#and because she was playing as brick instead of showing his face it just showed his chest. yeah

[kelean]

[luvvixu]

how to tame your boyfriend

content: bf!gojo, mentioned of sex and sexual stuffs, 16+, fluff, drabble, does not contain any smut, i think gojo's like this can't blame me

wanna know how to tame your annoying (and horny) boyfriend when your flight is delayed?

that's very easy. just buy him some lego and he would go on instant mute.

"i can't believe you really bought satoru—a full 27 years old ass man—a set of legos?" your friend from the other line, shoko, wheeze and at the same time confused for your action to tame your boyfriend.

sighing hardly while massaging your temple, you answered. "i had to, sho. he won't stop bothering me to have a quickie since our flight was delayed and he was bored."

your flight overseas was delayed for three hours because of some maintenance needed to be checked in the aircraft. now, satoru thought it is a good idea to spend those three hours having a passionate fornication.

of course you immediately dislike the idea even though you are tempted too. you value your morals, ethics, and dignity. unlike your boyfriend, he has no shame and would even proudly tell some random people that you are his by some marks solely created.

"could've played with his phone but seriously, why lego?" shoko was still laughing, now that you opened your camera and showed her your boyfriend who's literally sitting on the airport floor with bricks of lego on his hands.

satoru looked so focused and unbothered, which is an extremely good thing—like he couldn't stop whispers in your ears, whining about how needy he is right now and how badly he wanted you. but now he's occupied, it is the greatest relief for you.

"first, his phone is dead and was tempt to buy a new fucking phone just because he said charging using a power bank takes a lot of time. had to smack the shit outta him and force him to get out of the apple store."

yep, the idiot forgot to charge his phone before you left for the airport. now his phone is dead, the desire to buy a new one instead of waiting for his phone to be charged in a powerbank is crazy. although, money is not a problem for the head of the gojo clan—he got figures that cost more, more, more than your annual salary.

"second, lego made him focused and entertained on building it, not for having scandalous sex with me. i feel like he's being my child than being my boyfriend at this moment." you joked, lowering your voice so your big baby wouldn't hear you.

"you said it yourself that satoru is a full package." shoko rolled her eyes, but she's not wrong tho. satoru is everything, he could easily afford things and could even make some things impossible to possible.

"touché."

shoko let out a laugh. "anyway, gotta go now. got a client in an hour so bye my boo, mwa!" sending also a virtual flying kiss to your platonic friend, you both bid a farewell to with sweet smile on your faces.

as you ended the call, you turned your attention to your boyfriend who's now almost done on his lego that he's been occupying himself for like an hour now.

you made to take some photo of him and post it on your close friends in instagram because this scene of your boyfriend is literally a wholesome and definitely iconic. satoru glanced at you when he heard you giggle at some adorable shots of your boyfriend.

"what are you laughing at?" your boyfriend glanced up to you, confused and warily.

you shook your head, holding your laughter to not raise any suspicion. "nothing babe, just focus on fishing your lego instead of other things."

satoru showed you the figure "oh but i'm finished and we still have like an hour before our flight…" he paused. your mouth hangs wide, questioning about how the hell he builds almost five hundred tiny pieces in just an hour?! truly your boyfriend was really something but this is wild.

"how did you—"

"can we have a quickie now?" satoru smiles sheepishly.

your face turns more sour at his shameless request. although you understand that satoru is a man in need, but his neediness sometimes is really out of place and it took a lot of effort just to stop him from doing so.

"no, satoru. instead, we're going to have a quickie stop at the lego shop to buy you some more entertainment."

your boyfriend pouted at your answer like a hurdled puppy. "but i'm enjoying it more when i'm inside you."

that completely took you off guard.

"... tempting but no."

©luvvixu2023

[rae-writes]

Kny men x stepcest

nsfw || fem!reader || 1k wc

Step Mommy!Mitsuri who’s just so tickled that you’re so sweet to her, even when your father doesn’t treat her that well, so when you sneak up on her one day when she was massaging her aching breasts and envelop one of her nipples in your mouth while one of your hands play with the other, she can’t help but coo at how nice you’re being to Mommy and let you mouth at her for however long you want

Step Mommy!Mitsuri who, when you whine about needing to go shop for new panties, lets you try on some of hers instead. She happily watches you try on her lingerie sets in the comfort of your bedroom and even takes off the set she’s wearing for you to try on too; if you really like it, she’ll let you have it, but only if you let Mommy ride your face

Step Mommy!Mitsuri who’s got you on your back with one of your legs over her shoulder, telling you that it’s okay if she rubs her pussy against yours because your panties are still on, but once you both get so close to cumming, she sneakily pulls your panties to the side and fucks you bare— she says it’s because it feels better like this, though she knows you aren’t really concerned about it from how fucked out you are already

Step Uncle!Gyomei who feels that something’s off when his usual sex doll feels more warm and lifelike, but he just chalks it up to his pent up frustration and continues to pound into the ‘toy’, not realizing it was really you- at least until you start cumming around him, making him jerk his hips and growl at the feel of your convulsing walls. He knows he should pull out and scold you- this was wrong- and yet when you whine and cry and beg him to put his cock back in, he ends up fucking you all night long instead

Step Uncle!Gyomei who smiles whenever you offer to help him walk around -even though he doesn’t actually need help- and willingly lets you lead him in the completely wrong direction. He doesn’t quite know where you’ve taken him, only that his back is pressing against rough brick as your knees hit the ground in front of him. If he were a better man, he’d grab up by the arms, yank you up, and take you home; but he’s not a better man and so he grabs a fistful of your hair and gently guides your mouth along his cock, making sure you keep your gags quiet

Older Step-Brother!Sanemi who lost all of his biological younger siblings, so he’ll be damned if he’s letting your sweet, naive little ass out of his sight— even if that means fingering you in the house’s entrance when you try to walk out of the house in revealing clothing, making you forget all about that ‘date’ you were planning on going to; nobody’s better than your big brother- he’ll show you.

Older Step-Brother!Sanemi who wants to protect you from everything and everyone that could possibly corrupt you and yet he’s helping you grind against his thigh at ungodly hours of the night, all because you couldn’t sleep with that weird, tingly heat pooling inside your stomach. 

Older Step-Brother!Sanemi who’s not really sure who is in the wrong when you wake him up with head the next morning as a thank you for helping you sleep, but when you mumble something about breakfast as you lower your pussy over his mouth before returning to licking at his cock, he decides he just taught you really well like a big brother should.

Little Step-Brother!Giyuu who latches onto you immediately after just the first meeting, falling into the habit of always shadowing you, of always touching you in some way, of always being right. there. He just loves his new older sibling so much and is so happy when you let him sleep in your bed one night- so happy he accidentally starts rubbing himself against your thigh; his embarrassment is washed away by your sweet laugh and the hand that starts stroking his cock, and all he can do is moan and take it when his older sibling tells him they’ll take care of him.

Little Step-Brother!Giyuu who’s always been a little insecure, a little self deprecating, but his attitude always takes a 180 when you let him bury his face in between your thighs and shove his tongue inside you as far as he can. You’ve found out he can’t cry if he’s too focused on making you cry from overstim

Step Daddy!Tengen who cannot stand your bratty attitude and just gets so fed up with you, even if you are grown, that he yanks you by a fistful of your hair straight over his lap and flips your annoyingly short skirt up so he can spank your ass harshly. There are red welts in the shape of his hand by the time he’s done, but as you’re crying and muttering apologies, he decides he’ll be nice and soothe the sting by licking your clit sweetly. 

Step Daddy!Tengen who knows your mom only got with him for his money, though he starts spending all his money on you instead after seeing your shy, sweet smile whenever he gives you something expensive. His favorite thing to give you is lingerie sets; he expects you to be all dolled up and wearing it when he sneaks into your room at night- and if you put on a good show- he’ll show you what he can do with his cock Step Daddy!Tengen who has fucked you everywhere in the house, but his favorite spots are the kitchen counter, the hallway, and his own bedroom— the one he shares with your mother. He likes places with risk because of the thrill it gives him, and because he craves the thought of getting caught with his precious step daughter; he wouldn’t stop fucking you even if you were caught, not until he’d stuffed you full of his cum like he always does

[bitchinbarzal]

Disappear | S Reid

summary: how does a child, the daughter of a federal agent go missing from a police station.

-

Spencer took his eye off her for five minutes, just to help deliver the profile.

When he got back to the room, Violet was gone. Spencer was checking everywhere for her screaming her name repeatedly, praying she was just playing games.

Everyone was searching for her, until the woman from the front desk walked in holding a letter

“Someone just dropped this off for Doctor Reid?”

He grabbed it, a little too roughly but understandable for the moment.

“Reid, what does it say?” Hotch asked from across the room.

Spencer shakily held up a pink bow, the one Violet was wearing only an hour ago “He has her”

“Who?”

“The unsub”

Spencer didn’t want to call you, it somehow made it more real. You’d left her with him for an afternoon while you were in court, it was only supposed to be a couple hours.

“How do you think Y/N is going to-“

“You lost my daughter?!” Derek was interrupted by your screaming from the bullpen, hopping off his chair

“I think that answers my question”

The team stepped out of the board room to find you storming over to Spencer’s desk, pounding on his chest, sobbing

“Spence, you better be lying! She better be in there and this is some twisted prank! I can’t lose her, we can’t lose our babygirl-“

He shoves your face into his chest, hushing you “I know, I know I’m so sorry we’re gonna get this guy”

You whimper as you pull back “Why would he take her, what does he want with her?”

He strokes your hair as he whispers “I’m gonna find out”

Days turned over as the team worked the case, constantly hitting brick walls. They couldn’t find this guy.

The team, Spencer specifically had been chasing him for days on end. Constantly showing up to locations just to be let down.

Neither yourself nor Spencer had slept since the day Violet disappeared and with everyday the two of you began to turn against one another.

“We see this with every couple who lose a child, they’re not different because they work with these cases often” Rossi explained as Garcia spilled her worries to the group.

She pouted “they’re so perfect though and, and I don’t want them to fight because we’re going to find Vi, right?”

The team all shared a silent look around the room and Penelope asked again “right?”

JJ sighed and rubbed Penelope’s arm “the first twenty four hours are the most crucial in child kidnappings. They know that. We’re on day three, it’s not unlikely they’re losing hope”

“But, but Violet was the only child-“

Before Garcia could say anything else, your shouting interrupted her. The team looked out the conference room window to find the two of you standing around your desk fighting.

“You lost her! You had one job Spencer!”

“She shouldn’t have even been there, if you had just planned your day instead of tossing her around like a toy like a real mom-“

“Oh so now I’m a bad mom?” You growled, arms crossed over your chest.

Spencer sighed “I didn’t say that, but-“

“But what Spence? But you were supposed to be watching our daughter, but he only took her because of you! He said in his note this was revenge because you shot his girlfriend!” You shouted, now prodding at his chest with every point “This is all you-“

The door to the BAU room swung open, a very disheveled intern from the front desk holding a phone up “Reid?”

“Yes?” Both of you said in unison, ultimately confusing the poor kid.

“Um there’s a little girl on the phone, she says she’s looking for her mommy at the BAU… I don’t know if it’s a prank or-“

He couldn’t finish the sentence before you grabbed the phone “Vi?”

“Mommy…” she whimpered “I got the phone”

You smiled through your tears, so relieved she was alive “You did baby, you did what we told you to. You’re such a good girl”

From a young age you’d both instilled in her what were to happen if she was taken by a stranger - morbid to some but you two had seen your fair share of horrors. Being Liaison you’d seen the countless children in your files.

You’d made her rehearse the number and to ask for the BAU. Her brain similar to her father’s made ingraining this into her somewhat easy.

Behind the phone Spencer was pulling you to the conference room and instructing Penelope to trace the call.

You put her on speaker “Violet, baby we’re all here looking for you sweetheart”

“Why hasn’t daddy found me yet? Is he coming?” She sounded so tired, so defeated.

“I’m here sweetheart, I promise I’m coming to get you” he jumped in, his voice full of emotion.

Spencer stepped back from the table, taking a second to collect himself. His little girl sounded so hurt, so sure he wasn’t coming to save her.

“Auntie Penelope is finding where you are right now baby, don’t hang up” you added, bringing to conversation back to her.

“But what if he comes back? ‘Nelope be quick”

“Don’t hang up sunshine, don’t hang up I’m working as quick as I can” she says, her eyes also full of tears. You’d always wondered why she did this job, everything getting to her.

“I can hear him” she mumbles “I gotta go”

“No!” You all yell at once, before you add “Vi baby, hide the phone but do not hang up!”

Her voice trembled “Mommy I’m scared, please-“

The line ended, the beeping sound of the disconnected call pounding in your ears.

“Got it!” Penelope’s exclamation has your knees weak, you can’t even hear the address she recites. You just follow everyone out the room and to the car.

You don’t end up in with Spencer as usual, instead you’re beside Emily as she drives.

Your knee is jerking up and down, your anxiety tick.

“We’re almost there, we are like three minutes out” she reassured you.

You bit your lip “I just want my babygirl back, I- If I lose her I lose Reid and -“

“That is not going to happen” she assured, voice stern “We heard her, she’s smart you guys have taught her well!”

By the time you had arrived the rest of the team had already entered the house, you could hear the yelling before gunshots.

You gasped, moving faster into the house. You guys found them in the basement, Reid desperately kicking in doors and yelling out Violets name.

You turned to the other corridor, the basement resembling a prison and began doing the same

“Violet?!”

Behind the second door you burst through you heard her before you saw her “Mommy!”

She was laying in the arms of a woman, the latest victim prior to Violet. She had Violet shielded from the door.

Violet threw herself across the room into your arms “You came for me!”

