#(it was supposed to be part of my outfit for the next day because red nose day and pudsey day tended to be non uniform days)

[misiahasahardname]

i found a photo of me in the hospital after my first seizure and i am wearing the most HORRENDOUS combination of clothing imaginable 😭😭

thinking of redrawing it with mikey because epileptic 2012 mikey is real

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter fourteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, elitism | lmk if I forgot something

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 mistakes are made, apologies are given

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 chapter fourteen!!! Let's go baby <33 remember to give me your feedback

beta read by my 💘 @nowitsmissing

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The rest of the day was dull. Nothing new had happened in the games. Coriolanus made his way to his home. Tonight was the night of the gala. Tigris had informed that she had finished making his suit but didn't show him how it was. It was a surprise. All he knew was that it was approved by you.

He reached his penthouse. He is greeted by Tigris with a hug and a smile. Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin for good measure. Trying to hide his nervousness about attending this prestigious gala that could make or break Snow's reputation.

Tigris excitedly shows him the red tux she had designed for him. Coriolanus wears the suit, and can't take his eyes off himself in the mirror. He looked good, there's no doubt about it.

His cousin has magic in her eyes. He tells her so and watches her eyes brighten up. “Oh, Coryo,” she said, lovingly, “It's because it's you that it looks so good.” Snow doesn't argue.

“And what about her?” He asked, “Did you make her dress the same as mine?” Tigris won't even let him see the designs. He can only imagine his heart would stop beating when he sees you. He wondered if Tigris was fine with that.

“You'll know when you see her,” Tigris giggled.

He sighs in response.

Tigris also adds, “She's the reason we still have this place, Coryo. Be kind to her.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyes. What did Tigris mean? “What?” He asked, his tone sharp. Snow didn't need pity money. And you being the one giving him dollars was salt in the wound.

“The payment for the dresses…” Tigris begins to explain, “It's enough for this month's taxes and a few weeks of food.” Coriolanus' mouth dries, he had completely forgotten about the eviction note. With everything going on, he supposed that it was natural. But Tigris had taken the burden herself while he was no help.

“I am glad,” he mutters, feeling heavily indebted to you. He didn't like the feeling. He lets it linger in the corner of his mind. He says goodbye to grandma’am and Tigris. Then he was on his way to the presidential mansion. You had said that you'd meet him there.

He reaches the presidential mansion. The press surrounded the area with cameras. He swallows as he realizes every moment of his is being broadcast live. Much like when he was in the cage with Lucy Gray. He doesn't let the flashes bother him. He already knew his outfit would be the talk of the show and it was a great opportunity to let Tigris's name out there.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around. That's it. He's dead. His heartbeat stopped. He forgot how to breathe.

There's no other way to explain his reaction to you.

His sun and moon. You looked marvelous. Enough so that his breath was knocked out of his chest. How did people speak again?

“Hello,” he gasps out, his cheeks burning. He ignored the urge to trace his soulmate's scar. He looks away from you, unable to meet your eyes. Too pretty. Too fucking pretty.

“Hi, Coryo,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. You both walk up to the stairs of the mansion. “Is everything alright?” You asked, a bit worried as he wasn't meeting your eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You hum in response, turning back to the cameras. All waves and smiles. He forgets to do the same as he has eyes on you. He watches you like a lovesick puppy. Until it's time to enter the gala.

He doesn't let his anxious thoughts take over. He counts his breaths as he walks into the mansion. The gala was filled with people. Even higher-up district officials were invited. Several army officers with high standings and even the peacekeeper heads of each district were attending. There were also his classmates.

Clemensia Dovecote. Festus Creed.

They were all present. He could see the Plinth couple, but their son was missing. Quite the idiot to miss this opportunity. More for him, he supposed. He leaves you behind to greet his friends.

“Clemmie,” he grins.

“Well, hello, Coriolanus. It's nice to see your family finally has an invitation. It was about time,” she smiles.

Coriolanus doesn't correct her assumption. He doesn't tell her that he is here as your date. He didn't deem it necessary.

“Did you bring a date?” Festus Creed asked.

Coriolanus shrugged and said your name, he also added, “Well, she was available.” Festus raised an eyebrow at Coryo’s dismissive tone.

“What about the kiss in the auditorium? Several hearts were broken, Coriolanus,” Clemmie jokes.

Coryo bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something. But the fact you're District was surely fresh in his classmates’ minds. Telling them you're something to him wouldn't be much help with his goal for the gala. So, he shrugged, “Ah… well, we're all foolish sometimes.”

His classmates let it go. And he was glad.

Coriolanus seemed to completely forget about you as Clemmie and Festus introduced him to several elitists of the Capitol. People he can never meet through simple means. Coriolanus greets them, making small talk. Every time he mentions Lucy Gray, they're impressed. Even more so when they realize he's the reason that they can make such a contribution to the games.

In the conversation, Dr. Gaul joins. “Hello, Mr. Snow,” she greets him. She turns to the circle he was chatting up. The people were both in awe and afraid of Dr. Gaul. Just like him. She easily takes control of the conversation. Coriolanus does what he does best. Let the conversation flow in the favor of Dr. Gaul. He adds to the glory of the games and how it is necessary. He thanks the elitists for their funding.

From the gleam of approval in Dr. Gauls' eyes, Coriolanus felt proud like he never had before.

He wants to tell you about this immediately! He wanted you to be proud of him too. He had acquired several business cards by now. He had made an impression on everyone he talked to. If he won the Hunger Games, he wouldn't have to worry about university. After tonight, he won't have to worry after university is over either.

It was all because of you.

He feels dread in his mind when he can't see you anywhere on the floor. He finishes his drink, and excuses himself cordially from the conversation. He searches for you before he notices the stairwell leading to the roof. He decided to take the chance of finding you there.

He turned out to be lucky.

He finds you near the metal rails. You were leaning forward, your body facing the city lights. You looked like a part of the city view. He knew he had messed up as he walked closer to you. He left you alone the moment he could. A date wasn't supposed to do that. He knew that! But he was sure you would be understanding. He needed to take advantage of this night.

That's why you brought him here, right?

“Dove,” he said, taking your attention away from the view of the bustling nightlife.

“I see you're making connections, pup.”

“Pup?” he questioned, his tone turning wary.

“Of course, a pup. A pet wagging its tail to an owner who doesn't give a shit. Dr. Gaul, she treats you like an obedient dog baiting you with treats. For her you're disposable, a dog to put down when you'll bite her hand. And here you are in the gala I bought you too, kissing her ass in front of everyone as if they can't see through her bullshit.” You take a deep breath, trying to control yourself, “She sent you to death a day before, Coriolanus! If you're gonna continue to kiss her ass like a mindless pup wanting treats, by all means go ahead.”

Coriolanus takes a deep breath despite the fact he was offended; he didn't wanna fight with you. Coriolanus opens his mouth- he's interrupted by you before he can even begin speaking. You turned to face him. Your eyes glaring at him with anger.

“Not only that! You’re not disposable, Coryo. And I hate how people treat you that way. I am the only one who thinks that way. I am the one you left behind. You ran to Clemmie the moment you saw her and did you know what Festus Creed said to me? He said that I am here as your date and it's because I was available!”

“I have done so many things for you! From rigging the assignment of tributes to proposing the destruction of District thirteen. I have damned my morals for you! I would burn the world for you. And all I get is… this! It's fucking not worth it.”

You don't let Coriolanus speak a word. You tried to walk past him in a hurry but Coryo held your arm and pulled you back. He effortlessly pushes you onto the railing and traps you in.

“Don't talk to me that way,” Coriolanus said, his eyes blazing, his mind confused and his tone dark. “I know what I did was wrong. You should be understanding. What I am doing is for my future. I don't have the time to waste this night like you.” He doesn't bring up the mention of you rigging the tributes nor the nonsense of district thirteen. He will settle this first.

He continues, “What I was doing, it was to be expected. This was too good of an opportunity to let go of. Don't act stupid, dove. Act rationally.”

You scoff at his face and he feels his anger increasing. “Rationally? If you were rational, you would have waited for me to introduce you to the people. Do you know the power I carry, Coriolanus? Yet because of your prejudice against my background, you didn't use me to your advantage. I served myself to you on a silver platter and you left me to rot. Don't talk to me about rationality, love.”

“It's not because of your-” Coriolanus shuts his mouth when he sees tears falling down your cheeks. “Real or not?”

“Don't talk to me if you have to ask,” you sob.

He pulls you in his arms. He cages you, letting you ruin the suit with your tears. Due to the deep red fabric, the tear stains wouldn't be obvious. “I am sorry,” he whispered, genuinely.

He remembered your former words.

‘It's fucking not worth it.’

He tightened his hold around you, imprisoning you. He can't believe he messed this up this bad. The worst is it was his fault. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down. He whispers sweet nothings and apologies until the rise of your chest is steady.

“It's true. I have held prejudice against your background,” it felt wrong to admit this out loud. Coriolanus repeats, “I am sorry, dove.”

“You haven't been district for a long time and it's wrong for me to hold it against you. You're Capitol, not by blood but by deeds. It's more than enough.”

You pulled back, away from his arms. He mourns the loss in his mind, he wants to pull you in again immediately. You wipe your tears away. “I'll forgive you if you publicize our romance today.”

His eyes widened in shock. He wants to yell no! But then he remembered, ‘It's fucking not worth it.’ He takes a shaky breath, steeling his mind. He can't eat his words now. “Fine, sweetheart. You can tell the public Coriolanus Snow is yours and that you are mine.”

The smile you give him reminds him of a fox. He vaguely feels like he has fallen into a trap he can't get out of. Webs after web, he can't even imagine. He shakes himself clear of these thoughts.

You held out your hand, “Then come on Coriolanus Snow, my partner let me introduce you to some people who will like you very very much.”

He takes it. In his mind, he knows he has to ask you about the rigging and about the district that ruined his life.

He dreads it.

NEXT PART

[seeingivy]

the mariners

spider!eren x f!reader

**part 2 to my spider-eren post

an: I call this...I hate my writing so much that I will just post whatever came out and say a prayer. also the fact that I ignored the poll and just picked one but u know whatever. no one ask me for part 3 bc I will write reader getting injured...

--

to spider-boy 

you: YOU KNOW WHAT’S STUPID?? 

eren: admin not approving your budget requests? the color scheme for prom? reiner? 

you: yes. to all of the above, but that wasn’t what i was going to say. my beef is with DOORDASH TODAY. 

eren: and what did doordash do this time? 

you: if the store closes IN THIRTY MINUTES, WHY CAN’T I ORDER FROM THE STORE????? 

eren: woe is you. but they need time to get there, sweetheart. 

you: you’re supposed to be on my side. 

eren: just go and get it urself lazy pants :D 

you: my stomach hurts. im on my period and i just wanted to order stupid ice cream to my apartment >:( 

eren: sorru swertheaft 

you: quit swinging and texting. just call me when ur home. 

Approximately twenty minutes later, you’re met with a very out of breath Spiderman and a tub of chocolate ice cream banging against your window. You pull apart the curtains and glare at him as Eren quietly sneaks in and plops down on to your red-and-yellow Harry Potter sheets. 

He’s never really come into your house properly, your dad being the police chief who wants his head on a stick and all, so he’s never really seen the extent of your…dorkiness. And he can tell right away, that you haven’t changed your bedroom from the little princess crowns and trophies you’ve been winning since fourth grade displayed on your dresser. 

You dig around in your closet for the hoodie and sweatpants you stole from Eren last time you were over at his apartment and place them on the bed for him with a pat. He’s peeling out of his suit, throwing on the clothes you left him as he reaches forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. You note the big bruise on his side, yellowing as he pulls the hoodie on. 

“You know, when I vent to you, I’m not really expecting you to go swinging around fixing my problems, Eren.” 

“I know that. But I can do that, why wouldn’t I?” 

You pinch the side of his cheek as the two of you pull into your sheets and resting your head against Eren’s shoulder as he digs his spoon into the ice cream. Eren braces himself as he asks the question. 

“How was your day?”

“Oh my fucking god, Eren. You would not believe it. I wear a white skirt to class and then of course I get my period. And then that dumbass Reiner on the student council starts telling me that he’s going to run against me for class president next year. As if he actually comes to any of the meetings, and then-” 

Eren loves this about you. That you get so worked up, so frustrated that the little veins in your forehead start bulging out. That you care so much about what the theme is for prom and that you lay out your outfits for class the day before and-

He leans forward as you keep ranting, silencing you by pressing a kiss to your lips. He can taste the chocolate hanging off your lips, positive that his lips taste the same on yours. Eren can feel you immediately feel relax under him by the way you snake your hand around his neck to pull him closer.

The second you yank him in, deepening the kiss as you hit the wall behind you, Eren slithers his hands around your legs and pulls you on top of him. He’s sure that the ice cream is melting on the side table and that he should stop because you’re on your period and because your parents and your brother are downstairs but you’re just pulling him in with your stupid flowery smell of yours and yanking him back every time he tries to pull away that he can’t. 

Eren starts kissing down the side of your neck, blood burning at how your body moves under his touch. He focuses on that one part of your neck - a few inches right below your ear - and sinks in, squeezing in on the same spot. 

“Eren.” 

“Shut up. Your little brother is downstairs. And your parents would-” 

Right on cue, you hear a knock at your door. You and Eren frantically pull apart with matching widened eyes as you dart around for a place to hide Eren. 

“Hi bug, can I come in?” 

You immediately pull Eren off of your sheets and he quickly crawls under your bed. Your dad walks right in as you wipe the wetness off of your neck, with him setting your dinner plate down and taking residence at your desk. He lifts up the papers on your desk - the fucking DNA samples that Eren gave you so you could figure out how he became Spiderman in the first place - and lifts them up to read. 

“Arachnoid Deoxyribonucle- this is so dense I can’t even understand it.” 

You quickly yank the papers out of your dad’s hands, shuffling them in your stack and placing them far, far away from where he was sitting. 

“Why are your lips so…swollen, bug?” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you bring your hand up to your mouth, feeling the puffy skin under your fingers. Because your stupid boyfriend was fucking pulling you onto his lap and sucking on your fucking lips. You cover up the side of your neck with the ends of your hair, positive that Eren’s lips left a sweet, pink spot on your neck that would purple up tomorrow. 

“L-lip plumpers.”

“Lip plumpers? Don’t tell me you’re doing all that for that Jaeger kid, because-”

Oh god. 

“No. I’m not, I just-” 

“Your mom said he was a sweet kid, like the stupid nerdy type. Like socially inept or whatever.” he murmurs. 

“He’s not socially inept, he’s just shy!” 

Your dads smirking at you now and you can feel your cheeks burning at what he says next. 

“Uh huh. Mrs. Eren Jaeger. I can’t believe you’re dating the same kid whose name you used to write all over your notebooks and diaries. And I get that you like the guy but you don’t have to change yourself just for some-” 

“I didn’t do it for him! And that was a long time ago and that wasn’t even true and-” 

“I’m teasing, bug. Just make sure you bring your plate back down. I feel like you haven’t been eating as much since you started planning the prom and working at Oscorp and all.” 

“Yeah, Dad. I’m really, really busy so if you could just leave that would-”

“Hey kid. I just wanted to see you. I know that you’re busy but would it kill you to-”

“No, no. I know that, I’m going to come to the vigil on Saturday, okay?” 

“Okay, bug. You better not be late.” 

“Promise, Dad. Love you.” 

You slam the door shut as he walks out, panting behind the door. You sit directly on your bed, ankle circling his fingers around your ankle and squeezing before he crawls out, his head placed directly on your lap. 

“Mrs. Eren-” 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s cute! You had a crush on me when you were-” 

“Eren. Drop it, please.” you whine. 

He climbs back into your bed, opening his arm for you to lie right against him. He’s rubbing small circles into your back, pulling open your laptop as he looks for a movie to watch. He pulls in, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair as he talks. 

“Sorry to leave you all hot and bothered, sweetheart.” 

“I’m on my period. There was no way you could have fixed that. And don’t act like I don’t see your friend through those sweatpants you’re wearing. You’re more hot and bothered than I am.” 

“Did you just call my dick your frie-” 

You clamp your hand around his mouth, cheeks burning as you lay against him. 

“Quit teasing me, Eren. I’m in pain.” 

He leans down, cupping your face with his left hand as he presses a soft, soft kiss to your already swollen lips. 

“Stop moaning and groaning you big baby.” 

He leans down, pressing soft kisses all over your face as he clicks the movie on, as you nestle into his arms. 

“What’s on Saturday, sweet?” 

“The vigil for the Monroe family. It’s on Twelfth Street, at the Mariners if you want to come with us. I know my parents would really like it if you came and-

“No. I’m busy.”

You feel your muscles clench at the decisiveness in Eren’s voice, your cheeks burning for even suggesting it. 

Why would Eren want to come with your parents to the vigil? He doesn’t even really know them that well and-

And Eren can feel the guilt itching in his throat at how dejected you look, your expression falling the second he denies you. And really - he hates to deny you. Eren reaches forward, tucking your hair behind your ear as he frowns. You reach for that little soft dent in his cheek, right where his dimples are, as you poke them twice. 

“That’s okay, Eren. I was just suggesting it.” you whisper. 

“The Mariners. They…thew a vigil for my parents when they died. I actually haven’t been back since.” 

You deflate, wrapping your hand around his neck as you lean into his touch, warm on your skin. You’re tracing little shapes into the skin on his biceps, his soft breaths filling the silence. 

“I’m sorry, Eren. I totally forgot about that, I-” you whisper. 

“How could you have known?” Eren murmurs. Back. 

“I was there. I should have remembered.” you respond back. 

Eren smiles in response, leaning his forehead against yours as he smiles. You absentmindedly reach for his dimples again, lightly smile at the little lines in the softness of his cheeks. 

“You wore two braids. The…the kind you like split in the middle.” 

“Pigtail braids.” 

“Pigtail braids. I remember, you only did them sometimes. Like when we had that holiday party in fourth grade…or Mikasa’s going away party. And you wore them to the vigil, with your shiny red shoes.” 

“I loved those shoes! I literally sobbed when I grew out of them and they didn’t make them in my size anymore.” you whine. 

“You gave me brownies, I think. We didn’t talk while we were there, but your family - you left them on the table.” he responds. 

“Yeah. I guess I was a little bit nervous to talk to you.” you murmur. 

Eren grins. 

“Because I’m so cute?” Eren asks. 

“Shut up. I did not-” 

“Yes, you did. Your dad just said.” 

“And what? I can’t like my boyfriend? Is that a crime?” 

Eren pulls you fully into his arms, burrowing his face into your neck, as you reach up and card your hands through the mess of his hair. It’s arranged every which way - no thanks to his mask - as you comb it back against his forehead and lightly rub your finger against the pink scar on his forehead. You pull back, reaching forward to press a kiss against the skin. 

“I’ll try to come, okay? I want to meet your family. And I should go back.” Eren murmurs. 

“Don’t push yourself. You’ll meet them when you’ll meet them. And you’ve already met Falco, technically, so-” you respond. 

“Just, promise you’ll be there? I’d hate to come all the way there just to not be graced with your presence.” 

You smile in response, as he pulls the blanket over the two of you and nestles into your arms.

--

It’s not that you hate going to the events. The vigils, the funerals, the lot of them. You’ve been to hundreds since you were a kid - an instance from your dad that you had to show out for the community, in the way that they were needed. That people were only held up by those around them and that you should always be the first one to reach. 

But there was something about it that just sat with you for too long. Watching the kids pass by, with the decorated pictures of their parents at the front, or a sibling standing alone in front of their own they just lost. At first it made your heart hurt - that it could easily be your parents on the picture and you standing in front of them. Or that your hand could easily go cold and never be filled with Falco’s warmth again. 

But this time around, it strikes you too deep. That this kid, it was once Eren. That he did stand there alone and was probably so reminded of it everytime someone invited him to the vigil that he couldn’t even stand to come back. 

“Hey kid.” 

You look over to your side to find Levi, the other volunteer you’ve seen frequent these events with you, beckoning for you to join him at the side walls where the two of you always seemed to stand. Not that you were anywhere near the same age, Levi was considerably older than you, but the two of you were always in agreement. That everyone else should make their move for condolences before the two of you did. The adults, the family - they were all primary to the strangers like you and Levi. 

“What did you bring?” you ask Levi. 

“Salad.” 

“Boo.” you respond. 

He elbows you in the side, as the two of you sport your soft smiles, as you watch everyone line up in the front. 

“What did you bring? Cupcakes?” he responds, jeering at you. 

“Brownies.” you murmur. 

Levi laughs, and you elbow him back, as the two of you watch the two kids stand at the front, and lower your heads. It’s right at that moment, in the break of silence, that there’s a large clanging noise directly to your left. 

You and Levi turn your heads in unison to find Eren standing at the front, now awkwardly picking the trash can up. You can see Pieck at his side, mouthing a quiet apology as every returns back to their conversations, and she reaches up to tousle his hair. 

“Be right back, Levi.” you murmur, as you quickly pace over to the front where the two of them are still standing. 

You make it over to them fast, with Pieck folding down Eren’s collar, as the two of them look over at you and smile. 

“Hi guys.” you whisper. 

Pieck smiles wide, giving Eren’s cheek one last pinch before she reaches forward and wraps her arms around you. 

“Hi sweet girl.” PIeck whispers. 

“Hi Pieck.” you respond, putting your hands on both of their arms as you talk. 

“Thanks for coming.” you murmur. 

You immediately blank, realizing very quickly what you said. You’d hate to make Eren feel more awkward, to make it more of a thing than it was. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just mean-” 

“I know what you meant. It’s okay.” Eren responds, smile so warm that you immediately deflate. 

“I’m going to go make my rounds. Come find me if you need something, Eren?” Pieck states.

He nods, as you reach down and lock your hand with his and give him a reassuring squeeze. He abesntmindedly leans his head against yours, as the two of you quietly whisper under your breaths. 

“Hi Spider-Boy.” 

“Hey.” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” you murmur. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” he responds. 

You smile, as you lead him back to where you were standing, at the side with Levi. Levi gives the two of you a polite nod, as you brace yourselves against the wall again. 

“Eleven people ate my salad. Two people ate your brownies.” Levi states. 

“Okay, Levi. I’m so glad you’re keeping count.” 

“Hi Levi.” Eren states, holding his hand out. 

“Eren.” 

You pause, giving the two of them a weird look. 

“He’s friends with Hange.” Eren says. 

You feign shock. 

“You have friends, Levi?” 

“Very funny.” Levi responds, glaring. 

The three of you stand there for sometime, as you nervously fidget with Eren’s hands in yours and watch each of them consecutively give their condolences. The line eventually dwindles down, as Levi leads the way for the three of you to enter the line last. 

“Do you always wait till the end?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah. Just makes me nervous, the entire thing.” you respond. 

“So you wait till the last second until you’re a big ball of anxiety?” he asks, eyes narrowed. 

