungry tomboy that's all brawn but that's not true, Veronica is deceptively intelligent and quite mature for her age and beyond her peers, this is due to her upbringing and home life which forced her to mature and adapt at a young age. She's very knowledgeable on the dark arts and similar areas of that topic, knowing lots of hidden facts and secrets that not even the most knowledgeable dark wizards know, she's also frighteningly familiar with the best and efficient ways on ending one's life and hiding the evidence. When as the "Black Dahlia", her personality does a 180, becoming a silent and emotionless assassin who only has one goal: eliminate her target. She's an efficient killer, always evading Aurors and Unspeakables and becoming one of the deadliest assassins in the Wizarding World that no one wants to mess with.

Having demonic blood in her veins, Veronica does exhibit traits that can be described as "non human" such as growling animalistically, being extremely territorial/possessive, and getting increasingly sadistic and violent. Thankfully, she has good control over her demonic instincts and knows when to distance herself from others for their safety when she feels like she can't hold back, she has an intense disdain of her demonic nature which stemmed from her family, seeing herself as more of a monster than a human.

⛧ Family ⛧

TW: Incest, Monsterfucking

Raoul Delacroix; Father – A pureblood wizard and current head of House Delacroix, a former Wolverine at Durmstrang Institute and one of the most powerful politicians within the France Branch of the Ministry of Magic. A cold and stoic man with an unquenchable thirst for power and heavily believes in the family traditions of worshiping demons, Raoul has an immense dislike for muggles and half-bloods, firmly believing that purebloods are superior in every way. It is why he is quickly climbing the ranks to become the Minister of Magic in France so he can remove or at least heavily limit the rights of muggleborn and half-blood wizards and witches. Aside from that, he is known to be a powerful and skilled fighter in terms of both dueling and combat, having trained all of his children himself. Veronica and Raoul don't interact with each other much outside of training, her missions as an assassin, and social events which require them to be seen as a family but Veronica harbors an intense disliking for him.

Yvonne Delacroix; Mother – A pureblood witch and former Ucilena at Durmstrang Institute. Yvonne is the head and is in charge of overseeing the shipments of illegal substances, weapons, and in some cases live human beings across the sea. Her and Raoul are cousins, being the "firstborns" with Raoul only being two years older than her, they were arranged to be wed when she was born, they were married by the time they both graduated and had their first child soon after. Yvonne is a beautiful woman with an air of apathy to her, she's snarky, has a sharp mind, and is undoubtedly dangerous. Veronica and Yvonne don't have much of a "loving" relationship but compared to Veronica and her father, it is much better.

Ravus Delacroix; Eldest Brother - A former Wolverine at Durmstrang Institute and commander of House Delacroix's military where he oversees the training and progress of the soldiers the family hired as security. A sharp and stoic man with a perchance for arrogance, Ravus was heavily indoctrinated into the family's way of life and beliefs, believing that purebloods are superior and that (some) humans are just short lived entertainment. With Raoul getting older and spending more and more time at the Ministry, it is now Ravus' duty as the firstborn son to become the next head of House Delacroix, a duty that he takes great pride and honor with. Veronica despises Ravus wholeheartedly, always going out of her way to make him miserable if she could help it while Ravus thinks of Veronica as a pest that needs to be put in her place and honestly should never have been born.

Davina Rosier (née Delacroix); Older Sister – A former Ucilena at Durmstrang Institute and head of the prostitution business where she trains slaves and breaks them down to serve customers at various brothels all over France for House Delacroix. A lustful and well sought after woman despite already married and had children, Davina cares little for anything except sex and partying, due to being part succubus, she has a very high sex drive and is known within the family to even kill her partners during her one night stands by getting too carried away. She got married after graduating per orders of Raoul and she's resented the family ever since, it increased even more with Veronica's birth. Davina resents Veronica, more specifically, she resents the freedom she has and the choices she never got to have at her age, in turn, she's actively antagonistic towards Veronica which unfortunately started many, many fights between them.

Talon Delacroix; Older Brother – A former Slytherin at Hogwarts and head of the gambling business where he sees any and all activity at the various gambling dens all over France and is the head loan shark of the family, always making sure those in debt always pay what they owe in various different ways if money is tight. A playful and charismatic man with slight sadistic tendencies, Talon is considered one of the most sought after bachelors in the Wizarding World, however, marriage means very little to him and he refuses to start a family much to Raoul's chagrin. He dreams of one day being the ringleader of his own circus troupe and traveling all over the world, he loves Veronica dearly, having practically raised her since her birth and only wishes the best for his baby sister as it was him who put the thought in her head to attend Hogwarts. Veronica and Talon are the only two in the family who have a loving relationship, the two are always seen together and Talon is the reason why Veronica stays and puts up with the rest of their family.

Mathéo Delacroix; Older Brother, Deceased – A former Slytherin at Hogwarts and was the family's informant and spy before his death which caused the already fractured relationships within the family to fall apart completely. A well-mannered and eloquently spoken man before his untimely death, Mathéo was an angel among men, despite being a part of an evil family, he never once enjoyed or believed in the values and beliefs the rest of the family had and he made sure that Veronica never did as well. Veronica loved Mathéo dearly, she looked up to him and he along with Talon was her favorite person in the world so his death completely and absolutely crushed her.

Paternal Grandparents: Ifrit Delacroix & Lilith

Maternal Grandparents: Shiva Delacroix & Ba'al

Uncles: Edmund Delacroix (Raoul's Brother)

Mauser Delacroix (Yvonne's Brother)

Orville Aguillard (Carolina's Husband)

Aunts: Carolina Delacroix (Yvonne's Sister)

Margaret Delacroix (née Lestallum) (Edmund's Wife)

Helena Delacroix (née Auclair) (Mauser's Wife)

Cousins: Tristan Delacroix

Lana Delacroix

Eugene Delacroix

Maxine Delacroix (Edmund and Margaret’s Children)

Fallon Delacroix

Aries Delacroix

Théo Delacroix (Mauser and Helena’s Sons)

Seraphina Aguillard

Vivian Aguillard

Zoe Aguillard (Orville and Carolina’s Daughters)

Relatives:

Deirdre Delacroix (née Lestrange) (Ravus' Wife/Sister-in-Law)

Somnus Delacroix (Nephew)

Maurice Delacroix (Nephew)

Aera Delacroix (Niece)

Daphné Delacroix (Niece)

Victor Rosier (Davina's Husband/Brother-in-Law)

Simon Rosier (Nephew)

Nathaniel Rosier (Nephew)

Aeterna Rosier (Niece)

Altissia Rosier (Niece)

Kaiser Rosier (Nephew)

Josephine Garnier, Deceased (Mathéo's Fiance)

Unborn Child

Barbatos Delacroix (Ancestor)

Umbra Delacroix (Ancestor)

⛧ Hogwarts/Magic ⛧

Wand: Soft Spiral - Black

Wood: Yew

Core: Dragon Heartstring

Length: 13 in.

Flexibility: Whippy

Handle: Arrow - Black

House: Slytherin

Best Class: Defense Against the Dark Arts

Worst Class: Care of Magical Creatures

Favorite Professor: Dinah Hecat

Least Favorite Professor: Bai Howin

Favorite Subject(s): DADA, Potions, Flying, Charms

Least Favorite Subject(s): Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, Herbology

Boggart: Her Grandfather's Demon Form

Riddikulus: A very large puppy

Patronus: Thestral

Patronus Memory: Going to the circus with Talon and Mathéo

Mirror of Erised: Herself, Talon, Mathéo, Josephine, and their unborn Child all living together happily.

Animagus: It is required for children born into the Delacroix Family to become well-versed in every type of magic possible, one of those requirements is to become an animagus as soon as possible. Veronica became an animagus at age 12, her animal form is a Black Panther.

Amortentia (what she smells like): Hot chocolate, strawberry croissants, rain, cedarwood, brimstone

Amortentia (what she smells): Sour candy, earthy scent, butterbeer, horklump juice, unidentifiable

Quidditch: Yes, Chaser

Prefect: No

Head Boy/Girl: No

Clubs:

Investigation Team (Founder)

Crossed Wands

O.W.L. Classes:

Transfiguration - Exceeds Expectations

Charms - Outstanding

Herbology - Acceptable

Astronomy - Acceptable

Potions - Outstanding

History of Magic - Acceptable

Defense Against the Dark Arts - Outstanding

Flying - Outstanding

Ancient Runes - Outstanding

Magic Theory - Exceeds Expectations

Music - Outstanding

O.W.L. Electives:

Arithmancy - Acceptable

Divination - Acceptable

Care of Magical Creatures - Acceptable

Ancient Runes - Outstanding

Magic Theory - Exceeds Expectations

Music - Outstanding

N.E.W.T. Classes:

Divination - Acceptable

Astronomy - Acceptable

Charms - Outstanding

Arithmancy - Acceptable

Herbology - Acceptable

Ancient Runes - Outstanding

Magic Theory - Exceeds Expectations

Music - Outstanding

Abilities:

Dark Arts

Wandless/Non-Verbal Magic

Legilimency

Occlumency

Demonic Aura

Demonic Transformation (Demon Form)

⛧ Background ⛧

Veronica Calliope Delacroix was born on October 31st, 1874 to Yvonne and Raoul Delacroix in Marseille, France. The Delacroix Family are considered to be powerful and deadly due to being descended from demons, specifically, Lucifer himself, this was something that would get hammered into Veronica from a young age as well as her place in the world and what was expected of her. Ever since she could remember, Veronica was partially raised by her older brothers, Talon and Mathéo and a nanny that held the same namesake as her. The brothers would play and teach Veronica all sorts of things, determined to give her at least a better childhood than the one they had, which included going to the circus every year.

Veronica, despite being a witch, was always filled with wonder at the whimsical and fantastical performance the circus would have, it was and still would be her favorite memory to have. As she grew older, that was when Veronica would begin her training in the ways of magic and combat by her father, it was less training and more of Raoul brutalizing his own daughter in an attempt to make her stronger, it was one of the many instances Veronica would know pain, she would go on to learn more things, except unlike with her brothers, she would not enjoy what she learned.

One day, during the siblings annual trip to the circus, Mathéo met a muggle woman by the name Josephine Garnier, a tightrope walker within the troupe, the two fell in love almost instantly and Mathéo would sneak out to meet her, the two of them eventually would get engaged in secret, Veronica had only met her a handful of times, usually when Mathéo would take her with him and Talon but from those encounters, Josephine had carved a place in Veronica's heart as she would see her as an older sister. Eventually, Josephine fell pregnant with Mathéo's child and the two of them, fearful of what Mathéo's family would do to them, planned to elope and flee to America to raise their child.

Unfortunately, the two of them were intercepted by the family's soldiers that forcibly brought them to the Delacroix estate where it was revealed that Ravus had found out and had told everyone in the family, while Mathéo and Talon were beaten and locked in the dungeon as punishment, Yvonne and Raoul were hysterical over the fact that Mathéo fell in love with a muggle and had even gotten her pregnant, in a desperate attempt to keep the family pure, it was agreed to sacrifice Josephine and her unborn child to appease the family and keep their status. At age 9, Veronica witnessed death via ritual where Josephine had her womb forcibly ripped open and her child taken out and then offered to her grandfather Ba'al who consumed both the child's body and soul before doing the same to Jospehine after making her watch and slit her throat, that was when Veronica experienced true horror and passed out from fear not too long after.

When she woke up, that's when things started to go downhill, beginning with Mathéo's suicide from stabbing himself in the heart with a dagger and Talon's deep descent into madness over losing his twin, Veronica's training became even more difficult, almost always ending with her in some sort of critical condition, one session even leaving a large scar on her face with no magic available to heal it. By the time Veronica turned 11, it was time for her to start her magical education and choose a school to go to, she was originally supposed to attend Durmstrang but Talon managed to convince Raoul and Yvonne to let Veronica attend Hogwarts to advance her training.