“I did baby, we did. We told you we’d come find you” you held her head in the crook of your neck.

She pulled back to look at the woman, now being helped by Emily “I told you they’d find us, they’re so good”

She smiled softly at Violet, even though she was visibly in pain “You’re a lucky girl”

With Violet’s head nestled in your neck again you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the woman, a silent way of saying I know you protected my baby

Carrying Violet out into the hallway you saw Spencer, heading towards you stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Violet in your arms.

“Vi, look” you whispered, her head lifting to look at him. She smiled widely, as tired as she was.

“Daddy! You came to save me!” Spencer enclosed his arms around you both, peppering kisses all over Violets face “We’ll always come save you Angel”

There was a mutual look of relief between you both when you looked at him, finally holding your girl again.

On route to the hospital to get Violet checked out she wouldn’t stop babbling “And I wasn’t even scared!”

“You’re so strong sweet girl!” You exclaim, hand gripping her leg from the passenger seat. Your subconscious not wanting to let her go.

When she was taken into the doctors bay to be checked out, you were asked to wait outside; so she could answer some questions without parental pressure.

The second you were alone you looked at Spencer and began to cry, tears running down his cheeks already.

“I thought we lost her” he mumbled “It was all my fault”

“No! No, spence I didn’t mean that-“

“No it was! I was supposed to care for her-“ you stopped him by putting your hand over his mouth

“We’ve got our girl, we’re good parents Spence! We taught her everything she needs to know in these situations. I love you, I love Violet. We’ve got this”

You were basking in the silence together for one moment before you heard Violet yelling “Mommy come find me again!”

You chuckled “coming babygirl! As funny as this moment is with her, she’s gonna need therapy”

Spencer, so seriously replied “oh definitely I’ve already called someone”

[trendywaifus]

↳ not in love, baby it’s just lust!

always look both ways and behind you when you walk at night.

↳ featuring, michael myers! jingliu

—cw, sub! fem! reader, jingliu has a cock, face fucking, murder mentioned, gagging, cursing, size–kink, death of a character, dub-con

the sounds of your heavy breathing and wheezing echoes through the narrow walls of the horribly lit alleyway. your limbs burned with exhaustion and you were on the verge of passing out from nonstop running. the hot tears you desperately tried to wipe away, continuously runs down your flushed cheeks. you meet face to face with a dead end, your blood runs cold. “ o-oh my fucking god!” you slammed your palm against the cold brick wall in frustration. “ i just did a dumb white girl move, why did i even turn into this alleyway?! “

you whipped around, hoping to scramble out of the narrow space before your pursuer comes. you halted after a few steps in upon seeing the tall shadow of a silhouette steadily approaching towards your only escape route out. “ o-of course the motherfucker shows up. .! “ you muttered harshly, watching in horror as the looming figure stands tall at the entrance of the alleyway. your eyes trails down to what looks like to be a knife in their hand. “ oh fuck, i’m going to die because i wanted to buy a bag of shitty candy from the shitty corner store at night. .”

they began to approach, taking slow, calculated steps towards you. the knife twirls in their hand almost playfully as you backed up, frantically looking around for a weapon to use. “ last w-words of advice, if you’re interested in a woman, h-how about you not follow them and try to kill them, mister i. .—miss?” you were at a loss of words as her appearance became more visible under the shitty flickering lights. she had on a familiar worn–out fox mask, rivers of white hair flowed down her shoulders from underneath it. she wore a grey coverall jumpsuit that shaped her fit body.

“ th-this somehow got worse—you were the one who was following me? i seriously just heard about you on the news last night. god, i’m so fucked! “ you sobbed, forcing yourself up against the wall. a man by the name of yingxing was brutally murdered in his own home yesterday in broad daylight. it’s so happen that a witness caught a few glimpses of the masked killer somewhere outside the home after the murder and was able to give the police a distinctive description of her. why did you have to be the one to confirm it’s accurate in the worst way possible?

swallowed by her presence as she now towers over your figure, her dull red eyes peers down at you through the slits of the mask, amused by your pathetic mental breakdown. she raises her knife up and you instinctively closed your eyes shut, waiting for the sharp pain to come. instead, a cool metal gently brushes against your cheek, wiping away stray tears. you flinched, opening your eyes to stare at the masked woman with confusion.

“ d-did you just. . .? “ she tilts her head, letting out a low chuckle at your cute reaction. your brows furrowed, she’s either fucking with you or—she actually took your advice? “ maybe i won’t die tonight if i play my cards right. .” you whispered. taking a deep breath, you mustered up a tight-lipped smile. “ i-i heard a lot about you, including your name. jing. .liu, correct? “ she stares at you for a moment before slowly nodding.

“ you have such a beautiful name and you seem like a. .reasonable woman, jingliu. i actually want to go home since it’s like late at night and i think my mother is worried about me. you wouldn’t mind stepping aside so i can go, right? you’re kind of blocking the way—n-not to be rude. .”

jingliu says nothing, nor did she move aside to allow you to pass. instead, she takes a step forward, practically sandwiching you between her and the wall. you yelped, placing your palms against her stomach. it’s safe to assume that she did not want you to leave nor was she interested in killing you. her calloused hand cups your cheek, caressing the skin tenderly. you laughed nervously, “ i-i guess you already taken a liking to me. fucking perfect. “

your breath hitches as she leans down to your face, the rough texture of the mask grazes your cheek. you shifted uncomfortably against her, earning a soft groan. “ s-sorry? why did you make that—oh.” a soft bulge rubs against your thigh, causing you to stiffen up. jingliu swiftly tosses the knife to the side, the metal object hits the asphalt with a loud clang. her hands lands on your hips, forcing them to grind against hers. “ e-easy, easy, jingliu! “ you gasped, holding back a soft moan. fuck, a small adjustment easily triggered her?

she grunts, easing her grip on your hips but her movements doesn’t falter. “ sh-shit. . “ arousal shamelessly stirs in your belly, slowly dragging you into a mess of dirty thoughts about the feral woman. she hastily pulls up her mask, just enough to free the lower half of her face and smashed her lips against yours. the searing kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. she easily overpowered you, not caring about bruising your lips. her hands journeys up your sides, wishing to explore every nook and cranny of your body.

her tongue hungrily explores your warm cavern, swallowing your whimpers. lust consumes you whole, trapping you in its hold and starts plucking away at any rational thought you had about the reality of the current situation. without hesitation, your hand slides down her stomach and squeezed at the hardened bulge. a deep growl emits from jingliu’s throat, she rolls her hips against your palm. “ god, it went from wanting to go home to wanting to fuck a suspected serial killer. ” you breathed, unzipping the jumpsuit from under the waistband, freeing her cock from its restraints.

jingliu’s lips parts as she laughs huskily at the irony. she firmly sets her hand on your shoulder and easily pushes you down to your knees. she hooks her hand on the back of your head, urging you to open your mouth. you complied, allowing her length to slide inside. her breath hitches, taken aback by how good you feel. your jaw tenses as jingliu fully pushes herself in until the tip was kissing the back of your throat.

suddenly, she jerks her hips forward, forcing her cock down your throat causing you to gag. she pulls back before doing it again. each time, it gets deeper and sloppy until she’s repeatedly fucking your tight throat without a care in the world. series of throaty moans and sounds of wet squelching fills the empty night sky. drool runs down your chin as you struggled to accommodate her size and pace. your palms pressed against her thighs to at least cease her speed but she was far more stronger than you.

her cock twitches in your mouth, signaling her inevitable climax. throwing her head back in pure ecstasy, she thrusts into your mouth one final time before loads of cum shoots down your throat. jingliu doesn’t pull out until she’s sure you’ve swallowed everything. once she was satisfied, she releases your head, finally allowing you to cough and breathe properly.

“ fuck. . “ you cursed, massaging your tense jaw. jingliu snatches you up by the forearm and pulls you up without warning. she presses you back into the wall, peppering your face with feverish kisses. her deft hands find themselves unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down to your ankles for you to kick off. her eyes looks you up and down hungrily, gaze lingering on your bare legs and panties. she places her hands on your sides and easily lifts you up from off the ground. you yelp, circling your legs around her waist.

she smirks at you, sliding your panties to the side to push her drool—covered cock inside your cunt. you both moan in sync as your walls clamp around her. “ l-let me adjust—nngh! “ ignoring your request, jingliu sinks you down to the hilt, completely filling you up. she pants heavily into your ear, retracting her hips back before thrusting right in again. “ s’big, i-i c-can’t! “ you moaned, pushing at her shoulders.

she holds you tighter and moves away to send you a threatening look. her once blank ruby eyes were wild, glistening with unadulterated lust. the masked woman finally uses her tongue to speak, her voice was raspy and low as she growled,

“ don’t. .push . .me. .away . ! “

[jmliebert]

bg3 on a beach (modern headcanons)

some little beach-day headcanons ˙ᵕ˙

𓇼 Astarion 𓇼

the one who brought sunscreen with SPF 50

and basically an entire beach bag of skincare essentials— lip balm, hand cream, hand sanitizer, hair comb (gold-plated), facial mist, perfumes….

….a chic umbrella that screams "I don't do tan lines" (you didn’t know umbrellas might be chic? wel, you’ve obviously never met astarion, you poor soul)

struts around in Dior or Armani swim trunks that probably cost more than everyone else’s entire beach wardrobe (taste, darling)

throws subtle shade at anyone who dares to get sand near his setup

𓇼 Gale 𓇼

sitting next to Astarion under the chick umbrella, reading a brick-tome that looks way too heavy for a beach day

loose, unbuttoned shirt flapping in the breeze, looking like he's ready to casually narrate the next chapter of his life

dips into the water only to cool off, then returns to his book (wears a wide brimmed hat while swimming because sunburns are for novices)

brings some fruits, maybe homemade snacks i(f he’s feeling particulary extra)

puts on sunglasses, claiming it’s for “eye protection,” but really so he can unashamedly observe everyone else (astarion observes everyone at the beach as well, but making no effort to hide it though)

𓇼 Halsin 𓇼

totally would have preferred to go to a nudist beach, but hey, what won’t he do for his party?

sunbathes directly under the scorching rays, basking in nature's warm embrace

gives off major retired surfer vibes—minus the board, plus a lot of wisdom about underwater ecosystems

spends most of the day diving, befriending the fish, and enthusiastically recounting his underwater adventures to Shadowheart

as the sun sets, he meditates, he’s body looking positively glorious as the golden light hits just right

𓇼 Wyll 𓇼

rolls in with a cooler full of chilled beer, instantly becoming everyone’s favorite person

the one who’s super into every beach sport there is

performs cartwheels and somersaults, showing off a little (endd up with a head full of sand)

borrows Halsin’s goggles and disappears for an hour or two, only to resurface with a story about an underwater adventure

comforts a crying child who lost their bucket, instantly becoming a hero of the beach

𓇼 Karlach 𓇼

alexa, play starships by nicki minaj

fearless of the sun—probably doesn’t even know what sunscreen is

the most grateful for Wyll's beer, probably cracking open a can before she even sets up her towel (if it's a bottle, she’ll open it with her teeth)

hypes everyone up for a beach volleyball match, whether they want to play or not

dominates the game with killer serves, yelling “BOOM!” every time she scores

𓇼 Shadowheart 𓇼

aka Wednesday Addams on vacation, complete with a black swimsuit and a hat so big it casts shade on half the beach

floats around on an floatie, giving off strong “don’t bother me” vibes

quietly builds a sandcastle that turns out to be an architectural masterpiece (It’s somehow both gothic and impressive)

doesn’t know how to swim but hasn’t admitted it to anyone. Instead, she’s perfected the art of looking mysterious while staying close to the shore

smiles at dogs playing in the distance

𓇼 Lae’zel 𓇼

laughs in the face of sunburn

side-eyes Astarion and Gale applying sunscreen, muttering something about “weakness” under her breath

joins Shadowheart for a few minutes of sandcastle building, then pretends she wasn’t enjoying it

hyper-competitive during beach volleyball, diving for every ball like it’s a life-or-death situation

inevitably gets sunburned, grudgingly wears Gale’s hat, and glares at anyone who dares to mention it

𓇼 Jaheira 𓇼

doesn't have time for this shit

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

the summer is ending, I feel it in my bones, so I just had to write this one hihi

[superblysubpar]

We'll Call It Love masterlist | It Had To Be You masterlist

the song: Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me) by Train // It Had To Be You playlist

warnings: this story is a part of the series We’ll Call It Love, and much of it would be spoiled if you read this first. It’s linked above, and I hope you love it! | series warnings pertain

2.8k words

A/N: After finishing this chapter, I highly recommend reading the one shot "You're Still The One" linked here, before reading the last story in the It Had To Be You collection | Also, as always, thank you to @rebelfell for her Halloween Party blurb about Eddie in this universe - you can read the story here which is hinted at in part of the story below

“This was a bad idea.” 

He drags his feet, shaking his head behind the girl dressed as Morticia Addams. 

“Oh my god, I did not listen to you talk about grand gestures and this movie for an hour while you changed in and out of the costume six times, Steve.”

“But-”

Leigh spins, resulting in Steve almost smacking right into her. She crosses her arms and huffs, “Did you or did you not say that if you show up in this costume maybe she would see how sorry you are, see how you really feel, see-”

“I know! But I really don’t think it was a good idea any more. She threw a beer in my face last time. Plus, I…I made my choice.” Steve goes to run a hand through his hair, remembering he has this stupid costume on and rests his hands on top of it instead. He kicks at the brick wall, avoiding Leigh’s perceptive gaze.

“Right. So then get inside. Tell her you’re a pirate. I don’t care. But I did not get dressed up for you to stand outside this bar all night and wallow.”

Leigh slaps at his chest, two quick pats and then spins him and pushes him into the crowded and dimly lit bar. 