“Exactly! You just get me, Eren.” you respond. 

The two of you walk down the line, as you both stand in front of the two of them, and crouch on your knees. And you’re in complete awe of the fact that Eren’s so quick to talk, when you had been hyping yourself up to talk for the two of you the entire time. 

“Hi guys. I’m Eren. This is Y/N.” 

The two of them don’t respond, sharing a blank look, as Eren reaches forward, noticing the little pens on their lapels. 

“You guys are Spiderman fans, huh? I have something really cool to show you.” 

Eren stands up, gesturing for the two of them to follow, as you instinctively reach for his elbow and give him a look. Except in response, he reaches forward and presses a kiss to your cheek before he shuffles away with the two kids at his side. 

--

Eren reappears after forty-five minutes, with the two kids in considerably greater spirits and a big smile on Eren’s face. He gives the two of them a wave goodbye, which they both respond to excitedly, before they run off and Eren snakes his hand around your waist. 

“Hi stranger.” he murmurs. 

“You disappeared for quite some time, Eren.” you respond. 

“Had to do a thing.” he responds, shrugging. 

“Uh huh. You better have not done what I think you did, Eren.” 

He smiles in response, reaching forward to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I want to show you something.” 

Eren locks his hand with yours, as he drags you towards the back, and gives you a shining smile as you walk into the back halls of the little community center. It’s dark and dusty in the back as you feel your nose immediately tickling at the dust and Eren drags you straight to one wall in the center. It’s filled with small printed pictures, each of them glossy and shiny, as the two of you stand facing it. 

“When my parents died, there was this guy who came to our vigil. His name was Levi. And everyone at the vigil, they kind of look at you with these really shitty, pity eyes. They aren’t exactly all pretty girls in pigtails who make really good brownies, ya know?” he states. 

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder, as the two of you look over all the pictures. 

“Levi, he was the last person to talk to me. He told me this thing, a secret, that only people without parents know.” 

“What’s that?” you ask. 

He reaches forward to flick your forehead. 

“Silly. It wouldn’t be a secret then.” 

“Okay, okay. Fair. Keep going, Eren.” 

“Anyways, they take this corny picture of you at the end. With your family or whatever. And mine is….all the way right there.” Eren says, pointing to the top. 

You look up at the picture of Eren, standing awkwardly in between Pieck and Hange with a pinched look on his face. Hange and Pieck have him tucked into his arms, which he’s easily resisting, and the picture makes your heart clench so hard, that you hug him full on. 

“Eren. You’re so…” you look over at him, frowning at his soft smile at your side. 

“You’re sweet. Thanks for inviting me. This was…nice.” 

You wrap your hands around his neck, bring your hands up to his cheeks to brush the softness of his skin. You reach forward to press a kiss to his nose, which has him curling his face in response. 

“Really. I like being here now. With you. I got to tell all those old ladies that I had a pretty girlfriend that made the brownies. Show off a little.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

He shakes his head, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips, before you walk back towards the main room. 

“Now where’s your dad? I want to talk to him about Spider-Man.” 

“I’m going to slap you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just gift him this.” 

Eren presses something hard into your hand before he shuffles off, right towards where your parents are standing. You look down in your hand to find the pin, the two the kids were wearing in your hand. You place it onto the collar of your shirt, before you stand up in join him, noticing that he has the other one pressed to his shirt as well. 

“It’s so nice to meet you. My name is Eren.” he states, extending his hand out, as you two lock your free ones together behind your backs. 

--

an: do not let me make this a series I swear to god

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters ​@itzmeme @cutiejg

[schoenpepper]

Teeth (5 Seconds of Summer)

Intro: It's nothing but a modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet to you. But Jade will twist the narrative into Bonnie and Clyde, if it means he'll get his hands on the one he loves.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread it's too long for me to give a fuck, blood, gore-ish, death (minor charac), bad bad things, criminals, Jade and Floyd are warnings of their own, implied shmexy times, 100% inaccurate interpol description but it was that or the Red Room from marvels idk maybe the kingsman, the fish mafia are verrrrry bad people here ok, but reader doesnt care, betrayal

A/N: Did I fall in love with Jade halfway into writing this? Of course not. I fell in love with Jade a whileeeee ago. Anyway, this is the first installment of my Twisted Harmonies series, a bunch of songfics with different characters and plots and universes.

Masterlist

Some days you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

Aren't you just a darling little thing?

Jade isn't Azul's right hand man for nothing; he sees through your facade all too easily. A little too naive for the sexy outfit you're wearing and a little too innocent for the foxy persona you've put up. The police force had sent lots of undercover agents before. Unfortunately for them, none had been as interesting as you.

He watches you stumble onto the seat next to him. You order a drink and meet his eyes, giving him a charming smile.

Ah.

He understands now.

You weren't sent as a mistake. You were sent because even your superiors saw an overflowing charisma that you yourself didn't seem to notice. They were likely betting on him being drawn to you (and you having better acting skills). They've underestimated him again.

Jade thinks he's too far gone to be a gentleman now, but he chuckles and offers to pay for your pina colada. You accept with a glint in your pretty eyes, and he congratulates himself for picking up a cute little plaything for the next few months. He hears out the alias you have and listens to your cover story with a close-lipped smile. When he leads the conversation to other places, he takes note of when you perk up and start shaking off the person you were forced to be in order to get closer to him. "You like that movie too? That's awesome! I thought I was the only person who knew what it was."

"It's definitely one of my favorite films, but it's not too popular, hm?"

"Right." You pout and huff so adorably, he might just take you where you're sat. He doesn't think you're supposed to like the things you're saying you like, but he enjoys seeing you mess up, if nothing else. "You know," Jade takes a sip of his martini, "I have a copy of it on DVD, if you'd like to come to my place and watch it. Maybe stay for the night...maybe have breakfast in the morning...?" He sees you light up and you seem to finally remember your mission, pushing down the bubbly and energetic rookie and projecting out an image of this mature and seductive force of nature.

It's just too funny.

He drives you to his small villa at the edge of town and he pops the CD into the DVD player. He wasn't lying when he said he liked the movie, and he enjoys hearing your commentary on it because it brings him new insights about the plot as well as you. After the movie, he takes you to his bedroom (like a gentleman 💙) and even cooks you breakfast in the morning. Muffins and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. A part of his attention is on you as you eat breakfast blearily, but most of it is in the file he has on hand while drinking his morning coffee.

[Name: Y/N L/N]

[Status: Recent graduate of the X police academy, honor student]

[Threat level: Unknown]

Jade picks up his pen, looks on as you burn your tongue on your coffee, and jots down a note.

[Threat level: Unknown (near zero, requires further investigation)]

Sometimes you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me, or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

The second time you meet up with your target is on a "date". You'd spent hours in front of the mirror just to look your most "seductive", yet Jade barely even bats an eye. He picks you up from the apartment you were assigned in his swanky, expensive, customized Rolls Royce and drives you both to this upscale 3 Michelin star restaurant in the middle of the city. You feel slightly uncomfortable because of all the haughty uppity-ness of the people in the other tables, but Jade's gloved hand is placed on the small of your back as he walks with you to the table he'd reserved. "Sorry, I'm not too used to places like these." You smile awkwardly at Jade.

And berate yourself internally because you're supposed to be mature and experienced and whatever.

"Nonsense dear, we're not here to keep up appearances." Thankfully, he's always a very nice person (if you ignore him being one of the leaders of possibly the biggest organized crime group in the world). He even pulls your chair out for you and everything. "I just wish for you to have an enjoyable time. Now tell me about the types of dishes you like, and perhaps any allergies?"

"Oh, I don't have any allergies. But I like chicken, and mushrooms!" You grin at him happily.

He pauses at your words, which makes you think that maybe you said something wrong, causing you to bow your head and stare at the French squiggles you just can't understand on the menu you're holding.

"I like mushrooms too."

The smile he gives you is all too blinding. You've always known he was rather pretty, but seeing him smile like this makes you aware of his insane face card. Him liking mushrooms wasn't on the file (even the international police force doesn't have much on the Leech brothers' files, much less Ashengrotto's), but you're glad you have something else to talk to him about. 

"I even grow them myself."

Your jaw drops and you have to stop yourself from barreling over the table and onto him as words just start pouring out of your mouth. "Seriously? That's so cool! Where do you grow them? Did you learn by yourself? Can you teach me? Do you think I can grow some too? Oh, wait!" You clear your throat and lean back on your chair. You're blowing your cover again, you just know it. "I mean, that sounds cool. Apologies for rambling."

Jade laughs and waves you off.

"No, I like that you're so passionate. You've been to my home before, perhaps you'd enjoy going back after dinner? I'll show you my terrariums."

"Awesome!"

You'll remember to keep up your disguise later.

Your waiter comes by with recommendations and wine, and your date is too sweet with how he constantly asks for your opinion. When you show any form of hesitance, he easily helps you out whether it be with ordering your entree or asking for another plate. Conversation flows too naturally with the teal-haired man and dinner leads to checking his terrariums, to staying up too late drinking sips of his stash of red wine while he helps you make a terrarium of your own, to passing out on his bed next to him.

When you wake up the next day, you realize you forgot to probe for information.

Oh well.

You can always see Jade next time.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Everyday, you get more and more delectable.

"Whatcha' watchin', Jade?" Floyd leans over his shoulder to peer at the monitor in front of him. On the screen is you, oh lovely, beautiful, adorable you, in a skin tight suit made of a fabric that clings to your every curve so wonderfully. You do a turn to evade your opponent and land a kick on their abdomen. "Eh? Who's this spiky little pufferfish? New toy o' yours?"

"Not a toy." Even Jade is surprised by the words that leave his lips, but it curls into a sickeningly sweet smile as he continues. "They're cute, aren't they? Feisty."

You send the other person to the edge of the ring with a punch.

"What, so you'll keep 'em?"

When your opponent rushes back to you, you do a series of beautiful and swift movements to bring them down on their knees. Admittedly, the smallest part of him is rather jealous by the way you step on the person's chest to keep them down.

"Absolutely. They'll make a cute pet~"

"Hah, you're so weird." Floyd rolls his eyes and stands back up properly. "The Interpol'll notice your cameras soon, y'know they're not that stupid to keep their own training grounds unchecked."

"That's why I'm recording, of course."

"Freak."

"You wound me, truly."

For what he'd said about keeping you as a pet, he gets annoyingly ticked off at the sight of you helping up your comrade slash sparring partner. The way you laugh so unrestrainedly and smile so freely, in ways you refuse to do in front of him—your mission target—made him narrow his eyes and memorize the face of that friend of yours. Perhaps the frustration bubbling in his chest was only because his pet was rather uncooperative at the moment, still stubbornly holding onto the shredded pieces of your shoddy disguise. With that, he has no chance of seeing your many facets in the way you'd present them to a friend, to someone closer; because he dislikes that alias very much.

(He'll pull the Y/N L/N out of you sooner than later.)

"Whatever, just make sure to clean up or Azul's gonna be pissed."

"Of course."

He watches your figure leave the training ground and the camera's range.

Jade is a capable man who enjoys games.

And what game would be more fun than turning a police dog against its owners?

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"And, open your eyes!"

You fidget with your hands nervously, trying to hide your anxiousness with a proud grin. You glance at the spread you'd poured your time and effort into; a typical red plaid blanket splayed out over the grass under the shade of a large tree, a wicker basket with its contents already laid out on the blanket. Finger sandwiches and little jars of pasta and lemon iced tea and tiny cake slices in glass tupperwares. You look back at Jade who you'd asked to dress more casually today for your (you can't really count anymore at this point) date, wondering if he dislikes your little surprise.

"Um, I know it seems sudden, but I made it all myself." You blush and kneel down on the blanket to grab the utensils. "Because, the button mushrooms you helped me grow, they grew really nice and big so I chopped them up and put them into a bolognese, so I thought maybe you'd like to try my cooking!" You feel so embarrassed because why is Jade still so quiet holy shit, though the shame fades when he tugs you into his arms.

"Jade...?"

"Apologies." He pulls away slightly to kiss your forehead. "I am very touched by the thought. I appreciate your effort, my dear, and I look forward to tasting your cooking."

You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

It had felt like a chore the first few weeks, but touching him, kissing him, loving him is starting to feel good. Natural. Right.

It's not. But it feels right.

"You better, I was up from four a.m., you know?" You let out a grumble when he hums so happily, swaying you in his arms. "So next date, you owe me your cooking too."

"Of course, my dear."

"With no poisonous mushrooms?"

"I don't recall agreeing to that condition."

It's so peaceful when he gives you his commentary on your dishes and gives you advice regarding the iced tea you'd made, and there's such a lovely calmness when you take a nap with him after eating, curled up into each other under the shade, your head on his chest and his legs around your own. Everything else fades away when he helps you pack up your jars and tupperwares into your wicker basket and drives you home.

He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles with a close-eyed smile.

"Goodbye, my dear. Think of me always."

You close the door in his face so he doesn't see the blush on yours.

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

There's filth in the room, he can feel it with every pair of eyes that is shamelessly drinking in the sight of you. A polite curve to the lips, arm wrapped securely around you, he walks into the gala with the feeling of his favorite handgun digging into his thigh. He expects the night to go flawlessly; Azul would never throw an event that would end up in shambles, and your little organization is far too wary of this party being a trap to actually make a move. It doesn't change the bitter taste lingering in the back of his throat when these greasy middle-aged folks that Azul coined as "business partners" stared at you with their tongues lolling out like mutts sniffing a new treat.

Say, would his boss mind if he committed a little bit of homicide?

"Jade?"

Ah, but you look so sweet, looking up at him nervously. You must recognize the ugly faces, yes? Each and every one in the interconnected web of hell that Azul ruled over. "Don't worry darling, they're all friendly." Jade smiles, a genuine one, sweeping a glance over the crowd. "I'll make sure of it for you."

You seem comforted enough by his words, yet you still slink away into his side.

(Don't you know he's one of the most dangerous people here?)

"Azul, Floyd, this is my darling." He feels you freeze up when he introduces you to his brother and friend boss. His fingers run up and down your back in a soothing motion as he watches gears turn in the two's heads. "My love, this is Azul Ashengrotto. He's my superior of sorts. And this is Floyd, my twin brother."

The word 'love' has their eyes widen for just a split second.

Azul reaches out a hand to shake yours. "My, it's a pleasure to meet you. Jade has told us a lot about you." You smile nervously and shake his hand. Before his brother can full on tackle you and likely interrogate you about your relationship status, Jade gently pushes you off to the crowd with a nasty glare behind your back towards the piranhas circling.

"Do socialize for a bit, dear. I have a few things I need to talk about with them." He doesn't mention the bodyguards he'd gestured to keep an eye on you.

"So," Azul crosses his arms, "love, hm?"

Jade lets the polite smile fade from his face as he looks at them, one gloved hand on his chest. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

"You said pet!" Floyd huffs, shaking Jade by the arms. "No fair! What's with the secrets, Jaaaaade? You were supposed to tell me everything! When did you get a partner?"

"I wasn't lying, I just started seeing them differently." He consoles his brother with a chuckle.

"And how are you planning to keep it up?"

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, that person's a noobie undercover, right? Ya' can't hold on to some lousy loyal cop." Floyd rolls his eyes. "Don't be silly Jade, that loyalty's no good if it ain't yours."

"I'm sure he's already thought of that."

"But he doesn't seem prepared to let 'em go, though? A pet's fine, but if it's somethin' else, it'll be trouble."

Jade smiles again. "Not a pet anymore, no, but it's not that hard to train a lover either, is it?"

"What, you truly think that cop will fall for you enough that they'll throw away their principles and ideals for you?" Azul scoffs. "Without torture?"

"You think they won't?"

Azul and Floyd share a look then shrug in unison.

"I don't think there's a lot you can't do, to be honest."

"I don't care, long as you get those annoying do-gooders outta my face, capiche?"

Some days you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

It's boring.

God, it's so boring.

If you had known you would be subjecting yourself to petty small talk and the lecherous eyes of sleazy men twice, maybe three times your age, you would've clung on harder to Jade and forced yourself into whatever conversation he'd needed to have with Azul and Floyd. But then again, you don't think you have enough calm to face the Azul Ashengrotto without shaking in your boots (he's rich and evil and super duper powerful!). Floyd you can sort of handle, you do well with violence. Jade you slept with the night you met, so there wasn't all too much about him that still made you nervous. But Azul, that man's smart. You can't deal with wits like that—wits that gave him claws to dig his way out of whatever hellhole he was born in and right to the top of the food chain. He'll blow your cover all too easy.

You shift your champagne to the other hand and nod at your conversation partner.

No you don't get what he's bragging about, and you really don't care. This place is filled to the brim with the very wretches of society, faces you know from the red files you kept at headquarters. They parade around in human skins and even now, not a single person has said anything that even remotely implied ill-gotten wealth or human trafficking or whatever, so you know they're really good at keeping up face.

This one, he's getting a little too handsy.

"I can show you a good time."

You raise your hand to smash the champagne flute into his ugly face (Jade would definitely cover for you).

When did you get so confident?

Two big and bulky men in suits appear out of nowhere—they might be the asshole's bodyguards—but no, they restrain the other man and faster than you can blink, you're alone again with only the echoes of his shouting. You catch Jade's gaze on you from the corner of the room where he's still with Azul and Floyd.

His lips curl up in mischief and he winks.

Looks like your confidence wasn't misplaced, at least.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

"Jade, baby, I think we're lost."

"Nonsense, my pearl. I've been here a million times."

"You should've taken the left at the exit!"

"No, this is a shortcut."

"Jade!"

"Yes, my lovely backseat driver?"

He watches from the corner of his eye as you hold onto your seatbelt for dear life. "Where are we going?! It's not in the map. I swear if you actually get us lost—"

"What will you do?"

You pout at him. "Cry."

"Don't be so dramatic my love, I told you, I've been there before." Jade muses, one hand on the wheel and the other gently patting your thigh. He takes another turn and chuckles. "See? Look at the GPS, we're back on track."

When the Range Rover comes to a stop near a familiar campsite (he was not taking the Rolls Royce into the woods, thank you very much), you immediately hop out of your seat and start to fiddle with the items you'd brought with you. He gets out to help you carry the foldable tent and set it up not too far from the car. "Jade, did you buy new sleeping bags? These weren't the ones we used when we went to the lake." He watches on happily as you figure out there's only one, two-person sleeping bag.

"Wow. Are you cutting corners or are you just that clingy?"

"Whatever do you mean, love?" Jade turns to take out the coats he'd brought along, forcing you into one of them as you whined about its puffiness. Unfortunately, he'd rather not have a frozen lover to roast over the bonfire with the marshmallows. He intertwines your hand with his as you walk side by side on the trail, and he talks to you about safety procedures when hiking ("Do try not to separate, dear.") and protocols ("If you see a bear when I'm not around, say your last prayers." "What if you're around?" "I have a gun if it's really aggressive, don't worry about it." "Why do you have a gun, Jade?") and what kind of mushrooms would be safe to pick without gloves ("In general, if it's colorful, best leave it to me.").

He has such a great time hiking with his cute partner, even if you don't notice his camera taking snapshots every few minutes or so.

With a sack full of mushrooms and other flora, the both of you make your way back to the campsite. He starts on a fire while you set up the foldable chairs and prepare the ingredients for whatever would be dinner. He thinks it should be the mushrooms you had just gathered together, you think it should be something actually edible, and he relents if only because you compromise to add some non-poisonous mushrooms into a stew for dinner. The night ends with your intertwined bodies in the sleeping bag, Jade peppering kisses all over your face as you giggle and try to squirm out of your constraints (the sleeping bag and his arms).

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Jade."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"I know how to shoot a gun."

—Were the words that spiked your competitiveness with your boyfriend. It wasn't your fault, really, but when that frustratingly pretty face got that smug look that just seemed like it was doubting your abilities, you felt the need to prove yourself. You weren't the brightest bulb in the, ugh, in the string of Christmas lights around the pine tree? But! You prided yourself on your ability to fight. Whether that be with a gun or a knife or just with your bare fists, you'd slammed foes several times bigger and stronger than you to the ground by virtue of pure skill. So to hear Jade questioning one of your rare mastered skills (he would probably argue otherwise) made your blood boil.

So. Shooting range.

You know he's experienced with guns, but you're pretty sure a sniper rifle is new even for him. You help him assemble it and get into proper position.

"My, how scandalous, my darling instructor. In broad daylight too?"

You grimace at his words.

"I'm just trying to get you into the right position!"

"Oh? And what position would be to your preference?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I feel like I've asked you the same question before too—"

"Jade, there are people—"

"—Did you say missionary or—"

"Oh my fucking gods."

"—Perhaps you said you preferred riding?"

You glare harshly at your boyfriend who was giving you the sweetest smile you'd ever seen on his cute face (no doubt to spite you), and you look around frantically in search of other people. Thankfully you're alone. But it doesn't stop you from repeatedly (softly) hitting his shoulder while he laughed at your expressions, sharp teeth showing. You poke a finger to the corner of his lips, which he quickly nibbles on. "What are you, a dog?" He pulls away just to lean back in and kiss your lips.

"Arf~"

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Your phone rings in the dead of night. Jade groans and pats you awake to answer, and you console him with a kiss before looking at the contact.

It says 'That Guy'.

Jade murmurs out a question while you hurriedly leave the bed to put on a robe. "I just need to take this call, baby. I'll be right back." You answer the phone out of earshot, leaning against the railing of the balcony. A familiar voice travels through your phone and right to your heart. It stirs memories and realizations you're not quite ready to face again; the biting chill of the wind feels similar to the worry gnawing at you. "Agent L/N."

"...Reporting, sir."

It's still muscle memory, the response and the subconscious salute. 

(Is it still muscle memory to defend yourself against Jade, the way you were taught to?)

"How is your mission?"

You bite back the urge to say 'What mission?'. Ahhh Y/N L/N you're just so stupid, aren't you? First ever mission, your first big responsibility, your first big chance to be someone worth something. You look back at the bedroom and catch a glimpse of Jade's shadow on the bed. You were supposed to worm out information but gods, you've never even tried. It's like every single time he's with you your brain starts to melt into a hot pink sludge. "I'm working on it, sir." You lie because there's nothing else you can do. Where can you run when Jade finds out you were only using him? Where can you run when the Interpol thinks of you as a dead man because they believe you've betrayed them?

Where can you go when everything comes crashing down?

"It's only to be expected, such a man should be awfully guarded even against his own. Keep up the good work and remember to report back when you find anything."

Hah. Jade was barely ever guarded against you, if at all. You could've tapped his electronics at any time or tracked every car he owns. You just...never did. And the realization forces you to redraw your lines. You know exactly where your loyalty lies, don't you? You end the call and look at the lights in the distance; the city is never asleep. It's bursting with neon signs and traffic lights, but the noise doesn't reach the safe haven that's Jade's little villa. Start to make plans. Rethink it all over. You walk back into the bedroom and further, to the guest room you'd never once used but has way too much of your things in. In a suitcase pocket that's invisible to the naked eye, you pick up a packet of tiny buttons.