The next thing she knew, she was waving goodbye to Talon while on the Hogwarts Express and on the way there she met Noelle Ottinger and Ines Rivera, two girls that would eventually become family to Veronica. Hogwarts was a breath of fresh air to Veronica, the difference between cultures and ways of magic was all fascinating to her, it felt like she was back in the circus, for the first two years, it felt like things were looking up for her until the summer before her 3rd year is where Veronica would fully become indoctrinated into the family business by successfully making a pact with the demon Aamon to save herself from getting forced into an arranged marriage. Sensing her potential, Raoul decided on Veronica taking Mathéo's place within the family business while also transforming her into an efficient assassin, becoming the "Black Dahlia", by the time she turned 15, Veronica had become the most deadliest assassin in Wizarding World in France.

Now in her 5th year, Veronica is increasingly aware of what little time she has left before her parents decided to try again into pushing her into an arranged marriage, while dealing with her own personal life, she becomes swept up in a adventure of a lifetime with the appearance of the new fifth year, Beatrix Luxiem.

⛧ Career ⛧

11 – 17: Hogwarts Student

18 – 21: Auror Training

21 – 38: Auror

38 – 72: Unspeakable

72 – 89: Head of the Auror Office

89 – 96: Retired

96 – 138: Unknown

138 – Death: Unknown

Priorities:

Finding a way for both her and Talon to leave the family alive

Put off the thought of marriage from her parents's minds as much as possible

Going on adventures

Earning her independence

Exploring the world

Strengths:

Bold

Rational & Practical

Original

Perceptive

Direct

Sociable

Weaknesses:

Insensitive & Blunt

Impatient

Risk-Prone

Unstructured

Defiant

Sadistic

Colors:

Green

Black

White

Silver

Hobbies:

Dueling

Playing the Lute

Parkour

Acrobatics

Playing Poker

⛧ Relationships ⛧

Best Friend(s):

Beatrix Luxiem | 5th Year | Ravenclaw (MC)

Noelle Ottinger | 5th Year | Hufflepuff (OC)

Ines Rivera | 5th Year | Gryffindor (OC)

Ominis Gaunt

(I'm open to any and all OC friends, feel free to DM me if you want to be added!)

Friend(s):

Sebastian Sallow

Anne Sallow

Imelda Reyes

Natsai Onai

Poppy Sweeting

Garreth Weasley

Amit Thakkar

Grace Pinch-Smedley

Acquaintances:

Leander Prewett

Nerida Roberts

Violet McDowell

Dormmates:

Anne Sallow

Imelda Reyes

Grace Pinch-Smedley

Enemies:

Ranrok

Victor Rookwood

Theophilus Harlow

Azrael Caelestis

Rivals: Sebastian Sallow (DADA/Crossed Wands)

Love Interest: Garreth Weasley

Children:

Damien, Madeleine, & Renée Weasley (Triplets)

Nicholas, Juliet, & Ryland Weasley (Triplets..again)

Pet(s):

Mathéo, Josephine, & Âme (A Family of Thestrals)

Pearl (Female Baby Mooncalf)

Caligo (Male Hippogriff)

⛧ Misc & Trivia ⛧

Veronica was named after the nanny that cared for her and her brothers, her mother did not bother to name her after her birth and Mathéo and Talon loved their nanny so much that they agreed to name their sister 'Veronica' after she died.

Veronica is a skilled acrobatic, her love for the circus and Josephine's teachings were the reason she got into it.

Veronica sometimes likes to lounge around in her animal form, there have been rumors of a black panther prowling around the castle, it always scares the 1st years and professors are completely baffled when trying (and failing) to find and apprehend the beast.

Veronica's prized possession is the joker card her brother gave to her when she was 7.

Veronica has to go into hiding during a blood moon, this is because it is the time when demons are at their strongest but also at their most out of control. Veronica always ends up waking in a pool of blood that is not hers and she doesn't want to risk hurting her friends.

Animals and beasts are terrified of Veronica, this is because they sense the demonic aura around her and it's sheer potency is enough to make even Inferi and Spiders hesitant to attack her.

Her favorite desserts are macarons and chocolate.

She has a habit of speaking French and English at the same time.

She is the ancestor of Nikolai Trappola (HPHM OC).

Inspirations

Dante Sparda — Devil May Cry 5

Jinx — Arcane (2021)

Gladiolus Amicitia — Final Fantasy XV

Amélie Lacroix/Widowmaker — Overwatch

Nikolai Gogol — Bungou Stray Dogs

Childe/Tartaglia — Genshin Impact

The Hogwarts Investigation Team

💙Beatrix Luxiem | 💚 Veronica Delacroix (Here) | 💛 Noelle Ottinger (Coming Soon) | ❤️ Ines Rivera (Coming Soon)

[abysskeeper]

🎂 and 🌽 for Nox!

🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of the? How do they surprise people?

Between first meetings and how she actually is? Nox is a walking contradiction, mainly because she's awkward and incredibly uncomfortable meeting new people (especially without Lux). At worst, she comes across as blunt and brusque because she has no filter and will deliver truths and observations without thinking of her wording. She rarely ever means harm by it, but she's accidentally insulted enough people by now that when she's meeting someone new, she over-corrects for it by hardly speaking at all. Thus, she usually comes off as quiet and pretty aloof.

In actuality, once she warms up to someone (or they warm up to her), she's pretty friendly and an over-excitable nerd. She could talk shop all day about magic...or history...or the arts...or engineering...literally anything, really, and she does quite enjoy sitting by the fire with a glass of wine and swapping stories (and maybe a light bit of roasting each other).

Also, she's a horse girl. Not that she ever shows a dislike of animals, but I don't think anyone would ever expect to see the whip-smart elven wizard start squeeing and cooing over a horse. (I learned Elturian mages often learn how to cast on horseback, slotted that trait in, and suddenly everything about her made sense).

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

Nox likes acts of affection, they're a touchstone for her to determine if someone actually likes her or not. She is not, however, an incredibly physical person. She's not opposed, she freely accepts hugs if she's close to someone (and romantic partners get a total pass...she loves hand holding and cuddling), and usually knows when to offer one when needed, but it's not her first go to and she's usually not the first to initiate.

To make up for that, Nox is an acts of service person. Long day and you look tired? She's doing your chores unprompted. You look like you're having a bad time? She's assisting with what she can, and if it's something she can't help with or you don't want to talk about it, she's chattering away about whatever comes to mind. If it's especially bad, she'll grab her sketchbook and take requests. One of the WIPs I want to write with her is how she interacts with all of the companions after first meeting them: she winds up sending each one a small, illusory butterfly after each companion encounters their "bad day" (starting with Wyll and his punishment from Mizora) as a means to say she's here for them. If they want to talk, she's willing to listen. If they don't and just want something pretty to look at for a while, that's fine too.

Which is to say, she receives in the same way...and it's absolutely the reason Gale wins her over entirely by just making sure she eats every night even when she misses dinner and always agreeing with her whenever she wants to help people (among some other things related to the "companion questline" I'm devising for her).

[mylittleredgirl]

For the ‘don’t’ prompt thing:

Doggett/Reyes and “You don’t care what they think.”

In my head, John is the one saying it to Monica, but I’m not married to that idea.

Thank you for the prompt!!

--

One of the things Monica has always appreciated about John Doggett is that she never has to guess his mood.

The emotional weather patterns of her family of origin can be generously described as tempestuous—ultimately loving, usually kind, but varied, rapidly shifting, and loud. Monica herself was always the even-keeled one, happily going about her life amid the rising and falling dramas of the people around her (and las telenovelas on TV), but growing up in a house without a single emotional filter means that she is most comfortable when the people around her say what they mean.

She makes exceptions for friends she cares about, of course, but it’s always like reading a foreign language. Nine times out of ten she gets it right when she guesses if Dana is actually fine or if she’s hanging on by the very last thread of her rope, but John’s complete inability to disguise his feelings is always a relief.

She’s also usually good at guessing why he’s in a mood, but as he tears down US 70 like the devil himself is chasing them across Pennsylvania, she’s coming up empty. It’s a nice spring day, there’s next to no traffic, and the coffee-and-muffin situation at the Pittsburgh field office was surprisingly good. The case they’re on is pretty grisly, as they often are when the X-Files office and violent crimes get summoned at the same time, but John has seen far worse.

And while he never likes her more metaphysical theories, it’s rare that one of them will set him off like this unless the case itself is somehow personal.

“We should stop by the game lands again,” she says, continuing the essentially one-way conversation she has been holding for the past half-hour. “I want to take a wider perimeter around the second crime scene to see if there are more burned-out trees with those markings.”

John grunts something that sounds affirmative.

“I know it’s not your first instinct to believe in forces like this, but you have to admit it’s an unusual pattern of—”

“It’s fine. I said we’re stopping.”

Well, given that those are the first six words he has strung together since leaving the city limits: “Not out loud, you didn’t.”

She says it teasingly, but she gets no reaction, positive or otherwise.

After another minute of watching him silently glare down the asphalt ahead of them, Monica goes for the direct route, “Well if it’s not about fire spirits, will you tell me why you’re so angry all of a sudden?”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, then looks at her like she’s being irrational.

She’s pretty immune to that look, so she just stares back, eyebrows up, waiting.

He says, “I don’t get that about you. Why aren’t you angry?”

The question seems to come out of the blue. It’s only ten-thirty a.m. and they spent the morning in the same task force stand-up, with no disturbing developments in the case—beyond the ones that were already there. She can’t think of what information he could have that she doesn’t. “Should I be?”

He shakes his head. He eases up on the gas, letting their rented Camry slow from reckless to just garden-variety illegal. “You really don’t care what anyone thinks of you, do you?”

Ohhhh. That.

It’s kind of sweet to learn that he was bothered by the collective snickering of the violent crimes agents when she laid out the reasoning for her elemental-spirit theory—and no, she doesn’t care what they think, because at the end of the day she will be right or she will be wrong, and only one agent in that room is coming home with her.

So to speak.

She offers, “I care what you think.”

For some reason that makes John’s frown deepen as he turns on the blinker and exits the interstate. She pulls out the map in case he asks for copilot guidance to the hunting reserve, but he seems to remember where he’s going without her directions.

A mile down the road, he says, “You know… I mean, you do know that when I tell you one of your theories is…” He trails off.

“… nuts?” she supplies the word the ASAC used this morning.

He grumbles in response, then says, “I don’t ever think you’re nuts.”

Oh, John. “Yes, you do.”

He glares at her, but most of his anger has burned off. “I’m trying to make a point here, okay?”

“Sorry.” She politely folds her hands on top of the map, and can’t help but grin. “Make your point.”

“I don’t always understand how you get from point A to point B, but you get there. The whole… fire spirits, and whatever, it’s a lot to take in, but I don’t like when they brush you off.”

It is sweet, and her heart squeezes a little in her chest, accompanied by that familiar feeling of gratitude that she not only gets to go on such an exciting journey with this X-Files assignment, but that she gets to do it with him.

Monica really doesn’t care what a random Pittsburgh ASAC thinks about her, as long as he lets her do her job, but still, “It’s good to know you’re on my side.”

“Always.” This time when John looks over at the passenger seat, his frown has been replaced with a warm little smile, the one that he has been giving her a lot more lately, the one that makes her feel like they’re heading toward something important. “We’re partners, right?”

They have been for almost a year. At a certain point, her heart should probably stop skipping when he says it out loud. “Even when you think I’m nuts?”

He rolls his eyes and turns back to the road, but he’s still smiling, and she’s willing to take that as his final answer.

[aeondeug]

Of course. And thank you for apologizing for things. I think two other points of context might help clear up why exactly people are reacting as they are. In regards to the matter of race, the reason this is getting brought up is due to a historically attested prioritization of white characters over characters of color like Suletta. In addition to that prioritization there have been problems across a variety of fandoms with racism. Both in regards to comments made about characters, especially black characters, and to fans of colors, with black fans of color often getting the worst treatment.