“Drinks?” Leigh leans in, shouting over the throbbing bass playing, squinting in the purple neon light and strobes hitting her face. 

Steve nods and follows, glancing around, pretending he’s not looking for one person in particular. He needs to apologize, he needs to tell you what’s going on, he just needs…you. But when he finally spots a red dress, he’s suddenly finding it a little hard to breathe because you did come as Buttercup, and you’re more beautiful than ever. 

It feels a little like the first time he saw you at Argyle’s all those months ago. There’s a spotlight hitting you, and there’s suddenly a reprieve in the thrumming music and it feels a little like Steve is walking through jello to get to you. And when you engulf Robin in a hug, and your face is pinched in pain over her shoulder, every part of his body aches. 

When you separate, and face the bar, he watches the looks of bewilderment cross each of your faces, and he blurts out the first thing he can think of when Leigh elbows him in the ribs. 

“Well, there isn’t much money in revenge.”

Smooth, idiot. 

Steve doesn’t hear Robin at first, or watch Leigh. All he sees is the anger and hurt flash across your face at the sight of him. There isn’t an ounce of you that cares he’s in this costume for the reason he is. 

You hate him, and it’s too late to change that. 

“...if you want to ditch Dingus here…”

Steve’s too hot in this damn costume and he glares at Robin, because he can’t be mad at her for complimenting Leigh, but the way your face twitches when she does means it’s clearly not helping and he can’t say so…so…

“Seriously Robin? Are you being serious right now? Where’s Nancy?”

When Leigh asks you where your dress is from and you look like you want to answer but then spin to the bar and blurt out the name of the most expensive drink, Steve wants to throw up. It was all a  big mistake. 

“Robin, where is Nancy? And Eddie? I wanna wish him luck before they go on!” Leigh loops her arm through Robin’s tugging her away from the bar. It’s not lost on Steve when she looks over her shoulder and Leigh points to you, mouthing ‘Talk to her’ with a frown and glare. He rolls his eyes and waves her away. 

Standing next to you, in this costume, not talking, hurts more than he thought possible. It’s like words sit on the tip of his tongue, ready, needing to come out, but he’s too afraid to say them. And what happens if he does say them? Will you suddenly be a fan of relationships? Will you suddenly be able to tell him everything about yourself? Will this suddenly work?

Maybe, if he pays for your drinks, it’ll be the open doorway he needs. Start the conversation.

But you ruin that plan as you push crumpled bills over the bar quickly when he pulls out his card, and he sighs. 

“You’re not seriously wearing that.”

Steve’s not even sure you realize you said it. It comes out soft, timid, like you haven’t spoken in hours and aren’t sure you remember how to. Which makes sense, because he feels the same way, like not talking to you for the last few weeks has made him incapable of doing so all together. 

He watches your pulse on your throat like some crazy obsessive vampire-like guy, he memorizes the twitch in your jaw, the inhale and exhale making your chest rise and fall. He traces each dip and curve of your face, hardened and closed off when you finally look at him. Steve swallows, searching the entirety of your face for some sort of hint that you get what he’s trying to do. That you get why he’s in this costume. A sign. A nudge. A promise that if he keeps trying, it won’t happen right away, but you’ll try too. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me Steve? After everything, after what you said at the game, you’re really gonna stick to not admitting what this is?”

You gesture to his whole body and something inside of him starts to bubble, sick of you not admitting it either. How you know why he’s in this costume. You have to know. And instead of facing your own feelings about it, you’re blaming him. 

“I’m just a pirate. I don’t know what your problem is.”

Steve stares at you and you glare at him and he wonders if it’ll ever be okay again. Will you ever give him a chance to talk and will he be brave enough to spit it out if you do and will you ever be willing to do so yourself. 

It’s this horrible, painful, awkward, long moment of him not admitting and you not admitting that you’re definitely wearing a couples costume embodying truest love - that you both know he’s not just a pirate - when a random asshat claps Steve on the shoulder and says “Oh nice! As you wish, dudes!”

As you flip Steve off, he decides to be the bigger person, to apologize, to try to explain why he’s in this costume even if it puts his heart out there for you to step on. But you’re already retreating through the crowd before he can, weaving in and out of it and towards the exit. 

Steve watches you blatantly ignore Eddie and that bubbling irritation inside of him starts to grow at the thought of Eddie coming to your rescue again. At the thought of you turning to him for comfort. 

“Dude, where are you-”

“I need to talk to her. Just…don’t let Robin see.” Steve pushes at Eddie, vaguely taking in the costume involving fur and glasses and the letterman jacket he can’t even begin to piece together, before he’s following you outside. 

The air is cool against his skin, forgetting how good it felt to not be inside that bar in only a few minutes. There’s a bouncer smoking, a few people down the block, and Steve pulls at the suffocating mask and hat when he spots you walking away. He reaches out for your shoulder, calling your name. 

“Don’t touch me, Steve.” 

When you yank your shoulder from his touch, the tone of your voice, something inside of him shatters. 

How can he be the reason you sound like that? How can he be the reason your face looks like that?

He holds his hands up in surrender, deciding he’ll just leave tonight. It was too soon. 

“Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can-���

When you interrupt him, when you tell him he’s not your boyfriend, the irritation he’s been keeping shoved down begins to grow from its small simmer. And when you can’t help but get closer to him despite the words coming out of your mouth, despite telling him he’s not your friend, he knows he’s about to say things he can’t take back.

“You’d like that right?” That’s it, case closed. Y/N calls the shots and decides everything…” 

Maybe he doesn’t want to take it back. Maybe he needs to say this. To make it clear he’s not the one fucking this up. You are. 

“...You’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because you’ve lost a toy.”

If he acts like it doesn’t hurt, maybe it won’t. 

Your scoff and eye roll punctuate your words, “Me? The spoiled brat? Excuse me, Mr. 50th floor and Daddy’s Credit Card. Take a look in the fucking mirror, Steve!”

What the fuck do you actually have to be mad at him for? It’s not like you love him. It’s not like you care about him. It’s not like this was anything more than sex to you, right.

Right?

When he shouts, when he pleads for you to tell him what you have to be upset with him for, and your chin quivers and your eyes get glassy, he thinks you might admit it. He thinks maybe you’ll say it and he’ll say sorry and you’ll tell each other right here, right now, everything you’ve been holding back. 

And then you shove him. 

And you tell him he’s a hypocrite.

And a liar. 

An asshole. 

Bullshit.

Each word accompanied by a shove to his chest he doesn’t even try to defend himself against. He doesn’t even try to argue. Because are you wrong?

And when you tell him to lose your number, and he searches one last time for any sign of you feeling the opposite of what you just shouted at each other, he says the only thing he can think to say at that moment. 

The only thing to convey how sorry he is. 

The only thing to possibly tell you how he feels despite you breaking his heart right now. 

“As you wish.”

“This was such a bad idea,” you groan, tying a ribbon around a little mesh bag for the fifth time in less minutes. 

You sit in your living room on the carpet. The lights are off save one lamp glowing behind the couch, shining on Inigo passed out in his dog bed just under the blue glow of the TV screen.  Piles organized by category for the little favors to be left on plates for guests take over the entirety of the room and Steve stands in the dining room.

He swipes his wrist over his forehead, staring at his suit hanging from the overhead light fixture. Steam from the iron in his hand swirling around him as he grimaces at the stubborn wrinkles in the fabric. 

“I told you not to volunteer for that. Should have made Eddie do it. He hasn’t done a thing.”

It’s the hottest night of the Summer so far, and he stands there in only his boxers and a plain white shirt, barefoot, you in a sports bra and boyshorts, both surfaces of your skin glistening with sweat despite the AC running overtime. 

The way you both are wearing next to nothing would normally have you finishing the job, tangled limbs and messy kisses, cooling off in the shower together. 

Normally, a wedding of your best friends would have someone grow closer to the person they’re dating and living with. Surrounded by all this planning, all this public devotion, all this love, should make a person imagine themselves in the same situation. 

You’re not normal. 

You hum, starting to go around to the piles, collecting hershey kisses and disposable cameras, chapsticks and pencils as you respond, “Eddie isn’t the maid of honor or the best man.”

If you were to look up, you’d see Steve watching you closely, see the way his brows knit together when you roll your eyes at the customized tic tacs. 

“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath, “This is exactly what’s wrong with weddings. I can’t believe Robin and Nancy are into all this.”

Steve sets the iron down, the newest but certainly not the first comment against weddings rubbing him the wrong way.

Again.

“Into telling everyone how much they love each other?”

You snort, shaking your head as you tie another bag closed and toss it in a bucket to bring to the venue tomorrow.

“I don’t think you need chocolate and lip balm and sunglasses and beer cozies to tell people how you feel.” 

“Sure,” Steve runs a hand through his hair and you look up, finding him leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps going, “Maybe they don’t need all  of that but-”

“I don’t think they need any of it, Steve,” you clarify before he can get too going about the beauty and meaning behind the day you’re all about to have tomorrow. 

Again.

“There’s nothing wrong with them wanting to tell everyone in any way possible they can, that they love each other.”

You sigh. “I don’t get why they need to tell people in the first place, Steve.”

Aside from a laugh track on the TV, it’s silent and you keep your eyes on your fingers tying green ribbon around pale pink bags. 

Steve finally breaks first, his voice soft when he asks, “What do you mean you don’t get why they need to tell people?”

Shrugging, you avoid his gaze you can feel on the side of your cheek as you start on another bag. “I mean, I don’t get why they need to tell people.”

“Like the entire wedding? You don’t get why they’re having a wedding?”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a shrug again. 

Steve’s heart hammers in his chest while yours pounds in your ears as his voice tries to remain even, but you hear it crack as it rises in volume. 

“You don’t think they should be getting married? You don’t think they should have a wedding?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I just don’t get why weddings exist. Does anything really change? Suddenly you have a legal piece of paper? Cool? After, what? Thousands of dollars. Stress. Bad food. Shitty music. I mean, we’ve watched Robin and Nancy fight over stupid shit like cake flavors the past year. How is that good for anything?”

Steve steps closer to you, his hand running through his hair making it stick up all over the place as his cheeks flush pink. 

“But they love each other and they want to tell everyone that-”

“Why do they have to tell everyone? Shouldn’t everyone already know? And why do they have to spend all this money and throw this big party? That’s all I’m saying.”

You stand again, going to grab the bucket of favors to bring it to the car so you don’t have to in the morning but Steve is shaking his head, volume and his thoughts ramping up.

“They want to throw this party because they love each other so much they just wanna scream it any way they can. Because they want it to be legal. Because they want to have fun with all the people they love and celebrate something so beautiful and unique and strong like their love. I don’t understand how you don’t understand that.”

You stand in front of him, holding the bucket, and maybe it’s the weight of the favors or the way his voice is getting louder and the apartment is getting hotter or the way his eyes seem to have you under a microscope that you snap back a little mean, that you get a little loud yourself.

“Because I don’t understand it, Steve, like I said! I don’t think you need to-”

“It’s not a need. They want to-”

“Fine! Want then! I don’t understand what possesses a person to want a wedding!”

Steve steps closer to you, his brows pinched and his hands running wild through his hair as he yells, “A fucking marriage! A partnership! A way to tell the world ‘hey this is my person, I love them’!”

“I don’t see why you need a wedding for any of that to be true!” You shout right back. 

You stand there facing each other, with ragged breaths that move your chests up and down almost in sync. 

Steve’s swallow is loud, his inhale louder. Time seems to stretch on forever as he stares at you, as his eyes soften into something you can’t quite describe, as flashes of the words he just said and what you said back swirl around you, almost tangible. 

You stand there, in a sea of pink and green, of things that are emblazoned with Robin and Nancy’s names and the words love and forever staring you down as Steve’s voice comes out sharp, cracked, vulnerable, loud. 

“You wanna marry me, right?”

[pokomumee]

Here’s a PatPran brain vomit no one asked for:

*******

**Pat**

Pat doesn’t think he knows exactly when or how he fell for Pran. Even now, years and years later, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was that made him realize that the boy he’d been told to hate all his life is the one for him.

Pa would still make fun of him about how it was her ‘guide-to-know-if-someone-is-into-you-in-4-steps’, which was in fact meant for Ink, that led Pat to realize his feeling for Pran. She even told Pran about it, the little shit. He’d almost kill her, but then Pat really does love his little sister, so. Pran made the most incredulous face and laughed it off, though he would still bring it up sometimes when he wants to drive home the point that Pat is the clueless idiot in their relationship. Which, there’s actually never really any need to drive home that point, Pat already knows, okay?

In his defense, Pran also has not told him in so many words about how and when he fell for Pat either. However, because they have been together for almost a decade now, he has an inkling that Pran realized his feelings for Pat way earlier than him. Like, way, way earlier, maybe even before he was shipped away to boarding school (the dark age of Pat’s life, now that he looks back on it). Pran never confirms nor denies this hypothesis of his, but. Like he said, he has an inkling.

The fact that Pat never noticed anything until that fateful night on the rooftop when Pran asked him if he wants them to be ‘friends’, that single tear rolling down his cheek, the most beautiful thing Pat’d ever seen in his 18 years on the Planet…well, he knows, okay? He’s the clueless idiot, he knows. Every time Pat thinks about how much his cluelessness must have hurt Pran, his heart would clench up with so much guilt he wants to introduce his head to the nearest brick wall, multiple brick walls if they were readily available, one wall would never be enough.

So, yes, Pat tries not to think about when or how Pran fell for him, which might be the reason he finds himself wondering instead about when and how he fell for Pran. He thinks it might also be because their 10-year-anniversary is coming up, although to be completely honest with you, as a couple they still cannot agree on when the start of their relationship actually was. Pran says it should be the day Pat showed up unannounced to surprise him as Riam at the architecture play practice when everything became official. Pat thinks it should actually be when the bet started because, really, who were they even trying to kid? Anyhow, he guesses there’s the first clue as to how he may never find out when the actual moment of his falling for Pran was.