You hope Jade won't miss you too much in bed when you make a trip to the garage.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

"Happy birthday, Jade!"

"Happy birthday, Floyd."

There's blood in the air, early morning in November. Jade looks up from his newspaper at his brother who was happily dragging a limp body into his pristine living room, sack over its head. "Oh dear, I hope you've called for cleanup. I have a date later today and I would rather not have Y/N turned off the moment I open the front door." He frowns slightly and puts the newspaper down. With careful steps, he approaches the unconscious person and yanks the sack off its face. "Is this your birthday present for me, brother?"

"Yep!"

"Well," Jade smirks, kicking the head awake. "I appreciate the effort."

"Make sure to pay me back, 'kay~?"

"Of course."

The young woman stirs awake, but his eardrums are saved by the duct tape that Floyd had slapped over her mouth. She looked around in a panic and struggled against the ropes binding her wrists and ankles together. "Hello there, Agent Assyra. You're my darling Y/N's favorite sparring partner, aren't you?" Jade whispers softly with a polite smile. A hand gently caresses her hair while she squirms. "I think you'll be good entertainment for me today. Oh, Floyd must have exerted quite a bit of effort bringing you to me, I ought to meet his expectations."

"Damn right." Floyd whines as he collapses on the sofa. "That bitch put up a fucking fight. 'M still sore from her kicking, she just had to do it in stilettos, didn't she?"

"I can imagine. Floyd, pass me the box under the cushion."

Floyd hands him a small box with his favorite set of scalpels inside it. 

"Let's see, it's quite unhygienic to do it in the living room, but I don't plan to let you live too long anyway. I suppose Y/N and I will just have to settle for a hotel room tonight." He hums a merry little tune as he made small incisions in her skin, the blade easily digging through the flesh. "You must have a tracker somewhere in your bloodstream, let's find it, shall we? Oh, I've always wanted to dissect an Interpol agent."

"Why didn't you dissect your Y/N?"

"That's not very funny, Floyd." Jade chuckles. He cuts a line down her arm and watches the blood flow down his rug. "I'll have to remember to buy a new rug. Perhaps Y/N can help me shopping~"

"Bah, you're sooo whipped it's gross."

He makes another line on her leg, gently prodding at the layer of skin and looking for the tracker. "I am a man domesticated."

"Happy birthday—um, Jade...?"

He freezes at the front door being suddenly shoved open with a happy-turned-concerned voice, slowly looking at the person by the door. It's you. In a cute sweater with a big box in your hands, hair sprinkled with snow and eyes wide in horrified shock. "Uh oh." He hears Floyd giggle, and the girl under him moves around more to grab your attention. You look at the girl, then at Jade, then at the cake in your hands. Then at the girl again. "Assyra...?" She nods helplessly. He thinks you might run forward to help your fellow agent (who was clearly on the verge of death from severe bloodloss), but the only thing you do is look at the scalpel in Jade's hand, and back to his eyes. You maintain eye contact while you slowly put down your box and leave as if nothing happened.

"Guess you're single again. Sad."

He ignores his brother's words, running to the box you'd left behind.

Inside is a big cake that he assumes is homemade, half chocolate and half strawberry and whipped cream. It looks decent, and he could feel your efforts in the two-colored icing writing out a message on the top.

'Happy Birthday, Jade! Love you lots :D'

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Another pull of the trigger, another lifeless body falling to a heap on the ground. He looks on expressionlessly as Azul glances at him with a raised eyebrow before continuing to talk to the person whose lackey Jade had just killed.

"As you can see, Jade isn't feeling too patient today, so if you could just—"

He shoots another bullet, just barely grazing the man's ear before it enters the wall.

"Okay! I agree, I agree, forty percent, yes!" The man nods and signs the contract before scampering away with his (useless) guards. "While I do like a good deal, is there any explanation for your trigger happy behavior?" Azul looks at him in confusion. Floyd takes the offending firearm from his hand and pushes him to sit down on the armrest of Azul's big fancy chair.

"The little cop ghosted him, and he ain't too happy 'bout it." Floyd explains as he puts the gun on the table.

"They were supposed to run back." Jade finally speaks, brows furrowing. "The timing was off, it was an accident they weren't supposed to see. Their conditioning was incomplete and if their higher-ups catch a whiff of their feelings for me, they'll rewire my pearl back to being their little hound. They need to be back to me, and fast."

"Sorry, Jade, maybe I shoulda' brought that bitch in another time."

"It's not your fault." He sighs.

"Then? Why haven't you found them yet?"

Jade looks at Azul. "Have I become predictable? Because the men I've sent off, and the camera footage I've been keeping track of—all of them seem completely avoided. It's like they know my move two steps before I do it."

"Perhaps you've truly met your match."

"Or maybe your pearly's trapped at headquarters." Floyd smirks. "Let's go there! Like a field trip, except with guns and bombs."

"Absolutely not."

"Aww, Azul, you're no fun."

Jade leans back against the chair, looking at his phone lockscreen; a picture of the two of you cupping a mushroom with smiles on your faces. He hovers his thumb above your figure. He unlocks the screen to dial your number again. Like the previous one hundred and fifty two times, it only rings endlessly. Frustrated, Jade stands up, pockets his phone, and picks up his gun again. "Don't you have five more people to meet? Get them in." He snaps at Azul, and the man only pushes his glasses up and shrugs. He clicks a button and the door opens. In comes another greasy, balding, middle-aged loser with some eye candy on his arm, trying to look not so desperate.

Jade aims for his forehead.

"Oh dear, Jade's truly in a bad mood right now, Mr. Sanchez. Let's get this over with quickly before his finger slips." Azul drawls with a smirk, pushing the contract forward.

"Sign here, please."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"Whoop! On your left, Jaaaaade~"

He clicks his tongue and dodges accordingly, a flying metal bat hurtling through the air. The smoke and gasoline is choking, but the smell of blood could barely even make him flinch at this point. He turns to kick an incoming assailant in the gut, effortlessly catching a handgun thrown his way by his twin. "Jade! Grab the sparklies, okay?" Jade sighs and opens the sack, sweeping the mess of jewelry inside it and sealing it shut. Somehow, Floyd's idea of 'letting loose and forgetting cops that ghost you' was robbing a luxury jewelry store, just the two of them. Sibling bonding time, of sorts. While he normally wouldn't mind, he's been feeling all too ill without your presence.

"Oh pearl, when will you come back to me?"

He sighs listlessly. A shot is fired towards another guard before he goes to pick up a string of pearls and wear it around his neck. Everything just reminds him of you.

"Sirens, haha!"

At Floyd's signal, he lugs the sack over one shoulder and runs with his brother to the armored car they'd yanked from Azul. He hops into the driver's seat while throwing the 'sparklies' onto his brother's lap.

They don't get very far before a barricade of police cars force them to stop.

"That's no fun." Floyd pouts.

"Backup?"

"Nah, it's cool. Let's just spend a while in a jail cell, I wanna see Azul pop a vein, hehe~"

He could almost imagine Azul's reaction to them getting arrested. He shares a look with his twin and they hop out the car in unison, hands in the air and weapons thrown to the ground. His eyes widen when he realizes the person walking towards him with handcuffs was you.

"Jade Leech." You say sternly, tugging at his arms and cuffing his wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

Someone else takes Floyd in.

You push him to a police car and just before you can walk off, he helplessly whispers to you. Not a cry for help, not a plea, no.

A soft, hopeful, sickly sweet "My love." that makes you stop for one moment. Just one.

Before you continue walking.

He lost the gamble.

And above all else—

He'd lost you.

Teeth

Teeth

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

Floyd's in a separate cell.

He's flattered, honestly. His own cell is so heavily guarded, cameras and guards everywhere, it makes him feel very important. But it's quite boring, only a bed, a sink, and a shoddily covered toilet. He thinks the clothes look horrendous, and he's patiently awaiting his dear boss who would never leave him nor his brother rotting in a maximum security prison for the rest of their lives. But hours pass by and he's getting rather antsy. How long would it take Azul to bust him out?

The lights go out.

He sinks into his little cot and looks out the tiny window. It's barely even dark and they expect him to go to sleep, somehow.

Who sleeps at 7 in the—

Boom!

He sits up with a grin. Seems like it wasn't scheduled after all.

There's the sounds of fighting and gunshots and explosions and screaming. It all quietens eventually, leaving him on the edge of his seat for whichever side came out on top. There's footsteps in the hallway. Blue tinted silvery hair and glasses hiding an annoyed glare—it's Azul. Floyd comes barreling in a second later. "Jade. I didn't expect your depression to be so bad you'd let yourself get arrested." His friend boss unlocks the door and he steps out with a stretch.

"My apologies. I must admit I was rather preoccupied with my loss."

"Then congratulations."

They walk down the halls littered with dead bodies and Azul's men making sure the dead bodies stayed dead.

"Pardon?"

"It was quite difficult getting through the bulletproof gate, much less just finding this hellhole. Top secret, off the grid, heavily guarded and everything."

"Well then, I thank you for your efforts."

They step out of the prison and back to the grounds.

"Yes yes, but they weren't all my efforts you know?"

He sees a familiar silhouette.

"This place is Interpol property, after all."

"Jade!" You run towards him and tackle him into a hug. He can barely believe his eyes, but he hugs you back so tight you start gasping for air.

"Why...?"

You smile. "My name's Y/N L/N, I killed that alias! I graduated from X police academy, but just recently, I leaked confidential information from the international police force to one of the biggest crime groups in the world. It was fun!"

"Fun?"

"Yeah, but now I'm wanted and have nowhere else to stay." You tug on his sleeve. "Stranger, you got an extra bedspace? I just escaped from getting killed by my former mentors and I'm all tuckered out."

He carries you in his arms and kisses you hard.

[bluehwale]

mythical beings! ateez as your boyfriend

pairing. ateez x reader

genre. mdni, crack! (except for yunho bc it's a forbidden love! trope and i take that seriously) fluff? a dash of angst if you squint. smut (for san bc he's an incubus! rawr)

warnings. MYTHICAL BEINGS INFO INACCURACIES (i'm sorry), grammatical errors SMUT! unprotected sex (don't do this), creampie, corruption kink if you squint, overstimulation, the term 'good girl' lmao, yea i think that's it (it's my first time writing smut don't hv high hopes)

word count. almost 4k whoops i got carried away

note. idk what possessed me when i wrote yunho's part so apologies if it's too long and very much plot-y<3 ++ my brain's still muddled from a week of midterms and im still new to writing so pls lower ur expectations before pressing the keep reading button thanks xx (my asks are always open! ++ feedback would be greatly appreciated)

masterlist

hongjoong — demon

honestly the coolest demon ever

he'd be so nonchalant about his demon activities that it would unsettle you sometimes

"hey babe, just got home?"

"yeah, had an emergency meeting with the devil about potentially crashing heaven's weekly parties, no biggie. how was your day? :-D"

likes to grumble about how hell is so overpopulated that it feels hotter than it actually is

he's just a demon with a tough exterior but that all comes crashing down when he comes back home to your arms

would do ANYTHING to make you happy

one time you were both cuddling on the sofa just absentmindedly enjoying hongjoong's playlist played throughout the house when you suddenly asked,

"joong, aren't demons supposed to have horns?"

he looked at you and thought for a second, "hm, i'm pretty sure only the devil has horns. i guess that's another myth debunked"

you returned his gaze with mock disapointment, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout. "that's a shame. i think it's really hot."

the next day he shows up with a red devil horn headband on his head

...

"joong, what is this--," you let out a laugh when he turns to face you with a serious look on his face

the blush on the apples of his cheeks redden when you continue to laugh with the brightest grin that crinkles your eyes

he doesn't mind that he's making a fool out of himself as long as he gets to see you like this

"they were 50% off in the costume shop!"

he feels a smile creep into his face when you laugh a little bit harder

seonghwa — vampire

you first met seonghwa at a random halloween party

he was surprise surprise !! dressed as a vampire, and you were dressed as kim possible (call me beep me if you wanna reach me)

he just suddenly went up to you and complimented your outfit

so you were like, "thanks!! :-D i like your fangs, they look so real!"

and he just went, "hey thanks! they are real :-D"

"what :-D"

anyways!!! you started dating not too long after that <3

he'd just be one of the most dramatic vampires out there

he's the type to dramatically hiss and cover his face when you draw open the curtains in the morning

"gAaAaaGHh the sun!!!!! i'm burning!!!!!!!!"

and you'd just stand there like ...... "seonghwa you have a morning class today"

(yes, vampire! seonghwa goes to uni)

"can you believe this place doesn't have any vampire-friendly mirrors?? it's 2022!!! D-:<"

:-|

lives and breathes the twilight saga

one time you were walking home together and you noticed his skin sparkling

and no it's not the sun shining on him or the natural glow you'd get from sweat or oily skin because his skin was particularly BLINDING

he was excitedly talking about how his favorite professor complimented him on his recent project when you interrupted him, "hwa, wait a minute--"

three of your fingers swipe at his nape and actual arts & craft glitter came off his skin

"hwa, did you actually try to edward cullen-ficate yourself???"

pink dusted his cheeks and he could only abashedly scoff while trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with you

"psssshhh, what?! noooo,,, aha... what kinda weirdo would do that ahaha, whaaat? that's so weird.."

and then he used his super speed to run back to your shared appartment leaving you to walk back home ALONE >:-(

but besides that, he's super sweet

would let you leave fingerprint stains on his glass cabinets that encase his virginity corner star wars lego collection

HE LOVES YOU THAT MUCH OKAY

yunho — angel

he doesn't have a visible halo over his head but everyone just knows that he's an angel

sweetest, purest dude out there

but yunho kinda feels... trapped

his angel wings became this constant admonition that he has to be selfless and to always do "good"

i'd just imagine everyone telling yunho to stay away from you (a fellow angel) because you're labelled as this reckless troublemaker

but he just can't help being interested in you

so he made effort to know you and keep you close and in turn, you taught him that he doesn't have to live in fear of stepping out of the line sometimes

that it's okay to put yourself first

you both would sneak away to earth and pose as humans to have fun and abandon your duties for a while

he finds himself cherishing each and every moment he spent with you; exploring things the other angels would frown upon, but it didn't matter

so it didn't surprise him when he realized that he's utterly in love with you

his angel wings fluttered sporadically when you softly mutter your love to him in reciprocation with the beautiful smile he's known to love

when you made love for the first time, it was filled with shy giggles and soft reassurances because you're each other's firsts

you neither yunho cared about the other angels avoiding you and talking shit about you two. you're both happy and in love!!

but of course, heaven has its rules

and fate hits you with the truth, that you both can't be together, when you're held back from running to your lover that has both fear and tears in his eyes as black ink slowly engulf his once pure angel wings

a fallen angel, that's what they call you both. angels banished from heaven with your memories wiped and your wings rendered useless as compensation for falling in love

"i'll find you," he said. his voice remained sure yet frail in the midst of your own sobs and the chaos surrounding you both, but you heard him loud and clear. his watering eyes take in your trembling state and it breaks his heart to see you cry and try to fight against the restraints keeping you away from him because he knows that guilt is eating you alive

he knows that you blame yourself for letting him in, for falling in love with him, and for bringing this inevitable consequence upon him

but he knows that he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat, even if it leads to this very same ending

yeosang — fae

a tsundere! fae omg i have the vision i see it

he acts cold and indifferent towards you but all you wanna do is grab his attention!!!!!

as humans and faes don't really get along, your group of friends are different and they kinda disagree with you both interacting

but you don't really care because you mayhaps have a crush on him :3

he's really good with magic

you'd ooh and ahh whenever he does something with his magic and his cheeks would go red while he brushes it off with, "it's nothing" (and you're like no!! it's cool!!! and he would blush harder)

he knows you have a crush on him because a) it's obvious, and b) you've confessed to him multiple times (his replies always start with a "sorry, but.." and you would always reply with "it's okay, i just want to tell you. i'm not asking you to return your feelings:-)"

but lately you're kind of tired with the unreciprocated feelings you have for yeosang because.. well, you just feel pathetic

so one day you made it your mission to stop having feelings for him!!!!!!

yeosang noticed because you would avoid him like the plague

he was walking down the hallway when he saw you and was about to greet you when he saw you run to hide behind a trash can that doesn't even cover your entire figure

he was just like .... ok see you later i guess?

and this continued on for weeks! to the point where he feels down because he doesn't have his favorite human around and maybe because he has a crush on you too

so he dragged his ass to the nearest supermarket for humans and ignored all the weirded stares he got from other shoppers and bought all of your favorite snacks and drinks that are listed at the top of his head

he placed them all nicely in this cute paper bag and left it at the desk you always sit in for one of your shared classes

the happy grin on your face when you peeked at its contents lifted his mood even though you wouldn't know it's from him because he purposely left the sender anonymous in the small note for you

but you immediately know that it's him because you've listed these specific snacks only to him, plus the sweet wording of the note just gave him away (you knew it that he's actually sweet inside, you knew it!!)

anyways,, the reason why yeosang is so hesitant to make a move on you is because relationships between humans and faes are disapproved of:-( he doesn't want you hurt just because you're seen with him

but one day he saw you being circled by a bunch of faes and there's this look on your face that screams 'help!'

he felt his legs move to push his way to get to you before he fully registered on what's going on

one of the faes reached out to shove off yeosang when he put himself in between you and them to protect you. "man, why the fuck are you defending a human?"

"she's my girlfriend."

so yeah all fucks flew out the window that day and you both decided to start dating:-D

he's still into the tsundere act but you like to tease him because this man gets flustered over the tiniest things lmao

you'd like bicker lazily over something and you'd go, "mhm, but you love me don't you?"

and his ears, cheeks, and neck would get so red as if he's got the worst case of asian flush lmao and he'd look around the whole room just to avoid your gaze

"shut up" *still blushing*

san — incubus

you accidentally summoned him when you were trying to sell your soul to the devil in exchange for a 4.0 gpa

he just suddenly appeared on top of your coffee table lying down on his side with his elbow propping up his head

and you just kinda went, "ok great, how do we do this thing? do i have to sign papers or smth???"

he just looks at you all confused like ??? we don't need any of those, we can just fuck

and you're like WHAT! >:-o and he's like ... what do you expect from summoning an incubus? :-|

"A WHAT???"

anyways, the misunderstanding was set straight and san sheepishly asked if he could stay over for just 1 night because he can't go back to hell just yet

(he can actually go back to hell just fine but he just can't bring himself to face incubi! ateez's teasings for being rejected for the first time ever)

and you thought hm why not

he somehow stayed over for more than just that one night and then you guys fell in love!!!

it all started after the first night when you cooked pancakes for breakfast

san groggily woke up from the couch when he smells the strangely appetizing scent of whatever you're making

"oh great, you're awake! good morning!" you greet, while the raven haired boy dazedly blinks at your sight bustling in the kitchen before letting out a raspy 'morning' in return

you hear his feet clad in the thick fuzzy socks you lent him pitter patter against the hardwood floors as he made his way towards you with a yawn, "what are you doing?"

"i'm making us breakfast :-)"

demons don't eat actual food but san would hate to see your smile falter even the tiniest bit at his rejection of this unfamiliar food that you call 'pancakes'

his plate of pancake is cutely decorated with fresh berries and a smiley face drawn with maple syrup on top of the first layer of pancake

(he can't help but smile when you impatiently gesture at him to take a bite while your own plate of pancakes sit in front of you, forgotten)

you show him how to use his cutleries properly and he finally eats a bite of the pancake

"is it good?" you ask nervously, wide eyes waiting to catch his reaction

his eyebrows furrow as he shut his eyes at the pleasant sweetness overcoming his taste buds, "oh my god, i could eat this every day. are you a professional chef or something?"

your eyes sparkle as you grow flustered over his compliment, replying with a timid 'no' and san thinks you just might be sweeter than the maple syrup coating his tongue

he's the sweetest bf ever; would exaggerate his reactions at anything you do because it would elicit a cute giggle that would bring a smile to his face

but yknow

don't forget that he's an incubus

"You're doing so good for me."

San likes it when you're laid out all bare underneath him, hair fanned out prettily on the bed, with your cheeks flushed and your eyes threatening to flutter shut.

"Baby," he taps lightly against your cheek, momentarily distracting you away from the heavenly feeling of him dragging against every inch of your walls as he continues to snap his hips to meet yours. "Hey, eyes on me."

A whine spills out of your lips as you try and fail to force your eyes open, back arching and eyes rolling back instead, earning a tsk from San as he continues to bury his cock deeper by forcing your aching thighs apart and against your chest.

His thumb caresses your swollen clit lightly, your eyes immediately widening as you gasp at the overstimulation from the previous orgasms he's taken just from eating you out. Your body trembles as you wail underneath him, reaching out to grip his arm that prevents your thighs from closing shut. San groans when he feels your pussy clench tightly around him.

"There you are," he lazily smirks, cupping your cheek and giving you a peck on the lips when he finds that your dazed gaze is on him. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this."

"So wet, so tight, so pretty for me," his measured thrusts turns harsh as he fucks up into your dripping cunt with your moans and bouncing tits egging him on.

"I'm- I'm gonna cum!" you cry out as San fondles your clit, reveling in the tight grip of your pussy and the dirty words that come out of your sweet mouth as you gush uncontrollably around his cock.

San groans loudly as his hips sloppily thrusts a few more times before he fills you up with his second load of the day, twitching and spurting his thick warm cum inside you as he holds you while he comes down from his high.

He slips his softening cock out of your battered pussy, cream immediately leaking from your centre and dripping down your ass and inner thighs as you whine at the loss.

"God," San moans as he drags two of his fingers over your weeping cunt, his other hand softly pressing against your lower belly. He slides his fingers over your dripping slit, gathering his cum leaking from your hole to your clit, rubbing and pinching.

With a cry, your thighs shake as tears well up in your eyes at the feeling of another orgasm that washes over you, swollen cunt clenching around nothing that has his cum oozing out of you. You whimper at the overstimulation, batting away his hand that continues to brush over your inner thigh.

San pulls you into a tender kiss as he gently caress your cheek and finally leans back to catch his breath. His eyes glaze over your fucked out state and he smiles at the fond look you give him.

"Such a good girl," he softly praises, carefully cleaning you up with the warm cloth he took from the bathroom. You hum in reply, shutting your eyes with a content smile at your lips. You can't see him, but he grins anyways.