As I am not black and I am a mixed person who reads as white to many, I'm not the most qualified person to speak on this matter. Princess Weekes has several youtube videos that go over the matter though and in a variety of fandoms. Her one video responding to that one article about Reylo fans receiving criticism comes to mind immediately. As she does go heavily into the experience of black Star Wars fans and fans of the non-white characters like Rose and most especially Finn. I'd go and give that video at the very least a watch to get at least something of an understanding of why the whiteness of destiel keeps being brought up.

The second matter that you brought up is gender. And again this is a matter of a complicated and long history, one I'm more privy to myself as someone who has shipped f/f primarily for the majority of my life. Which is to say that men in fiction have been historically prioritized and that m/m itself is often so. And as with the issue of race, this has led to harassment and general unpleasantness.

An example is within Gundam, honestly. Gundam Wing was The Big Show when I was a kid. Alphabet shipping, the shipping of the boys in Wing, was a very big deal in anime fandom. However, it didn't stay at just peacefully shipping the boys. Relena Peacecraft, the female protagonist of the series, was heavily demonized by a portion of the fanbase since she was in the way of a popular m/m ship due to being the canonical love interest of series protagonist Heero Yuy. When not demonized, she was derided as being boring or whiny.

Similar instances of such things can be found across a wide variety of fandoms and often shows itself in the form of character assassination in fanfic. An older trend being taking the canon female love interest and making her a homophobic harpy. A now recent trend being to make her the "mean lesbian" friend whose existence is solely to wingman for and prop up a slash ship.

Another related trend is that of background lesbians, the practice of tagging an f/f ship in a fic when they are not the focus of the fic. The worst cases of this involve the f/f ship literally getting a single sentence mention. Homestuck fandom had a very bad problem with this wherein a lot of fics on ao3 that tagged rosemary, the big canon f/f ship in the comic, were actually davekat fics that had maybe a sentence long mention of rosemary. With ao3 in particular this trend of tagging background ships makes finding f/f ship fic actually a bit of a task. I myself use an addon that restricts my search to fics with my ship as the first presented ship. Others utilize various tricks with ao3's filters. However none of these measures are foolproof.

And even then you are often looking at a fraction of the content that beloved slash ships will get. A lot of my ships have only around 50 fics total for them on ao3. Some I have better luck on sites like ff.net. But generally I am lucky if I get 50 fics. And this isn't just a fandom specific issue. It is a sitewide matter. The f/f tag on ao3 only recently hit 1 million individual works. I believe as of 2023 levels of recently hit.

This also hasn't stayed in just the realm of a lack of fanfic or treating female characters terribly. With f/f ships in specific, which are my wheelhouse, this has also involved harassment and bigotry. One of my earliest fandom experiences was excitedly showing some BL loving friends of mine Maria-sama ga Miteru, a favorite of yuri fans in the early 2000s. They called the yuri comic I was excited about gross and asked if I was a lesbian. The look on their faces was one of obvious disgust. From that period on they would make jokes about predatory lesbians, especially our gym teacher. And they had a great distaste for a friend of mine who I sapphic feelings for. Not ones either of us spoke of personally but which were obvious to anyone watching us interact. I've met other women with similar experiences growing up and a yuri manga I am fond of called Still Sick involves this happening to one of the main characters.

If you talk to korrasami shippers and bubbline shippers who were around for when those shows were airing you'll find a lot of accounts of being harassed by other fans for their ships. I've seen many talk about how they were dismissed as "horny teenage boys" for their ships. I myself left Adventure Time fandom after numerous instances of being called an "idiot" and a "pervert" over my fondness for bubbline. Many have been called lesbophobic slurs.

This also isn't a behavior that is entirely limited to the past either. There had been a femslash shipping event for Assassin's Creed: Valhalla. The rules allowed for the main character to be bisexual and even polyamorous, and some of the staff were bi themselves. The rules also clearly stated that trans interpretations of the character were permitted, including multigender or genderfluid ones. The sole caveat was that the character could not be a monogendered man. People harassed the staff and claimed they were both transphobic and biphobic for wanting to have an event that was exclusively sapphic. No one was terribly surprised by this happening, even outside the Assassin's Creed fanbase. We were upset, but also tired. Because this sort of thing has been happening for decades now and shows no signs of actually stopping.

And it's with that context in mind, some of it backed up by statistical data on ao3 itself, that there are these "yuri warrior" pushes in polls like these. It's years of being dismissed, ignored, insulted and harassed for having an interest in f/f and in women in fiction in general. I can understand that without this context it might look strange and seem hurtful. But I do hope this helps you get why people keep saying things like "Can women finally get a win?" over this poll.

The internet's a large place. Tumblr is too. We've all got our own corners of it. And I think it's a good idea to keep in mind that maybe there's a context that's being missed during things like this. It's also a good idea to go and look outside your own corner at times. I may not be into live action tv fandom myself, but I do like hearing fans of it talk about their shows and the history of their fandoms. Partly because people passionately talking about a thing is fun and partly because it helps give me greater context for just how wide and varied fandom actually is.

Tumblr Top Ships Bracket - FINALS

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[mercurytrinemoon]

Another post on Moon signs you can drag me for

Before we get into the actual thing, I'd like to say this post initially started as something else but ultimately, what I tried to put across is, sometimes Moon signs aren’t that easy to decipher. It’s easy to grasp overall characteristics of the signs and then learn how to identify their specific traits. But what people seem to forget it that Moon represents the deepest side of us & our inner world - it’s uncommon to really see someone’s side of it unless you really pay attention. Sometimes I’m surprised to see what someone’s Moon sign is even if I know this person well. Meaning, people usually hide that part of them - or they just simply process it internally and others can’t see their emotional reactions. It’s also uncommon for folks these days to fully express their emotional needs so it gets even trickier to pin-point their Moon characteristics. I don't think I have to mention this but, of course, your entire chart should be taken into account, as well as house placement, aspects. Personally, I like to also look at Moon's dispositor.

Let’s start from my friends, Gemini Moons, who, I feel, get a bad rep for not showing their feelings and scanning every emotion like an AI. Nah-ah. I know this one Gemini Moon whose immediate emotional reactions aren’t very cerebral in the sense of processing everything in the mind and intellectualizing it aka, what people like to label as being un-emotional. Instead her reactions are often fast (air energy) but physically expressed through Mercury (Gemini Moon’s dispositor) and Sun (overall identity) – she has them both in Aries. She’s a crybaby who can burst into tears in a matter of seconds. So she’s not something that would stereotypically be assigned to a Gemini Moon. But what I did notice is that all Gemini Moons tend to have this weird look on their face when they’re processing stuff. As if they were about to have a brain malfunction; they stop and have that specific worried look. They also like to either gossip or tell stories (either real or made up lol); they’re great with words - they can talk for hours if they feel comfortable with you. They just crave interaction and mental stimulation. Their quick reactions tend to make them effortlessly witty. Even if they’re a withdrawn Gemini type, they make up for it through social media and technology or just a quiet exploration. My shy Cancer pal with Moon in Gemini is now a brand/website designer and an instagram queen who travels the world. This is great energy for content creators in general. And don’t forget that Geminis need to have their fingers in many pies. It’s because they always have a backup plan… and they get bored easily so they need that chaos around them to feel at home. They like to have options in everything, which is kind of funny cause it’s hard for them to make up their minds and actually choose something. And they store a lot of information in their brains… I feel like it must be exhausting, no? 

On the other side of the axis, whenever I see someone with a Sagittarius Moon, I can immediately say “yup, a Sag Moon indeed” (probably thanks to my Sag stellium), meaning, they all seem the same to me. Sag Moons often find comfort in exploration - best if it’s literal travel. They always seem to need to free themselves from their surroundings, family, roots or their own culture to discover something new and exciting, even if it’s only in the imaginary words - through books, movies and other medias. Their happiness always lies somewhere else from where they currently are. Like, I think all Sagittarius Moons that I know have left their parents and went their own paths early on. And they have this yolo attitude. Just like Sagittarius Suns, they’re massive dorks, probably also obnoxious… sometimes in a REALLY annoying way. They’re either a) very wise and curious b) lil preachy and stuck up c) just plain dumb clowns with no filter. But they’re all funny. And they take things lightly, with a natural ease. This means sometimes they may offend other people just because they assume everyone’s as chill as they are; „relax! I was just kidding!” - that’s a phrase you’ll hear from them often… I mean, unless you’re a jokester yourself and you’re unmoved by their sarcastic or teasing words. They have somewhat spiritual or philosophical nature so besides making you laugh, be prepared for deep monologues. They want to believe everything will eventually fall into place. It’s also hard to bring them down - or I should say, it’s hard to make them acknowledge that they're feeling down - they always try to distract or cover it up with a joke, usually a self-depricating one. If Sagittarius Moon (or Sagittarius in general tbh) is telling you that they’re unhappy, then it’s serious.

I’ve noticed there comes a point in life for a Libra Moon where they just have enough. They’re too nice for everyone and one day they wake up and yell about how they have to do everything for everyone and everyone wants something from them and bLah bLah. Makes me think of when Bieber was this overly nice kid and then he was like “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES WITH FANS ANYMOREEEE AAGhJFJFUWIUq”. Yup, a Libra Moon, everyone. They know how to charm and appeal to people, I think overall they’re easily liked by others. Sometimes it’s simply because they like to kiss people’s ass just to avoid being rejected. That’d be a Libra Moon’s nightmare. They like other people’s company too much. And they thrive in relationships and in a big circle of friends. What they hate is confrontations (like every other Libra placement omg). They may be good mediators when it comes to other people but if they’re involved in an argument they get sooooo passive aggressive. They just don’t know how to handle conflicts - it’s as if their nervous system wasn’t designed for emotional outbursts (because, you know, everything needs to be peaceful and harmonious Venus-style). A fussy or angry Libra Moon will suddenly get loud as they blame someone for something… and then they’ll leave the room cause they’re scared to even hear the other side of the argument. Or, alternatively, they’ll make a doormat out of themselves just to stay quiet and avoid causing any rift. And making decisions? I think it’s common for them to have two different romantic interests and feeling so dramatically torned between them *Alexa play Agony from Into the Woods*. Then when they decide, they have problems breaking the bad news to one of them.

On the other end we have Aries Moons. *deep breath* Listen, I think I’ve said enough about having Moon in Aries (or rather purely dissing it) but last time it made a bit of controversy so why not wreak even more havoc. I have a good description for this one: I will punch you but be gentle with me cause it’s easy to break my fragile heart. So basically, imagine putting Buttercup and Bubbles into one person. And honestly, I need to say this, women with this placement are just hot badasses, look at friggin Angelina Jolie. The queen of badass. The queen of hot. People say because Aries folks move quickly (literally and figuratively lol), they often get bored with whatever got them excited last week... or yesterday. Ha, yeah, right. You get their heart to open up and they’re going to have their eyes for you ONLY, like a lil puppy. Give us treats and we’ll build our world around you. But NOT in a clingy way by any means, we need our space and independence after all. My lil niece is an Aries Moon and ever since I started playing guitar with her, she became my #1 fan or something. That’s the energy. But we get easily bored with day-to-day stuff so yeah, there’s that. Innocent and clumsy yet raw in their emotions - so there’s potential to make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of times) or having this tunnel vision, like „I want this and I don’t care about anything else!”. And then excusing it with some „but the heart wants what it wants” crap (looking @ ya, Selena Gomez). They experience constant inner movement and turbulence that needs a physical outlet in order to feel satisfied. WE NEED PASSION IN OUR LIVES, OKAY?!?!?? now leave me alone

Aquarius Moons aren’t as cold as you might think. People like to describe them as if their Moons actually disappeared from their charts: dEtaCheD, uNeMotiOnaL, tHey fEeL nOtHinG. It’s just they don’t sit and dwell on things, they find solutions to the problems. If something doesn’t make them feel right, they just leave that situation. They do care about other people’s well-being, they’re very sensitive in that regard, they’re humanitarians after all. Yeah, they detach, but from their own emotions - in order to make sense of them. They may seem like snow queens sometimes (and this comes from an Aqua rising) but they’re really friendly and if you pique Aqua Moon’s interest, they’re going to be curious about you. They like new exciting things so if you’re cool enough, you have their attention. Usually they’re pretty progressive as well and can’t stand injustice. That’s why you’ll see them standing up for those who are in need. Uranian energy gives them a specific type of sharp intuition and wit. Idk they’re just cute in a quirky way. But this buzzing, fast energy is a great recipe for anxiety, over-thinking and frequent changes of heart. Similarly to Sadges, they need constant exploration and stimuli. Intelligent, people-oriented (but not people-pleasing! Look to Libras for that), individualistic. They definitely need their own space and independence. Their decision-making is fast and it’s easy for them to just say „screw it, I’m doing this”. My Aquarius Moon friend just casually decided that she’s moving to Turkey cause nothing in our city (or even country) seems interesting or helping her expand… So she was like, see ya suckers, I’m leaving.