*******

Pat’s life had always revolved around Pran from the very beginning, arguably even before his life started, if their mothers fighting over which of their sons would have the prettier girlfriend while they were still fetuses count. How the sons in question end up with each other instead of a pretty girl is most certainly the Universe’s middle finger to both their families for being so petty, but he digresses. Pat maybe clueless but he is aware that he’d always held a myriad of strong, no, vicious feelings towards the boy next door. Pat has never claimed to be an analytical type (that’s all Pran) and has always gone with his instincts, so obviously, he wouldn’t have any idea if one of those feelings were attraction, infatuation, love or just…some other visceral emotions. There were too many candidates, okay? Go look up the Emotion Wheel, go on, Pat will wait.

For some time, Pat was convinced the moment he fell for Pran was the moment in the music shop after the fiasco that was his and Pa’s attempt at testing out her 4-step-rule on Ink. In hindsight, though, that was possibly just the moment his feelings toward Pran became apparent to himself. And by apparent, Pat means too uncomfortable not to notice. He even thought at first that what he was feeling that day was frustration he felt towards not getting through to Ink. But then he realized that his eyes never really fallowed Ink, and his heart was definitely never with her after they’d reconnected in university. He really did crush on her in high school, sure, he wouldn’t deny that. However, the second time around, Ink was somehow a welcomed distraction from the real sight his eyes were wont to follow, the topic his brain kept switching to, and the person who made his heart feel that little bit off kilter on the daily.

It should have been pretty straight forward what those feelings were if it wasn’t Pran who was at the center of all the muddled pool of events and emotions. Pran who’d always been at the center of most, if not all, of Pat’s life-defining events and the object of Pat’s obsession for the entirety of his life. How was Pat supposed to distinguish attraction from the sea of everything he held inside of himself for that boy. Even Pran’s dimples were confusing to him, for crying out loud. Pran’s door hanger made it a little easier to gauge his mood, but not by much.

Pran was an enigma, the ultimate differential equation Pat had to solve. He just couldn’t figure out for the life of him why. Pat did ask himself whether it’d always been this way even before. And it wasn’t. He can’t say for sure, but for now, at least, he doesn’t think so. He thinks back on it and resolves that it was most likely because before Pran was pulled out of their high school and Pat’s life, Pran’d always been a constant. Pat’d never consider the possibility that Pran would one day disappear in the same vein that he thought Pa would always be in his life. So, in his defense, it’s only logical that Pat’d feel differently about Pran after, even though he did not understand why, alright?

So, yes, Pat doesn’t know and probably will never know for sure so he'd just have to make a decision, and he decides that the moment he fell for Pran was going to be when Pran kicked him in the chest, right over his beating heart. It’s totally and aptly poetic, really. Because that’s when Pran walked back into his life and everything changed.

Like he said, Pat’s well aware he’d always felt strong emotions towards Pran. But that’s just how he was raised, how they were raised. Pat was made to be in tune with Pran, the boy whose bedroom was across from his but he was forbidden to talk to, but then climbed over to sneak inside uninvited more times than he can count anyway. Pran’s every achievements were also the milestones of Pat’s very own life. From the first time his baby self uttered the word ‘Ma’ to that moment Pran was whisked away right before his eyes, in the middle of their song, from their very first stage together. Talk about being dramatic.

His high school years thereafter were not miserable by any means, if he were to be honest. But something fundamentally changed within him when Pran went away. Pat was expectedly and obviously clueless to that change inside of him, it’s the running theme of his life, he supposes. But then everything started to feel dull, like he was looking at the world through a tinted glass; the sceneries became monotonous, boring. He did not realize this until the moment the words came out of his own mouth that night on the rooftop, but yeah, he felt depressingly lonely without Pran. His grades, and even sports performances, started suffering for a while, just because he stopped trying or even caring. It wasn’t fun anymore to excel in everything if Pran wasn’t there for him to compete with. But of course, his Dad wouldn’t let him slack off, so Pat got back on track to becoming the golden boy that he was, but. Nothing was ever the same.

There’d also been this simmering rage inside of him since Pran went away. Pat thought it was normal back then. After all, he was just another hot headed teenager, hormones and all. And he was never violent or anything like that. It was just…he felt on edge all the time. There was always an urge to lash out at something. A little pit of smoldering coal inside his chest, black and ugly, not erupting into flames yet refused to ever be put out. He didn’t know what it was, but looking back he was probably angry at…at what?…his and Pran’s parents? the Universe? for taking Pran away, maybe. Now that Pat thinks about it, though, he was probably mostly angry at himself for not being able to do anything about it. So yeah, he got himself into more and more fights, usually for valid causes, albeit sometimes only vaguely. He’d never actually got himself into serious trouble; he was clueless, not stupid. However, Pat was on a trajectory…and it wasn’t a pleasant one. He isn’t sure where or what he was heading towards, luckily he didn’t have to find out.

Pran walked back into his life, and by walk, Pat means running in with a flying kick to his chest, shocking his heart into beating properly again. The simmering rage gradually dissipated, and Pat stopped feeling like he wanted to punch someone or something for no reason all the time. Except for Wai, yes, but that was totally reasonable.  Even Wai would agree.  Maybe not. But you get the picture

Pat still remembers the moment he got up from the ground, clutching at his chest and saw Pran standing there. Suddenly memories of his life with Pran came pouring back. You know how people who’s gone through near-death experiences say their lives flash before their eyes? It was like that, only Pat felt the opposite of dying. His senses were at once on high alert. Alive. Pran was back. He was here. And no one has ever been able to keep Pat on his toes like Pran did. Ever. So Pat isn’t dramatizing the event of that day or anything. But even if he did, this was the moment he fell for the love of his life, he can be as dramatic as he likes, okay?

[boringkate]

That Girl was a sitcom that aired from 1966 to 1971 and followed an unmarried woman moving to New York to live alone and pursue her own career (as an actress) (uncommon stuff for tv shows at the time). Every episode began with someone saying the words "That Girl" and then the camera would zoom in on her or a photo of her. I watched it all a few years ago and I still think about it, so now you all have to put up with me telling you about some of the episodes that stood out the most to me.

S01E01 "Don't Just Do Something, Stand There"

A fun introduction to Ann and her new boyfriend Don. It also establishes here in this first episode that That Girl just keeps getting sexually harassed. And not in a "wow it's wild that old timey romcoms acted like behaviour like this was charming" type of way. Dudes are just creeps and she's straight up having a bad time. This will happen in more episodes than I can remember or touch on here.

S02E22 "He and She and He"

Ann (after being told by them that she has to choose between them) dreams about marrying both of the boys who love her. Simultaneously. And their throuple works amazingly. Everyone is happy. It's utopian. Untill the rain starts. Noah (the bible guy with the ark) shows up at her door to reaffirm that she has to choose. He's played by the same actor who plays her father (a conservative old guy and constant source of generation gap based conflict).

S02E24 "Great Guy"

Ann's gal pal Pete (bit of a boy name) (played by Ruth Buzzi who was a regular on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In and is BTW a bit of a brick) gets her first boyfriend! He's a rough and tumble guy tho and he's always boxing and jogging with Pete instead of treating her like a lady. He even repeatedly calls Pete a "great guy" (he says Ann is more of a "girl girl" and a "pussycat"). Ann (thinking there's a problem) tries to meddle and gives Pete a femme makeover, but it was totally unnecessary and unwanted. They're happy together the way that they are. The episode ends with him saying "you meet a lot of pussycats, but it's only once in your life that you meet a great guy!"

S02E25 "The Detective Story"

Ann is scared because she keeps getting obscene phone calls from an unknown man (presumably threatening to rape her). It is not a misunderstanding. I swear this is an upbeat and breezy sitcom series.

S03E08 "A Muggy Day in Central Park"

It's a crossdressing episode. The cops are crossdressing. Her boyfriend Don is crossdressing (and I think I remember her dad catching Don crossdressing). All to catch some thieves in central park. They show a clip from it (as a flashback) in the series finale too.

S05E03 "I Ain't Got No Body"

A Playboy style porno mag features Ann's face edited onto another woman's body (she never agreed to her photo being used in this way). A precursor to the celebrity photoshops that were themselves precursors to modern deepfakes. Her conservative father sees it at his barbershop (because apparently barbershops stocked porno mags back then).

S05E24 "The Elevated Woman"

At some point the series finale was planned to show Ann and Don's wedding, but Marlo Thomas (the actress who played Ann) felt that would send the wrong message (suggesting that at the end of the day getting married is all girls should aspire to), so instead the episode is about Ann bringing Don to one of her women's lib meetings to show him what the movement is all about. He spends the whole journey telling her how ridiculous she is and saying that women don't know how good they have it. When they finally arrive it turns out that the meeting was cancelled because none of the other women could even convince their boyfriends to come. No growth occurs. There is no character arc. And no better alternatives exist within the confines of heterosexuality. He's sexist and they're engaged.

[slutouttanowhere]

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Desiree Simons

Warnings: self blame, a little bit of angst

a/n: After last nights rumble disappointment, I whipped my tears, and continued on. I still love Drew, and I would still storm the ring with him and Angela of course. I hope you guys enjoys this chapter, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. Follow me for more, and if you’re interested, my main characters have character introductions linked in my pinned post. Love ya

Chapter 2: Motive

On my way to the guerilla, I spot Renee standing nearby with a camera man, and microphone in hand. She perks up upon hearing my voice, “Hey Nae Nae!” Her head pops up, and her eyes widen in excitement. She greets me with open arms, I squeeze her smaller frame as tightly as possible, I remember how she would send me updates of her daughter frequently during my recovery. Even when I did not respond, she kept in touch. I can feel my eyes sting at the sentiment, but I hold it in so I wouldn't ruin my makeup. “Hey yourself, you look amazing Des.” Her eyes give me a once over, a small grin stretches across her lips. I held my face blushing, and I did a small twirl, bowing playfully, we both let out a fit of giggles before we sober up.

“Okay, okay, we doin an interview for me?” I clap my hands together, from my peripheral I caught Drew watching with an amused expression etched across his face, he leaned against a brick wall in the hallway. Matt Riddle seems to be chatting him up to the point I don't think Matt even knew Drew wasn’t paying attention anymore. I bit down on my lip to keep from smiling, Renee calls my attention back to the task at hand, she brings me over to my mark, which is next to her so that we’re both in frame. “Ladies, and gentlemen I’m here tonight with an oh so special guest, as she prepares to go out, Desiree, how are you feeling about this mixed tag match. We’ve never seen you tag with anyone before, let alone Drew McIntyre…” She trails off, holding the mic to me waiting for my answer. I press my lips together, I glance over to Drew momentarily, but turn back to Renee. “Aw man Nae, I’ve never felt better, ready to put my foot up Becky Lynch’s ass, hopefully for the last time because I’m just that tired of seeing her face from the other side of the ring. It doesn't matter if I was gone for weeks, months, or years, I stay ready, and you can bet all the money in the world that I’m always gonna deliver the W. She may have broken my knee but she hasn’t broken my spirit, as a Black girl in America…well you’re gonna have to do better than a steel chair.” I pause hearing the roar of the thousands of fans responding to my words, and that may not have been aimed at Becky directly, but I truly felt that way. And yeah, I absolutely have a chip on my shoulder about it. I took a breath looking down at my shoes trying to regain my focus, then looking back at Renee with a smirk on my lips, Becky’s music hit, so I tried to wrap it up quickly.

“As far as Drew is concerned, well what better a person to go into battle with than a Scottsman?” I end it with a tiny smirk, looking right into the camera lens, then I slap Renee on the shoulder, and walk out of frame letting her finish up her interview. Just then Colby walks past us, he descries Drew, then to me I stood on the opposite side of the hallway. He says nothing, but instead laughs his signature irritating laugh, his music plays, then struts his way through the curtain. I roll my eyes, but I don't give ‘The Drip God’ anymore attention. I finally cross the hall to Drew who’s gaze never left me, his eyes light up excitedly waiting for me to speak, but right when I take a breath to address him Matt Riddle pivots to me. His chill demeanor only raising a step above that, I didn't think it was physically possible for him to show any more energy anyway.

“Whoa, look who it is! Ya know I was just telling D-Man how good you guys would look as a couple. I’m actually glad your back bro, Austin Powers here was walking around real broody every week while you were gone. I told him he should have just visited you if he missed you so much.” Drew, and I gape at Matt in disbelief, it seems to me he let some shit slip that he shouldn't have. The look in Drew’s eyes held a promise to run Matt a receipt that he’s gonna be feeling for the rest of his life. Matt looks between the two of us, aloof of the tension between us because of his loose lips. My face settles into a look of chagrin, and ultimately ruins my mood. Then it dawns on me, “Austin Powers is British you idiot.” I roll my eyes, Drew’s lips parting as if he was going to say something, but my entrance music hits, it’s too late. I face the curtain before I could suffer anymore embarrassment, I took a deep breath, and to my credit, I was trying my best not to grimace.

“Look at the scowl on Desiree’s face tonight, usually she’s more lively, but she means business on her returning night. This would be her first in-ring match in a year. If you were Desiree, what would be going through your head right now, and what is the strategy to ensure you come out a winner?''Micheal Cole asked Wade Barret in commentary.

“I’ve known Desiree for quite a while now, she can be very easy going, and easy to get along with. She’s very sweet, but she’s all business in that ring no matter who her opponent is. All she needs to do is stay focused, keep her head in the game, and she’ll be just fine.” Wade says candidly, they watch as she finally makes her way to the ring, but doesnt get inside, instead she waits outside the ring.