"I'm a lucky man."

mingi — werewolf

i kid you not, this mf would deadass unashamedly howl in public at random

"it's who i am, yn."

are you embarrassed? yes.

will you ever let him know that you feel absolutely mortified whenever strangers stare at you after your boyfriend basically barked?

never.

he might be a big ! absolutely not bad ! werewolf but he's actually so soft >:-( especially for you

gives the best hugs

he's just so big and warm which is why you always look for him to cuddle

gives the funniest reactions like fr,, which is why you LOVE to tease him

"mingi," "mhm?" "...you know that i'm always here for you right? i.. i won't judge if you,,, idk, want to keep your ears and tail in your human form--" "yn, for the last time, I'M NOT A FURRY"

omg you showed him the werewolf ripping shirt meme and he went error 404 because he doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry ("YN IS THIS HOW HUMANS SEE WEREWOLVES???? SOB")

would embody jacob's iconic lines from twilight

"bella ¬‿¬ where the hell have you been loca? ¬‿¬"

"..."

but yeah he's such a playful boyfriend but also has his sensitive moments

and he's such a sappy romantic

would randomly bring home a bouquet of flowers for you

"what's this for? i'm pretty sure our anniversary was two months ago"

"just passed by a florist and i thought of you :-)"

"also, our anniversary was three months ago, OH MY GOD YN HOW COULD YOU FORGET" "I'M SORRY, IT WAS JUST A MISCALCULATION!!!"

yeah don't mess with the math genius! werewolf because he will correct you in any chance he gets

(i'm so sorry idk anything about werewolves so i can't really take this seriously T_T)

wooyoung — mermaid

found out he can grow legs whenever his tail dries and that's how he ventured to land!

he's always been interested with humans so when he saw you hanging around in the beach one day, it was love at first sight

he gets so excited over every human activity, it's endearing

"woah, what is that?? :o" "oh, that's a guy riding a bike" "what's a bike?"

endless questions about anything human related but you patiently answer each and every one of them

you're basically his tour guide

you introduced him to movies and his favorite is the little mermaid

he's so serious about it

like literally you have to remind him to blink because he would not let his gaze stray from your tv

"ariel is so me. minus the overprotective dad. and the 6 sisters. and ursula. and probably the talking fish and crab"

"how can the evil sea witch be so EVIL? THIS IS CRUEL"

"hey i want a pet dog like max! :0"

"ERIC JUST KISS THE FUCKING GIRL--"

would 100% reenact the fork hair brushing scene

would also 100% tell secrets about the ocean to you

"yeah the bermuda triangle thing? it's a lair to this one mean kraken"

but sometimes he would say the most untrue stuff ever like

"aquaman is real." "no he's not, woo. he's a dc superhero" "no, really, he's real. we've raced against each other once or twice" "mhm, whatever you say"

loves to watch the sunset in the beach with you with his head on your lap, your fingers running through his hair, and his toes curled in the sand

he likes it. a lot.

but he has to make sure that he doesn't touch wet sand because poof his tail would pop out

likes to chill in your bathub with the end of his tail flapping water at you

also likes to swim with you in the ocean late at night, when no one's around, with his arms wrapped around your waist and sneaking in atleast a hundred kisses while you giggle because the scales of his tail tickles your legs

the cutest mermaid! boyfriend ever

jongho — demigod

would bet my left kidney that he'd be the son of apollo or athena

but let's go with apollo because his vocals man goddamn

anyways

you're the child of nike, the goddess of victory

jongho sees you around a lot in camp half-blood, you're well known because of your bright and outgoing personality that almost everyone gravitate towards

your peers, jongho included, also admire you for your bravery in battles. although he's never been in one let alone see you fight in an actual life-or-death situation, he sees enough from how you always gracefully win capture the flag with a infectious grin on your face

unlike you, he likes to keep to himself at most times, preferring to spend his time alone to write music or poetry

which is why it's hard for him to muster up the courage to try and be your friend

he didn't dwell on it for too long, accepting that maybe he's just meant to stand at the sides and admire from afar when it comes to you

one night, he was in his usual secret spot; a small clearing near the lake with a hammock tied between two towering trees hidden from sight, when you stumbled into his view with tear stained cheeks

"oh, uh, i'm sorry," you sniffled, rubbing your nose with the paws of your sweater. "i didn't think anyone would be here. i'll go--"

"you can stay. i don't mind."

and that's how you go on to tell him about how battles leave a toll on you and this is your way of taking a break once in a while

he listened to you attentively, actually paying attention to what you have to say and even wiped your tears with the sleeve of his hoodie

that night was then filled with genuine laughter as jongho tried his hardest to cheer you up

"but in all seriousness, i'm here for you. whenever you need me."

it started a whole routine of you both meeting up every single night in that spot to either talk about everything all at once or to just enjoy each other's presence in a comfortable silence

he eventually shares his writings with you and you kinda went, "dang i'm in love with you"

and he's like ★_★ omfg no way

he's the type of bf who doesn't outwardly show his affection for you but makes up for it by caring about you down to the most trivial miniscule detail about you

definitely an act of service guy

would stop by the training grounds where you are when it's raining with an umbrella at hand

"come here, you'll get sick" "i'm the child of the goddess of victory, jongho" "doesn't mean you can't get sick!!!! ＼(º □ º l|l)/"

you ask him to sing for you all the time because his voice is soothing and he would blush whenever you compliment him hehe

the other kids at camp would stare enviously at you two holding hands while skipping to your designated spot because wow you two are so in love and everyone wants that kind of relationship

[mylifesjustacarousel]

the sorcerer and the apprentice - castlecoming

pairing: james hook x gn!reader (requested)

summary: castlecoming is finally here, but you’re starting to have some doubts…

type: angst, fluffy towards the end

CW: anxiety, panic attacks

WC: 1.1K

prequel | part 1 | part 2 (requests are open!!)

Castlecoming was tomorrow, and you were a nervous wreck. You never cared about what others thought of you. You’re confident, you’re strong, all that mattered to you was what you thought about yourself… but he changed everything. You don’t even know how it happened. One day you were dueling in the courtyard, and the next you were figuring out what outfit would best match his tie. For the first time in forever, anxiety was coursing through your veins.

What if it was a prank? What if he was trying to get back at me for something?

The walls were closing in, the floor felt like lava beneath you, your knees felt like they were in your armpits. Every shaking breath felt like it could be your last with how fast your heart was trying to beat out of your chest. This wasn’t a usual feeling that you had, but when it hit, it hit hard.

I have to get out of here, you thought.

You raced over to your door, grabbing your bag from your coat rack. Your sweaty palm slipped on the door handle once or twice before gripping it, yanking your door open before you made your way out of your room. You were walking with such haste that you weren’t really keeping awareness of your surroundings. Bumping into someone, your feet slipped out from under you and you fell onto the floor.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” A light and sweet voice asked, a hand with perfectly manicured pink nails reaching out to help you.

Bridget was standing there, a sympathetic smile on her face. Your shaky hand grabbed hers and she pulled you up from the ground. “Um, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, B,” you mumbled, your eyes glued to the floor. She wrapped an arm around you, ultimately deciding that you needed someone, “Come on, let’s go to my room.”

“I just don’t know what happened. One minute I was finishing up my Castlecoming outfit, the next it felt like the room was shrinking in on me. I had to get out of there,” you sighed, picking up the cup of tea that Bridget had poured for you and taking a sip.

“It’s anxiety, y/n. It happens to all of us, even the bravest ones.” she reminded you, sitting down across from you. “It’s not supposed to happen to me. I’m supposed to be this carefree person, but what if I’m not? What if it’s all an act? I feel like a fake!”

She reached across the table, holding your free hand. “We all have our moments of doubt. Even the strongest people can feel small. We just have to embrace our imperfections and keep going, because we’re not perfect, and it’s okay that we’re not,” she smiled, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

I’m not perfect, and it’s okay.

Finishing your tea, you slowly stood up. “Thank you, B. I truly don’t know what I would do without all of that positive energy of yours.” Giving each other a hug, she gave you a cupcake for the road and let you make your way back to your room. You felt okay for the first time that night.

Everything will be okay.

The next night, you still had a small hint of anxiety, but you were keeping it under control. You fixed your outfit in the mirror before deciding that you were ready to go. Putting on your boots, you made your way out of the dormitory.

Flashing lights, blaring music. Good ol’ Castlecoming. Making your way inside, you looked for any signs of James, seeing as you were supposed to meet there. Your eyes scanned the entire room, not being able to spot him anywhere.

Oh no, I was right, I-

“Hello there, darling.” you quickly turned around, your cheeks burning a fiery red. James was stood there. He was wearing a black suit with a deep red tie, the same color as the jacket he usually wore around. For a pirate, he cleaned up extremely well. He grinned, giving you a quick up and down glance. “Did you think I wasn’t gonna show, y/n?”

Your eyes shot open, your cheeks somehow growing more red, “No, no! I-” he cut you off with a giggle, “Easy there, I got caught up. Turns out it’s not that easy tying a tie with one hand… you look nice. You ready?” He reached out his hand for you to take. Peace. You felt at peace looking into his eyes. Every worry or doubt that you had been feeling washed away in an instant.

You took his hand and he led you out onto the dance floor. People, of course, stared, whispering comments to each other. The principals child with a VK, that was certainly a sight to see. But he didn’t care, and neither did you. You were what each other needed, and you were both starting to realize that.

“So This is Love” started to play, and your eyes lit up. You loved that song, and Hook knew that. His favorite moments are when he catches you humming the song while you’re making your potions, no matter how much you deny that you do that. He looked over at you with a sickeningly sweet smile, “May I have this dance?”

“I think you may, Hook,” you wrapped your arms around him, the two of you swaying along to the song. Your head naturally found it’s way to his chest, his heart beat speeding up as you laid it there. His chin rested atop your head, his hand tracing shapes into the small of your back. So this is love…

Hours passed, and the smiles had not been wiped off of your faces once. Hook led you outside onto an empty balcony, the loudness of the room much quieter in the background. “I hope that, uh, tonight was fun for you,” he said softly, his cheeks a soft pink. You couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or if he was embarrassed, but you chose to believe the latter.

“Being a gentleman have you in a tizzy, James?” you teased, nudging his shoulder. He rolled his eyes, nudging you back. “I’m teasing, tonight was perfect… you think you have the energy for one more dance? Out here with me?”

“But there’s no music,” he looked around, confused. You just giggled and wrapped your arms around him, humming “So This is Love” to him. He followed suit, swaying with you. Your heads leaned together, the tips of your noses touching. You could feel his breath on your lips from how close together you were.

As you finished the song, he took it as his opportunity. His hand made its way to your cheek, his lips touching yours. It felt right, it felt like home. You cupped his cheeks, absolutely melting into his touch. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. You pulled away, and the smile that had never left his face was still there.

“So, I guess this is love,” he whispered to you. “Shut up and kiss me again, Hook.”

a/n: this is probably one of my favorite things that i have ever written. if you wanna see more like this, my requests are open!!

[mshalfemptygirl]

The Prince Agent (S.R)

Plot: Reader is called to help Spencer with a case and things get too cute.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Dr!Fem!Reader

Contents: Really quicky mention to kidnapping and lots of fuffy

A/N: guys it’s my first fic, so let me know if you guys liked it, if you need a part 2. There are some translations at the end for you to understand the fic. Just give support and love. Thank you very much. Enjoy! 

I never knew exactly where linguistics was going to take me, but this is too much. I was at the police station, dressed an updated version of what it was meant to be Mary Stuart all because I helped my teacher with an Scotch Language Class this afternoon. You know, I'm in the postdoctoral program and sometimes we need to help our teacher and that's mean look ridiculous when they ask you to do a "favor" to them. So, I'm here, next to the door, feeling lost and angry for not have time to change my outfit. They said that just need to find an Agent called Dr. Spencer Reid to translate a little girl who was saved by the team. It gonna be easy, but no.

I notice that there is a man looking at me, he’s next to bullpens with some paper in his right hand. He is tall and very handsome by the way. In fact, he's wearing a tie that makes him look really HOT but I can't think about those things at such a delicate moment like this, I need to focus. I walked towards him, looking at the floor because in addition to the long dress, I was wearing high heels and I didn't want to embarrass myself in the middle of the police station. When I stopped in front of him, he put the papers on the table and gave me a small smile.

“Excuse me, where can I find Dr. Spencer Reid?” I returned the smile, wishing it was him.

“Well, right here. I’m Dr Spencer Reid, nice to meet you. You should be Dr. Y/N L/N. Or maybe Princess Y/N L/N?” he give me a big smile. “Can you follow me?” I felt my face burn, he was making fun of me and it made me a thousand times more nervous. I start follow him to the hallway with many rooms, the walls were white and light blue, there is a clock on the wall.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time for change. And It supposed to be Mary Stuart. So it’s Queen Y/N L/N”. He nodded while he run his hand over his hair. He stopped to think about something. Even nervous, I can't take my eyes off him. “Did you know that Mary became Queen of Scots at only six days of age and Mary’s last night was spent drafting an elaborate will in which all her servants were remembered. On the day of her execution, she appeared in her customary black cloak and with a white veil over her head and she then dropped the cloak to reveal a crimson red dress?” he ask me, I can see the excited in his face. I couldn't help but smile big, he's so endearing, so cute. I think he's trying to make me more comfortable.

“Yes!!! And she also was the first woman to practice golf in Scotland. She even caused a scandal when she was seen playing the game at St Andrews within days of her husband Darnley's murder. She was a such badass, I like her” I said. Then I remember about the little girl, they must have been in a hurry to help her. “But Dr. Reid, changing the subject, can we talk about the little girl? What you want me to do?” the expression on his face changed from a happy face to a worried one.

He explained to me that she was only 6 years old, she is physically fine and she was rescued from a kidnapping a few hours ago, they couldn't find her family and they couldn't ask her questions because she only speaks Portuguese. That's why they called me. It looks like his team has been looking into this possible unsub for months. Well, now I'm more relieved to be dressed like this, she deserves a good time in the middle of this chaos, I hope she likes princesses. Doctor Reid will walk me into the room so I can be the bridge between him and Mila.

I was the first to enter the room, there were some children's things on a table in the corner of the room. In the center of the room was a shaggy green rug and a table. Mila was drawing on the table, she had her back to me, focused on drawing and there is another blonde woman in the room with her, it must be another agent. She got up and wished him good luck. I looked at him and he nodded for me to start.

"Oi Mila, me falaram que tinha uma princesa por aqui” ¹ she looked at me and took to give me a hug. She got really excited saying several things at the same time, I sat with her on the floor and she played with my hair. That's when she realized that Dr. Reid was in the room and her face was etched with fear. “Mila, ele não vai te fazer mal, ele é muito legal! Sabe, o nome dele é Spencer e ele é meu principe. Ele é meu cavaleiro que me protege de coisas ruins e ele protege princesas como você também. Então ele não vai te fazer mal. Okay?” ²

She waved at me and I gave her a smile. I called Spencer over and he sat on the other side of the table. I translated for him what I said to her and it was like that for 40 minutes. Mila was no longer afraid of him, she gave as much information as possible about the man who took her and she also talked about her family. When she was scared, she squeezed my hand really tight and I told her that everything was going to be alright. Now, she going to draw two drawings for us. “Y/N, I will pass the information for Agent Garcia so she can start the search. You helped a lot. Thank you. Can you stay with her?" I nodded to him. “Mila, diz “Bye, Spencer”, ele precisa ir agora” ³.

“NÃO! Ele tem que dar um presente para você. Ele é seu principe, não é? Vocês tem que casar e viver felizes para sempre” ⁴ At that moment my heart beat faster. Holy shit, how was I going to translate this to him?! I can feel the presure. If I was avoiding embarrassing myself, now is the time. She was looking for something in the toy box, she walked to Spencer and gave him a plastic ring. She just pointed at the ring and then at me. We looked at each other not knowing what to do. I was in PANIC. “Spencer, I think she wants us to get married. You don’t have to. Sorry, I can explain to her that...”.  

“Oh, don't worry, I can give you the ring. Give me your left hand" I held out my hand to him and when he touched me I feel a good feeling. His hand are so soft. Looking right into Mila's face who seemed very happy with our misfortune. "Right, we are married. I’m married to a queen. I have to go now but can we talk after this, my lady?" he said after kissing the ring on my hand. Damn, he obviously has a hold on me."Yes, we can, Prince Agent Reid". Then I give him a smirk and he left the room. I show Mila my hand, she was happy for the first time in days and I was thinking how lucky I would be if this fairytale were true.

1 Hi Mila, someone told me there was a princess around here.

2 Mila, he won't hurt you, he's really nice! You know, his name is Spencer and he's my prince. He is my knight who protects me from bad things and he protects princesses like you too. So he won't hurt you. OK?.

3 Mila, say “Bye Spencer”, he needs to go.

4 NO! He has to give you a gift. He's your prince, isn't he? You have to get married and live happily ever after.

[mastermindmiko]

The person at the opposite end of the table (James Potter)

Pairing: James Potter + reader word count: 2237 warnings: none but lmk if you find any warning: Your first date with James after being close friends for years

If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

a/n: I'm back baby!!!

I have nothing to wear, and I'm not exaggerating. Coming to Hogwarts, you only bring your uniform and a few spares, many many pyjamas, and a few outfits for hogsmeade weekends, nothing more. Today is crucial. It is the day where I'm going out on a date with James, my James, except that today 'my' has a completely different meaning. 

When you go out on dates, you're supposed to wear something elegant and stylish, but still simple and with enough glamour to make the person that will be sitting on the opposite end of the table like you even more. One, I don't have any attire that suits these descriptions, and two, How is it possible to make the person on the opposite end of the table (james) like you even more when they've already seen you at a ball when you look your greatest and during periods, in a foetal position while your cramps are eating you alive? 

The simple and only reasonable answer is that you can't. 

I can spend the whole hour before I have to meet James stressing over my outfit, which albeit is very important, instead of stressing over the actual problem that I have, but that would be very counter intuitive. 

Everyone of the girls is already gone to hogsmeade, so I've got the whole room to myself to panic, cry, scream, jump, pretty much whatever I want, but I don't know what I want. The reason why the date is later than usual is a part of the problem. James set the date at a later time because he knew that I would need some time to myself before going out, some time to process my feelings, try on some outfits, and of course, panic. 

He knows this because he's helped me get ready for many dates before, I wish I could say the same, but James hasn't ever gone out on a date which means that he's the one that should be nervous, but instead I am. 

He knocks on my dorm room door at the worst possible moment, which is every moment when you're nervous. He looks stunning, like he always is, but he's got a red tint on his cheeks and the same cheeky smile he always gives me, but this time, it's hesitant. I shot him a smile and hoped that it wasn't as awkward as I felt it was.  

"Ready to go?" James says, and I nod. I close the dorm door behind me after grabbing my bag. I walk down the stairs with him. If this was any other day, I'd have already wrapped my arms around him, but this isn't any other day. This is a date.

We walk out of the common room, and I feel everyone's eyes on us, I wonder if they can see that my shoulders are tense or that I'm already sweating -

"How are you?" James asks me, and I find him looking at me intently. Has he always looked at me that way? I let out a noise that sounds more like a squeak, and instead of dying of mortification, I face the other way and shoot him a thumbs up. 

Why do I have to be so damn awkward? This is James for merlin's sake.

We reach the last carriage waiting for us that's heading to Hogsmeade, and James hops on. He reaches out an arm for me to grab, but I choose the railing instead, leaving his hand alone in the air. I want to slap myself because I always take his hand, but it means something different. It's not my friend helping me. It's my date being a romantic gentleman. 

He puts his hand down nervously, and he sits down which brings upon a new problem. Remus and Sirius and Peter always sit next to each other and I would sit next to James due to lack of other options, it had become habitual. My question is: the carriage is empty, there are other options, where do I sit? If I sit opposite to him, it might seem like I'm trying to put distance between us, however, if I sit next to him, I might seem pushy, and- 

I don't get another second to panic when the carriage starts moving, and I stumble next to him. I purse my lips, knowing that fate has decided where I'm going to be sitting for this short ride.

Normally, I would lean into James, allowing him to wrap an arm around my shoulder, earning us many teasing comments from the rest of the boys that we've grown accustomed to over the years. 

Normally, we wouldn't go out on a date at all, so I stayed to my side, shoulders tense and tension in the air. I wonder if James feels it, too. The ride is silent, and when we arrive at hogsmeade, James doesn't offer me his hand to get down, just another reminder that today is different. 

"Where do you wanna go?" James asks, and I shrug my shoulders when I infant have very strong opinions about every single place here. James already knows this and takes us to the three broomsticks. My heart stumbles, smiling at the reminder that James knows me so well. 

Our fingers crush together, and my heart jumps to my throat, and I stumble over air. For what seemed like the millionth time that day, I wanted to slit my own throat out of embarrassment. He grasps my waist, making sure I don't fall, creating a warmth over my waist that makes me want to glue his hands there so he can stay this way forever. Unfortunately, my stupid body blushed, and I took a step back.

We walk inside the three broomsticks and James leads me to a table with two seats, instead of five. I sit down opposite to him, and gaze out the window. Couples are walking down the street, holding hands and kissing. I really really want to do both those things with James, I've been waiting to do them forever, but here I am being stupid, on a stupid date, nearly falling when his hands come even close to mine. He sits down next to me, and he looks at me for a few seconds, I flush and look away. 

That apparently was the final straw for James because he goes, "What's up with you today?" 

"What do you mean?" I say after clearing my throat, he laces his fingers together on the table and says, "You realise that that is the first thing you've said the entire time that I've seen you." 

It takes me by surprise because I register that he's right, we've been together for at least twenty minutes and in those twenty minutes not a single word has left my mouth. I fidget with the napkin in front of me and say, "I'm just not a big talker..." 

"Y/n...I'm James. We've been friends for years, why are you acting like you don't know me? Like I don't know that you can't keep your mouth shut for two minutes?" 

I blush, and he continues, "You tripped when I tried to be even near you...I- if you don't want this, you've got to tell me-" 

"I do want this, I want this so much...".

"But?"

"I'm just really, really, really nervous."

He looks at me and replies, "But you've been on dates before."

"Dates with people who aren't you, James." I admit, and I must've grown another head because that's the way that James is looking at me. He says, "What's so scary about me?"

"That you know me." I say, and he tilts his head, I elaborate, "Any other date, I talk about many things, ask them about themselves, if they've got siblings and all that, but I already know you, I don't have any of those questions to fall back on. Any other date, I have to wear something to knock them off their feet, but I can't do that with you because you know me. Any other date, I'm not terrified that this will mess up my entire friend group dynamic and on any other date, I wouldn't be this nervous because I've never liked anyone the way I like you and I need you to like me the same way." 

I sigh when I'm done and James's eyes are twinkling, he pushes her glasses back and he says, "You don't need all these things." 

"We don't need to talk about those stupid things, and you don't need to wear something amazing to knock me off my feet because you've already done that, a while ago actually. You most certainly don't have to worry about messing up our friend group because you cannot even if you tried, Sirius will not allow it." He laughs, and I chuckle along with him. "And you definitely do not need to be nervous because I already like you more than you'd believe because i know you"

I don't need to give it another thought, for once in his life, James is right. I sigh, "You're really good at calming me down." 