Leo Moons shine from within. You’ll spot them from a mile away even if they’re on the shyer side. They’re all lil stars no matter their profession. Very expressive people & easily excitable. Art galleries, live shows, theater - they love a creative environment even if they don’t pursue that lifestyle themselves... One of my Leo Moon friends is an art junkie – suggest taking her to an obscure play at the local bar, a music festival, a weird museum – she’ll say yes in the blink of an eye. And she loves discussing these things. A Leo Moon may not see themselves as artistically inclined, but usually sooner or later they at least try dipping their toes in music, arts, acting, dancing... you name it. They’ll learn a simple 3-chord song on a ukulele and then play it to you in excitement. Imagine a lil kid making you a puff piece and being super proud of it. Sometimes they just need some encouragement. Remember, Leos feed off of praise, that’s their fuel. Doesn’t mean they’re all proud, egotistical people but what it does mean is that they need a lil assurance to gain their self-confidence. I lived with a Leo Sun/Moon for almost 15 years (who’s a musician btw so yeah, a classic creative Leo type) - he did have some issues lol but ego wasn’t one of them. Drama followed him everywhere but I’m pretty sure he disliked it himself. BUT, with that being said, I feel like Leo Moons tend to dramatize themselves internally. People say it’s something Virgos or Geminis would do - because of their tendency to overthink, but Leos can just go straight to a worst-case scenario in their heads simply because they exaggerate everything. So don’t be surprised to see a Leo Moon feeling down and anxious. On the bright side, be their cheerleader and they’ll give that to you in return. They need sparks and dullness kills their upbeat spirit. They need to feel their own heartbeat so the feeling of excitement is crucial for their well-being. Romantic, giving and kind. They’re fixed fire so once they’re set on something or someone, they give their all and are rather loyal.

I feel like my chart low-key tells me I should dislike Taurus Moons but I just want to melt in their arms and just stay there? Like, forever? Low maintenance but a bit slow-moving and stubborn. They won’t settle easily, at least not officially, so you need to have a lot of patience with them. They need 3 things to feel secure and at peace: physical stimuli, time and a stable place they know they can always come back to. And it’s not like all of them are total lazy homebodies, they may be active spirits & travellers but they are going to have a reallyyyyy nice cosy flat somewhere near their childhood place (gotta be be close to their moms, you know). Not necessary materialistic but they may have one thing that they collect throughout their entire life and they won’t. ever. get. rid. of. it. There needs to be at least one constant in their life - like you know when Elton John decided to go to therapy but one thing he stuck to was shopaholism? Very Taurus Moon of him. Also, they’re very affectionate. In fact, may have issues differentiating between affection and passion - this is actually something Taurus Moon and Aries Moon have in common. Pro tip - and this is in regard to all Taurus placements - don’t smell bad when you’re around them (I mean, don't smell bad in general, no one likes stinky people lol). They have a sensitive smell. Doesn’t help that they like to smell everything. EVERYTHING. I swear, Taurus, stop sticking your nose in every single thing!!! You don't need to know how that piece of utensil smells like. Jeez.

Scorpio Moon (shoutout to those who remember me accidentally calling them sporpio last time I made a post on Moons lol). I honestly don’t know what to tell you... I feel like all you hear about Scorpio Moon is 100% true, there’s nothing to debunk here. It’s the Moon of extremes. Prone to jealousy and surpressing emotions; severe trust issues; they’re instigators. I was low-key bullied by a few Scorpio Moons when I was in school so there’s that. Very secretive and private. Scorpio Moon will be like “I’m in control of the situation!!!!” and you’ll just look at them and think, yeah, right, looks like the situation is controlling you. But keep being in denial, sure. Like, don’t get me wrong, Scorpios in general can be TOTAL SWEETHEARTS OMG but ya’ll have issues. Even celebrities who have this placements... Think Beyonce or Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus... I feel like they have issues lol, especially with control and the need for everything to be perfectly the way they want it to be. To be fair, that’s probably why they’re all so influential and high status: it’s either their way or highway. They need constant reinvention; they’re the ones to wake up one day and decide they’re going through a spiritual awakening blah blah. They also like to talk about dark and shocking topics while having casual lunch with you... So like, be warned that you may end up with a depressed mood after talking to them for 10 minutes. And their mood swings... don’t even get me started on that.

I don't know where to start with Virgo Moons... I feel like they're very calculated and nit-picky but they're a lot warmer than Virgo Suns. I think I called them softies in my last Moon post. Very sweet people but prone to anxiety. You gotta experience seeing them having a heart attack over someone mixing bananas with milk or messing with their stuff that’s been put in a perfect arrangement. I saw a Virgo Moon once literally squealing shouting "YOU'RE GONNA RUIN YOUR LAPTOP WITH THAT SUPERGLUE!!!" Highly entertaining to watch, not gonna lie. Gordon Ramsay has his Moon in Virgo - it’s conjunct Uranus and Pluto so that’s an extreme but I think him being fed up with people over small inconsistencies in their food prep is a perfect example of this energy (btw his chart is hilarious, it literally explains EVERYTHING). They're VERY picky with their food as well, just as Virgo Suns tend to be. Like, they’ll only have a specific type of single origin coffee or they’ll be vegan or something. Self-critical over their work, which is a plus... except for when finishing a simple task takes them a few hours because they want to make it perfect. They take everything seriously. This of course doesn't mean they're total bores - on the contrary, Mercurial energy gives them witty approach and a talent for choosing the right words at the right time. Tho they can be a bit awkward or shy with it. Can be as bubbly as Gemini but the grounded earthy energy gives them more practical and almost nurturing nature - earth signs are providers after all and Virgo is the sign of service - helping others is like their second nature. I’ve noticed they often find comfort in devoting themselves to a choosen task - this is why if they pursue something, they’re really good at it. They’re also very likely to dissect their emotions.

I’m not a fan of water Moons in general but Pisces Moon is the best water Moon in my opinion. Maybe because I like Pisces overall. I think it’s like a tweaked Sagittarius Moon - just more internalized, withdrawn & gloomy. But unlike Sag, who has a tendency to be an adventurous optimist, Pisces likes to focus on the negatives instead. Obviously, they can be very upbeat, they’re Jupiter-ruled after all, but there’s somehing whiny about them lol. Just like Sadges, they dream big and have their standards put up sooo high but if there's not much active energy in their charts, they’re often too passive to actually fullfill any of that - or I should say, they’re stuck daydreaming about it, believing it’ll just magically manifest for them... OR they do everything with an apathetic approach. What I do like about them is that they’re funny. And really chill - sometimes to the point of coming off as confused or hazy. I feel like a lot of them would just love to sleep all day... or sit by the lake and just think about the world. Most of them are also compassionate folks - again, maybe a bit too much. Hey Pisces, you don’t have to take everything to heart, it’s okay. On the bright side, they have big imagination and the ability to disconnect and just create. I have a few Pisces Moons in the family: one’s that sleepy artistic type with grand visions, one is an asshole-ish but funny entrepreneur with a questionable work ethic and one is a witty IT guy who’s actually a workaholic and likes to shut in his own world of computers and numbers or whatever he does there... So there’s this factor of tunnel vision, escapism and, on the more negative side, being kinda iffy and almost addicted to the way they want things to be. Once they set their eyes on something it’s done deal…

My issue with Capricorn Moons is that they're often trying to be sooooo mature omg, like, loosen up a bit. It usually starts when they're in their later teens... They can be the most rebellious kid that likes to have fun and suddenly they'll be like "I'm too old for this ugh grow up" *judgmental stare*. My 18-year old niece once literally roasted my sister that she's in her 30s and still doesn't have her own place (well so do I so I guess she also indirectly roasted me as well???). And she was SO deadpan with it. Because she herself wants to be independent and start a family before turning 25. This is classic Capricorn Moon energy. They suck out joy out of everything lol. Of course, OF COURSE, it depends on the whole chart but I feel like worst-case scenario is that at one point in their life (or maybe even a few times throughout it) they go through a massive shake-up that makes them change their attitude and re-evaluate their structures. There's this multi-instrumentalist Yvette Young - she's a sweet, funny Cancer/Leo mix but her Moon is in Capricorn. She used to be a competitive pianist but the pressure that was put on her has led her to severe health issues. Like yes, she’s now an extremely talented musician - thanks to family’s expectations & a rigid schooling system (Saturn) but it did cost her a lot. She has recovered since then but I think it's a perfect example of this energy. It’s very ambitious and hardworking but emotionally demanding in the sense that you have to actually put your emotions aside in order to deal with the rest. Another thing, because Moon can be associated with family, there's often a weird dynamic surrounding this topic. I don't think I've met a Capricorn Moon that had a completely healthy and happy relationship with their fam or one of the family members. Or, alternatively, there can be a strong bond between one of them but usually created in the atmosphere of hardships.

Last but not least, Cancer Moons. I had three school friends with this placement and all of them made this sad, whiny face as they said „oh I don’t knoooow anymoreee”  when they were feeling torned or frustrated. To be fair, two of them are water Suns so for them, it added to the mushyness. All Cancer Moons I know are family people or better yet, baby people. One of those school friends is now a guidance counsellor, working with kids; the other turned her instagram into a gallery of her own child after she gave birth. So much kid content, omg. There’s also something very indecisive about them… or I should say, hesitant. They’re not very fast at making decisions. Also, what’s interesting, they’re kind of like walking libraries, they remember a lot – so they store a lot of information in their brains just like air signs but they process it in a completely different way – emotional, obviously. I think this also makes them hold grudges a lot. For them it’s more of a question of „how does it make me feel?” rather than „how valid is it?”. There’s certain stubborness in them in that regard because they don’t keep their minds open. It’s also hard for them to walk away from people and situations, like a crab pinching you with its claws – it won’t let go. Sensitive but not easy to open up; very protective of themselves and their loved ones & they tend to shut down in their crab shells. But they may crave connection and the feeling of belonging. Also very caring and with a big imagination. They’re very receptive of their environment so mood swings are a thing for them.

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[duperderedere]

Man Unsounded is really good, and I’m surprised in a good way to see how recognized it is among the folks taking these polls.

if you only recognize it but aren’t keeping up oh boy howdy do in suggest you do so 👀👀 shit has popped off in major ways, with interesting story turns and character arcs that feel very poignant, complex, and rarely seen in other works. If you read it and fell off, catch up again! It’s on the final chapter of book 1, so climaxes are coming at us hard and fast. It will probably be complete by year’s end- and then comes kickstarters and the wait for Book 2!

Oh right another thing to say about Unsounded- this comic is honestly as top of the line as you can get when it comes to updates- regularity, consistency, quality. It’s M-W-F but author and artist Ashley Cope will often drop multiple pages as best serves the flow of the update, and then take a break to make up for them. And she has only missed updates because of hurricanes! This woman is a workhorse and is reliable and just- this is a labor of love, a great work of art, and I recommend whole heartedly.