“That seems to be easier said than done, you see how she’s distanced herself outside the ring, waiting for her tag partner tonight, Drew McIntyer, a two hundred and seventy five pound Scottsman. An unlikely pair of Desiree, and Drew, things could get very interesting. Unlike our former womens champion, Desiree, Becky Lynch seems to be in a playfull mood. She says that she’s been waiting, and biding her time for Desiree’s return. There’s been some talk among the women's locker room that the only reason Becky got the win that night at Wrestlemania was because of the damage she did to the knee of Desiree.” Micheal explains, looking into the camera, then to his partner Wade.

“I think I’m siding with Desiree on this one, the Becky v Desiree drama is starting to run stale. I’m very much looking forward to seeing how she fares against Mami, Rhea Rippley.”

I watch as Drew makes his entrance, he makes his way down the ramp, Angela by his side as always. I cannot deny how sexy he looks, like something right out of a fantasy novel. Though I was still annoyed by the previous events, I could feel my tough demeanor softening. His gaze locking on Colby in the ring, he pointed Angela towards him with an unspoken promise of an asswhooping. When he finally reaches me, he tears his eyes away from our opponents, and settles them on me. An apology reflects in his sky blue eyes fleetingly, then a look of playfulness, and soon he was smiling at me charmingly. He took me by the hand, and walks me around to the other side of the ring where his sword holder was attached to the ring post. He sits Angela down on the apron temporarily, then he turns to me, and he holds his hands out to me signaling that he wants to pick me up. At first I try to reject the idea, but Drew is insistent. “Beam me up Scotty.” I sigh, giving in, he lifts me by my midsection, gripping me securely, and places me on the apron in front of the ropes. I press my lips together, a last ditch effort to keep the giggles that are threatening to press past my lips. He then climbs up, and stands tall next to me. He turns to the crowd holding Angela out to them with one hand, fire blast from the ring post, and the people roar to life once again. A proud smile on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and held the ropes open for me.

“Hey, hey, hey, relax a little. Calm down.” Drew and I have a small side bar while the announcer does her due diligence, when he sees that I’m not letting go of my mood, and choosing to be stubborn despite him being able to see through my shield. He shrugs as the bell rings, then slaps me on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock me over. I stumble forward a bit, the glare on my face is enough to bury him, but he backs away, then ducks between the ropes before I get a chance to slap him back.

“I’m over here sweetheart.” Becky whistles to me, we circle each other, arms raised looking to lock up. She overpowers me, pulling me into a headlock, and cutting the blood flow to my head. I can see Drew in the corner watching closely, he seems annoyed which for some reason rubs off on me, and for a second I get a bit of energy back to somewhat break out of her hold. All I could manage was to buck my hips back into her, she let out a yelp, and had no choice but to let me go. My breathing heavy, and ragged. As soon as I get some separation, Becky ruins it, and kicks me roughly in my gut. Down I go.

“Are you kidding me! That’s all ya got? Aren't you supposed to be a five time champion?” I can hear Drew yelling at me from our corner, I wasn't sure what game he was playing at right now, but if it was meant to get my angry boy it was working. He knew exactly how to push my buttons, and he always did it at the worst times.

“Um, are these supposed to be words of encouragement from Drew?” Micheal asked no one in particular.

“Yes, unfortunately, this is indeed Drew’s vexing, yet effective way of getting you fired up. He’s very good at getting under your skin, in your head, and picking you apart. Putting that Criminal degree to use here in the WWE. Weirdly enough it works, so I don't question his methods.” Wade explains.

“C'monn, wha’yer doin down there takin a nap? We got work to do, get your arse up DeeDee!” He continues to shout at me, I grunt out in frustration, and as I’m getting to my feet Becky is grabbing me by my arms, pulling me all the way up, and irish whipping me into the ropes on the other end of the ring. I bounce off, running at her, she's trying to set me up for a power bomb, but I duck in enough time. I pause mid stride catching her off guard, she stands frozen, and we take a moment to let the crowd react before she turns to run to the ropes. She bounces off, and comes at me full speed. I counter her moves, lifting her up by the waist, and slamming her face fist into the matt.

Wade stands to his feet, “look at the strength! I’ve never seen the Falcon Arrow so wonderfully executed.”

“WOO! That's what I’m talking about!” Drew, and the audience popped at the same time. They have better liked that, I’ve been practicing that move with Colby for god knows how long, and I never got to use it till now. I look back at Becky, I knew she wasn't getting up for a moment, so grab her by the arms, and drag her over to her and Colby’s corner. “Hey! Hey you brat! I taught you that!” He shouts at me, he leans over the turnbuckle to make the tag, and climbs in.

“Yup, and I did it better.” I taunt him, swiping my shoulder like I was dusting it off. Then I trudge over to Drew and I’s corner where he waves at me innocently, I slap him on his chest as hard as I could muster. He groans, feeling the sting, but I’m sure that barely hurts him in comparison to the beatings he usually takes, he clenches his jaw suddenly not finding humor in his own game. The ref acknowledges our tag, “You do realize this behavior won't fly missy.” Drew mumbles to me.

“Ohh I’m so scared, is the big bad man gonna punish me?” I say in a childishly mocking voice, the look in his eyes held promise of something too inappropriate for tv, his stare lingers on me for a moment, before he sets his intensity on Colby. Their start off is the exact opposite of Becky and I, there weren't any formalities, forgetting all about the lock up, Colby wastes no time punching Drew right in the face. Which if anything appears to make him more upset, Colby stares at him like a deer caught in headlights, but when Drew jumps forward faking a counter move, Colby sprung to action. He ran for the ropes, bounces off of them, and sent himself right into Drew’s forearm eating a nasty looking closeline.

“BOOM!” Drew shouts, feeling confident, and looking even more arrogant. The crowd eats him right up, no matter how badly he beats on their heroes, in the eyes of the people that man is always validated.

“Seth knows better than anyone how explosive Drew’s temper can be. I've had the misfortune of knowing how Drew McIntyre can flip like a switch.” Wade lets out a deep chuckle, “At first he’s sweet, and then boy oh boy is he sour.”

Seth jumped off the second rope, meaning to go for a ddt, but Drew caught him mid air, skull to skull. As usual Drew won that battle.

“OH! Glasgow Kiss, and a Falcon Arrow this early in the match up. Drew McIntire and Desiree did not come to play.” Micheal Cole nearly jumps out of his seat along with the rest of the crowd.

The sound of their skulls clanging together sends a shiver down my spine making my whole body cringes, there’s no nice way to deliver a headbutt, however I can't help but feel that one was personal. There’s no love loss between Colby, and Drew, in fact I don't think they ever got along behind the curtain. Thankfully for Hunter, the two of them know how to be professional for long enough to put on a good show. Drew would never go into detail about why he doesn't like Colby, and every time I’ve asked it usually results in an argument. “Some role model he is, ‘oh lighten up, have fun’ he says” I mumble mockingly in the corner, my interpretation of his accent rusty from not being around him in so long.

“What did you say?” Drew whips around, I nearly jump out of my skin not realizing he’s not too far from me, Colby is outside the ring, on the floor near me. His breathing heavy, as he clutches his shoulder, I glance back to Drew who’s still watching me. Meanwhile the ref is counting out Colby, I roll my eyes, and get down from the apron. Everyone watches me with confusion, Becky starts to holler at me as I make my way over to Colby, and help him up.

“Gosh you’re fat.” I grunt as I try to pull him up from the floor, I yank his arms as hard as I can to lift him, and suddenly he comes up with ease. I smile to myself thinking that all my training has been paying off till I see who’s on the other side holding onto Colby’s arm, Drew not only looks confused, but furious.

“Aye, I know what I’m doin’ I don't need you getting involved.” He fusses at me, Colby’s tired body now leaning on me, his face in the crook of my neck, and it hadn’t even dawned on me how this must look to everyone else. Becky shouting at us to get back in the ring, the ref following her lead, and the whole arena in disarray. That may or may not be my fault. But the fans are eating it up, so I just go with it, I push Colby off me, and back into Drew’s arms.

“You were taking too long! I dont wanna win by count out! Get him in there, and let's go already!” I clap my hands trying to herd Drew to the apron.

Wade chimes in trying to make sense of what’s happening for the viewers, “I don't know what’s being said exactly but it seems like Desiree was beginning to get impatient with Drew, Seth Rollins who’s still very much winded probably doesn't know where he is right now after Drew roughly threw Rollins into the barricade over the top rope causing Seth to go head, and shoulder first into it.”

“Becky Lynch the only competitor in the ring right now, but her partner Seth Rollins is still technically the legal man right now. She has the ability to change the pace of things, and it seems as if she’s making that choice right now as she climbs to the top looking to fly while Drew, and Desiree are too busy arguing. AND OFF THE TOP BECKY GOES! A hell of a crash landing from The Man, Becky Lynch.”

Drew looks up above me, “watch out!” I duck in enough time to dodge out the way, and not almost die from her crash landing. Drew catches her in his arms, she squirms in his hold, but he wasn't sure what to do with her. The crowd was in a frenzy, “hey, hey, over here!” I call Drew, he shrugs his shoulders, then hands her off to me, but she begins to fight back. I fight her off with a few punches to the ribcage, then putting her over my shoulders, and dropping her face first onto my knee. I roll her into the ring then climb in after her. I let her rest for a moment while I took a short break myself. I flip her onto her back, hook both her legs, putting my body weight across her chest, and lift my fips for good measure. The ref counts, three, the bell rings, and just like that I end the match with the win. The crowd erupts, it felt good to know I had them back in my corner. Drew’s large hand grasps mine, and raises it high, almost lifting me off my feet from our dramatic height difference.

“Oops, sorry, I forget you're a wee little lad.” He chuckles, graciously holding the ropes open for me like the gentleman he is, then stepping through the middle rope, and jumping down. This time when he offers to pick me up, I don't argue, but rather hop into his arms, he catches me with ease. The fans shout for our attention, I notice how many phones are on us right now, and we might possibly get in a bit of trouble for this interaction. I didn't care for the moment, for now I’ll ride the high of my return.

“Great job out there partner.” Drew compliments me, the night isn't completely over so there were still a few Superstars scattered about, warming up, or chatting with each other. No one really paid us any mind, that’s if they could see me underneath his large frame, but that got me thinking about all that I want to bring up tonight over dinner.

“Think I might be giving Sheamus a run for his money?” I ask, we approach the women's locker room, the mens a little ways from here, he was sweet enough to pass up his own stop.

Drew’s face lights up at the mention of his best friend, letting out a hearty laugh, his head thrown back, and his hand on his chest. He peers down at me, hands on his hips, “Keep dreamin las, maybe if you put on a few extra pounds, and pick up some weights. You might come close.” I couldn’t help the grin that stretches across my face, his energy infectious, I raise my head to look up at him. If he leans in a little lower he could kiss me, his eyes flicker to my lips, and back to my eyes. He takes my hand, turns it over, pressing his lips to my palm gingerly, and then pressing my hand against his bare chest. His chest hairs are soft beneath my palm, but I hardly notice. “What I should have said earlier was that I’m happy to see you, and I’m glad you’re well.” He said softly, his other hand came up to gingerly sweep the hair stuck to my lip out of my face. I swear I couldn't breathe right now, but I inhale as much air as possible to make sure I dont pass out from lack of oxygen.

“It’s okay.” I whisper, the door to the locker room opens, and out comes Mandy Rose. She looks between the both of us seemingly upset, but I couldn't fathom why. We weren't ever the best of friends but as far as I knew we had a fairly decent working relationship. Drew did not spare her a glance, his eyes remained on me, and eventually she’s out of sight. Unfortunately that little exchange took me out of the moment, my stamina wearing off, and the beating I took earlier is catching up to me. I let out a deep breath, letting my hand slide down his body, and dropping down to my sides.

“I need a hot shower, and a change of clothes. I’ll see you later?” I lean my hip against the door, one hand already twisting the handle. I knew if I didnt get from under his microscope now then I’d end up in his clutches for sure.

Drew let me choose the restaurant per his request, and when I got there he was already there near the back. I walk up to the greeter at the front, he smiles at me kindly, and I return his gesture, “Table for Galloway.” He checks his tablet, then leads the way to the back of the restaurant where the lighting is a bit dimmer, and intimate. I suddenly feel nervous when Drew looks up from his phone, our gazes meet, my lips part as I take him in from afar. He’s simply dressed in a white button up, the first few buttons undone showing off his chest hair, and dark denim jeans. He stands from his seat like a gentleman, he smiles charmingly, his eyes sparkling with desire. I thanked the host, then he left us alone, left me alone…with Drew. “Well, at least I know I didn’t over dress?” He takes my hand holding it up, and he gently pushes my hip signaling me to turn. As I’m twirling, I notice we caught the attention of onlookers, as Drew is the largest man, probably in the entire restaurant. He hums satisfiedly, a giggle pushes past my lips; sometimes he makes me feel so easygoing, and not caring about a single person watching.

Still, but holding onto me, his other hand comes around my waist, and pulls me in closer. Leaning down, He places a chaste kiss on my cheek, then whispering into my ear. “You always look, beautiful princess.” His lips brushing my ear, my voice caught in my throat, and he took my frozen stature as an excuse to keep me there a moment longer. He dips his head lower to the crook of my neck inhaling my perfume as deeply as he could. My stomach began to flip aggressively, I’ve never wanted to kick my own ass so badly, because what was I thinking, just ignoring him for a year? Not wanting to cause any more of a scene I press my hand to his midsection pushing him away, and getting some space between us.