He smiles, "You act as though that's a new thing. Remember during your OWLs when you tried going under your bed because you thought that the exams couldn't get you from down there." He laughs at the fond memory while I flush at my stupid idea. 

"What do you actually want to do today?" James asks after a beat. I think for a second, we always go to buy some prank supplies or candies, and while I still want to do that right now, I want to do something else. 

I abandon my chair and sit next to him on the sofa. I sit an appropriate distance away from him, but he grabs me and pulls me flush against him. 

"That's all?" James asks, and I shake my head, "well, that and this..." I trial off as I reach to intertwine our fingers, in some weird way it makes me nervous, but it also feels so right. James squeezes my hand, and I smile. I add,"And maybe some drinks." 

One of the men that Madame Rosmerta hired comes and takes our order, the same thing we always get, butterbeers. 

James' thumb rubs over my own hand, and while this isn't the first time he's done this, today, it has a different meaning. James asks, "Anything else your beautiful heart desires?" 

It might be too early, but I tentatively lean it to capture his lips with mine. It's not our first kiss, and it's definitely much less messy, filled with fewer confessions, and more comfortable. James reciprocates in a millisecond, and his other hand reaches to cup my face. 

We part for a gasp of air before James leans back in for another peck. It's only then that I realise that we're in public, I blush. What makes me blush even more is the way James is looking at me. I ask, "Have you always looked at me that way?" 

"Definitely." He replies. I want to kiss him again when the man that works here slides over our drinks and says, "Two butterbeers for the lovely couple." 

I don't want to correct him, and he leaves, but I wonder if James wanted to because for the first time today, he is incredibly nervous. I reach for his hand and say, "You okay?" 

He nods quickly, and I chuckle nervously. Maybe he doesn't want to be my boyfriend. I ignore the sunken feeling in my chest and sip on my butterbeer. 

"Do you not?" I ask, after a long sip. 

"Do I not what?" James replies, confused, but looking even more nervous if possible. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye, I say, "Do you not want to be a couple?" 

"I-" 

"Because James, I don't know what we're doing then." I reply, I've never wanted anything casual, and certainly never with James, I want to be able to call him my boyfriend, decline another guy's invitation because I've got a boyfriend, not ponder over whether or not I mean to him as much as he means to me. 

"I do." James says, and I look at him unsure. James adds, "I really really want you to be my girlfriend." 

"James, are you sure because -" I start, and he silences me with a kiss. I can imagine him kissing me once at least every hour in the future. He says, "The only reason why I hesitated because I want this to last, I don't want you to reject me cause I don't think I can take a rejection from you" 

I can see his worries. He's never been out on a date, and a date with a close friend is much more nerve wrecking, that's all aside from the fact that James has spent his entire life being turned down by lily and no matter how tough he tries to act, I know that he was genuinely hurt by the years of rejection. 

I try to soothe his worries, "I'm already out on a date with you, James. I'm not going to turn you down...plus, I'm already your girlfriend, I'm not going anywhere." 

He smiles, but he says, "You could get sick of me." 

"If I could've gotten sick of you, I would've during first year, but I'm still here."

[lost-walmartbag]

Could you do Pete Thelman in the prom series please?

Warning: Swearing

Background: You and Pete have been secretly dating, and you have to try to get him to go to prom

Status: request open

Previous part

Next part

You've been seeing Pete for a while now in secret. It was a bit embarrassing for both of you to admit you were seeing each other. Pete wasn't as embarrassed about admitting he was dating you as he was scared about how the other Goths would react. Prom was coming up and you wanted to go with Pete but he didn't.

"Come on Pete please~," You say leaning your head back with a pout.

He was sitting on your bed with you on his lap. You were in the middle of painting his nails so he couldn't just get out of the conversation. He sighed and put his forehead on yours.

"No." He said kissing your forehead gently.

"Pete, please. How am I supposed to go to prom without my boyfriend?" You ask turning your body to face him.

"I can't Y/N you know I can't be around something so conformist." He said wrapping his arms around you.

"But wouldn't it be like super goth if you crashed prom and hung out with your super hot girlfriend?" You say nuzzling his cheek with your nose making him sigh again.

"I guess it would be pretty hardcore.." He muttered, making you smile. "Ok, fine, I'll talk to them about it, but no promises."

You smiled and kissed his lips softly. It's hard to say what was really holding y'all relationship together, but you two did care about each other. Pete didn't want to disappoint you, but he also didn't want to go against his core goth ideals. The next day he talked to the goths about it. They were sitting outside doing nothing when he approached them.

"Prom is coming up." He said sitting down on the grass.

"Yeah, where all the conformists will get wasted, party, and get pregnant," Henrietta said taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"We could crash it," Pete said a bit nervously.

"That doesn't sound like a horrible idea," Micheal said.

"We could burn it down," Firkie said catching Henrietta's attention.

"That's a better idea." Henrietta said with a slight smile.

"So we're going?" Pete asked with a sigh.

"If we're going to burn it down we have to." Micheal said.

Pete was pretty happy that he was able to convince everyone to go even though he didn't show it. But he knew you probably wouldn't be happy if they actually did burn it down. He was pretty nervous to tell you because of it.

"So how did it go?" You ask with a smile

"I guess we're going." Pete said, trying to make it seem he was unhappy.

You squeal and smile, hugging him tightly. "We're gonna have so much fun!"

He groaned and pulled away, making you smile wider. You knew he liked it when you hugged him and touched him, and he was trying to stay tough.

"How'd you convince them?" You ask him, making him a bit uncomfortable.

"Just told them what you told me." He said dismissively.

You knew it was a bit odd, but you didn't say anything. You were just happy being able to hang out with Pete at prom. After that, you began planning your outfit. You wanted to wear something you'd look and feel good in but also something Pete would like.

When the day of prom came, you and Pete decided to go separately and meet up there. Pete walked in with the other Goths. He was in a black button-up with a black and red corset around his chest and stomach, black dress pants, black dress shoes, and his eyeliner done. He looked around but didn't see you there yet.

"Are you looking for someone?" Micheal asked.

"No, I just-" He started before you walked in a long Gothic type dress.

You wore foundation a bit lighter than your skin to mimic goth makeup. You did all you could, and you embraced Pete's Gothic aesthetic, and honestly you, I felt good in it. The goth kids stared at you, stunned that you would dress like them. You walked over with a bright smile.

"Woah Y/N you look..." Pete started looking down at you with admiration.

"Goth." Henrietta said a bit confused.

"Fuck right. Guys, this is Y/N, my girlfriend." He said, introducing to the rest.

"Nice to properly be introduced." You say with a warm smile.

"You arent really goth are you?" Firkle asked.

"Hm, not really, but I do really like this. I think I might give it a shot."

"You, a conformist, is really dating Pete?" Micheal asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's not so bad." You say turning to Pete, who blushed lightly.

"They've been pretty cool not as conformist as everyone else." Pete said a bit nervous as to what the rest would say.

"Well, if Pete vouches for you. You must be ok." Henrietta said with a shrug and the others nodded still a bit hesitant.

You smiled brightly that Pete's friends seemed to approve of you. You took Pete's hand and ran off to the dancefloor with him. He reluctantly followed hiding a small smile.

"I think I made a good impression." You said wrapping your arms around his neck.

"They were always going to love you as much as I do." He whispered kissing your forehead making you smile.

"Did you just say you loved me~?" You asked with a giggle.

He sighs, knowing you weren't going to let it go. "Yes I did."

"Well, I love you too." You said, placing a soft kiss on his lips and rather than pulling away like normal he kissed back.

As you two danced, everything else seemed to fade away. You placed your head on his shoulder as you two danced when suddenly people started screaming and running out. You look up seeing the goth kids setting things on fire.

"Oh fuck I forgot about that." Pete muttered and looking back down to you.

"Well, let's make the most of it." You said, grabbing his hand and running towards the goths.

A/N: I hope this is good enough. idk im still a little out of wack. I'm getting treated, so that's good, but did yall know if an ear infection gets worse, it can spread to your skull? That shit scared me, so I saw a doctor, so that wouldn't happen to me 😋🤞🏼 and as of now which is like wednesday im feeling sm better 😩 anyway. I hope yall liked it, thanks to whoever asked for this, and I love yall. Thank you for reading 🩷🩷🩷

[toomuchracket]

bday girl (birthday partyverse!matty)

day 2 of The Birthday Party Project, first birthday as a couple - yours! this is my og friends-to-lovers couple, who've already had a very successful time of it at a birthday party, trying to manage your big day a mere few months after getting together. very fluffy, and very suggestive (because this pair especially cannot keep their hands off each other). enjoy! p.s. the pic of matty isn't thematic to the story, other than being an indicator of the era it's set in, i just think it's very pretty lol <3

you're abruptly awoken by the tinny synthesised beeps emanating from your phone, informing you that someone wants to facetime you - something that should be illegal at this time in the morning (7am), you think. after flicking on the bedside lamp, you fumble to put your glasses on and pick up your phone, your irritation lessening rapidly when you see it's matty calling you. you tap the screen, and your boyfriend's handsome face fills it. he beams when he sees you, although you're sure you look ridiculous, all sleep-addled and askew. "happy birthday, darlin'! how'd you sleep?"

"terribly. s'not the same when you're not next to me. i miss you," you pout. "that, and i forgot how uncomfy this bed was. no wonder my back's fucked after sleeping on this for the entirety of my teenage years."

matty laughs as he wanders through what you recognise as his kitchen. "maybe you're just getting old. nah, i'm joking, babe, it's probably the bed."

"being mean to me on my birthday? you're evil, sweetheart," you say, rolling onto your front. "especially considering you couldn't make it up here with me today. but it's your loss, considering you didn't get to wake up to this, in a single bed."

at that, you balance the phone against the pillows and sit back on your knees, allowing your boyfriend an excellent view of your outfit - his mazzy star t-shirt, tight across your tits, and a pair of dark red panties. matty laughs then groans lightly, raking a hand through his curls. "fuck me, you're gorgeous. my fomo about not being with you just got a whole lot worse," he grins cheekily. "can i request you put on that exact outfit for me as soon as you get home?"

"yeah. but what about the eroticism of being pressed up against me wearing it in a single bed?"

"hmm, i suppose the couch will have to do. although i can't really spread you out there as i intend to, can i?"

"matthew."

your boyfriend giggles, although you both know he's being serious. his face softens, a wistfulness setting into those beautiful big brown eyes of his. "i really am sorry i couldn't come up to see your family with you, darlin'. s'shite that we're swamped with album promo right now. hate not being with my girl."

matty's words warm your aching heart (and "my girl" sends a burst of heat straight between your legs. muscle memory, you think - your boyfriend likes to say it when he's between them). "s'alright. what time d'you think you'll be done with work tonight? we could do phone sex!"

"i dunno, darlin', but i like the sound of that a lot. i'll text you," matty smiles. "and i expect texts from you today as well - wanna hear what you're up to celebrating, and you better send me outfit pics too. fuck knows i'll need to look at you being beautiful to get me through today."

you've known the man for the better part of a decade and been in a committed relationship with him for two full months; and yet, the constant casual compliments matty loves to shower you with never fail to both astound and arouse you. moving forward to lean on your stomach, you kick your legs back and forth behind you, giddy. "i can do that, yeah."

"god, you're so cute," matty sighs. his eyes flick upwards slightly, presumably to check the time on his screen, and fill with slight... dread, you'd describe it. "fuck. i'm so sorry, sweetheart, but i need to head to work now."

your turn to sigh. "don't worry, baby, we'll talk later. have a good day, yeah? i love you."

"love you too, angel. i'll speak to you soon. bye!"

you say a goodbye in response, and the call ends. for a few minutes, you do nothing but stare at the ceiling of your teenage bedroom and think about how much you wish matty was with you, then you roll yourself out of bed and get ready to spend a "nice day with your family", as your mum put it.

and it is a nice day, despite the longing for your boyfriend veiling it all. you open your presents over a fry up breakfast, dancing around the kitchen in excitement at the vintage barbie t-shirt your brother bought you. when you and your mum go into town, you spend ages in the bookshop you practically lived in as a uni student, glowing with pride when the staff ask you to sign a few copies of your books, and spend even longer in the shopping centre that opened after you left for london, trying and buying shoes and dresses and makeup products you probably don't even have room for in your flat. you head to meet the rest of your family for dinner in your favourite restaurant, your mum ordering a bottle of red wine for she and you to get stuck into while you wait for the others to show up. it makes you think of matty, and the longing for him worsens. you excuse yourself from the table after greeting your just-arrived cousin, sneaking out the front door of the restaurant.

when you're outside in the still-warm early evening air, you pull your phone from your handbag and check your texts. nothing from matty since four hours ago, when he responded to your summer-dress shopping mirror selfie with a compliment so risqué that it made your cheeks go intensely crimson and had your mum asking if you were ill. lovesick, maybe, unable to cope without seeing your boyfriend for two days maximum. you're briefly reminded of those couples at school who used to make out in the corridors before having one single class apart; the thought you might be anything like them makes you shudder, and swap your phone for the pack of cigarettes and lighter also in your handbag.

you've no sooner placed the unlit cig in your mouth when you hear a familiar voice from further down the street. "don't you fucking dare light that, sweetheart."

your heart skips, and your legs go to copy them when you turn to see matty, looking tired but heartbreakingly handsome as ever, walking towards you with your brother in tow. cig in one hand and lighter in the other, you run to your boyfriend, throwing your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he picks you up in a tight embrace and spins you round. "what the fuck?! i thought you were at work," you say, hugging matty tightly as he puts you gently on the ground. you lean over his shoulder, pulling one arm free to point accusingly at your brother. "and you! did you know this was happening? you might've told me, you little shit."

the two of them laugh at you, matty kissing your forehead before he answers. "i was meant to be working, yeah, but we wrapped promo yesterday morning. texted your bro here to organise coming up to surprise you, and drove up today - as soon as we hung up this morning, i was in the car."

"you drove?! babe, that's like a seven-hour journey!" you gasp, pulling matty into you again. "you must be exhausted. christ."

"worth it," comes the reply, muffled by your hair. "there was no way i was missing your first birthday as my girlfriend, not a chance."

you place a delicate, chaste kiss to the underside of matty's jaw. "you're so fucking cute."

your brother makes a retching sound. "i'm gonna go inside before you pair traumatise me. don't spend too long kissing out here, please, you'll hold the food up."

you roll your eyes, but matty chuckles and extends a hand to your brother. "thanks for all your help, mate."

"no problem," your brother replies, as they fist bump. "it's for my own benefit, really - the last thing i want to hear is this one whining about you all day."

he smiles as matty laughs, and then leaves the two of you alone. matty waits until the front door of the restaurant closes before he turns to you. "i, on the other hand, definitely want to hear you whining about me all day. well, more 'whining because of me', but you get the gist."

"oh my god, stop it."

"sorry, baby," matty grins, kissing you languidly. "can you blame me, though, after that outfit from this morning and the dress you tried on? it's taking everything in me not to drag you into that single bed right now."

you twirl your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck just the way you know matty likes it, looking at him up through your eyelashes. "i think you should do that."

matty's breath hitches, before he takes a deep one and composes himself. "can't - there's a whole family of yours in there that i need to play 'wholesome, charming boyfriend' to, first. but after that, darlin', i'll take you home and be as dirty as you want me to be, alright?"

"i... i love you."

"i love you too, sweetheart. happy birthday."

[cierraonline]

VILLAGE THERAPY PART ONE

For what was supposed to be a beautiful day filled with laughter and tears of joy, it instead turned into an afternoon of yelling, broken trust, and confusion. And it all started when Travis opened his mouth and said,

“If Siren advocated for herself, she wouldn’t even be pregnant in the first place.”

With that one sentence, World War III erupted, and the family found themselves taking an urgent trip to their therapist, Dr. Maleeka Powers. But to get a better understanding of what happened, let’s go back twenty minutes.

🖤🖤🖤

“That was such a beautiful moment, and I’m glad we were all here to witness it with you, Billie and Siren,” Maggie expressed her gratitude for being invited to one of the many doctor appointments involving the pregnancy.

“Such a beautiful moment,” Rose nodded, taking a sip of water from her red Stanley Cup.

“When do we find out the baby’s gender?” Patrick asked from the driver’s seat of the Mercedes Benz Sprinter Van.

“When she’s in her last trimester,” Billie smiled, answering her father’s question.

“Are we doing a baby shower and gender reveal?” Rose asked, eager to know since she loved a good party and wanted to plan her outfit and the menu.

“Yeah,” Siren nodded. “Travis, Rodrick, and Dre are going to plan it.”

“No, they’re not,” Billie mumbled under her breath. It was soft enough that not everyone in the sprinter heard, but loud enough for Travis to catch, prompting him to roll his eyes. This wasn’t the first or hundred slick comment Billie had made about the friend group.

“Did you ask the doctor all the questions you wanted to ask, Siren?” Enzo spoke up from the passenger seat next to Patrick.

“Most of my questions were answered, but I wish I had asked about the alternative if I choose not to take an epidural,” Siren said, looking down at her hands, upset because that question was extremely important to her.

“That’s okay, rosa scura (dark rose),” Lorenzo consoled her. “You can just ask at your next appointment or even call the office if it’s bothering you.”

“Especially with how black women are treated in medical spaces, don’t be scared to ask all your questions,” Enzo added. “You have to advocate for yourself.”

“If Siren advocated for herself, she wouldn’t even be pregnant in the first place,” Travis muttered, rolling his eyes, not thinking anyone heard him. But due to the close proximity, Siren and Billie heard him clearly.

“What did you say?” A cloud of darkness covered Billie’s voice. She asked the wrong person to repeat themselves.

“I said, if Siren advocated for herself, she wouldn’t even be pregnant in the first place,” Travis repeated louder, not backing down.

“Why would you say that?” Billie looked at him, hurt.

“Because everyone is acting like this was supposed to happen,” Travis shrugged, maintaining his laid-back demeanor. “Siren pregnant at twenty-two? In what world did that ever happen? Siren never even had a baby doll she treated like an actual baby. I remember a Chucky doll, but not a fucking Baby Alive.”

“I’m just going to ignore you because you’re just bringing negativity, and it’s supposed to be a positive day,” Billie rolled her eyes, turning away from her brother-in-law.

“Oh, I’m bringing negativity?” Travis nodded sarcastically. “I guess people don’t like to hear the truth. Oh wait, we can’t tell you the truth because Siren thinks you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle the truth!” Billie was now getting upset, her face turning red. “But what you’re saying is bullshit, and everyone in the sprinter knows it!”

“And everyone knows that Siren plans her year out in advance. Where on the list does it say pregnancy? Nowhere...Because Siren doesn’t want kids. You do.”

“We both wanted this. And I’m not going to let you make me feel bad for starting a family with my wife. So mind your business,” the tears started to appear.

“Your wife is my sister, and she’s my business,” Travis taunted, looking out the window.

“Siren, tell him to shut up!” Billie screamed, turning to her wife, who looked like she would rather be anywhere else.

“Hey, knock it off, you two,” Patrick spoke up, glancing at his rearview mirror.

“No!” Billie’s rage was boiling over. The young girl woke up in a bad mood and the doctor appointment helped but this argument had ruined the positive energy. “Siren, say something, now!”

“It’s always Siren that has to say something. Ms. Popstar can’t fight her own battles,” Travis remarked.

“Yeah, because her brother is acting like a bitch and causing drama,” Billie retorted.

“Don’t call my brother that,” Siren finally spoke up.

“Oh, but he can say what he wants to me?” Billie gasped, looking offended.

“You’re the only one screaming…in my ear specifically,” Siren pointed out. “He’s talking to you calmly.”

“I don’t care!” Billie responded. “He’s being rude to me, you, our marriage, and our growing family! And you wonder why I don’t want him, Travis, and Dre doing anything for us and our baby. They don’t support us, and it’s been like that for a year!”

“No, you don’t want us to do anything for Siren and the baby because you have some secret animosity against us,” Dre’s British voice chimed in.

“No, I don’t!” Billie rejected. “No one was talking to you, Dre, so why don’t you just go back to being quiet.”

“Can you just stop?” Siren looked at Billie with confusion.

“No, because now they’re ganging up on me,” Billie whined.

“No one is ganging up on you, honey,” Maggie intervened, wanting her daughter to calm down and restore the joyful energy.

“Yes, they are!”

“And I wonder why Siren isn’t happy with you. Now I see,” Rodrick commented, causing everything to go quiet. Billie stopped talking and looked at Rodrick, then at Siren, who had her head tilted back and a hand on her forehead.

“Is it true?” Billie’s voice was almost inaudible. “You’re not happy with me?”

“Can you please just sit down?” Siren pleaded, feeling her headache grow. Due to her advanced pregnancy, she couldn’t take any pain relief. Not liking how her question wasn't answered, Billie sat down but turned away from everyone to stare out the window with a look of sadness.

“Everyone, get out!” Patrick demanded, disgusted by what he was hearing and seeing.

“Where are we?” Finneas looked out the window, not recognizing the area.

“Dr. Maleeka’s in-house therapy office,” Patrick answered. “Now get out!” He pointed to the door.

“All of us?” Finneas asked, noting that not everyone had a problem.

“Every single one of you.”

🖤🖤🖤

Now, they were sitting in Dr. Maleeka’s large contemporary office with dark wood furnishings, in pure silence, waiting for the therapist to take her seat.

“Phones in the box, please,” Dr. Maleeka instructed, handing Lorenzo a cardboard box with the expectation that everyone would comply. “Before we start, I would like everyone to open their minds to openness and acceptance so we can move forward with a solution.”

“I’m confused. Only the kids were arguing. Do we also have to do this?” Enzo questioned, not seeing why the parents needed to be involved.

“Because my mission in life is to help as many people as I can,” Dr. Maleeka replied, showcasing her pearly teeth. “Plus, what the children reveal might trigger something for you, so participating in the session might help you or give you closure.” The warmed-skinned goddess in Valentino heels walked over to her desk, grabbing a red solo cup, a cluster of pens, and pieces of paper. “I want you all to write a question you want answers to or just a statement you want to talk about. Don’t put your names on it because part of this exercise is self-acceptance. It’s okay to want an answer to this question, or to say whatever you need to say. And Siren, I want you to actually try for this exercise because you usually just come in here to listen to Billie talk. I want you to finally get something out of therapy instead of just listening.”

“Way to single me out, doc,” Siren mumbled.

“Well, sometimes you need it, hun,” the therapist patted her on the shoulder before taking a seat. “There are a lot of us here today, so this exercise might take a while, but it’s necessary. The doors are locked, but the windows are open to demonstrate that you can't run away from your problems but still feel like you can breathe. I also have the AC on because I know Siren hates feeling stuffy in a room. So let’s begin. Everyone, put your paper in the cup.” The exercise officially started as everyone passed the cup around, slipping their pieces of paper into it.