The story revolves around two traveling companions- Sette Frummagem, a girl with a tail that is the daughter of a Crime Boss, and Duane Adelier, the uniquely intelligent zombie blackmailed hired to protect her as she travels across the country to settle a family debt.

Of course, they aren’t the only ones on the road, and Sette and Duane find themselves running into a slave smuggling ring and a pair of foreign cops again and again. Their stories converge and eventually explode. Unsounded ponders what it means to be human, to love, to live, to die, to be remembered, and to be forgotten.

So a few things about Unsounded since I’m like, propagandizing it-

1. Be mindful of all the trigger warnings, but don’t let that scare you off. In terms of content, I’d say if you can stomach the plot of Berserk (even if you don’t like it, as I don’t) then Unsounded is just fine. But also, yeah, be mindful of violence (including sexual) to men, women, and children, as well as gore and body horror.

2. Within the fandom there’s talk of the “Sette Filter” in chapter one, with many people deciding to drop the comic there because of her. I guess I don’t get it since I love Sette, but also if you find her grating after chapter one try to keep an open mind. She IS the Main Character (one of them) so you’ll be spending a lot of time with her. Give her empathy and patience, and she will repay you, I promise.

So yeah. Read Unsounded.

Obscure Webcomic - Round 1-K

Leaf Scar - Ongoing

The adventures of Satya, who was just trying to help, and the shapeshifting-dear-wood-creature who kidnapped her.

Unsounded - Ongoing

A dark epic fantasy comic with great worldbuilding and art

[tempest-sun]

Diamond in the Rough Chapter 4

Chapter 4: To Be Free

Warnings: None

Words: 2,144

Summary: You enact your plan to rescue your father. Tech comes up with a plan of his own.

Ch. 01 - Ch. 02 - Ch. 03

The smell of freshly baked pastries waft through the palace halls as you make your way towards the dining hall. Sun filters through the billowing silk curtains. Melodic bird song is carried on the early morning breeze. 

You hear muffled voices coming from the foyer. Your ears perk up at the sound of a cadence you’d know anywhere. Tech! What’s he doing here? 

You appear at the top of the stairs searching for him. The heavy doors close. Tech is nowhere in sight. 

Prince Jafan turns on his heel to look up at you. “Princess, you’re looking beautiful this morning. As always,” he bows. 

You descend the marble staircase barely containing your eyeroll at his obvious attempts of flattery. “Thank you Sir,” you say. “So who was at the door this early?”

“Oh some beggars,” he waves dismissively. “Must have slipped past the gate. I would be more than happy to contribute a few of my own men to assist yours in securing the castle.”

I’m sure you would. You think to yourself. “That is a most generous offer. I will have to speak to my mother about it. I’m sure she would be most appreciative.” You give him a thin lipped smile.

He seems pleased with that answer. “I must admit Princess, I am surprised you’re up early.”

“Well, you know what they say. The early bird gets the worm,” you quip. Time for phase one. “Actually, I was hoping to run into you.”

“You were?” He raises his brows in surprise. 

“Yes, to apologize for my behaviour the other day,” you give him a faux sheepish look. “I truly have no excuse and I would hope to make amends over breakfast. If you’d like.” 

He squares his shoulders, puffing out his chest. “No amends necessary. I completely understand. Women are often susceptible to the whims of their emotions.”

Oh I could hit him. You grimace, clenching one hand in a fist at your side. Your nails leave crescent shaped indents in your bandage. “Thank goodness you understand. I was worried you wouldn’t.” 

“Of course, I am plenty understanding as you’ll come to realize.” He extends his elbow to you.

Reluctantly, you loop your arm with his. “Excellent, I can’t wait to find out more about you,” you say, trying to sell your interest. It’s going to be a long breakfast.

Glancing out the thin window that flanks the front door of the palace, you see the retreating figure of Tech. Beside him is a small blonde-haired child who holds his hand as they disappear from view. 

Is that his kid? Does he have a wife? Great, the one time I found a nice guy… 

“Princess?” Jafan’s voice disrupts your thoughts. 

“Sorry,” you look back up at him. “I have a tendency to daydream. My mother is always complaining that my head is always somewhere in hyperspace,” you ramble with a chuckle. 

Jafan’s face flickers with contempt. “I see.” 

Good. Let him think I’m dumb. You smirk to yourself. Makes my job easier. 

Midway through breakfast, you are saved by the bell. By bell you mean the Prince’s royal advisor ‘regretfully interrupting’ your conversation. Thank the maker because your patience is already thin. Not only from his incessant chattering about his favourite subject- himself- but also the fact that you could see every bite he chewed while he talked. Gross.

You remain at the table alone to ponder your plan as you pick at the glass bowl of sugar berries. You wonder to yourself if your plan is even going to work. At least you have a list of potential places that your father could be being kept at. The Prince didn’t hesitate to brag when you asked him about how many properties he has across the galaxy. You sigh. That’s the problem, you don’t know how much time you have to sift through all the planets he mentioned. 

“Good morning darling,” your mother sweeps into the room. Even though it's the first thing in the morning and there’s nothing on her itinerary, your mother is always put together. She places a kiss on your temple. “Mind if I join you?”

“Morning mum,” you relax in your chair. “Please.” You gesture to the seat that the Prince once occupied. 

“I heard that you were having breakfast with the Prince,” she reaches for the stack of freshly baked croissants, taking one, ripping it in half, and buttering the one side. She takes a bite, her eyes studying you as she chews.

“Relax, I was only trying to make amends.” You roll your eyes grabbing a croissant as well. 

“You were?” 

“Yeah, I thought about what you said and I figured actions speak louder than words,” you shrug, spreading jam on your croissant instead of butter. 

That’s not totally a lie but she can’t know about your plan. Just in case it backfires. Plausible deniability as your dad always liked to say. 

Your mother leans back in her chair. The proud smile on her face cuts you like a thousand knives. “I have to say I’m impressed y/n. I didn’t think you understood the position we’re in.” 

You study your mother as she speaks. She looks older. The stress of her solo rule is really taking its toll. No wonder she’s been so stressed lately. Don’t worry mum, if I succeed everything will be okay again. 

“I didn’t. At first.” You say truthfully. “But I understand that this is what’s best for the family.”

Smiling wistfully, she reaches across the table squeezing your hand. “Your father would be so proud of you. I know that if he was here, things would be different but nevertheless he’d be proud that you’re doing your duty.”

You’re almost tempted to call off your plan and actually do your duty but you can’t forget what you heard last night. Your dad needs you. You can’t quit now. You’ll have to try even if you die trying. 

��———————————————————————

Across the city, Tech is still working out the schematics of how they are going to get into the palace without detection. The last thing the Batch needs is the Empire being alerted that rogue clones have been captured on Ord Mantell. 

There’s also the underlying issue that you would be alerted and be furious that he took advantage of your trust. Tech doesn’t think he can bear betraying you. It’s bad enough that he’s even mapping the castle using micro spider droids that he conveniently left behind before he and Omega were unceremoniously tossed out of the palace.

He glances over to the cylindrical comm device that Tech had programmed your frequency into. Even though he received it three days ago, he hasn’t mustered the courage to try to reach you. He tries to convince himself that it’s pointless and that you’ve forgotten about him by now. After all, you’re a princess and he’s a clone. 

After all, you have the Prince as your suitor. Why delude himself into thinking he could compete with a Prince. A handsome and wealthy Prince at that. He is everything that Tech wishes he could be so he can be truly worthy of you. Unless…

“Did you call the Princess yet?” Omega bounds into the ship. 

“Yeah! Did you?” Wrecker follows close behind her. 

Tech doesn’t say anything. “No. As you can see I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Awww, that’s no fun.” Wrecker grumbles. Tech misses the mischievous look shared between his brother and sister. Wrecker swipes Tech’s comm off the dashboard of the Marauder pressing the on button.

“Hey!” Tech gets up setting his data pad on the pilot's chair. The comm trills for a moment and Tech’s heart leaps in his chest as you answer.

“Hello?” You ask. “Hello? Who is this?”

Wrecker widens his eyes. Omega swipes the comm from him and speaks into it. 

“Hello! Is this the Princess Y/N?” Omega chirps, dancing out of Tech’s grip.

“Speaking,” you say. “Who is this?”

“My name is Omega, you know my brother Tech?” 

Tech shakes his head, gesturing to her to end the transmission.

“Hi Omega! Yeah, I know Tech. Is he there?” 

Tech charges towards her. Omega rolls the comm between Tech’s legs into Wreckers waiting hands. 

“Hi Princess, I’m Wrecker. Tech’s brother.”

“Hi Wrecker,” you chuckle on the other end of the comm link. 

“Are you Tech’s girlfriend?”

“Wrecker!” Tech hisses trying to reach for the comm.

“What’s going on here?” Hunter and Echo walk up the ramp of the ship.

“Sarge! Tech’s girlfriend is on the line!” Wrecker tosses the device to Hunter. 

“Hello?” Hunter says. 

“Hi! Another one of Tech’s brothers I presume?” Your voice is full of amusement.

“Yes, I’m Hunter. Nice to meet you Princess. Tech has told us all about you,” he teases Tech, joining in on the fun. 

Tech swipes the comm out of Hunter's hand. His face flushed with embarrassment. He covers the receiving end so you can’t hear him. “Are you insane?!” He splutters at the group.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Your voice calls out.

“Tech, you gotta talk to her.” Echo juts his chin towards the device. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Tech hisses.

“Just talk to her!” Wrecker exclaims.

“Yeah Tech, go for it!” Omega gives him a thumbs up. 

“Hellooooooo?” You sing-song. “Tech?”

Butterflies scatter in his stomach at the sound of your voice calling for him. He turns his back to the group uncovering the receiver. “Hello?”

“Tech! It’s so good to hear your voice!” Your voice is laced with sunshine. “I didn’t think I’d get to talk to you again.”

“Neither did I,” Tech rubs the back of his neck. “It’s good to hear from you too.”

“That’s our cue to leave,” Hunter says. “C’mon let’s give Tech some privacy.”

“How have you been?” You ask. “I saw you leaving the palace earlier. I’m disappointed you didn’t stay to say hello.” Your tone is teasing. 

“You did?” Tech’s heart beats faster. “I, uh, I wasn’t sure you were home.” Good one Tech. He groans internally. 

You laugh softly. “Oh I was home. No more adventures for me for a while.”

“How are your hands?” He asks, sitting back down in the pilot's chair. 

“They’re healing nicely,” you reply. 

“Any scarring?” 

“None at all. So, those were your siblings huh?”

“Unfortunately,” he says with an affection. 

“How many siblings do you have?” 

Technically? He wants to ask but he doesn’t know how much you know about clones and he doesn’t want to show his hand unnecessarily. Instead he goes for a more straightforward answer. “I have five brothers and one sister. She came with me to the castle actually.”

You breathe a sigh of relief on your end of the channel. “Wow, that’s a lot. I wish I had a lot of brothers and sisters.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Tech asks. 

“Yes, just a younger sister. She’s my best friend even though she drives me crazy.”

“Sorry about earlier by the way, about my brothers I mean, they mean well…”

You laugh again causing Tech’s heart to soar. “Relax Tech, I’m not mad. Besides, it made my day. My mother has me still locked up for the stunt in the market and I’ve been bored out of my mind.”

“Well, I’d come rescue you if it wouldn’t get you in trouble.”

“I might have to take you up on that, if that means I can see you again.”

The tips of Tech’s ears turn pink. “You— you want to see me again?” 

“Of course I would, why wouldn’t I—?” 

“Good afternoon my sweet.” 

The butterflies in Tech’s stomach turn to lead when he hears the voice of the man who had threatened him and Omega on the other side of the transmission. 

“I have to go,” your voice drops to a whisper. “Talk later.” 

The transmission ends and Tech just stares at the blinking red light. I knew it was too good to be true. He flicks off his comm device. Why would she ever want me? 

He wishes Crosshair was here. He’d know the right thing to say. He wonders how his batch twin is doing. He’s probably still on his honeymoon. 