“Drew…” I groan, this was supposed to be a casual dinner but he was acting like he wants to spread me out on the dinner table. I was only going to have as much self control as he was. That's how we got into this predicament. He kissed me at one of LA Knight’s Christmas parties four years ago, unbeknownst to us how much chemistry there was between us.

“Right…casual dinner, here lemme get this for ya.” He reluctantly let me go, pulling out my chair, waiting for me to sit, and slowly pushing me in. By the time he got around to his size, a waiter was approaching us, a polite smile spread across their mouth.

“Evening, are we ready to order?”

Drew gestures for me to order first, not wanting to make anyone wait, I went for my usual choice. “I’ll have blackened salmon, with the roasted potatoes…can I also get sauteed broccoli on the side please.” The waitress quickly jots down my order, then moves on to Drew, who is of course a heavy weight, ordering a medium rare ribeye steak, buttery mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables. He could definitely eat more, I once witnessed him damn near inhaling a platter of buffalo chicken tenders, fries and downing a beer to wash it down.

“Okay, I'll be right back with your drinks, and then your meal should be shortly after that.” Then they disappear out of our eyesight, yet again we were left alone. I wasn't sure where to start, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to my head, “I got a cat..sss, I got two cats.” He perks up in interest, I pull my phone from my purse, scrolling through my photos, and find the hundreds of selfies I took, but never sent. I slide the phone over, our fingers graze sending a shock of electricity through me, my skin prickles, and I quickly pull my hand back.

“Well look at that, you’re a cat mom, who would have thought. What’s their name?” He asked, he stared at the photos adoringly, we both leaned in over the table to try and get a good angle of the phone. I scroll back to the selfie of me and my gray Scottish Fold, I felt my face heat up in embarrassment, “this is Andrew…” There was a long pause as I watch him stare down at the picture on my phone, a look of adoration in his eyes. “Is it weird that I named my cat after you?” I smile sheepishly as his facial expression changes into one of shock, then a look of affection. His eyes brimming with tears unexpectedly.

“Yeah, it's a teeny bit weird. But! It’s literally the sweetest thing ever. I’m flattered that you thought of me.” He smiles, a bittersweet expression in his eyes, my lips parting to speak, but the waitress saves me. Placing our drinks down in front of us, and kindly reassuring us our food is on the way.

We simultaneously sip, I take as long as I can, and swallow impossibly slow. When I looked up from my glass, Drew was already looking at me, and I nearly choked on my wine. He watches me with his eyebrows raised, as I continue to chug, his own glass lowers. I paused for a second, but he encourages me to continue, “go on, don’t let me stop ya.”

I gulp down the rest of the dark red wine knowing I might regret that sooner than later. I felt proud of myself the way he looks at me from across the table, usually Drew is the heavy drinker, and eater at that. I smile bodaciously, my lips stretching across my face, he slams his fist onto the table. He chuckles deeply, bringing the attention of the restaurant back to us.

“Never knew I needed to see you chug wine, till I saw you chug wine…that is something.” He confesses as he gazes at me, mesmerized by what he just witnessed.

“I learned from the best.” I chortle, shrugging my shoulders, glancing down at my phone. It brought my mind back to what I wanted to say a moment ago. Taking in a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, I try to get serious again. Clearing my throat, I spoke up, “I did think about you a lot, there’s a lot of drafts in my phone, and selfies I wanted to send.” I exhale, then snuck a quick glance across the table, and sure enough he’s hanging on my every word. Blue eyes watching me attentively. “And the reason I didn’t…honestly I just felt like I’d bring you down. There were some good days I could have told you about, like when I adopted Andrew, and Sadie. But then I felt like, why would you even want to talk to me at this point? Were you even still interested in me?” I didn’t intend on confessing as much as I did, but his silence is motivating.

“For every time I had something good or positive to tell you, my own subconscious slammed me down. You know me, I’m prideful, I never want to tell you all the bad things, it just felt like complaining. So here I am, pouring my heart out hoping you’ll take me back. I mean, I understand if we’re just friends, I’m perfectly okay with that.” Lies, all lies, of course I wasn’t going to be okay with being just friends, my eyes found interest in my nails as I lay my palm flat against the dinner table cloth.

His large hand took mine, then interlocking our fingers, and brought my attention to him. “First of all, of course I still want to be friends, we were friends first, remember? Secondly, I wanted to hear everything, no matter how miserable you thought it was because that’s what real friends do sweetheart.” He says ever so gingerly, I could have cried, the fact that he had to reiterate that made me feel stupid. I sniffled a little trying to hold back tears. Looking up to the ceiling, I wonder what I did to deserve such a man in my life. “I wanted to be there for you through it all, but your crazy arse wouldn’t let me.” He jokes, just then our food came, so reluctantly Drew broke the hold he had on me to allow the server to place our food in front of us.

“What now then?” I ask, I was just fine with letting him steer things because clearly I couldn’t handle being in charge. He thought about it for a moment, cutting into his steak, and taking a few bites. I nibble at my salmon, suddenly in the mood for different meat to be in my mouth. I cross my legs one over the other, thankful for the table cloth, but I’m sure my facial expression gave me away. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions. Drew’s mouth twitches, an attempt to hide a slight smirk on his lips.

“Hmm, well we can’t be friends.” He says, playfully, and I almost choke. I place my fork down calmly, and fold my hands in my lap to keep from trying to stab myself in the eye.

“We can’t?” My voice above a whisper, his lips press together, and his eyebrows drawn, a pensive expression etched across his face. This is not how I thought things would turn out at all, I mean he made it clear that he was mad initially. But to just leave it behind completely.

He shook his head, “nope.” I sat for a while, when I peake at him from underneath my lashes I saw how he’s simmering. Desire deep in his eyes, his gaze piercing, he leans forward in his seat.

“Why not?” I tug at my bottom lip, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Memories of how that same movement could weaken me, and make me scream his government.

“Do you really think after a year of not seeing you, not having you…that I would let you roam free? Getting rid of me won’t be that simple I fear, but it’s ridiculous to call us just friends after all this. I mean, who are we kidding, I’ve done things to you that won’t ever compare, and I don’t need another man daring to try.” He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his, his thumb caressing my knuckles, and his other holding onto his cup of Guinness. Then this crazy man proceeds to chug his beer, nearly inhaling it. He lets out a grunt after roughly setting his glass back down, his lips settles into a small smile as she leans forward. “You and I both know, our chemistry is just too intense to call it quits. So, meet me in the middle, and take things slow?” He offers, and after a whole year away, I finally know exactly what I want.

“Yea…I’d like that.” I agree meekly, biting in my bottom lip, taking things slow with him sure is going to be hell on wheels. All I’ve wanted him to do since earlier today was rip my clothes off, but if I want to be more present in this relationship, I can’t let my pussy do all the taking for me. We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, then I accidentally let out a yawn.

“Past your bedtime already?” Drew chuckles, a soft smile curled into his lips, making his dimples more prominent, and a smile of my own mirroring his.

“I didn’t even tell you about my time off yet.” I whine, falling back in my seat, unlady like, but we’re way past that point.

His smile deepens into a grin, “how about you tell me on the ride back to the hotel?” He pulls out his wallet to place his debit card down, and I knew better than to make a fuss about it. My eyelids were already feeling heavy, and my body was settling into the kind of ache you get when you’ve been awake too long. After the waitress returns with styrofoam boxes, and everything is taken care of, Drew helps me to stand.

“Up ya go princess, that a girl.” He drapes one arm protectively over my shoulder letting me hide under his large body, and my arm wraps around his lower back. He opens the passenger door, holds out his hand for me to use, and of course my shoe slips on the door— the inside of the panel wet, and slick from rain— causing me to panic. As I stumble backwards, Drew catches me, placing one hand on my hip, and the other on my back, supporting my weight. I successfully made it into the vehicle, thanks to my man.

As soon as my body relaxes into the heated leather seats, my eyes close. It wasn’t my intention to fall asleep, but once he turns the radio on, the sound of soft music playing is the icing on the cake. By the time I open my eyes, we’re driving up to the hotel valet. Drew is already on my side of the car helping me out. We walk to the elevator hand in hand, when we finally step on, instinctively I wrap my arms around his waist snuggling up to him like a cat. I let my eyes slide close, leaning all my body weight on him, the elevator came to a temporary stop, and though I knew someone had got on they didn’t speak. Drew’s body tenses slightly causing my eyes to fly open, thinking we might be getting into an altercation, but seeing the only other person in the elevator is Mandy I relax. Her eyes flicker from Drew then to me; I wasn’t sure what her sour facial expression is for, but I speak to her anyway, deciding not to let anything ruin my night. “Hey, it’s a nice night out.” To my credit, I was trying to be nice, but I’m met with a blank expression.

“It’s raining.” She deadpans, and I didn’t mean to laugh, but I let it slip. I couldn’t fathom how someone as pretty as she is could make such an ugly face. Hmm, how disappointing.

“Yeah, but rain can be beautiful.” I said softly, a faint smile curling up onto my lips. Her eyebrows drew together, her lips parts to say something, but it seems her voice was caught in her throat. I held her gaze, it looks like she was going out; her makeup was freshly done, coat, and purse in hand. Her outfit was revealing, and perfectly tailored to show off all her petite curves. I didn’t realize how intensely I’m staring till the elevator doors ping, I tore my eyes away to look up and see it was my floor.

“Welp, that's us.” Drew spoke up for the first time since we got on, if our arms weren’t tangled together, I would have forgotten he was there. He all but shoves me out the elevator doors, at last second I caught a glimpse of the way Mandy gloweres at Drew and I’s hands clasped together.

“Ya know, is it just me, or does Mandy seriously have it out for me. Like did you see that attitude?” I could feel anger rise in me, and settle in my chest. I definitely didn’t deserve all the passive aggressive energy she’s giving me.

“That’s not the last thing you wanna think about before bed.” He says softly, and like that, my peace is restored. We stand on either side of the door, he had one foot on the threshold, playing with the idea of him coming in, but fighting himself on it.

“Then what should I be thinking about then?” My hands crept up his chest, reaching up his neck, and held onto him. My fingers play with his low ponytail, twirling it around my index finger. He pulls me in closer, my chest pressing to his abdomen; I tilt my head back so I could see his face. His eyes resemble a clear blue sky, his gaze hazy, and full of lust; butterflies swirl in the pit of my stomach, giving me chills. His hand slid up my arm, to my face where he cups my cheek.

I stand up on my toes to try and meet him halfway causing the corners of his mouth to curl upwards, he chuckles lightly. I wasn't sure what he found so funny, but I didn't bother to ponder it. As much as I want to invite him in, and request he do unspeakable things to me, I decide against it. “Only a goodnight kiss.” I clarified, a yawn fell from my lips accidentally, and this time Drew let out a boisterous laugh.

“Alright, alright. Goodnight sweetheart.” He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, then my nose, and lastly my lips. My hands cup around his face, gripping his beard, and holding him in place for a moment longer. My hands slid down to his chest to create some space, and at my request he slowly separate himself from me. I lean against his body for a moment to catch my breath. Drew on the other hand is breathing like he just ran a mile, his hands gripping the fabric of my dress. His eyes darkened, “excuse my abrupt exit, but if I don't walk away right now…well lets just say you won't be waking up till 12 pm tomorrow.” He whispers almost achingly, and with a look of determination in his eyes he pushes away from me. When he turned to head back to the elevators, all I could do was stand there speechless. I clean my puddle off the floor, force myself to go into my hotel room, and get ready for bed. I barely slept that night.

[rancidpancakebatter]

Another Way to Fly-[P.P.] | Chapter Five

Pairing: TASM!college!Peter Parker x female!college!reader

Summary: You've been dating Harry Osborne for three years. You love him...but maybe not as much as you once did. Maybe not enough.

AU Where Norman isn’t as sick- he’s just an asshole- and Gwen didn't go to Oxford. Harry is functioning as an apprentice at Oscorp (He graduated with a master's in two years because of his studying abroad). You, Peter, and Gwen are all seniors at ESU. Because Peter isn't Spider-Man and Norman isn’t dying, the whole “Goblin” thing is scratched from the record, so Peter and Harry are besties.

Prompt: Based on an ask for my 200 Follower celebration

Word Count: 4.8k

Content Warnings: Swearing, Implications of sex, drinking (of age)

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A/N: I promised @tarzinnia a messy, drunk reader and I feel I delivered

You were pissed. So very, very pissed. While it’s true that irritation is not an unfamiliar feeling to you, honest and true anger didn’t come to you often. Not like this. 

About an hour ago, Peter texted the group chat to let everyone know that May had moved the dinner so that everyone could be there. She rearranged her whole evening and future evenings to make this work. And your boyfriend replied, in a matter of seconds, to say he couldn’t come. He had a lot of extra work as future CEO that he had to take care of. Then when he came home, you asked if he could take just one night off. 

Of all the responses you expected, shouting wasn’t one of them. Being called insensitive and ungrateful was nowhere on your radar. However, since Harry brought those to the table, you didn’t feel guilty calling him a bad friend and selfish. That prompted him to then comment on how you were shellfish too, and how you had no problem taking his money but gave nothing in return. You had to put down your eyeliner so you could list on your fingers all of the things you do for him: doing the dry cleaning, cooking his food, cleaning his apartment, going to the galas, entertaining his father and playing hostess to any other guests that come by unannounced, etcetera. 

That maybe wasn’t the best thing to say- especially when he stormed out of the bathroom where you were getting ready- but you didn’t feel the least bit bad about it. You could hear him slamming cabinets and cursing downstairs and decided that you had no interest in Peter meeting you here and that you would go to him. Paddy encouraged your unplanned departure, agreeing that men can indeed behave like toddlers, and wished you well on your night out. 

Peter and Gwen lived in Queens still because Peter didn’t want to move too far from his aunt. Their apartment was nice. Nicer than yours ever was. Even if Harry liked to call it shabby, suggesting instead that everyone hang out at yours. Or his, as he made very clear tonight. 