Where does the animosity towards the friend group come from?

“Okay, if you wrote this, please raise your hand.” Dre threw out a tilted peace sign. “Okay, Dre, can you elaborate for us?”

“Uh, starting last year, Billie has been against us hanging out and trying to interfere with any plans Travis, Rodrick, Siren, and I make.”

“Billie?” Everyone turned to look at the ocean-eyed girl.

“It’s because I’m jealous of them,” Billie admitted. “They do everything together. They make music, plan businesses, go out to eat, attend festivals, go to clubs, and have picnics. They stay out all night having fun.”

“Is the problem that you feel you don’t spend enough time with Siren, or is it something else?” Dr. Maleeka’s questions were open-ended to encourage her clients to find their own answers.

“The problem is that Siren doesn’t seem happy with me anymore,” Billie revealed, feeling tears surface. “They post on social media having a good time, and I see that bright, beautiful smile on her face. But when she comes home, that smile is gone, or I get a fake one.” She turned to her wife. “I just miss being one of the reasons for that smile. Because when I saw it, I knew you still loved me.”

“Billie, what do you mean by ‘still loved me’?”

“I’ve put Siren through a lot, I know that. But she would still smile and look at me with love, and that was my indicator that she loved me and wasn’t going to leave me,” Billie turned to the therapist.

“Basically, you’re saying that there’s nothing against the boys; you just want to know if Siren is still in love with you?”

“I don’t hate you guys,” Billie now addressed Travis, Rodrick, and Dre. “I actually have a lot of love for you because you’ve been her friends, cared for her, and didn’t make her feel lonely. If you want, you guys can still plan the baby shower and gender reveal. I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting towards you this past year.” The apology was met with nods of acceptance from the boys.

“Siren, are you still in love with Billie?”

“I will always be in love with Billie,” Siren said, wiping her wife’s tears.

“So why don’t you smile at me anymore?” Billie pouted.

“Because I hold in a lot that makes me resent you, I guess,” Siren shrugged.

“This is good, girls,” Dr. Maleeka interrupted. “I’m going to stop you there, Siren, because I have a feeling this conversation about your resentment towards Billie will come up again. I want you to answer more than one question without feeling repetitive.”

Was I the mother figure you needed growing up?

“I’m guessing this is yours, Maggie,” Dr. Maleeka smiled, turning to the older woman.

“Yes,” Maggie smiled. “I know you two are surrogate babies with a biological mother but not a physical one. When I met Enzo and heard his family plans, I wanted to be that mother for you. I just wanted to know if I was that maternal figure for you.” She teared up, anxious about the answer.

“Yes.”

“We literally call you Mama Maggie.”

“Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear?” Dr. Maleeka smiled at Maggie, who covered her mouth to muffle her sobs.

“Y-y-yes,” she choked out as her husband pulled her into his side. “I just never knew, especially with Siren, since I’m obviously not African American. I didn’t know if I was being the mother she needed.”

**2009**

“Where are we going, Mama Maggie?” Siren held the woman’s hand as they crossed Melrose Boulevard.

“It’s a surprise!” Maggie smiled down at the eight-year-old as they continued their walk.

“What kind of surprise?” Siren furrowed her eyebrows.

“Something you’ve been dying for!”

“A black cat!?” The young girl’s eyes widened.

“No,” Maggie laughed, opening the metal door to a shop.

“Tell me!” Siren jumped up and down.

“I heard a little girl wanted Janet Jackson Poetic Justice braids,” a woman made her presence known. Siren saw an absolute goddess.

“I’m getting my hair like Janet Jackson?” Siren’s mouth dropped as she looked between the woman and Maggie for confirmation.

“You’ve been talking about them for a while, so I thought I would take you to get them—with your father’s permission.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you, Mama Maggie,” the girl hugged her maternal figure, jumping up and down.

“I love you too, honey,” Maggie hugged her back, savoring the moment.

“Are you ready?” The woman who had yet to share her name broke the moment.

“Go,” Maggie softly pushed Siren forward before taking a seat to watch the process from start to finish, not moving from her seat for then next four hours.

🖤🖤🖤

I know we used to say we didn’t want kids, but I thought it was a phase. Do you really not want kids?

Billie raised her hand to claim her paper. “You don’t seem excited about this pregnancy, and I just wanted to know why.”

“Siren, here’s an opportunity to finally let out whatever you’ve been holding in,” Dr. Maleeka advised.

“I don’t want kids and I never did,” Siren finally revealed the truth.

“So why did you go through with the process?” Dr. Maleeka furrowed her eyebrows.

“I-I—” Siren looked to Billie, unsure if she should tell the story because she didn’t want to paint a certain picture.

“Siren, don’t look to Billie for permission to tell your truth. You do this thing where you keep quiet if something paints Billie as the bad guy. You need to stop doing that because it’s causing you misery. So I’m going to ask again, why did you go through with the process that has you now in your second trimester? I want you, and only you, to answer.”

“During quarantine, Billie developed baby fever from being on TikTok, and the next months were just her talking about wanting kids and starting a family. At first, I thought it was just baby fever until she kept bringing it up, and it became a genuine desire. I kept telling her ‘not now,’ but she kept bringing it up for so many years. So last year, I said yes, thinking I’d have time to actually sit down and discuss it with her while I was on tour. But then, five months later, she tells me she’s been doing her research and went to see a specialist. In my head, I thought that meant she was going to carry.”

“How did you find out that she wasn’t the one going to carry, but you were?”

“I came home from tour, and Billie said we had to go to our appointment. I still thought we had time to discuss things, but when I sat down, the doctor pulled out a cup of Finneas’ sperm and asked if I was ready to be inseminated. I hesitated because I didn’t understand what was going on. Then the doctor told me I only had today to do the procedure because the sperm would die. The next thing I knew, I was leaving the doctor’s office with Finneas’ sperm in me.”

“I-I thought... I didn’t know she didn’t want to start a family,” Billie shook her head, tears returning. “I just thought starting a family was something we both wanted. So many people say they don’t want kids when they’re young but don’t really mean it when they’re older.”

“I knew this was what you wanted really bad, and I felt cornered, so I just did it,” Siren shrugged her shoulders.

“Billie, when you saw that Siren was hesitating, why didn’t you, as her partner, pause everything, pull her out of the room, and ask her what she wanted to do? And tell her that leaving the office was an available option?”

“Because I-I didn’t want to lose her,” Billie cried out. “I thought having a baby would bring us back to being close. I just didn’t want her to leave me.”

“Why did you think Siren was going to leave you?”

“I just felt it, and the more she was away, I thought her being on tour was her way of finding a way out.”

“Siren, were you planning on leaving Billie after your tour?”

“No,” Siren shook her head.

“Okay, so this is really a big problem now, girls,” Rose spoke up, with Maggie backing her.

“What are you going to do when the baby is born and Siren doesn’t connect with them or resents them?” Maggie questioned.

“Especially with postpartum being thrown into the mix, since it’s very common after birth,” Rose added.

“I don’t know,” Billie whispered, turning to look at Siren, who was staring ahead into the air.

“Siren, have you been able to take your medication for your DID?” Dr. Maleeka asked.

“She’s not allowed to due to the chemical compounds in her medication,” Billie answered for her wife.

“So we have a big problem then,” the therapist sighed, unsure how to help with this situation besides working with Siren to want kids magically. “Let’s move on.”

Thank you for being my family when mine abandoned me

“This is sweet. Whose paper is this?”

“Mine,” Claudia raised her hand. “I know we are working on problems, but I don’t really have a problem with any of you guys. So I just wanted to show gratitude for accepting me into the village when I felt like I was thrown out by my own because I wanted to pursue my career.”

“That’s what a village does, honey,” Maggie smiled. “We take anyone who needs and wants it. No one should be alone.”

“Thank you,” Claudia cheekily smiled.

“Thank you for watching over our boy and his family,” Lorenzo looked to the O’Connell hierarchy. “You didn’t have to, but you did, and we will always be grateful and indebted to you two for that,” he said, holding out his hand to shake one of the patriarch's.

“We just wanted to do for Enzo and the kids what we wished was done for us when we were first growing our family,” Patrick said, shaking Lorenzo’s hand.

Why did you lie about the drugs you were actually taking?

Siren froze.

“I wrote that question,” Lorenzo spoke up, causing everyone but Siren to turn towards him.

“And you’re claiming Siren is lying about the drugs she was taking during her lowest?” Dr. Maleeka speculated.

“Yes,” the older Italian man nodded. “I just have a feeling it wasn’t just the Xanax, LSD, weed, and speed mixed with her medication.”

“Okay, and what brought on that feeling?” 

“Siren would bite her tongue when anyone repeated the list of drugs she claimed she was taking. And Siren only bites her tongue when she has the urge to correct someone.”

“Okay,” Dr. Maleeka turned her head to the young, brown-skinned female. “Are you ready to answer the question?” The Ph.D. specialist was met with silence.

“Rosa scuro,” Rose softly called out. “You can tell us. Everyone is here for you. No one is going to judge you.” But again, there was silence.

“Usually, when Siren gets this quiet, I would move on and try to come back to it, but I think it’s important we don’t do that and we just wait.” The room sat in silence for about five minutes, filled with worry and concern for how hard it must be for Siren to speak.

“I didn’t lie about the Xanax, LSD, and weed mixed with my medication.”

“So what is ‘speed’ a code word for?”

“I was also doing… micro shots of...fentanyl.” Gasps filled the air.

“Good job, Siren,” Dr. Maleeka congratulated her for getting through the hardest part. “You completed the first step many struggle with. Do you think you can tell us how the drug use started?”

“Um, I was already using weed recommended by my doctor since I was allergic to my DID medication at the time. It helped with soothing the pain of switching between personalities,” Siren started.

“Before the weed pens, I would go to a dealer, get her a gram, check to see if any other drug was mixed in. Then I would roll it for her and give her about three to five small blunts for the day,” Enzo confirmed.

“And what age did this start?”

“When she was 12.”

“When Travis started dealing—”

“You were dealing?” Rose turned to her grandson.

“Rose,” the therapist gave a warning for interrupting.

“When Travis started dealing, I had more access to it, so I was good. No more problems.”

“Okay, so when did the other drugs come into play?” Siren took a small glance at Billie, and Dr. Maleeka caught it. “It started with Billie?”

“Yeah,” she softly answered.

**2016**

Come with me! 

Hail Mary, nigga, run quick, see.

What do we have here now?

 Do you wanna ride or die? 

La, la-da-la-la-la-la-la.

The voice of one of Siren’s favorite music artists danced around the room as she sang along while taking puffs from her weed pen.

“Billie, hurry up before I start the movie without you!” Since everyone in the O’Connell house was gone, Billie and Siren decided to have a movie night, starting off with 'How High'. “I ain't a killer, but don't push me. Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin' pussy. Picture paragraphs unloaded, wise words bein' quoted.” Siren got up from the bed and walked out of the room to see what was taking Billie so long in the bathroom. “Peeped the weakness in the rap game and sewed it. Bow down, pray to God, hopin' that he's listenin'—” Siren swung open the bathroom door and saw something that would forever change her.

🖤🖤🖤

“What did you see, Siren?”

“I saw Billie on the ground, holding her arm… and blood pooling all around her.”

“And what did you do?”

“I stayed calm,” Siren was now leaving the surface, and as a shield, her derealization kicked in, sitting between reality and dissociation. “I stayed calm, stopped the bleeding using a towel and a belt, and took her to her room to lay down. I went straight to the kitchen and grabbed a sponge and a bucket filled with bleach and hot water.”

“Why did you get a sponge and not a mop?”

“Blood stains. I could throw away a sponge and it would go unnoticed, but a mop wouldn’t. I went to the bathroom and got on my hands and knees, scrubbing until everything was clean. I stayed calm… but I wanted to scream. I got rid of the evidence and went back to the room. She was now asleep, and movie night was no longer going to happen. I laid down to sleep, and I did until I felt something dripping on me. I opened my eyes after the fifth drip.”

“What was dripping on you, Siren?”

“Billie was hanging from the ceiling, staring at me. Her blood just kept dripping and dripping all over me. I wanted to scream… but I stayed calm. I stayed calm while her blood just kept dripping on me until she woke me up. And the first thing she told me was not to speak about it and that it was a one-time thing. She gets to traumatize me, and I’m the one who has to keep quiet. I’m the one who gets to suffer the nightmares. For eight months, I had the same nightmare over and over each night of her blood on me… and I stayed calm just looking at her hang from the ceiling. I wanted the nightmares to stop, so I went to Q, and he gave me the drugs.”

“Was it a one-time thing?”

“No,” Siren whispered as tears fell down her cheeks while she continued to stare at nothing in her derealization state. “It happened in Berlin.”

“What happened in Berlin?”

“I was asleep, and something told me to wake up. I felt around the bed for Billie, and she wasn’t there, so I went to look for her. I saw a light and followed it; it led me to the bathroom. The door was cracked, so I thought maybe she was just using the toilet. I knocked, and when I didn’t get a response, I opened it and saw her on the ground, halfway passed out, whispering for help.”

“What did you do?”

“I stayed calm… I stayed calm when I wanted to scream how much I hated her. I hated her because she gets to be the broken one, and I have to be the one to clean it up. I stayed calm, helping her up off the floor. I knew I had to get her to the hospital quickly, but I couldn’t leave the room how it was. So I took a liquid IV packet, mixed it with water, and force-fed her. Once I saw she was gaining consciousness, I called a maid to the room and paid her $500 in cash to clean the bathroom and keep quiet. The maid looked at me and told me I didn’t deserve this and that I couldn't help her if she didn’t want it. And that made me angry with rage.”

“Why?”

“Because why does Billie get to die and I stay here on Earth, taking drugs just so I can breathe and function in a career I didn’t even want? Why does she get to do whatever she wants with no consequences because no one knew, but I had to suffer in silence, begging for anyone to notice? Well, someone did, and they got me hooked on fentanyl and beated my ass when they got angry due to drug rage.”

Unknown to Siren, everyone in the therapist’s office had tears in their eyes because no one knew what the young girl was going through from such a young age. The way the story was originally told was that drugs were just something for Siren to do for fun until it became a problem. Not that she was traumatized and looking for help, and saw drugs as the only way.

"Your flight or fight route is to stay calm because it got you through the most traumatic and hardest moment of your life where you had to stay calm in order to keep Billie alive."

"Yeah."

I want to start dating

Lorenzo raised his hand.

“What’s stopping you from dating?” Dr. Maleeka questioned the father of her client.

“I’ve never done it before. I never felt the need to, but recently I found myself lonely and just wanting someone to spend time with on a mature level. I raised my kids, built my business, and now I find myself wanting to share my time with someone. But maybe, I need to push that back because I can see that my daughter is hurting and needs me, and maybe so does my son. And I just turned a blind eye to them still possibly needing me since they accomplished so much for themselves.”

“Go have fun,” Siren spoke up, causing everyone to look at her in shock since they thought she would've dissociate or go mute.

“Love is beautiful. It’s all the emotions you can feel, but you feel all those emotions with someone by your side. There are going to be easy times. There are going to be hard times. And there are going to be times where nothing is happening. But it’s worth it. So if you want to date, go ahead.”

“We’ll be fine,” Travis added his opinion.

“Go have fun, Enzo,” Dr. Maleeka smiled at him.

“Okay,” the father lets out a breath of air.

[seeingivy]

sweet nothing

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: talks of grief, references to hidden inventory arc, satoru just being in love, megs + tsumiki babies

an: giving love to one of the best songs on midnights. also idk where I procured this emo at like 1 in the afternoon but here we are

--

You give him the book after the two of you settle Megumi and Tsumiki into bed, in the few minutes of peace you and Satoru get before you both nestle into your shared bed. You hike your knees to your chest as he picks it up, a confused look meeting yours when he reads the title. 

“On Grief and Giving?” 

“I took Miki and Megs to the bookstore today and I thought you might like it.” 

“A book about grief? I’m not grieving.” 

You look over at him - sparkling blue eyes rimmed with red, the usual sparkiness in his voice gone for the past few days, and no smothering, smushy cheek kisses every morning. You scoot over and he opens his arm up, tucking you into his side. 

You whisper the words against his neck, your hands placed on his body, tracing out the lines of his biceps. 

“He doesn’t have to be dead for you to be grieving him, Satoru. The person we knew is dead and the reaction is all the same.” you whisper. 

Satoru frowns, his hand going back and forth on your lower back. You know he hates it, when you try to talk about it. When anyone does. 

“Just read a few pages. See if it’s your thing or not, okay?” 

He looks into your eyes for a few seconds before nodding, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. And when you leave to drop Tsumiki and Megumi off at school the next day, he reads the first page and promptly stops. 

Grief stays the same size. Life begins to grow around it. 

He thinks it’s stupid. 

--

from y/n 

you: don’t forget to bring strawberries home for froggy cake please!! 

satoru: okay love. anything else? 

you: that big fat ass 

satoru: got it :D 

you: you ruined it. 

Tomorrow marks two years since Tsumiki and Megumi have been staying with you. And of course, in your ultimate corniness, you’ve convinced all three of them to make a cake with you. And because you can never say no to Tsumiki and Megumi’s suggestions, you’re making a strawberry froggy cake. Because Tsumiki wants to try to make a little frog with frosting and Megumi just wants to eat the strawberries off the cake. 

He makes a mental note to drop by the store on the way home from his meeting with the higher ups and then his parents. Maybe buy some balloons or flowers or something to accompany the strawberries you asked for. He knows you said it was supposed to be a lowkey thing, just the four of you eating the cake together, but your annoyance doesn’t beat your surprised face, so he must. 

Satoru stops by the coffee shop first, making it a clear point to be late to his meeting with the higher ups for a very stupid reason, and gets a sugary caramel latte. He can hear your voice in his mind - berating him for picking something so sweet - but persists anyway. 

And as he leans against the counter, waiting for the cup with Satoru scribbled on the side, he takes in the shop, watching the people going around. He had never been too big on people watching, but it’s Tsumiki's favorite pass time at the park, pointing out people's silly outfits or how close and far they’re sitting away from each other. 

He spots two little girls, making little beaded bracelets in the far corner while their moms both nurse a warm cup of coffee in their hands. They have their hands wrapped around the porcelain, like they’re sequestering the heat from the glass. 

On the left, a young couple, nervously twiddling their fingers and cracking their knuckles as they make conversation - cheeks glazed pink and wobbly voices marking their conversation. They’re both dressed nicer than usual, clearly trying to impress each other. 

And in the far corner, leaning against the chair, is Suguru Getou. 

He nearly sprints to the other side of the shop when he sees him. Short hair, a man bun tucked neatly at the back with weirdly misshapen bangs and brown eyes. He can feel his heart racing, pounding even and the perspiration growing on his clenched fists as he moves closer. 

And when he reaches their table, standing way too close and looking straight into his eyes, he realizes that this is not Suguru Getou. Instead, a kid that bears far too much resemblance to him. But his eyes are rounder, his nose isn’t as pointy, and he is not a murderer. 

Satoru takes off and runs straight out the store, forgetting about his cup of coffee that’s getting cold in the pickup area.

--   

Yaga and the higher-ups' voices drone out in the back, as Satoru wracks his head. 

Why did he think that kid was Suguru? Suguru is dead. 

And it only now occurs to him, that for all intents and purposes, he really does think he’s dead. But he knows he isn't because Satoru let him walk free. Because he had to clench his fists and swallow hard to walk away the last time he saw him. 

But the man he knows is dead. Your voice is echoing in his head. 

“Satoru, are you paying attention?” 

“I mean, not really.” 

They all pinch their noses and groan, starting the lecture he’s sure they were giving him all over again. And it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. 

We want you to take more missions, there aren’t that many special grade sorcerers available. We want you to spend more time teaching, you're not doing enough. A long list of we want, we want, we want. 

And when the higher-ups trail out of the meeting, disdainful looks on their faces, he turns back to Yaga, who frowns at him. The question is on his tongue. He can’t bring himself to ask it. 

Do you ever think you ask too much of me?

He understands. He tries to. That he is the strongest sorcerer, that there’s no one like him. That he may have infinity, but he knows they forget the inner parts of him aren’t untouchable. That he’s still a person, that he’s still soft. 

Tsumiki’s shiny report cards make him beam with joy, fighting with Megumi keeps him up at night, and getting to hold you at night is the only thing that keeps him grounded sometimes. 

That sometimes the smell of blood never leaves his nose no matter how hard he scrubs in the shower, that when he sees a boy who looks like Suguru, the wound he thought he patched over feels like it’s freshly bleeding. 

But that doesn’t matter, because…

“You should be taking more missions. People are getting spread really thin.” Yaga says, clearing the dust off his desk. 

…Because he’s the strongest. 

--

As he drags his feet to the Gojo estate, he can’t help but survey the crowd as he walks there. Three girls with the same hair color as Getou, two boys with the same eye color, five people the exact same height, but none of them are Suguru Getou. 

When he reaches his parents house, pulling out the long black chairs he uncomfortably sat in for hours as a kid, his mind wanders even farther when they start talking. 

This time, he’s imagining. Daydreaming. What it would be like if he wasn’t the one gifted with the limitless and infinity. If jujutsu sorcery didn’t exist. 

That he’d have more time, be more free to do what he wanted. Make chocolate pancakes with you every morning, before the two of you walk together to drop off Megumi and Tsumiki to school. You’d work normal jobs - maybe he’d still be a teacher, a normal one - while you would do something that was entirely too impressive. Like saving lives or writing books or working at a non-profit. 

You would both go to Tsumiki’s first school dance together and take so many pictures that she’d walk away all embarrassed, red in the face. He’d go to every single one of Megumi’s baseball games, you’d both be the parents that are way too decked out, way too enthusiastic about their kid. 

Satoru would help you collect vinyls and when Tsumiki and Megumi were long gone and the two of you would put them on and dance in the kitchen humming. You’ll get wrinkles at the same time and your hair would gray so the two of you would look like pale-haired ghosts together. 

He zones back into what his parents were saying, their bored eyes glazed on him. And he doesn’t pay attention, because it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. 

They want him to be around more, because he should know how to take over the estate. They want him to meet with other clans, so he can help them with other deals. A long list of they want, they want, they want. 

And he walks out, he wonders if his parents want the life he imagined for himself, the way he wants it for Megumi and Tsumiki. If that was the life Suguru would have lived, if things were different. 

--

When he makes it home, the sun is sinking into the sky against the house, the sky an array of golden hues. And when he pushes his key into the lock, he’s met with one smiling face and two grumpy faces. 

You march over, flicking Satoru’s cheek as he moves closer to you, grabbing onto your hands. 

“Those strawberries better be hidden in your pants or something.” 