Tech tosses the comm link into his tool box. He can hear Crosshair admonishing him for giving up already. Easy for him to say when you’ve got effortless confidence and ooze sex appeal. If only I shared his looks…

That gives Tech an idea. His mind races as he furiously types a few equations on his data pad.

If Republic scientists could perfect a serum to allow spies to effectively go undercover, then why can’t he? He smiles to himself, making a mental list of what he needs. Yes, this could work. 

Tech buzzes with excitement at the prospect of being free from his insecurities and to be the man you deserve and desire.

Next Chapter

Tag List:

@unstableyetloveable

@luladoll

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (I)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: Thank you for being patient with me as I slowly write this series. I had this idea a long time ago and I’m not finding motivation to write it but the inspiration comes and go. I smile with every comment that is left on my fics and I’m so grateful for this community. Thank you for letting me pursue my creative writing without judgement. Love you guys! (Also, yes. If you didn’t see my last note, I based YN’s family off of the Gilmore Girls characters. That’s who I picture as them.)

Word Count: 8k

 Masterlist   Prologue 

You wake up to someone falling on your bed next to you with a dramatic sigh. Knowing exactly who it is, you choose to ignore her and try getting back to the dreamless sleep you were peacefully having before you woke up.

That is, until she sighs again. 

You flip onto your back and stare up at your ceiling fan that’s quickly spinning above you. “What, Rory?”

“How did it go with Andre and that boy?”

You look at her with one brow raised. “You woke me up to hear about Andre’s love life? That hardly sounds like you. You don’t care about high school drama or hookups.”

“You’re right,” Rory says. “But I thought I would ease you into what I actually need to tell you.”

You turn on right side and look at your sister confused. “What?”

She sighs. “The cafe’s basement flooded last night. Mom needs us there to help her clean up and take inventory on what’s salvageable.”

You turn back on you backside and close your eyes, exhaling a deep sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Rory says and pats you twice on your covered thigh as she sits up. “Come on. I made you pre-cafe coffee. It’s sitting in the kitchen.”

You throw your sheets off of you and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. It’s about 8 a.m. At least you were able to get about six hours of sleep. 

Last night, it was hard to let your brain rest to fall asleep. You kept tossing and turning, thinking about the blonde Pogue who walked you home. You missed how easy it was to talk to someone who you felt truly knew you. Your banter rolled off your tongue easily and you never had to worry about offending him because you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew what he could take and what he couldn't. 

Talking to him brought back childhood memories you had hidden deep in your mind. How JJ would constantly poke you until you ripped into a smile on days that were grey. How you used to steal John B’s bandanas until he was chasing you around his house to get them back. How you would draw a mustache and a unibrow on Pope’s face when he fell asleep by the water. 

Those days felt like they were decades ago. So far away, you didn’t know if you’d be able to reach for them again. If it was even possible to get back. 

You thought about texting him. Thanks for walking me back. We should all get together soon! You had written out. But then you deleted the whole message, telling yourself it was because you didn’t know if he even had the same number. But deep down, you were just afraid of the rejection. 

Its been about three years since the four of you had been together in one place. You don’t know what they’ve been through or if they’ve changed. They for sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through. You don’t know if they're dynamic has changed. Clearly you and JJ can still joke with each other but what about John B and Pope? You heard about John B’s father disappearing at sea, most people believing he’s dead, but John B holding onto hope that’s he’s alive. You always thought about calling him to reach out and offer your condolences. But for the same reason you didn’t text JJ, you never called. It didn’t feel like your place. They had Kie for that now. A little part of you felt jealous of her, like she had replaced you and any memory of you. She seemed nice, but she wasn’t you.

“Ready?” Rory pops her head in to your room as you slip on a cropped plain white zip up jacket over your cropped black tank. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You say and snag the car keys out of her hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I want to get there safely.”

“And I want to get there quickly.”

“Fine. But we’re taking my car. It actually has doors.”

For your sixteenth birthday, your grandparents gifted both you and Rory your own individual cars and even let you pick them out. Rory chose a black 2020 Honda Civic for it’s safety features and reputation for longevity as if she was planning on handing it down to her future kids. And you picked out a white 2020 Jeep Wrangler with a hard top that pops off along with the doors for a very open and thrilling ride. Everyone but you called it a death trap, but you found it to be the perfect summer car. 

You park Rory’s boring Honda Civic in the back of the cafe in a lot used specifically for employees. The cafe is already booming with teens and families, waiting for their morning coffees and fresh pastries. Kids your age are running around behind the counter with sweat dripping down their brow bone to get everyone’s orders out in a timely manner. 

In the back of the store, your mom walks up the steps from the basement with two large trash bags and immediately notices the two of you. “Oh good. You’re here. Rory, help the girls behind the counter. The dishwasher’s broken and poor Hailey is hand washing everything. Y/N, come with me downstairs.”

“Why does Rory get the fun job?” You grumble and follow your mom back downstairs after she tosses the two trash bags. 

“Because she’s actually nice to the customers.”

“Treat others how you would like to be treated. Isn’t that what everyone always says?” You smirk. You never agreed with the phrase ‘the customer is always right.’ It’s complete bullshit and being the employee shouldn’t mean letting yourself getting verbally abused by a ‘Karen’ on the other side of the counter. 

The basement is used for the cafe’s storage, lined with wooden shelves Steve put together that hold to go cups, back up espresso machines, boxes of coffee and food and ingredients, etc. Now all the boxes are dark and sopping, creating puddles on the concrete floor. 

“Oh my god. Mom. How did this happen?”

“Jenky water pipe busted in the middle of the night,” Steve walks down the stairs and passes your mom a knowing look. It didn’t surprise you that he was here. He’s the jack of all trades. Owns his own automotive shop, builds a lot of his own furniture, actually cooks a decent meal, and has the same outlook on customer service as you do. He was probably your mom’s first call. “Talked to the plumber. They can’t get here until at least noon.”

“Noon? We’ll be underwater by noon. I might as well turn all my employees into a swim team,” Your mom says.

Steve shakes his head. “I was able to hold the leak until he gets here. You should be fine.”

Steve was the first person that actually helped your mother out when's she moved to the Cut. Six months pregnant, she pushed her car into his automotive shop after it broke down on the side of the road. Their banter was similar to the one you and JJ have. He helped save your mom money by building yours and Rory’s cribs, changing table, and dressers. And ever since, the two of them had been connected by the hip, although they both refuse to admit it. You think the pair are just trying to deny the love they clearly share for each other. And you think the main reason for that is because of the incident four years ago with your mom’s ex boyfriend. No thanks to you.

 “Look at you constantly building your resume,” You smirk at him. 

Steve scoffs. “It’s more than what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes. Steve is the closest thing you have to a father. He practically helped raise you with your mom. He’s the one you turn to whenever a fight with your mom goes too far, which isn't too often but it happens. He usually lets you stay at his house for the night to let you cool off. But he’ll never sugar coat his advice when it comes time for him to give it. Even if you don’t ask for it. He knows growing up with Rory has been challenging. She was clearly your mom’s favorite, or at least that’s what you thought. She has a 4.0 GPA with a realistic dream to get into Brown University and study journalism. She played by every rule, never got into trouble, and spent most of her free nights getting ahead of her school work or staying late at the cafe with an open book from the library across the street. She was an absolute angel to everyone else, making you look like her evil twin. 

You glare at him before turning to your mom with crossed arms. “What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“Actually honey. Can you go to Heywards and grab more coffee filters and napkins. The water soaked right through the plastic wrapping on our last box.”

You nod, leaving your mom and Steve to clean up the basement themselves. Before heading out, you sneak behind the counter and make yourself a quick coffee to go.

“Where you going?” Rory asks as she reaches behind you to grab a banana for her customer at the register.

“Heywards to grab a couple things for Mom.”

“Oh. Make sure to grab toilet paper while you’re out. I think we’re almost out of it.”

“Got it.” 

Heywards is only a short drive from your mom’s cafe. It’s the closest convenient store that isn’t crazy pricey. It’s where your mom gets all her supplies whenever she runs out of things before shipment gets there. 

You use to always come here when you were younger with the boys, each of you, even Pope, stealing a small bag of chips or a candy bar here and there. Little did any of you know, Mr. Heyward caught your thieving hands every time but never said anything. 

The bell above the door chimes when you walk into the store. You know this place as well as you know the cafe, finding the toilet paper and coffee filter immediately. 

When Mr. Heyward looks up from the counter, his smile grows. He can pick you out of a crowd anywhere, but he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Last time he saw you, you had braces and overgrown bushy brows. Now you had bushed hair and shaved legs. 

“Hi. Mr. Heyward,” You grin shyly at him. You don’t know how he’s going to react to see you, unsure of what Pope might have told him about you. 

“Little Miss Y/L/N? Is that you?” Heyward smiles widely, pulling your own lips into a wider smile. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and my mom’s cafe...” Both of those things were a lie. You just avoid the Cut to avoid the Pogues. 

“How’s the fam?” 

“They’re good,” You say as Heyward hands you your bags. “Mom says hello by the way. I’m actually taking these to her store now.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. We miss your smiling face around her. Anette, too.” Heyward says, mentioning his wife. 

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Of course, darling.” 

Heyward and Anette always had a special place in their heart for you and Rory. They’re not one for gossip, but they knew a little bit about what your mom’s been through and have heard plenty of stories about your grandparents. They always thought, despite your mom’s background, that you and your sister were raised impressively. Anette always hoped that one day Pope and Rory would get together. Everyone always wanted their child to be with Rory. 

As your about to leave the store, the bell chimes again with another customer. Only it’s not another customer. It’s Pope and John B. They don’t see you at first, and you wonder if maybe you can sneak out without them seeing you. But something about that felt wrong. Especially because Heyward would more than likely mention to them that you were here. 

Pope sees you first and stops in his tracks. “Y/N?” 

“Hey, guys. Long time no see,” You smile at both of them. You bite down on your lip awkwardly when you meet John B’s stare. You don’t know if you should mention anything about his dad’s disappearance. But what would you say? Sorry? What good would that do?

“How’ve you been?” Pope gives you a small side hug, then John B. 

You shrug. “You know, living the dream.”

“How’s life as a Hybrid?” John B smirks. 

You roll your eyes playfully and groan. “Oh god. Never call me that again.”

You may be considered a Hybrid by everyone else, but you would never put yourself into that category. You grew up a Pogue, the same way everyone else did around you. The only thing tying you to the Kooks are your grandparents. 

“Why?” John B smirks. “I wish I was a Hybrid.”

You smirk back. “Maybe you will be one day. I hear you have a Kook of your own for arm candy.”

You saw a faint hint of blush on John B’s cheek at the mention of his girlfriend but you don’t mention it. “Sarah, yeah. She’s not like the other Kooks.”

“I would hope not. Her brother’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” They laugh. 

“We miss you, you know.” John B says. Pope looks at you, trying to read your expression. John B’s not wrong. They do all miss you, especially Pope. He felt like you were the only one who really understood him. Of course his other friends are great, but you actually took the time to try and understand his passions. Like forensic science. 

“I miss you guys too. It’s been a while.”

“Well, hey. We’re actually all getting together tonight at my place. Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a couple beers. You should stop by,” John B says.

“Yeah,” Pope says, immediately getting hopeful that you’ll show up. 

Your smile falters. The invite makes your heart swell and your lungs contract. It’s an invite you’ve been wanting for three years. And now that you have it, you don’t know what to say. It’d be different if it was just the four of you like old times. But now there’s Kie and Sarah and although you have nothing against them, you’re afraid they won’t accept you. The thought of your boys picking them over you terrifies you. 

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to swing by later.” 

Pope smiles wide and looks at his friend to see his reaction. John B grins and nods, almost impressed that you had agreed. But he saw the twitch in your lips when the question was asked. 

“Great. I guess we’ll see you later then.” 

You nod. “Okay. Bye guys.”