The cab stopped in front of the brick building, and you all but bolted up the stairs, nearly tripping on a step. You opened the panel next to the locked door, your finger trailing down the buttons until you saw the smiley face sticker Peter placed on the buzzer to their door. You hit it a few times before you hear the door unlock. 

When you arrive, Gwen is the one to greet you. Her hair is perfectly pulled back by her headband, and her ponytail bobs as she welcomes you in with a hug. She squeezes you tightly, rocking you back and forth in her grasp. Then, as if remembering that you’re still in the doorway, she pulls away, pushing you in the door and ushering you over to the couch. 

She settles down next to you, hands tucked between the thighs of her jeans. “So, how’s your week been? Catch me up to today.”

You set down your bag as you settle deeper into the cushions. When you think about it, this week has been a bit of a shit show. There were some bright moments, but not as many as you would like. 

To recap: Last Sunday, you were at a fundraiser listening to piggish men comment on your body and your life. Then you went home and slept in your bed. Alone. Then Monday, life was grand until Norman, who is another piggish man. Tuesday was surprisingly uneventful, but then yesterday was very overwhelming. And now today. You spent all day studying and then got unjustly screamed at and insulted by a man who isn’t piggish, but for some reason was behaving in that way. 

You sigh, the weight of it just now starting to hit you now that you’ve slowed down. “Eh, there’s not much to report. Just class and chores. What about you? Harry told me about your breakthrough; that’s amazing!”

Gwen ducks her head, always shy to talk about her amazing accomplishments. “Thank you, it was a lot of hard work, but hopefully, one day our discoveries would change the world. I mean, imagine if this discovery leads to the cure for cancer or something!”

You love that she’s always so passionate about her work. She truly loves science. It’s incredible to you that she can be so smart and also so humble. You imagine that’s why Peter and Gwen work so well together. They have so much in common, so much common ground to build on. 

“That’d really be something,” you tell her, your exhaustion leaking out. 

The conversation lulls, and you take the opportunity to look around. The place is half vacant. Boxes crowd around the walls, and suddenly you remember why. “When do you move again?”

“A few weeks, maybe sooner,” She says, moving non-existent hair out of her face and bouncing her leg. “I dunno, I wanna go sooner- just so I can get settled before classes and starting my new job- but…” 

A pang of sadness washes over her features as she tinkers with her cuticles. You don’t say anything; not quite sure if you want to have such a deep conversation right now, but hoping that Gwen would feel safe confiding in you, should she choose to. 

“…I’m just worried about Peter.” She eventually says. You place a hand on hers, a silent confirmation that you’re listening and care. “Look, I know he’s a big boy, and he can handle himself. But…can I tell you something?”

You nod your head. 

“I think…I think he’s not happy with me.” You look at her with shocked confusion, “I think he wants to be happy with someone else, I mean.”

You open your mouth to reassure her, but she cuts you off before you can start. 

“No, I know, he loves me- but there’s been this change. I swear, we’re more like roommates than romantic partners. We kiss and stuff, but it’s just- It’s not the same. And I’m scared that when I move, long distance, across countries isn’t going to be enough. And I’m worried he’ll start to hate me before he ends it.”

The words were spilling from her mouth like vomit. You got the sense that she hadn’t talked to anyone about this, that this fear had just been building and building until the dam wall finally broke. 

She looked surprised herself, like she hadn’t expected to say it at all. But now, it was brought into the dim light of her living room, illuminated by a lamp in the corner. You took a deep breath, processing all she had said. You’d be lying if you said the topic of Peter and Gwen splitting up hadn’t been discussed between you and Harry- curious quandaries made behind the fortified walls of his apartment- but you never expected to have the conversation with either of them.  

You decided to better phrase the hopes that you had told Harry. You wrapped her hand in yours, so she could feel the sincerity in your words. 

“I think you should do what feels right for you. Leave when it’s right for you. You have worked so hard to get to where you are, and you still have so much farther to go. If you and Peter are meant to be, you’ll make it work.”

Gwen’s eyes rimmed with tears, and her smile was shaky, but she pulled you in for a hug- one you hesitate to label as desperate.

“Thank you,” She sniffles, then wipes at her eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so heavy.”

You laugh it off, “What else are friends for?”

She changes the subject, deciding to tell you about all of the wonderful things she did this week. Sometimes you wondered if you had the same twenty-four hours as hers. It was incredible how much could happen in three days.

She makes you some tea, and you get two sips in before Peter walks in the door. “Honey, I’m home!”

He lifts his head and sees you on the couch. You watch him panic as he checks the time on his phone, then relax, then grow confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I got bored studying,” You say, which is only partially a lie, but still a pretty grand omission.

Peter raises his eyebrow at you but says nothing, walking through the living room to greet his girlfriend. You pull out your phone, giving them the illusion of privacy, and pull up the post Peter had shown you earlier. You can’t find when Dog Water is performing, but the where is intriguing to you. It’s a dive bar called Brandy’s Bandies. You scroll through the reviews and see a few things that catch your eye.

There aren’t many, only twenty or so, which tells you it’s a pretty “underground” place- making it a lovely contender for “the bar.”

All the pictures make it look more like a pub than a bar, but there’s a certain grunge that makes the place feel special and inviting to only a few

They have a Thirsty Thursday deal that you don’t fully understand how they make money on, but you aren’t about to try and give them business advice.

“Hey, Peter?”

When he reemerges from the kitchen, you suggest getting food at the bar, instead of making another stop, and also the possibility of leaving sooner since they might be performing as a surprise opener- which means they could play at any time, “and it would be terrible if we missed them.” Peter agrees only when you show him the menu that proves this place has an actual kitchen, not just pretzels and assorted nuts. 

When you see the oak entrance and some punk rockers smoking cigs outside, you finally take a breath. Peter opens the heavy wooden door for you, and the place is decently packed. You feel Peter drift closer to you, as if on instinct. 

“I’m getting a drink,” you say just over the hubbub of the room. 

Peter follows you as you navigate the crowd and find the bar. The bartender takes the card you hand him and smiles brightly when you tell him to keep the tab open. When he returns with your drink, Peter decides to get one too, and you tell the bartender to put it on your tab as well. 

It’s not like it’s your money anyway. And if Harry thinks you’re selfish, you will be, for tonight at least. Which is why you haven’t answered any of the numerous texts he sent you. Nor picked up the phone at any one of his calls. 

The drink goes down easy, and you feel your nerves start to loosen. It’s not long until you order another one. Peter looks at you with a quizzical brow, but you wave it away, taking the other drink from the barkeep. 

It turns out you were wrong; Dog Water was not opening. However, this created an excellent set of circumstances in which everyone rushed to the stage on the other side of the room when the announced bands started playing, leaving plenty of room for you and Peter at the bar. You sat in the high chair, twirling about as you sipped from your straw. Peter’s camera sat untouched on the polished wood as he leaned against the countertop. 

“Hey,” You shouted over the music, “You can go. I’ll stay right here.”

Peter made a face that told you he was really against the idea of leaving you alone. 

“I’ll be fine!” You reassure. “I promise not to leave this spot unless I have to pee and not to drink anything unless handed to me by this man.” You said, pointing at the bartender. 

Peter still doesn’t seem convinced, “I know you wanted to get some cool pictures tonight- go on, I’ll be fine. Just come back to get me when Dog Water’s coming on.”

When Peter returns, you’re pretty drunk. He, of course, doesn’t know this because he couldn’t see all the dirty glasses you racked up behind the bar, nor the shot glasses. You hated that your mind was so polluted, and sought the assistance of liquor to clear it. Your plan was working for the most part. You were bobbing your head along to the music and thoroughly enjoyed most of it: You turned off your phone after Harry called for the sixth time in a row,  and you had built a rapport with the bartender, letting him mix an assortment of drinks for you to try, because why not? Currently, you were sipping on a long island iced tea, and it wasn’t half bad. 

When you looked out at the crowd, occasionally, you would catch a glimpse of Peter. You see his curly hair jumping around in the group, or his beat-up Converse as he snaked through people to get a different angle. Sometimes you would just see his camera high above everyone’s heads. Sometimes you would lock eyes and you would send him a little wave that he would return. 

He grabbed your arm and helped you off the stool, then used himself as a battling ram to get to the front of the stage. It seems Peter had made some friends too, most people just let you by, no problem. 

Your shoes were sticking to the floor, spilt drinks now known to the steel-toed boots you wore. The air was thick with sweat and the rambunctious screams of the concertgoers. The crowd had thinned quite a bit once the headliners got off stage, but now that meant you were surrounded by true “dog-heads.” That’s not really what their fans are called, but you and Peter thought it was funny. 

When they came on, nothing else mattered. Not your horrendous week. Not your terrible fight. Not Gwen’s confession. Just your favourite band in all of New York, and your best friend at your side to enjoy it with you. You were sure to lose your voice by the end of this, screaming along to every word they sang as Peter did the same. Their set didn’t last more than forty-five minutes, but they promised to perform here again because “we love this crowd!” You felt a bit of inflated pride knowing that you, as a crowd member, made this an enjoyable experience for them. 

But maybe you were right to think so because they signed their set list for you, and Peter got a pick. They rushed off stage, and soon everyone flooded out of the building. You and Peter meandered back to the bar, taking a seat where you had before. You both started rambling about how awesome they were and the new song they played tonight. Your mind was sufficiently blown, and Peter was grinning from ear to ear. The bartender slid him a drink, one you told him you thought Peter would like. But before he could take a sip, you asked for a shot of something strong and expensive. 

“Can you make his a double? He needs to catch up.” 

The man laughed before passing a tall shot glass of amber liquid to Peter. He sniffed it and winced, which you scolded him for, “You know smelling it only makes it taste worse!”

Peter rolled his shoulders back, clinked his glass to yours, then shuddered as the liquid went down his throat. You, on the other hand, took it like a champ, wiping away some drops that escaped to your lips with your tongue. 

“Peter,” you declare, “we don’t have class tomorrow, and I think you should get really drunk with me tonight.”

He thought about your proposal for a moment, then agreed, asking for another shot. 

About an hour later, you were both pretty shit-faced. Peter was a lightweight, so it never took much, and you had a head start. Now you were loosey-goosey in body and mind. But you had forgotten the carnal rule of recreational substance use: It makes your feelings bigger. This isn’t a problem when you're celebrating because you’re excited, so drinking just makes you more excited. But when you’re hurt and maybe more than a little insecure about your relationship, it makes you say stupid things from your unfiltered thoughts. 

You were sipping on some beers now, watching the little drops of water race towards the counter as they dripped down the bottle. You were thinking about Harry. You were thinking about if he was still mad or not, and if you had a place to sleep tonight. You thought about what kind of messages you would see if you turned on your phone. Would they be apologetic? Or would it be the end? Had you finally pushed him to his limit? Then Gwen filled your mind. 

I think he’s not happy with me. 

Peter seemed happy to you. They seemed happy together. The way he dotes on Gwen and cares for her is something out of a romance novel. They always smile when together. 

I think he wants to be happy with someone else. 

The thought is wild to you. You’ve only known Peter and Gwen as extensions of each other. They were a pair, inseparable. Like kittens who bond at the shelter. They can’t be separated because a part of them lives with the other. It was always Gwen and Peter. 

“Are you happy?”

The words shock Peter. As did your oddly solemn tone. “Yeah, I’m happy. Are you?”

You shake your head, “I don’t want to talk about me.”

Peter turns now to face you, giving you his full attention. Even if you didn’t want to talk about it, he was there, present and ready to listen to whatever you said. 

“Why are you happy?” You asked. 

Peter thought about his answer, taking a sip of his beer to contemplate. 

“Well, life is pretty good. I have great friends and good grades. My job is okay for now, and my solo career is finally starting to take off, so I might be able to quit The Bugle soon.”

You lean your head against your hand, ignoring the discomfort in your elbow as you rested most of your drunken weight onto it. 

“What about Gwen?”

Peter looked at you confused, taking another swig, “What about Gwen?”

You sigh, fingers spinning the bottle in front of you. “Does Gwen make you happy?”

Peter’s looking at you, but you don’t recognise the face he’s making. It’s hard to tell if it’s pity, concern, or anger. But you know there aren’t any of the good expressions on his face, so it must be a bad one. 

“Of course she does.”

He says it so simply. Like he doesn’t have to think about the answer. Does Gwen make him happy? Of course.

You wonder how Harry would answer. You’re not sure, and the thought makes you a little queasy. It finally dawns on you why Gwen’s words were haunting you. You felt the same way.

Was Harry better off without you?

You’re not sure you want Peter to answer that, so you ask a different question. “Do you ever think you’d be happier with someone else?”

Peter’s face changes again, and you can’t read it either. You think there may be a sadness in his eyes. Or maybe you’re projecting. 

He takes a long sip from his beer, then looks at you. When his eyes meet yours, you feel full. Like he was pouring into your cup, and it was overflowing. His eyes looked like gooey chocolate, and you wondered if that was because the man in front of you was so sweet himself. 

“I try not to think about it.” He held your gaze, and you felt like he was looking for something in yours. You hoped he found whatever it was he was searching for. 

You hummed, taking a sip from your drink. You realised you were sad and wanted Peter to hold you, but that felt wrong for some reason. Usually, you wouldn’t think twice about it. You would flop your head on his shoulder and let him sling an arm around you. You would wrap yourself in his arms and let his hug slowly put you back together again. But something in your mind was telling you the comfort you sought from your friend wasn’t appropriate. Though you refused to dive deeper into the thought, afraid of what you might find. You distracted yourself instead by trying to memorise the bottles the bar had on display. 