He feels his face pale as he remembers that in the loop of things he’s been thinking about all day, he forgot to get the strawberries for froggy cake. And the balloons and flowers and everything else he wanted to give the three of you. 

“Satoru. We really wanted strawberry froggy cake.” you whine, reaching up to rest your hands on his face, squishing hard. 

He reaches for your wrists, pulling them down from his face and looking down at your joined hands. 

“Oh well, I’ll just go grab them with Megumi or something.” 

He watches you pad back into the kitchen, not even phased by his shortcoming, as you place a hand in Tsumiki’s hair. She’s very focused on frosting her little frog in the center of the cake, her eyebrows knit in concentration. He makes his way in, leaning over the counter as he intently watches the three of you. 

“What if we all go to the store and pick up strawberries?” you say, a hand resting in Megumi’s hair. 

Megumi directs off of you and to Satoru, glaring at him. 

“Did you seriously forget the one thing we wanted you to get?” 

“Megs, don’t be mean. It’s always fun to go to the store together!” you respond. 

“I’ll let you pick out anything you want, kid.” Satoru mentions. 

Megumi gives him a satisfied smile, hopping off his seat to go yank his shoes on. Tsumiki follows suit and you give Satoru a glowing smile as you drag the three of them out, hands intertwined as you go to the store. 

--

And at the end of the day, in the few minutes of peace the two of you get before the next day, Satoru’s staring at you, memorizing the curve of your nose and the shape of your eyes, and the way your hair falls against your face. 

You bring a hand up, cupping the side of his face as you whisper in the dark. 

“You okay, Toru?” 

“What do you want from me?” 

He watches you frown and pull back, your hand shaking against his face. 

“Are you mad at me, Satoru?” 

He brings his hand to the back of your neck, bringing you back closer. He’s resting his forehead against yours, savoring the warmth that gathers in the back of your neck on his hands. 

“No. No, no. I just…I want to know what you want from me.” 

He watches you scrunch your forehead, as you ponder the question. 

“I mean. I’d really like it if you didn’t leave the toilet seat up all the time.” 

He cracks a smile, rolling his eyes at you, as he reaches for your hand to bring your knuckles up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss, noticing the sweet smile that spreads across your face when he does, and drops your hand. 

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N.” 

“I mean. I’m not sure what you mean. It’s just small things, Toru. Like we should go on walks together sometimes in the evening, I think that would be nice. And we should watch all the Harry Potter movies together, like do a marathon and not sleep in between. And I’d really like a big diamond ring, circular cut, six pronged with a golden band.” 

Your hands, still resting against his face, are now meshed in with a spray of salty tears and a whimpering Satoru. You instinctively bring him forward, tucking his neck into your face as he cries into your shoulders. 

His tears are coating your neck as you run your hand through the white tresses of hair, whispering against his forehead. Imploring for what’s wrong. He doesn’t respond and the tears subside after a few minutes, his frame still shaking in your hold. 

“I’m not that attached to a golden wedding band, Satoru. I can do silver.” 

He laughs, pulling his face away from your neck to run his hands through your hair. 

“Gold is okay. I like gold.” 

“What’s wrong, Satoru? Tell me.” 

“Nothing. I just- that’s really all you want from me?” 

“I mean, yeah. What else would I want?” 

Satoru leans forward, pressing his lips against yours as he nearly cries into your face again, hanging off the ends of your lips. And you’re not sure what it means, what any of it means, but you let him - cry into your arms, hold you through the night, and make you breakfast the next morning. 

In truth, Satoru cherishes the fact that everyone may ask the world of him, but all you’ve ever wanted from him are sweet, sweet nothings. 

When you wake up the next morning, padding into the kitchen to make breakfast, you’re met with a box of strawberries, a sticky-note pressed on top. I love you, written in Satoru’s scribbly handwriting. 

Life has grown around Satoru’s grief. And it looks like you.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog  @platrom  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez  @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome  @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Chiaroscuro - Part 5 (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Vampire AU Rated/warnings: T - language, blood, descriptions of violence Word count: 5.7k Art by @bridgertontess

Part 4 Part 6 Masterpost

When you woke the next morning Ben was gone. You felt wonderful, more rested than you had been in ages. You had dreamt of nothing. Not the terrifying maw of nothing but the blissful, refreshing nothing. Remembering everything that had happened you half convinced yourself it had been another dream until you walked into your kitchen and found a single red rose lying on your counter with a note in familiar handwriting.

I hope you slept well. I’ll see you again tonight. -B

Your insides knotted like a teenager with a crush. You still weren’t sure what you had done to attract the attention of someone lightyears out of your league but you decided to stop questioning it. Life’s outrageous curveballs were coming thick and fast. You’d be pummeled a bit less if you allowed yourself to catch one. 

Thank god it was a Saturday because you were unable to focus on anything except the memory of Ben’s eyes, the cool trace of his long fingers, the glisten of his parted lips. You rolled your tongue in your mouth, wondering if you could still taste him. Giddy and horny in a way you hadn’t felt in years, you swanned through your day, donning one of your favorite outfits, splurging at your favorite bakery, reveling in the sunshine as you bounced between errands. At some point in your heady bliss you realized that you didn’t even have Ben’s number. He had said you would meet at night but you had no idea when or where. Granted, you knew where each other lived. But would he want to meet at one of yours? Would he want to go out? You smirked at what an antiquated dilemma it seemed to be - courtship without technology.

After a day of uninterrupted happiness you sat on your balcony and watched the sun sink, painting the sky with ombre pinks, oranges and purples. Then the anxiety kicked in. When would Ben show up? Should you go to him? After two hours of overthinking and the approach of dinnertime you decided to be proactive. You changed into a dress that wasn’t trying too hard but would look great whether he wanted to take you out or just take it off of you. Buzzing with anticipation you took the lift to the penthouse floor and hovered at his door. You knocked. There was no answer. You knocked again. Nothing.

Maybe you were being foolish. Overeager. Maybe he was out and planning to meet you later. Maybe he was awkwardly knocking on your door three floors below. You really needed to get his number to avoid this in future. As you pondered your next move, the lift suddenly chimed and Ben stepped out wrapped in his signature peacoat. 

“Ben!” you chirped. “I was just…are you ok?” You were so elated to see him that it took a moment to register how oddly he was hurrying toward you. His arms were tight around himself. He looked up with something like panic in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I’m just getting back.”

He couldn’t hide the agitation in his voice and the urgency in how he marched around you to the door. Then you saw the dark stain seeping through the left side of his coat.

“Is that…oh my god, are you bleeding!?”

He averted his eyes. ““I’m fine, really, I just need to get inside.”

He opened the door and brushed straight past you into his darkened flat. You followed down a short hall and rounded a corner into a kitchen.

“Ben, what happened?” You were frantic. You hadn’t even gotten to know him and now he was grievously injured. Your mind was dredging up random bits of first aid knowledge gained through osmosis. Pressure…bandages…what were you supposed to do? You stood trembling with indecision in the dim overhead light and watched him peel off his coat and rest it on a chair at the island.

“Holy shit, oh my god…” you gasped. The entire left side of his pale grey jumper was soaked in blood. A crimson stain that ran from the arm to the hem and was dripping on the floor with a patter. It was more blood than you had ever seen outside of television and you had no idea how he was still standing. Ben looked down at himself and grimaced. 

“I’m…should I call an ambulance? Jesus…” Your clammy hands patted your hips for your phone only to remember that you had no pockets and had left your phone in your flat. Without Ben’s number there didn’t seem any point in carrying it en route to him.

“I’m alright, honestly.” He was oddly calm, raising a bloody hand to placate you. This set you off. You would not allow him to be captain chivalry for your sake while he bled out in front of you. You would not hold him for just one night and then let him die on you the next.

“The fuck you are!” you barked, snatching a nearby dish towel and moving toward him. “You’re bleeding everywhere!”

Now he raised both hands to keep you back. “I was jumped in the park,” he explained. “Guy had a knife.”

It did not make you feel any better to learn he had been stabbed. “Oh shit, oh god, I…”

“It’s not my blood,” he said flatly.

“What?”

“It’s not my blood.” He lifted his soaked jumper and you swallowed hard to tame the part of your brain ready to swoon at the sight of his lean, rippling abdomen. You managed to focus enough to realize that though it was streaked red, he had no wounds. The blood had no discernible source. “See?” The cheeky grin had returned to his face. “I’m fine. You can relax.”

Between his mouthwatering body and your profound confusion over the entire situation, you stood short circuiting, trying to puzzle out his explanation.

“So…you fought him off?”

“Yes.”

“Is he…? I mean, is he bleeding out somewhere? Should we call the police?” Again you were kicking yourself for not bringing your phone.

“He ran off.” Something in his tone made it clear he didn’t want to explain himself any further. He closed the distance between you and gazed down into your eyes. Even without touching you, he made you breathless with his proximity alone. If he was satisfied to move on without further discussion, who were you to insist? “I’m sorry to scare you. I really just need a shower.” He chuckled softly and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, murmuring honeyed words. “Will you wait here for me? Then we can talk.”

Your eyes rolled closed, powerless against him. You nodded and he kissed you, tender but with an underlying hunger. No one had ever kissed you the way he did; As if he cast a spell on you each time, his incantations pressed directly by his lips into your skin without the need for words. 

“Good.” He pulled back and grinned. You felt yourself falling into the glittering light of his eyes, nearly forgetting the gore and drama of the moment. You would do anything he asked when he looked at you like that. “Stay right here. Make yourself at home.” Then with one final peck on your forehead, he turned and disappeared into the flat.

You took a steadying breath, studying your surroundings. You had been so caught up in panic you barely knew where you were. As expected the penthouse was luxe, but not in the shiny new construction way like the rest of the building. It was decorated in a traditional style, regency if you had to guess. And it was dark. You moved through the open layout from the kitchen to the lounge and switched on each light but they only cast a dusty glow among all the dark furnishings. Dark wood cabinets, rich jewel-toned upholstery and massive velvet blackout curtains that were pulled closed across every window. Perhaps it was a peculiar setup for a young bachelor but for Ben it seemed to make sense. His dabbling in old wines, poetry, art, antiquities - this was a realm where tastes like that could flourish.

And the stuff. There were things everywhere. The lounge was in a state of orderly chaos. The built-in bookcases overflowed with old tomes, papers and antiques. Small statuary, musical instruments, photographs. He really was a collector. Books piled on the floor and buried what appeared to be a piano in a corner. Nearly every inch of wall space was covered in ornately framed artwork and even more pieces were propped against each other in stacks throughout the room. It reminded you of the museum storage. How could you have shared so much in common and never realized? 

There was a centrally hung landscape that drew your eye. Something was oddly familiar about the sweep of the countryside hills dotted with flowers and stretching back to a stately home in the distance. You looked closer and stopped dead when you saw the signature in the bottom corner. Two faintly squiggled Bs. Benedict Bridgerton. That was his mark. You had seen it dozens of times before. But you had never seen nor heard of this landscape. You peered even closer. It wasn’t a printed image, it was an original with the careful but sometimes counterintuitive brushstrokes that were characteristic of the artist. Your pulse picked up speed. How did Ben have this? Had he lucked out at some undisclosed auction? Was he ever going to tell you about it? Why didn’t he mention it when you were at the museum?

You inspected the painting beneath it, a still life bowl of apples, and saw it again - BB. A sickening sense of dread began to spread through you as you moved from painting to painting and realized all of them were signed the same way. A vase of roses, a riverside, a moonlit garden - another and another and another. You picked through the stacked canvases leaning against the wall and found even more. All of them originals. All of them bearing those initials. 

Shaking, you stumbled out of the lounge and began to scurry for the door. What the actual fuck? Who was this man? He must have been some kind of thief or a replica artist, maybe both. And then it hit you - you were the perfect accomplice for someone like that. You had the knowledge and connections to the art world. You were his target. Tears surged in your eyes as it all began to fall into place. Of course he hadn’t been genuinely interested in you. How could he be? He was playing you; trying to schmooze you into his criminal enterprise. He was probably lying about the knife fight too. No doubt he ran with dangerous crowds. You had to get away, you had to report him. You’d have to move, it wasn’t safe in your building anymore, you had to…

Then you froze. Not intentionally. Just meters from the door you felt every muscle in your body tense and completely refuse to move further. You couldn’t command yourself to take a step. It was as if you had run into an invisible wall. You tried to scream but couldn’t do that either. You could still breathe as evidenced by the fact that you were starting to hyperventilate, but something in your brain wouldn’t let you continue down the hall. You found you could walk in any other direction and tumbled back into the kitchen. You had no idea what was going on in this house of horrors but you weren’t going to fall victim that easily. Strung out on survival adrenaline you began to tear through the drawers looking for a knife - anything to defend yourself.

The drawers were empty. All of them. The cabinets too. You pulled them open one after the other and found not a knife nor a plate nor an ounce of food. It was as bare as if no one lived in the flat at all. He was a psychopath. This was a setup. You didn’t know what compelled you to look in the fridge but you knew, instinctually, that you would find something gruesome. And you did. Three bags of blood, unlabelled and half-empty, were all that was inside. A visceral fear gripped you in a way you had never experienced. You were going to die here. 

A noise behind you made you slam the door closed and spin around. It was Ben, sauntering toward you wearing nothing but grey joggers slung low across his hips. His hair was damp and a few drops of water still clung to his naked torso. You pressed yourself back against the fridge unable to breathe, heart pounding wildly, fueled both by terror and the unavoidable reaction you had to his body. He was magnificent. David cut from pale marble and stepped down off his dais to stand before you. Acres of white skin taught over perfectly defined muscles. His strong, tendoned neck flowing into broad swimmers’ shoulders; his arms impossibly long and etched with prominent veins; his chest and abs so sculpted they appeared unreal. The few freckles dotted across his sternum were the only thing to indicate that he wasn’t actually carved from stone. You didn’t know if you should feel grateful or bitter that your predator was so gorgeous.

You had nothing to defend yourself with and no way to call for help. You’d have to speak with him. Perhaps you could convince him to let you go. You could see in his eyes that he knew you had discovered his secrets. There was no playing coy anymore.

“Why can’t I move toward the door?” Your voice shook uncontrollably.

“Because I asked you to stay here.” His tone was low but not threatening. He almost sounded apologetic.

“What?”

He stepped closer. “I glamoured you. I don’t like to use it, but I need you to stay here so we can talk.”

Glamour? Was he implying he had some kind of magical power? Granted, you couldn’t explain why you had been blocked in the hallway, but…was he serious?

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I think you know who I am.”

There was something in the sureness of his statement, the incline of his head, and suddenly everything fit together. The blood, the paintings, the blackout curtains. For god’s sake his name was Ben. This had to be an act, there was no way this was real. You refused to give in to his delusion.

“I think you’re some kind of…Bridgerton fanatic. And you’re a sicko and you drugged me.”

He chuckled and shoved his hands into his pockets which tugged the waistband tantalizingly lower. “That’s an awfully convoluted fact pattern. And very impressive of me, considering I’d have to have drugged you with a kiss. There is a simpler explanation.”

Standing only a few feet away now, he looked up through his thick lashes expectantly. You knew he knew what you were thinking. He wanted you to believe it. Your world had been thrown entirely off the rails this week but you weren’t ready to acknowledge that it had veered into a fantasy dimension. But there was nothing you could do except continue speaking with him, hoping for mercy or an eventual opening to make your escape.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Suddenly he looked tremendously guilty and backed away. “No, no. Of course not. We were going to have this conversation sooner or later, you just caught me at an inopportune moment.” He moved into the lounge and gestured to one of the plush chairs. “Please, sit.”

You were still far from trusting him but at least you were buying time to find a way out. You walked stiffly to the seat, never taking your eyes off him as he perched in the wingback across from you. He sat with the same friendly air as always, waiting silently for you to initiate. 

“You want me to say you’re Benedict Bridgerton.”

The crooked grin spread across his face. “It is good to hear someone call me that again.”

Now you knew you were dealing with a psycho. Maybe he wasn’t dangerous, maybe he was just run of the mill crazy. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re a fucking vampire.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes bored into yours. “Life can take incredibly odd turns. But it explains my disappearance doesn’t it? Explains where all of this came from.” He swept an arm out at the room and its antiquities. “It’s that or I’m an incomparably talented replica artist who is really into bloodplay and successful enough to afford a stradivarius.”

You followed his line of sight to the bookcase behind you and saw a violin perched on a top shelf. You weren’t an expert but you had seen originals behind glass and this didn’t look any different. You wouldn’t let yourself be swayed. If it even was authentic, all it proved is he was a rich cunt.

Sensing you needed more convincing, Ben stood and walked to the landscape that started your descent into disbelief. “This is actually a variation on your favorite,” he explained, nonchalant. “Dreams at Aubrey. I kept this one within the family. I never quite felt that I got Kent right. I kept adding in a figure then painting over her. I suppose I hadn’t found a muse worthy enough to be included.”

All you could do was gape at him. The painting did look like a companion piece to your favorite one in the gallery. How detailed was his delusion? Then he moved to a bookcase and pulled out a small blue volume. “You’ll have read this,” he mumbled, handing it to you before continuing to dig through the shelf. You turned it over in your hands. It was leatherbound and exceptionally old, the pages yellowed and brittle. You gently pried it open and felt your stomach drop into your shoes. It was Benedict Bridgerton’s diary. The same published diary that you had studied for your art degree. These were the same words but it was obvious ink had been scribbled directly onto paper in Ben’s handwriting. You looked at the date embossed on the spine - 1822. Holding your breath, you flipped through to find what you knew was tucked in the margins of page 58. It was there - his self-portrait sketch. Looking at it now, quick and sloppy though it was, you could see it. You could see Ben in his features.

You felt like you might be sick and focused on just trying to breathe. Ben was carrying on, not even looking at you. “I did keep more. Here’s ‘23, ‘24…” He was piling more diaries into your lap, all with the same binding, all containing the same handwriting, all impossibly old. 

“I’ve fallen out of the habit after so long, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “And since you thought so poorly of my self-portrait doodle, how is this?” 

From some hidden corner he produced a small painting and held it out to you. Trembling uncontrollably, you set the diaries aside and took it. It was a portrait of him. Unmistakably, it was Ben. But he was dressed in a high collar and colorful waistcoat, with longer hair and more warmth in his cheeks. You knew the art style. You knew it was regency. Stippled into the corner was a flourished signature - Granville.

This only added to the confusion. To the impossibility of it all. He had to have faked everything. You deliberately ignored all of your senses, honed by years of education, that were reluctantly admitting everything appeared genuine. But none of it made any sense.

 It took a moment to find your voice. “It’s…Granville. You painted this.”

You looked up at him for confirmation but he only smirked.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Your eye is skilled enough to know that that paint is 200 years old.”

He was right. You knew he was. He knew you knew he was. You slowly began to accept that the man who stood before you was not your reclusive neighbor Ben Granville as you had always presumed. He was someone else entirely.

“Then who is Granville?”

He smiled faintly. “An old friend who did not get the acclaim he deserved.” He gently took the painting back and tucked it away.

Fighting both for air and to keep from either screaming or vomiting, you dug your fingers into the upholstered armrests and pressed yourself into your seat. “Holy shit.” 

Ben moved back to his chair and studied you, looking concerned.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. But you are safe with me. You have my word.”

You were still struggling to believe the reality of the situation but you did believe his promise. You weren’t sure if he was still glamouring you, but the sincerity in his expression didn’t leave any room for doubt. You would live to see another day. But that would be the day you had to navigate the world knowing that vampires existed and that one lived in your building and had kissed you and slept in your bed. Even if this madness were true, why was he sharing his secrets with you?

“What do you want from me?” Your voice was still trembling.

“To talk to you. To tell you the truth. Now that we are getting to know one another.” 

His lopsided grin exuded kindness and confidence. If he really was a vampire - and you couldn’t believe you were actually entertaining the notion - he would have to prove it and share his story. You were a leading expert on the life of Benedict Bridgerton. You would test him.

“When were you born?”

“1786,” he answered breezily.

Too easy. He would have to tell you something no one could know.

“Then in your thirties you vanished.”

His brow knitted. “I fell ill. Brain fever.”

“Meningitis?”

He nodded. “It would have killed me. But my maker…gave me an option.”

You tried to picture it, some alternate history from the one you had always imagined. You had believed the Bridgerton family’s account that Benedict had sailed to Europe and was never heard from again. Now instead of envisioning him on a ship in the English channel, you saw him pale and sweating in a sickbed, tilting his neck for some dark, amorphous creature to bite into. 

“Who was that?”

He averted his eyes and moved to survey his paintings, keeping his back to you.

“It was a kindness,” he explained. “We had to travel a lot. We couldn’t stay in one place for very long or people would start to get suspicious. But we had each other. For a while.” There was something wistful in his tone. 

“You’re not together anymore?”

He sighed. “We grew apart.”

“Where are they now?”

“I have no idea.”

It was clear he wanted to change the subject. If he didn’t want to talk about his past, he could explain how he lived in the present.

“Are there a lot of you? Your kind?” Your confidence and curiosity were growing, even though you felt like a character in an Anne Rice novel.

Ben shrugged, pacing slowly around the lounge. “Not too many. Probably a dozen in every city. We tend to keep to ourselves and stay spread out. It helps to maintain our own food supply without drawing undue attention.”

Right, the food supply. The factor that made him more than just a beautiful curiosity. The memory of his bloodstained jumper was now more sinister. “So you…eat people? The man in the park?”

“No,” he turned to face you. “He did jump me but he sliced one of the bags and I scared him off. I didn’t bite him. I don’t do that anymore.” You watched him pad to the kitchen and reach into his bloodied coat. “For over a hundred years that was the only option. But now…” From an inner pocket he gingerly pulled out the hidden source of all the mess. Two more bags of blood, one of them ripped and leaking. He popped them in the fridge as casually as if they were bottles of beer, then cleaned the dark spatters they left behind. “I’m trying to be more humane about it. I got tired of seeing the fear in everyone’s eyes. And disposing of someone…it’s a pain in the arse.”

You swallowed hard. No one had ever confessed to murder in front of you before, but given the circumstances it all seemed so natural.

“Where do you get the blood?”

He smirked. “I have a doctor who owes me.” 

So you were not the only person he had revealed himself to. Your perception of the world was reorienting, having discovered two new communities that existed in the shadows of society. Immortal vampires and the mortals who knew them. Now you were one of them. 

“Are all of you…adapting to be more humane?”

Ben scoffed, leaning against a counter. “God, no. Everyone has their own approach. Some get so tired of the whole thing that they starve themselves. Or toss themselves out into the daylight.”

“And you haven’t tired of it?”

“No.” The wistfulness returned as he became contemplative. “I don’t know that I could ever leave the world willingly. It holds too much beauty. Too many things I love, even if I can only see them in darkness now.” 