You suck in a deep breath when the fresh air outside of Heyward’s store brushes over you. Your heart thumps wildly with both excitement and nerves when you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, but the possibilities can change your entire summer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spent the rest of the day mopping up the cafe’s basement and rearranging the shelves. You smelled of sweat and coffee grounds by the time you were done and dreamt of the shower you would be taking when you got home. 

Rory drove you home after the two of you closed up the cafe for the day. Neither of you said much. Rory was exhausted from running around behind the counter and you were too busy thinking about whether you’d go back to the place you used to call your second home.

You took a longer shower than usual, still pondering what your night would be like. Your head was telling you to stay home but your heart pulled you in the direction of the Cut. You yearned to hear about what the future held for Pope, and listen to John B retell stories of when you were kids, and be able to stare into JJ’s bright blue eyes without him noticing. 

You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain red cropped tank. Rory walks into your room as your brushing out your hair and looks at you as if you lost your mind.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t wear that,” She says.

You brows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I wear shit like this all the time.”

“Not to the Country Club, you don’t.” That’s when it hits you. Today’s been so hectic, you forgot what day it was. “It’s Sunday.”

Sunday dinner at the Country Club is now a weekly commitment forced upon you by your grandparents. Each week, your mom, sister, and you are forced to spend one dinner with your grandma and grandpa. This is basically your mom’s payment back for sending you and Rory to Kook Academy. Only they actually pay for the dinner. It’s usually the longest two hours of your entire week. It’s hard to listen to your grandfather rant about Real Estate and your grandma slyly critique your mother in almost every aspect of her life. 

“Shit. I completely forgot,” You say.

“Well, you better change. We’re leaving in about five minutes,” Rory says then plucks a gold necklace from your dresser. “Oh and can I wear this tonight?”

You sigh. “Sure.”

You change into a baby blue wrap around dress and pin your wet hair into a half up half down due. It’s gonna have to work for the limited time you have to get ready. After applying a thin layer of makeup to look the least bit presentable, you meet your mom and sister by the front door.

“Finally,” Your mom says when she sees you. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was Sunday.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just don’t think I can handle another late remark from Mom today.” She looks you up and down and grins. “You look great.”

Despite the many fiery fights you and your mom can have, she is also your best friend. It’s kind of like a love hate relationship. Steve says it’s because you’re exactly like your mom - almost like a sixteen year old version of her. 

You really hope that isn’t true. You’re not ready to have a kid in two years. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Your grandparents are already sitting at a round table in the corner of the country club by the two tall windows that reach up to the ceiling with a view looking out into the golf course. The best seat in the house for the richest a holes on the island. 

“Lorelai,” Your grandmother grins, but you can instantly tell it’s sarcastic. “Did you have to walk here?”

You speak up before your mom could. “Sorry Grandma. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Your grandparents are hard on your mom but easier on you and Rory, especially Rory.

“Well, you’re here now,” Your grandpa says. He’s usually the mediator between your mom and grandma. Although he’s usually sucks at it. “Sit. Sit.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, JJ shuffles through his many coworkers with his apron in one hand and a piece of fried calamari from Miss Carol’s appetizer in the other. 

“JJ -” She scolds and slaps his hand away from going in for a second piece. 

“Good evening Miss Carol,” JJ smirks and makes his way to the area between the kitchen and dining room where most of the servers and bust boys hang out. Some of the boys slap him on the back or shove him by the shoulder, chuckling to themselves. “What’s going on boys? Busy crowd?”

“What are you doing here? You never work Sundays,” His friend, Mitch, says. 

Luke Maybank was behind on several bills - worse than it’s ever been. They already shut off their electricity and JJ wanted to make sure the water wouldn’t be next. 

But JJ shrugs nonchalantly. “Little extra dough can't hurt.”

“Well, you picked a good day,” Raymond walks up to the blonde, rolling his sleeves. “You got Kook Royalty and their Hybrid offsprings in your section.” 

“What?” JJ looks through the small square Plexiglas on the swinging door. He knows exactly where to look and immediately sees you sitting with King and Queen Kook, looking absolutely miserable, pushing around your food with your fork. 

“Damn, Maybank. Almost broke your neck - you turned so fast.”

“Shut up, Easterling. I was just seeing how crowded we were,” JJ lied. He really just wanted to see if you were here. And now that he sees you are, he’s a little nervous to do his own damn job.

Raymond Easterling chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you were looking at. But don’t get your hopes up. There’s a reason Kooks call that girl the Heart Sucker. Not even the high and powerful JJ Maybank could get a piece of that.”

The guys around JJ and Raymond chuckle and nod in agreement, hearing the stories of how you’d reject every single guy that’s ever asked you out. Sometimes you’d go on a few dates, trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone, but then things would quickly become too much, and you’d get overwhelmed. 

JJ didn’t like the way Raymond talked about you or how the others laughed at your expense. His hands clenched into fists, tempted to throw a punch in Ray’s cocky face.  The guy’s just being a jerk because he’s one of the guys that got rejected by you, he thought. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ shakes his head and ties his apron around his waist to distract his hands.

“No?” Raymond challenges him. “You think I’m wrong? You think you could pull the infamous Hybrid over there?”

JJ glances back through the window. You’re looking at your grandma with a clearly forced grin. You’re twirling your hair between your fingers, a habit you picked up when you were little to do when you’re bored. JJ would find you doing that in school all the time. 

You’re gorgeous, he thought. It’s no wonder that almost every guy on this island has tried to make a pass on you, including JJ himself, but his remarks always come off as playful, afraid of actually telling you how he feels about you. His fantasies about you went further than just getting you between the sheets. He could picture getting married, having children, and growing old together. Years ago, the two of you would talk about your future. Neither one of you cared about money or fancy jobs. All you wanted was to be free - of this island, of each other’s families, of responsibilities placed on you from birth. You hold the same values as JJ, and he’s never met another person like you. 

But JJ has a hard exterior. No one other than his best friends know his true heart, and he wasn’t going to let someone like Raymond Easterling find out about his soft spot for you. He would never hear the end of it.

JJ looks at you one last time. You’re talking to Rory, your face in his direction. This time you’re smiling, probably discussing something other than your grandparent’s expectations of you. He’d kill to see that smile every single day.

What’s the worst that could happen? You reject him? Yeah, that might kill JJ inside, but maybe you’d still be his friend, or continue to be acquaintances like you are now. As long as he gets to see you, he’d be okay. There was always the future. But who knows? Maybe you’d say yes? He’ll never know unless he tries. Right?

JJ fakes the same cocky grin that Raymond wears. “I haven’t failed yet.”

The guys around him whistle and shake their heads with smiles. 

“All right, Maybank. Let’s make a bet. I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get Y/N Y/L/N in the sack by the fourth of July.”

JJ scoffs. “You like giving away free money?” He ignored his racing heart at the thought of being that intimate with you.

Raymond nods. “Okay. Let’s put your money where your mouth is. Get her to say ‘I love you’ by the end of the season and I’ll raise you an extra hundred and cover all your dishwasher shifts in September.”

JJ raises his brows with surprise. No one offers to take the dishwashing shift. Sometimes the boys are pulled back there when the kitchen is short staffed and it’s easily one of the worst jobs at the Club.

This bet was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Deal.” JJ says.

The boys shake hands on it and the other guys whisper to each other about how intrigued they are to see this play out.

JJ wipes his sweaty palms against his apron and pushes the door open to approach your table, hoping he can hear you over his thudding heart. 

“Good evening folks. May I take those empty plates out of your way?”

You look up at the voice you know so well and a smile raises on your lips. JJ meets your eyes and he winks at you, splattering your heart in flutters. 

“Please.” Your grandmother pushes her plate away from her, stuffed with filet and red wine.

“JJ,” Your mom grins up at him. Growing up, your mom always had a soft spot for the blonde Pogue. She’s heard the stories about his father, mostly from Steve, who actually grew up with Luke Maybank, his cousin. As a child, he was sent to live with Luke Maybank and his single father. Lets just say, he’s not surprised by the way Luke turned out. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now. Last time I saw you, Y/N was still pushing your head in the sand for stealing her popsicle.”

“Yeah. I quickly learned no one should mess with Y/N and her food,” JJ says.

“Never stopped you though,” You smirk at him.

“Lorelai. Who is this?” Your grandma asks, disregarding the boy himself.

“Mom,” Lorelai gives her mom a warning look. “This is JJ Maybank. He went to school with Y/N and Rory.” Lorelai knew to play it safe with her wording. She didn’t know where you and JJ stood. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him and she knew better than to ask. 

“Nice to meet you,” JJ says politely. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kinda full.” He motions to the plates in his hand.

“That’s quite all right.” Your grandma’s smile is so forced, it makes you uncomfortable. 

“I won’t hold you up. Has your server been around with the dessert menu?” JJ looks at you. “We have chocolate cake tonight.”

Heat rushes up your neck. Not because of the cake itself but because JJ remembered your favorite dessert. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. It was safe to save you were a choco-holic. The boys use to make it for you every year for your birthday. It usually came out burnt, none of them ever remembering how to properly make it. But it was all you needed to feel like a very special girl. 

“Your favorite,” Rory elbows you.

Your grandma cringes. “Sounds like diabetes on a plate.”

“Mom,” Lorelai scolds. 

“What?” She asks, not understanding the concept of a filter.

Now heat rushes to your cheeks for an entire different reason. “He did. We’re not doing dessert tonight. Thank you, though.”

JJ nods but feels disappointed by the way your face flinched at your grandmother’s comment. 

“My pleasure,” He says like he was taught to do and excuses himself to drop the plates off in the back before he can say anything else that would probably get him fired.

Your mom looks at your with raised brows. “He’s cute, honey.”

“Lorelai, please. He’s the busboy,” Your grandma says.

“He’s a good kid, Mom.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

Rory gives you a knowing grin as you walk away from the table. When you walk into the hallway between the dining area and the front lobby, you immediately feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sometimes just the presence of your grandparents and their pompous judgements can be suffocating. You do your best to bite your tongue around them, excusing yourself when you feel yourself getting heated. 

JJ catches a glimpse of your light blue dress out of the corner of his eye when he rounds the corner to collect the plates off a different table. He looks over his shoulder at Raymond, who’s staring at the blonde watching you, and winks.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ says, walking up to you.

You look up from your phone and immediately smile. “Hey. I was actually hoping I’d catch you out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my grandmother. She can be...”

JJ shakes his head. “Hey. It’s okay. I work for Kooks almost every single day. I’m use to it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” JJ says. “Besides, that’s probably the nicest she’s ever been to me.”

You hide your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

JJ laughs and takes your wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. Your eyes shoot up to his, immediately feeling a tingling feeling run through your skin, straight to your heart. 

“It’s okay. I promise,” He says softly. His voice is so sincere that you have no other option but to believe him. It almost makes your feel guiltier, wondering how much bullshit he’s been through with ungrateful Kooks that it’s so easy for him to forgive and forget.

“Okay,” Your voice is a whisper, taken off guard by how close he is to you and how he still hasn't let go of your hands. 

In that same moment, JJ realizes he’s still holding you and gently removes his hands. He coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck, where sweat begins to bubble. Why is he so nervous?

“So um...” You say, suddenly feeling nervous too. “You going to John B’s tonight?”

JJ’s eyes shoot up in surprise. How did you know that? “Yeah. I’m heading over there after work.”

“I saw him and Pope at Heywards earlier today and they invited me over. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Because it’s different now, you wanted to say. But you didn’t because you feel like the elephant in the room would only grow. And you didn’t want to admit you were nervous to meet Kie and Sarah outside of school. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely come. The boys miss you.”

You pretend like a little piece of your heart didn’t just break when JJ didn’t say ‘we.’ 

“What time do you get off of work?”

“Around 9ish.”

You nod. “I can pick you up if you’d like and we could go together?”

Your heart races after you suggest it. What if he says no? Why were you feeling this way? This is the same kid you use to make fun of for pouring milk into his bowl before his cereal. 

“Yeah. That’d be perfect.”

“Great!” Your phone pings with a text from Rory, telling you that your grandparents are wondering where you are. “Shit. I have to get back. I’ll see you at nine?”

“See you then,” JJ nods and turns back to the kitchen. When his eyes meet Raymond’s, he’s reminded of what he agreed to. Almost surprised how quickly he forgot about it. You were able to take his mind off of anything without even trying. He clears his throat to get rid of the giddy grin he was wearing after talking to you, wanting to look tough and casual in front of his coworker. “Easy.” He says to him. But that felt anything but easy. He could vomit with nerves.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to screw up, Maybank.”

JJ huffs. He’s not wrong. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You drive up to the front of the country club and park in front of the main entrance. It’s 8:57. You’re early and will look eager. So you wait until 9:06 to text him that you’re here.

You changed into a pair of dark washed denim shorts, a yellow cropped tube top, a grey flannel, and navy converse. You changed your outfit about four times before deciding on your first one, not wanting to look too casual or too dressed up. 

For the last three years, you wondered when the four of you would get back together as a group. You wondered if it would ever happen. And now that two Kooks are involved, you feel more nervous than excited.

You jump when the passenger seat door opens, lost in the depth of your own head. JJ smiles, not seeing your reaction.”Cool ride,” he says and looks around the interior. 

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out into the road.

“I got you something,” JJ says.

You glance at him with furrowed brows. What could he have possibly gotten you since you saw him last? A book mark from the Country Club’s gift shop?

JJ reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plate with clear wrap around it. Your mouth drops when you see the chocolate cake on a plate in his hands, the smell immediately hitting your nose with pure delight.

“You saved me a piece?” You jump in your seat excitedly.

“Had to hide it good too or else Miss Carol would have had my ass handed to me,” JJ jokes and even pulls out two forks. He undoes the wrapping and cuts off a piece. He waits until you hit a stop sign and says, “Open up.”

You look at him and immediately open your mouth. He gently places the fork between your lips and you take the piece of cake off with your teeth. Like a baby.

Your eyes close with pure pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.”

“Miss Carol does know how to bake a mean cake,” JJ says and takes a bite of his own.

“Another one,” You say, glancing at the cake again. Like you said, choco-holic. “Please.” You say when JJ teases you by holding the fork away from you.

JJ laughs. “I like hearing you beg.”

You slap him in the arm with the back of your hand. “In your dreams, Maybank.”

“You got that right, Y/L/N.”

The two of you finish the cake with only a few bites each. Small but rich in chocolate that leaves you craving more. You were gonna have to meet this Miss Carol woman. 

After he puts the plate back in his bag, JJ reaches for the aux cord, but you quickly slap his hand away. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re seriously gonna make me listen to this the entire way to John B’s?”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know Blink-182 is one of my favorite bands.”

“It’s also soccer moms’ favorite band,” JJ laughs at you.

You turn up the volume, blasting ‘All the Small Things’ and point to your ear. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

JJ rolls his eyes but laughs along with you, even bopping his head to the beat. You drive with the windows down, dancing and singing along to a bunch of throwback songs with JJ as if the two of you have been doing this forever. 

You pull up to John B’s and park behind his dad’s old van, better known as The Twinkie. When you turn down the music, JJ looks at you with a shake in his head. “Next time, I’m driving.”

“What was wrong with my driving?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks, Sparky, not NASCAR.”

You scoff and follow behind JJ who’s leading the way up John B’s driveway. As you get closer, you smell the smoky scent of a bonfire nearby and eventually hear John B’s laugh mixed in with a female’s. Your smile falters as nerves gather in the pit of your stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

“Nothing,” You say, but JJ easily catches your lie and gives you a knowing look. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Who? Pope and John B? I’m pretty sure they like you more than me even after three years -”

“Not them, you idiot,” You shove him playfully by the shoulder as you two let yourselves inside. “Sarah and Kie.”

“Don’t you go to school with them?”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk,” You say quietly, not wanting them to hear you.

“Hm.”

“What?” JJ shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you cared about what other people thought.”

“I don’t,” You say quickly. “But they're your best friends. It’s different.”

“You don’t need their approval. You technically were here first.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been replaced,” You try to say it as a joke and even throw a smirk in there. 

But JJ stops in his track and looks at you seriously. “No one can replace you. Not even if they tried.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s not a common occurrence that JJ gets all serious on you. Warmth covers you like a blanket and the longer he holds your stare, the weaker your knees become. 

“JJ! Is that you?” John B calls out from the backyard.

“Yeah,” JJ yells back. He opens the fridge in John B’s kitchen. “Want a beer?” He offers to you.

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

For the first time, you take in John B’s home. It looks the same as it did three years ago, only a lot messier. The pull out couch looks like its been used recently with blankets and sheets tossed about on it. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts are thrown messily on the coffee tables and the air smells faintly of old marijuana. 

JJ leads you out to the back where four people are gathered around a fire. Three out of the four immediately smile when the two of you approach them, but Kie’s eyes narrow and her head tilts with confusion.

Shit, you think. 

“You came!” Pope laughs and hops up from his beach chair and embraces you in a hug.

You laugh, not expecting the embrace, but welcoming it all the same. John B’s next, giving you a quick hug and shaking his head.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you were going to come,” John B says.

“You can thank me for that later,” JJ says jokingly.

“Actually when I heard JJ was coming, I almost changed my mind and stayed home,” You joke and smirk JJ’s way.

“Just like old times,” Pope says, looking between you and the blonde. The banter felt like the yall never separated in the first place. 

“Hey, you know Sarah and Kie, right?” John B points to the girls. Sarah stands up to say hi, and eventually Kie follows her, not wanting to look rude, but stays off to the side, keeping her distance.

“Yeah,” You wave awkwardly. 

“Hey!” Sarah says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you guys use to all hang out.”

“Y/N grew up down the street,” JJ explains and sips at his beer. 

“You want a drink or something?” Pope asks you, not knowing JJ already did.

“No thank you,” You say again.

“You don’t drink?” Kie asks. It was the first thing she’s said to you.

“Not usually,” You say and hold her stare. You try to get a read on her, but she’s had to get a tell on. You can’t tell if she just doesn’t like you or just doesn’t know you. Either way, it makes you uneasy. 

“Here, I’ll go grab you a chair,” Pope says and walks to the side of the house to grab another beat up beach chair. 

As the night goes on, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen and your body feel lighter. Most of the night was spent retelling childhood stories the four of you shared. Sarah would laugh at most of them, occasionally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend from the stupid shit he would do, although it sounds like he’s no different to you now. 

You talked about the time you and JJ stole a golf cart for a joy ride on Figure Eight, or when you and John B pranked Pope by putting a dead fish in his locker, or how you and John B learned how to play guitar from youtube tutorials. 

Midnight came around quickly and exhaustion was slowly taking over your body. It’s been a long day between the cafe flooding, dinner with your grandparents, and now this. 

JJ was the first to notice you slowly fading. 

“You okay?” He asks you quietly as everyone else is caught up in conversation. 

“Yeah,” You say, lazily grinning at him. 

“We can leave if you want,” He says.

“You’re not staying?” You ask. It sounded like everyone was planning to spend the night here. And as much as you wanted to, you just didn’t feel comfortable enough yet. 

JJ shrugs. “My dad’s out of town tonight. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself.” Before you can say anything, he stands and brushes his hands against his pants. “All right, losers. We’re out of here.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Sarah pouts.

“Yeah, I’m beat and Y/N’s my ride home,” JJ says.

You were glad he didn’t call you out for being tired. You didn’t want to look lame in front of everybody, especially Kie.

“Thanks for having me,” You say to everyone. It might have been John B’s house, but it was everyone’s night you intruded on.

John B stands up to hug you. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

Pope hugs you next. “Text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Sarah waves and Kie exhales a ring of smoke from her blunt.

You wave at them before following JJ back to your car. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” JJ says. You didn’t realize you both walked to the driver’s side.

“What? No.”

JJ nods and holds his hands out for your keys. “I’m not dying tonight.” 

“You’ve been drinking and smoking all night,” You say. You didn’t think JJ was drunk or even that high, but you were not going to let a teenager with an ounce of alcohol in his system get behind the wheel. “Next time. For now, hold on to the cupholder.”

JJ sighs dramatically and goes to the other side of the car and hops in the passenger seat. 

This time you keep the music quiet, listening to the hum of the radio instead of your phone. 

“Take a left,” JJ says.

“JJ, I know where you live. And it’s not left.”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

You snicker. “Not in the slightest.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “Just take the left.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and take the left turn. He directs you for a couple more miles until he has you park in front of a 24 hour diner. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“I’m in the mood for a milkshake.”

“We just had cake!” You say.

“Come on, Sparky. Show me what that mouth can do,” JJ smirks. 

You go to hit him again but he takes off running to the front entrance and pulls the door open. You chase after him, almost running into his back at the front host stand where JJ safely smirks at you in triumph.

“Two please,” He says to the hostess. 

The old cranky woman leads you to a booth off to the side next to a window without a word. 

A couple minutes later, a waitress walks by and asks if you’re ready to order. 

“Yes. One chocolate milkshake and one black and white milkshake,” JJ orders for both of you, already knowing what flavor you’d want.

“And fries, please.” You say. The waitress nods, takes your menus, and walks off. JJ raises his brow at the extra order. “What?” You shrug. “Just showing you what my mouth can do.”

JJ scoffs. “What a tease.” 

You playfully kick his shin under the table.

“Did you have fun tonight?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” You answer. “Felt like old times. The girls are nice too.”

You were about to only mention Sarah, but you didn’t want to cause any issues with Kie. Not yet at least. Maybe she just needed time to warm up to you.

“See? I told you they wouldn’t bite.”

A couple minutes later, the waitress comes back with your milkshakes and fries. 

“How’s John B doing? You know, with the whole Big John thing?” You ask delicately, unsure of how JJ would react to you pestering about John B’s business. “I didn’t want to ask and bring the mood down,” You explain yourself although you don’t need to.

JJ shrugs. “He’s in denial I think. Won’t sign a death certificate until he sees a body. He could be worse, though.”

“Yeah,” You say softly. You don’t know what you would do if you were in that situation. In a way you felt lucky that you never knew your dad at all. It would be harder to lose him, knowing who he was.

You take a fry and dip it into your milkshake before taking a bite. This makes JJ freeze and look at you like you have two heads. 

“What?” You say with your mouth full.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” You say and give him a look to do it.

JJ reluctantly picks up the fry and dunks it into his milkshake. He looks at the fry questioningly before popping it into his mouth. Somehow the sweetness of the milkshake and the saltiness of the french fry complement each other beautifully and his widen in pleasant surprise. 

“Oh wow,” JJ says.

“Told you,” You smirk.

You spend the next hour catching up, trying to fit the last three years into an hour. JJ does most of the talking because you want to know more about what John B, Pope, and JJ have been up to. Your life was so boring and depressing, you didn’t want to bore JJ with the details.

You drive JJ home and talk for a few minutes more when you park. He seems to be procrastinating getting out of the car, but you don’t mind. You could talk to him all night, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“All right. I’ll let you get home before the sun rises,” He says and opens the door. He pauses when his feet hit the ground and he looks back at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work at the shop, why?”

“Well, there’s a storm coming in. John B and I might go out to surf the surge before it hits. You still surf?”

You scoff. “Do I still surf?”

JJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You think you can handle the surge?”

“Let’s not forget who the better surfer is, JJ.”

“I didn’t. It’s still me.”

“You wish.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Now you have a point to prove. You have to show JJ that you’re still the better surfer. 

“I'll see you tomorrow,” You agree. 

“Great, it’s a date.” He winks and shuts the door before you can tell him otherwise. 

You giggle to yourself as JJ walks up the front yard and stay there until he you see he gets in safely. 

You pull out of the driveway, wishing he had asked you out on a real date. One that didn’t involve John B.

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