The lyricism of his words echoed sentiments you had read in Benedict’s diary. He seemed to have an almost painful appreciation for the world. You had detected it in his notes, seen it brushed into his artwork, and now saw it etched on his face. Your heart fluttered at the notion that you may actually be speaking to the real Benedict Bridgerton. The mystery was finally solved. A man lost to history had suddenly showed up on your doorstep, almost as if you had willed him into returning. But the supernatural details of his existence were still enigmas.

“So the sunlight thing is true?” You already knew the answer given that your interactions had always occurred after dark.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Coffins? Garlic? Crucifixes?”

At this, he laughed. “I have to say it’s much more of a biological condition than one rooted in myth and religion.”

You couldn’t hide a bashful smile. Your curiosity was piqued and he could sense it. You had spent the night before snogging each other senseless and then fell asleep with him wrapped around you. How had you not noticed anything odd? A glance at his Adonis belt cresting over his hip provided a clue. You had been so entranced with the mere sight of him you had lost any thought for details. 

He straightened and put his hands in his pockets, voice dropping low. “You can come closer. I won’t bite.”

Your stomach flipped. Desire was starting to cloud over your fear. If he was still glamouring you, you didn’t care. You just wanted to explore him.

“Cheeky,” you lobbed as he chuckled smugly at his joke. Rising slowly, you walked to stand in front of him, drinking in the devastating perfection of his body. The low light cut precise shadows across his toned form, enhancing the effect even further. He was alabaster and strength, predation and pleasure. “Fucking hell,” you exhaled, shaking.

“Membership has its benefits,” he lilted playfully.

“So you didn’t look like this when you were…” ‘Alive’ seemed an odd thing to ask someone about in the past tense. “Before?”

“I looked alright,” he shrugged, his boyish face contrasting with the statue of the male ideal it sat atop.  

You returned his smirk. You knew he would have been considered exceptionally handsome in any era. You had seen as much in his portrait. You began to wonder how many lovers he had had. Likely as many as he wanted. But now, impossibly, he was offering himself to you. He stood completely still, letting your eyes rove. Cautiously, you brought a hand to his chest. Solid muscle and silken skin, significantly cooler than any healthy person should be. You had assumed it was the chill of the night air. 

“Do you feel cold?”

“No,” he looked down at you, eyes smoldering. “I can feel heat pouring off of you but in my own skin, I feel comfortable. Heightened, actually. I can feel every ridge in your fingertips right now. I could count them.”

You trailed your fingers up to his defined clavicle, your breath growing heavier, equal parts fascination and arousal. He didn’t move. And that’s when you realized.

“You’re not breathing.” Now the unearthly was colliding directly with your senses. Your mind’s denial and flailing explanations were being overwhelmed. But you didn’t want to pull away. “It’s…weird.”

Ben hung his head in apology. “I know, sorry. I have to remind myself to pretend.” He took an imitated breath and you pondered how exhausting it must be to keep up the charade around people. Your hand continued its journey across the expanse of his chest, counting the freckles down his sternum, pressing your palm against his firm flesh. Then you gasped. He may not have been breathing, but something was moving behind his ribs. His heart was beating as hard and as fast as a hummingbird’s, so rapid that you couldn’t discern one beat from the next, just a steady thrum, practically vibrating under your hand.

He quirked a brow. “That still works. All this blood. Have to keep it moving somehow.”

“But I thought…”

“It’s like we become just a circulatory system in overdrive, trapped within a frozen body.” He cut you off, sounding as if he had delivered this explanation countless times before.

You pulled your hand away, nodding and straightening your glasses. You couldn’t rationalize this anymore. Whatever he was, he was something you had never encountered before and he wanted you to know it.  

“Why are you telling me all this?”

His eyes grew gentle. “Because I know I can trust you. You know who I am. You’re not going to tell anyone.”

No, you certainly weren’t going to tell anyone that your favorite long-lost regency artist had been turned into a vampire and was in fact your neighbor and new paramour. “They would think I was mad if I tried.”

He grinned. “There’s that too.” 

Something still didn’t make sense. You had been passing each other in the halls for years and it was only in the past few days that he had approached you. “But even before this. Last night you kissed me. You had to know I would learn your secret. Why me? Why now?”

Tentatively he brought his large hands to cup your face. You remembered how tenderly he held you the night before and were just as weak to his touch, even with everything you now knew. 

“Because you reminded me how it feels to be human.” His tone was reverent; his pale eyes filled with a soft pain. “I felt your sadness seeping through the walls. Your melancholy heartbreak is eating into me. You have something to lose and that makes you appreciate how precious life and beauty are, which is something I was starting to forget.”

You were rooted to the spot, aching at the thought that your diagnosis had created a palpable cloud of misery he could sense. To know your pain was engulfing not only you but him as well, made you feel both guilty and comforted. You weren’t alone. He could understand. A tear ran down your cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry you are suffering. I don’t want it to perpetuate. But it awoke something in me. It made me feel even more admiration than I already had for you, seeing you take such good care of my work.”

Maybe it was his attractiveness. Maybe you were half-mad with fear and adrenaline and hunger. Maybe he was playing mind games with you. But for the rest of the night you found immense pleasure in playing along and imagining he really was Benedict Bridgerton. Eventually you found yourselves back in the lounge as you peppered him with questions. You marveled as he answered them all with ease. He detailed his human years studying art, cool months in the countryside and summers in London for the social season. He blushed as you recited all of the accolades he received before his disappearance. He wouldn’t talk about his love life or other vampires he had met, but he shared stories of the world transforming as he had witnessed it. 

He detailed the great artists he had known and mourned, the birth of railways and planes, the rise and fall of kings and continental powers. Some of his most riveting memories were of guiding refugees through France under cover of darkness during World War II. After seeing the horrors visited upon a captured group of fleeing Romani he had shifted to an offensive approach, prowling frontline villages at night to dispatch as many Germans as he could stomach. His reminiscing seemed so genuine, you steeped in the wonder of it all, losing track of time as the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were narrated to you firsthand. Eventually you noticed light beginning to gleam around the edges of the dark curtains. You had sat up until sunrise.

“I can’t believe this,” you gaped at Ben, your mind whirling.

He sat across from you in his wingback chair with an easy smile. “A part of you does.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m not glamouring you anymore and you’re still here.”

Your terrified dash for the exit seemed to have taken place years ago. Your entire understanding of the world had changed since then. You knew you should leave so you both could rest. Staggering under the weight of all you had learned, you stood and moved for the hall, turning to face him one last time.

“I’m going to wake up and think this was all a dream.”

For his closing argument Ben stood and walked to the window, tugging the curtain just wide enough for a sliver of daylight to pierce through the dusty air. Standing to one side, he stretched out a hand and brought the tip of his little finger into the beam. Instantly the hiss of sizzling flesh filled the room and a thin trail of smoke started to rise from his skin. You watched, speechless, as he nonchalantly pulled back and examined the charred wound.

“Get some sleep and see how you feel tonight. You know where to find me.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @mysticwitchcraftco @suspendingtime @faye-tale

[aquaquadrant]

Hi there. I’m going insane and it’s your fault. Like I discovered your absolute emotional masterpiece of a fanfic the other day and it’s all I think about anymore I’m so obsessed; I downloaded tumblr bc of you and I don’t really know how this site works but I do know how to click the ask button so that’s your problem now. I got words for you

First off: HOLy the writing and the voices are so good??? Like the characters say things the way their irl counterparts would say it? How?? Teach me your ways? Actually tho what did you do to learn to do that, is it innate, do you practice?

Second: “He wouldn’t have known the sight of Tango’s pale skin flushing bright red all the way down his chest.” That sentence just kinda stuck out to me from the last chapter… for some reason... anyways (idk what my point is here but it sure has got me thinking thoughts :P )

Third: I said I was obsessed, and I think it was an understatement. I didn’t study for my chem final because of this (still got an A tho so dw) and I went to bed for three days straight thinking about it and I woke up every morning thinking about it. (It took a solid hour to snap myself out of it when I actually needed to get work done lol) And on the plane ride home for break I drew some things so I’ll just leave these here if you don’t mind (umm ignore the tango faces on the first page and his left hand on the second, there's something Wrong™ about them I gotta practice, ok?)

idk if the formatting is good or whatever but here they are

As you can see I love love love the scene after the nightmare. If I remember correctly, Tango started wearing the gloves to protect his claws so they could heal after he escaped, and then when Jimmy gets hurt he just instinctively gives them to him?? Hello, the symbolism??? Tango just surrenders his own protection, both physically, because he would rather protect Jimmy, but also emotionally bc it immediately reveals what he considers a flaw in himself, monstrous, hideous. And Jimmy sees him throw the walls up again, “He quickly shoves the gloves at Jimmy, moving to get up. “I’ll uh, I’ll get another pair tomorrow-”” but Jimmy won’t let him, instead looks at what could be considered Tango’s entire soul —his trauma, his Hels origin, the feral, blaze side of him, the side that lies and hides and lashes out at any who get too close, the “ugliest” parts of him —and loves him despite it? Even sees the beauty in him? Yea, no, I’m normal about that—

Anyways idk how long these things are supposed to be but I have a couple more thoughts so you’re still stuck with me. Ummm let’s see… I adore your impulse design. So I’m taking that, thanks. (If that’s ok) also was thinking about how Jimmy would wear shirts with the wings getting in the way (see bottom of 2nd pic), and then thought maybe that’s why he’s so good at embroidery or sewing in general, cuz he has to make custom clothes. And then I thought what if he made some *cough* outfits and had Tango judge them… or asked for help putting on/taking off a particularly difficult shirt... haven’t had time to draw that yet but ya know… one day. Aaaaand the blaze rods could theoretically make a pretty cool fire crown when Tango's angry, also blazes do damage when you touch them, but I don't think you get set on fire? So it must be the blaze rods themselves doing damage, so I imagine when Tango's fighting they swirl around him both to attack whoever gets too close and to block any incoming projectiles (see middle left of 1st pic). +gradients on the blaze rods :]

Last thing, I showed my sister the fic last night and she’s already read through it twice so you’ve infected two of us. We were theorizing on what’ll happen next chapter. We both think that the others will piece together, to some extent, Tango’s backstory before they figure out how to remove the collar, what with the cuffs he wears, the comments Atlas made about a farm, Atlas’s mentioning about using Jimmy that way for his feathers, etc etc. and the comment that Tango can hear everything? Yea, no, when that collar comes off he’s gonna be distraught, I’m wagering that everything immediately bursts into flames around him or something (cuz that’d be cool). I think he'll probably try to run away, too, but we'll see

Anyways, that’s not all my thoughts but this is getting pretty long, so maybe I’ll send another ask later if that’s alright. Have a good day! Post again soon! Please. Please I'm begging you. For my sanity plea-

(actually tho take ur time. quality is worth it, and this is nothing but quality)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg welcome. this was genuinely SUCH a lovely ask to read, but i wanna take the time to properly answer it so i’m gonna continue under the cut cause boy can i ramble

first off: HELLO, you got a tumblr bc of HTP?? incredible. i’m honored that this gay angsty little block man au was your introduction to the hellsite (affectionate). and don’t worry, i welcome asks no matter the length (tho i might not get to everything in a timely manner)

second of all: i’m SO happy you enjoyed my character voices. that’s definitely something that’s taken a bit of practice, especially for more understated characters that don’t have super obvious or unique vocal traits/vernaculars. i find it helpful to a) have spent a decent amount of time watching the source material and b) always go over my dialogue with the character’s voice in my mind, and see if it sounds like something they’d actually say. ofc, sometimes liberties can be taken based on the plot/setting of a fic but generally i spend a lot of time and effort on getting character voices right, so i appreciate the appreciation <3

thirdly: i like that particular sentence too ;0

fourth: THAT ART THO??? oh man. impulse looks amazing (i’ve always loved demon!impulse and gotta credit @lunarcrown for bringing that vision to life 💃) and the wings are SO well done, like you conveyed that leathery thin bat skin texture perfectly. the various tangos are SICK, i luuuuv seeing him in full blaze rage mode, using those blaze rods to their full effect. and those hands… goddamn. not only do i respect the hand anatomy but the ROSES… the shackles and their metallic texture… the gradient on tango’s claws… chef’s kiss 💋👌 and THANK YOUUU the post-nightmare scene was one of my favorites from that chapter, and you’ve summed it up beautifully.

moving on: as with all of lunar’s designs, she’s happy to inspire so BEHOLD, DEMON IMPULSE UPON YE (that’s a yes from both of us LOL) i love ur idea about jimmy making custom shirts to work around his wings, that’s one of those little details i never put much thought into but it fits so nicely with him being into embroidery. so jimmy def makes a lot of his own clothes (and occasionally some for tango), co-signed and approved. and ur on the right track about tango’s blaze rods- most of his defensive fire comes directly from them, doing that crazy swirly fireball thing that actual blaze do, but he does also have the ability to produce fire from his hands, he just doesn’t do it often. it takes a bit more concentration and practice, and he spent so long trying not to use his abilities that it doesn’t come second nature to him anymore. he was way more of a fire starter as a kid in hels.

last but not least: AWW it’s so sweet u got ur sister into the au (lord knows i’ve dragged mine into many a fandom 😂) glad y’all enjoyed it so much, AND now u have someone to theorize with 👀 i won’t say anything more on the matter other than i hope to get the next chapter out over the next couple weeks, so stay tuned…

[psychic-waffles]

Top 5...................?

Cookies?

Redheads (Dyed is acceptable)?

Costumes from tv or movies?

COSTUMES FROM MOVIES LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOO

i am gonna keep it just to movies or i'll be sitting here all day just trying to decide, this is something i am EXTREMELY passionate about (sorry)

Edith's Nightdress (Crimson Peak - Kate Hawley):

I'm a HUGE fan of all of the costumes in crimson peak, especially how edith and lucille's costumes run with the butterfly/moth motif in the movie, but my absolute favourite is edith's nightgown (sorry yellow dress, you were a close second)

as with all of edith's dresses, THE SLEEVES!! THE DETAIL!! THE DRAPE OF THE FABRIC!!! the amount of hours that must have gone into each of these costumes jut blows my mind. like jsut look closely at the stitching holding all of the pleating in place!!! the size of the buttons!! it's just utterly beautiful

but the nightdress just makes her look so young, and so fragile, especially when she's wearing the dressing gown as well she's just swamped in fabric.

and then the visual storytelling of the red of the clay and the blood creeping up from the hem when she's running around at the end, it's BEAUTIFUL.

Elizabeth Swann's 'Pirate King' outfit (Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End - Penny Rose)

if i had to name one film that got me interested in how films were made more than any other it would be at world's end, i watched the behind the scenes features HUNDREDS of times. every single costume told a story, and the amount of thought gone into aging and weathering them just blew me away. it was so hard to pick just one costume, even just one of elizabeth's costumes (sorry black pearl nightgown) but honestly i wish i had a deeper reason for picking this one specifically but mostly i just think she looks cool as hell during the final battle.

and also i just will forever be heart eyes over the goldwork

Evelyn's wedding gown (The Fall - Eiko Ishioka)

Eiko Ishioka is a genius, the fall is quite honestly a visual masterpiece, and the costumes are a HUGE part of that. if you haven't seen it, half of the film is a little girl being told a story, and how she's picturing it in her imagination.

Because of this each costume is a totally unique look, and the fact that they're all so different to each other makes them pop even more. Everything is in bold shapes and colours, with distinct silhouettes, but the details are just as beautiful.

The costume I've actually picked is a evelyn's wedding gown, just because i think of all of them it's (by a narrow margin) the most visually striking. mostly due to that headpiece.

It's a moment in the film where all eyes are supposed to be focussed on evelyn (to distract from other things going on), so if they were going to put her in a showstopping costume this was the moment.

It's obviouslly just stunning all round, and such a genuinely interesting design, like no one else could have EVER come up with this other than eiko ishioka. I don't know how else to explain that other than go and look at the costumes for the fall (2006) and bram stoker's dracula (1992) next to each other and you'll get what i mean.

but it's the little details as well, that seem so unneccesary to the overall look but are still beautiful, like the change in bead on the end of the veil, the trim around the neck and on the headpiece, the slight pattern on the fabric. and then there's just the overall construction of it, which is just flawless!!

Truly i would sell my soul to see the design process behind any single costume in this film.

Queen Ravenna's 'Beetle' dress (Snow White and the Huntsman - Colleen Atwood)

i'm not going to try to defend it, this was a bad movie, HOWEVER the costumes were absolutely stunning, and ESPECIALLY the costumes they gave to charlize theron.

And despite being in the film for only a moment i will never ever be able to stop thinking about this dress.

the structured shoulders!! the colours!! the trailing layers!! the contrasting textures!! the way they've shredded the fabric to give it EVEN MORE texture!! and of course, most importantly, the hundreds of individually attached beetle shells

i just think it's a work of art

Aragorn's 'Strider' outfit (The Fellowship of the Ring - Ngila Dickson):

So i've always adored the lord of the rings costuming, it all feels very believable and cohesive as a world, whilst also having distinct looks for each race/location, and has set a bit of a blueprint that not a lot of high fantasy has strayed very far from since (which is a shame, but also speaks to how effective it is).

However my absolute favourite costume is Aragorn's first costume, or rather the version of this costume that he arrives at by the end of the Fellowship of the Ring. It's both an incredibly practical costume, whilst also having hints that Aragorn is more than just some random ranger. My favourite of which being the beautiful smocking detail on the sleeves.

I also am a HUGE fan of the fact that nothing on his costume is actually black - it's greens and blues and browns, and then it's all beautifully aged over the top of that, and there are parts that are ripped and sewn back together, it looks like something actually lived in (cue aragorn never showers joke). i just think it does a brilliant job of telling aragorns story visually. and of course it's kind of ""completed"" when he adds boromir's bracers to it 😭

[stripedsunhat]

Random collection of things I noticed and immediately overthought while watching Coraline

I got to see Coraline in theatres for its 15th anniversary. It was amazing, if you can find a theatre near you that's playing it Go Watch It IT DESERVES THE BIG SCREEN SO MUCH. But anyway while I was watching it my little hamster brain kept noticing things and then ran around in circles on the drive home. So have some random observations.

I Cannot Eat and I Must Cook

The Other Mother is always cooking.  3 out of the 4 times Coraline goes to the Other world Other Mother is shown actively cooking.  Including after she’s gone full hangry and lost the plot.  The only time she’s not waiting for Coraline is her 3rd visit, and even then there’s a full spread of food waiting for her instead.  By this point my brain was fully spinning in little hamster ball circles thinking about idealized caricatures of mothers always cooking and the traditional jobs a mother’s ‘supposed’ to do.  But then on the drive home, I realized it was way simpler.  Coraline directly asks her real mom why she never cooks right in front of Little Me.  It’s literally just a direct response.

(Also, Other Wybie doesn't eat either, but that's cause his mouth literally can't open.)

Little Me's Fashion Choice

The Little Me doll wears a skirt!  When we first see real Coraline she’s in jeans.  The movie opens with them moving in and Wybie drops off the Little Me doll the next day, so there was no chance to see Coraline in anything other than jeans.  In fact we only see her in a skirt once, and that’s halfway through the movie in the clothes shopping scene.  But the Other Mother still puts Little Me in a skirt.  There’s this cool anniversary segment after the movie, and they showed some of the concept sketches for Coraline and she’s in a skirt in them, so that might be part of why Little Me’s in one, either as a nod or because the doll’s design was finalized before the costumes.  But looking at it through a strictly Watsonian reading, it makes sense that the Other Mother’s idea of proper clothes is more traditional.  She clearly adapts though, since Coraline’s star outfit has pants.

EYES

One of Wybie’s eye’s is bigger than the others.  This is mirrored in Other Wybie.

One of Charlie’s eye’s is higher than the other.  This is not mirrored in Other Father as far as I could tell.

I’ve seen others point out that Other Spink and Other Forcible have white buttons when they’re old and black buttons once they shed their skin and become young, as a reference to how the real Spink and Forcible can’t see well anymore.  But while the Others both get white buttons, only the real Miss Forcible has clouded eyes; Miss Spink’s eyes are still brown.

Coraline and Colors

Coraline’s favorite color is blue.  It’s the color of her hair, her fingernail polish, her comforter, her cyclops squid toy… But despite all this that’s not the color the movie associates with Coraline.  The movie actually associates Coraline with a whole bunch of warm, natural colors, mainly pinkish oranges.  Beyond that, there’s of course her iconic bright yellow rain coat of course, and a large spattering of mossy green.  Literally, the only time we don’t see her in warm colors is when she’s in the outfit Other Mother made her.  (Sidenote, what happened to her original clothes she changed out of?  Are they just gone forever in the Other world?).  To go full pretentious analysist, Coraline does seem to get a color for when she’s particularly closed off or guarded of this really desaturated grey tinged navy which is the color of both her jacket in the shopping scene and her vest when she’s squaring off.

Other Father’s smoking jacket/house coat is a red-orange, a little darker than most of Coraline’s clothes, fully falling in line with her colors rather than Other Mother’s pure red.  This doesn’t come from Charlie either, he’s in a green Michigan State sweatshirt pretty much the whole movie.  It’s a nice way to show his loyalty early (I know I’m not the first one to notice this, but it’s still neat.) The picture frame in her room of the goodbye picture is notably in Coraline’s orange with some kind of swirly pattern. The picture in the Other world has a different gold metal looking frame. Fancier, but more importantly not in Coraline’s colors anymore. Despite being copies of her friends the Other friends pressure Coraline to stay while she’s having her realization freak out. (Mention to young Other Spink and Other Forcible whose outfits are technically pink and green but slightly off from Coraline’s and by the time we see them again during the scavenger hunt the colors have shifted to really cold undertoned, almost unnatural shades of them.)

Mel is pretty much exclusively in cream to beige.  The only real color we see for her is her bag and jacket first seen in the shopping scene, both of which are in Coraline’s colors, if significantly more desaturated to fit her look better.  The car scene became really interesting to look at because Mel’s in Coraline’s colors while Coraline, in her dark jacket is visibly not for the first time in the movie.  Wybie’s grandma at the end of the movie is in a really soft yellow dress with an orange sash, neatly aligning her Coraline too, which is also really fun!

But the most interesting person, color wise is actually Wybie.  I’m serious, it’s really cool!  Wybie’s big color, is obviously black, and slivery-white as thanks to his helmet, gloves, and reflective patches.  Meanwhile Other Wybie is only associated with black since Other Mother’s ‘improvements’ sort of boy-next-doorified his grunge look.  He and Other Mother are really the only ones whose outfits (originally) mirror their counterparts.  What really makes it fun is Wybie’s secondary color.  Wybie’s bike, which makes two very memorable appearances, is bright red.  There is next to no true red in the real world until the ending scene.  Wybie’s colors are the exact same as the Other Mother’s.  And the only other color he has?  The creepy green light from his helmet, the same as the final fight with the Other Mother the mirror into the prison room makes when Other Mother (and Other Wybie) yank Coraline through it.