“Hey,” Peter said, bumping your shoulder with his, “what’s with all the questions?”

You sighed, tracing circles in the puddle of condensation on the counter, “Just…thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” he joked, “What about?”

Peter had moved closer to you. He was now leaning in, his ear brushing against your shoulder. Your heart leaps when you notice. 

“Life, I guess…” You meant to end it there, but when you talk to Peter, you never want to stop. You want to tell him everything. “...and Harry.”

Peter gives a hum similar to the one you let out before. When he looks at you, you feel like glass. He can see everything you think and feel. You’re sure he can read your thoughts and understands them on a deeper level than even you. If his gaze pierces you any deeper: you may shatter. 

“What…what about life?” His drunken lips struggled, but the heart was there. 

“Like, I don’t know if I’m doing it right. I had all these dreams and stuff, and I’m not even sure if I’m chasing them anymore.” It was impossible to keep your mouth closed. “And I feel like so much of my life has been devoted to Harry, and I love him. I love him so much. But I’m lonely. And I don’t even think he likes me anymore. Or if I really even like him, and I-”

“Whoah, whoah, woah,” Peter drunkenly cuts you off.

The weight of your drunken rambling finally hits you when your lips stop moving, and you think you’d rather drown yourself in the cup in front of you than face your friend after what you’ve said. Then you remember that he’s Harry’s friend, and you feel even worse. 

“Your life is so cool,” he tries to reassure.

When you don’t brighten up, he slings an arm around you, and you collapse onto his shoulder. Your stomach turns when you realise this is more comforting than anything Harry could have done for you. Even on the best of terms, his touch- his hold- never warmed you like Peter’s did.

“Soon, you’re gonna graduate. Then you wanna get your master's, and I’ll do that too! I got approved for the scholarships I needed to pull it off, so you won’t be in it alone. You’ll never be alone. Okay?"

You wrapped your arms around him, embracing the hug, swallowing down the guilt, and indulging. 

“As for the Harry stuff,” At the mention of your boyfriend’s name, you bristle. Neither of you comment on it. “It all comes down to one question: Are you happy?”

That was a terrifying thought. A thought made more terrifying than your drunken state. You shot out of Peter’s arms, too distracted to notice the shock and confusion on his face. Probably because that was supposed to be an easy question. Like with Gwen.

Does Gwen make him happy? Of course.

Does Harry make you happy? ….Maybe. 

You hated that answer.

….Maybe. 

It makes you happy when he’s happy to see you. It makes you happy when he compliments your cooking, or your outfit, or your hair. It makes you happy when he makes you feel special. But more so, you just like feeling that way. 

It doesn’t make you happy when he ignores you. It doesn’t make you happy when he blows up on you. It doesn’t make you happy when he disregards the things in your life as “less important” and then makes you go to fuckin’ galas and fundraisers and ribbon-cutting ceremonies (though that was only once and not completely unbearable). It didn’t make you happy that he dressed you like a doll. It didn’t make you happy that you were always so self-conscious around him. It didn’t make you happy that the only sweet touches you got were to instigate some sort of sexual favour. 

Not like with Peter and Gwen. Peter touches her face, just because he wants to. He kisses her head and her cheek and her hand and her temple and her forehead and…and the crown of her head. 

And Peter’s done that to you too. And when he did you felt more butterflies in your stomach then than you had in the last three years. And you wanted that again. The butterflies, the comfort, the love. 

Except Peter didn’t love you. He loved Gwen. And you were his friend. 

And that made you unhappy too. But that was harder to admit. 

“Look,” Peter tried cautiously, “It’s okay if you’re not. I mean, I love the guy, but he can be an ass sometimes.”

An ass, yeah. He could be an ass. But you could deal with an ass. You couldn’t deal with losing all of your friends and changing your whole way of life just because he could sometimes be an ass. 

“I’m happy!” You shout out. Peter’s eyes widen like saucers at your sudden outburst, and the few patrons (and the bartender) also look up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. But I am. Happy. I’m happy. With Harry.” 

You wished that had come out a little more convincing. But instead of dwelling on it, you take another sip of your drink, wanting to fill your mouth before anything else spewed out. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- look it’s none of my business.” Peter offers you a kind smile, and you break a little. 

“No, it’s- you’re fine. Honest.” You quickly reassure. “You’re just lookin’ out for me.” 

He still seems a little worried, so you tilt your bottle towards him and gently tap the necks together. Peter smiles softly, and you take a sip together, then reached for your phone for the first time tonight. As soon as the device woke up, it started pinging aggressively, each missed notification making itself known. Almost as if your phone was mad at you for ignoring it. But it wasn’t. Harry was. 

Peter wanted to ask desperately why you had turned it off at all. And if he had to guess, it was Harry blowing up your phone, but he was just as curious about that as he was about the other thing. 

The last message to roll in simply said: I’m sorry. 

You think about responding, or if you even should. You would have to read through all of them. That sorry could have been for his behaviour, but it could also be a, “I don’t love you anymore, get out, I’m sorry.”

You weren’t ready yet. 

You set down your phone again, your mind too preoccupied with sudden revelations to handle Harry as well. 

“Do you ever-”

You close your eyes, embarrassed by how you acted and even more so for all the things you’ve already said. But now your lips won’t stop. You wish they would fall off instead. But Peter is looking at you like you are the most wonderful thing in the world; like every word you share is a gift. It makes you wanna cry.

“It’s possible, isn't it? It’s possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you, even though you're committed to somebody else.”

You wish you could squash the hope you’re sure in your eyes. You wish you could silence the fluttering in your heart. You wish your brain would stop chanting, yes, yes it is. 

Peter seems upset by your question. His eyes dart around the features of your face, his smile turning more and more into a neutral expression. You were watching him slowly cut himself off from you, and it hurt like nothing else ever has. 

“No,” He said firmly, looking away from you. “No, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else.”

His words stung, but not as much as the hollow look in his eyes after he said it, a possible look of disgust on his face that he chased away with a swig of beer. You think it could be because he can see the guilt on you. The way you shirk away. Or a judgmental one. Knowing exactly why you asked and thinks you’re disgusting for it.

It never crossed your mind that the look was one of shame. Knowing that his words were true, and that he was terrible for it. For looking at you. For wanting you, when he had Gwen. Who was great and wonderful, but not you. 

Tag List: @actuallypeterparker, @athenxt, @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @supernerdycookietrashblrr, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz

[jaebeomsbitch]

Eddie's Mixtape Vol.2

Strutter

Summary: Visiting a bar in the middle of the week was not your best idea but when you see the band you start to think you made the right decision. The curly haired singer unknowingly dedicates your favorite song to you.

Warning: Flirting, making out, lots of swearing, slightly threatening

AN: Don't let my last fic fool you, I usually don't write Eddie as sickly sweet as I did in Best Friend's Kisses. Strutter by Kiss! Song about confident ladies walking around New York.

You didn’t know what you were doing in this dingy bar, it reeked like dirt and cheap liquor. You can’t help but scope out the place, looking for a cute guy to pass the time with. Unfortunately for you there were only drunkards and old men littering the place. That is until the band came on, you didn’t pay too much attention at first, burying your head in your drink as you sigh in defeat. 

“This is our last one, dedicated to the pretty lady at the bar,” The voice says. Now that catches your attention. You look up, seeing a hot guy, some of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. The familiar beat comes on, “I know a thing or two about her, I know she’ll only make you cry,” he sings. His voice oddly suits the song. This was one of your top favorite songs, the type that gave you the courage to wear mini skirts and low tops to flirt with men. Now he has your attention, “Everybody says she lookin’ good, and the lady knows it's understood. Strutter,” he continues, bobbing his head with the beat. You see the glint of metal adorning his fingers as he grips the mic. 

A man with a face like that and has good taste? You could fall to your knees at that second. Instead you decide to play coy, taking a bill out of the strap of your bra sliding it to the bartender. You briefly make eye contact with the singer as you leave the bar, stopping outside to smoke a cigarette. You lean against the wall, one of your heels perched against the brick as you take a long drag. The sound of laughter breaks through the entrance of the bar as the band walks out. 

“I told you, you never stood a chance,” A curly haired boy with freckles all over his face says. You tap the cigarette, getting rid of the ash. 

“Agreed, she was way above your league,” Another one says, shrugging on his leather jacket. 

“Speak of the devil,” The one who had dedicated the song to you said. His face smug, turning to look at his friends, “Start loading the van,” He commands. They all protest but he glares at them instantly shutting them up. 

“Like the show?” He asks, approaching you. You take another drag staring into his eyes, you liked leaving people in silence, making them squirm. 

“You were… alright,” You say, dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your heel. 

“I think we were more than alright, princess,” He laughs, a smirk framing his face. 

“Well aren’t you confident,” You say, picking at your nails. 

“I’m good at stuff like that” He says, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Like what?” You ask.

“Knowing what I’m good at and what I’m not,” He says, taking a step closer to you. 

“Oh yeah? And what are you good at because that was– rough,” You tease, squaring your shoulders so you’re looking directly at him. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He teases back, fingers brushing the side of your exposed arm. 

“Hmm, not really,” you give him a sarcastic smile. You liked this, liked a guy who was confident in himself. Didn’t shy away from a confident lady. 

“I think you do, you wouldn’t be standing here all alone with a stranger if you weren’t even just a little bit interested,” His voice grows husky. 

“Just having a cig,” you respond, rolling your eyes. 

“You know, I’ve been told I’m really good with my fingers being a guitarist n’all,” He says, hand raising to tilt your chin up toward him.

“Really? I guess you’ll just have to prove it to me,” You lick your lips, ‘accidentally’ brushing the tip of his thumb. His pupils are wide, the molten chocolate almost entirely black as he moves his thumb deeper into your mouth. Out of instinct you swirl your tongue around it, sucking on his thumb and every so often flicking the top of it with the tip of your tongue. With every suck he’s walking you backward until your back is against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the brick biting into your skin, his hips pressing into yours. 

“There she is,” He smiles, it looks deviant and cocky. 

“Well, we were so fucking wrong,” Someone laughs behind him. He slides his finger from between your lips, rubbing the saliva all over your chin. 

“Fuck,” he says annoyed. 

“I gotta give these guys a ride,” He says pointing to wherever they're at. 

“Maybe I can give you a ride,” You say, hand running up his chest. 

“God fucking damn it, I’m never forgiving these guys,” He says, mad. 

“Well, go on, give em’ a ride. Maybe I’ll see you around… or not,” You pat his chest before walking toward your car. It was on the other side of the bar, you make a point to accentuate your hips with every step. 

“She’s gonna fucking kill me,” He says, voice high pitched. As you’re unlocking your door, already annoyed that you struck out tonight, you hear a vague “Stay in the fucking van.” You can’t help but smile, he was determined, give him that. You hear heavy footsteps, as you lean against your car door. 

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” He smirks. 

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” You laugh, he was as eager as you were. 

“Look at you, standing there all pretty. You dress up like this all the time?” He asks, pressing you against the door, hands on your hips. 

“This is actually a more conservative outfit for me. Usually love to wear as little as possible,” You share, hand sliding up to pull at his chain. You pull him close enough to your face that you can see his freckles. His breath brushing against your lips. 

“Where have you been hiding?” He sighs, then closes the distance between you two. 

“Oh sweetheart, you’d see me from a mile away. I’m never one to hide,” You smirk, playing with the hair at his neck. You hear the very loud honk of his van along with the yelling of the other boys. 

“Looks like you’ve got some baby sitting to do,” You sigh dramatically. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill those guys,” He says annoyed. If he could, he’d fuck you here against the side of your car. 

“Well, I’m always a woman of my word,” You say, twisting your upper body to grab a pen from your dashboard. You take his hand writing down your number before pulling him in for another kiss. You grip onto the silver chain that hangs from his pretty neck until you’re interrupted once again by the hollering of his bandmates. 

“Okay wrap it up before you get in trouble for indecent exposure,” The curly haired one says. 

“Shut the fuck up Gareth, you’re lucky I don’t abandon you all in the fucking parking lot,” He yells at the group. 

“I’ll see you soon and that’s a promise. I’m also a man of my word,” He winks, walking backwards. He rounds the corner before coming back to it and yelling “My name is Eddie by the way, Eddie Munson.”

“See ya’ round Munson,” You yell back, getting into your car. You do hope you see him around, you never stuck around a place long enough to get to know anyone. 

[stardroptasteslikesocialism]

Rockstar!Eddie and Alt-pop!reader weren’t looking for a rebound.

Manhattan, NY | December 1989.

“Look, Gareth, I’m not in the mood.”

Gareth sighed as he watched his friend sit alone on the beaten tour bus sofa, strumming his beloved BC Rich mindlessly.

“I’m saying this as your friend, Ed:  you need to get out of here. We can’t deal with watching you mope around over Jess anymore.”

Eddie huffed at his friend, “What makes you think this is about Jess?”

“Oh, nothing,” Gareth sighed, “Just the fact that you’ve played her mixtape nonstop since Thanksgiving. Or the fact that your ass doesn’t leave this couch unless we’re playing. Or maybe, maybe it’s the fact that you booted her song - that got us on the Billboard I might add - off our set list.”

The mindless strums quieted as Eddie rested his head against the tour bus wall behind him and sighed.

‘Look, I know you loved her, dude,” Gareth slumped into the empty spot next to his friend, “But sometimes, y’know, chicks just can’t do the long distance thing. She kind of had a point, you know.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, waiting on Gareth’s point.

“We’re not kids anymore, Ed,” Gareth shrugged, “If she wants to settle down in Hawkins like everyone else our age, she has a right to. It’s not fair to drag out what’s not meant to be if you both are miserable. Face it, even when you were together you still moped because you missed her. Tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”

Eddie sat silent. Gareth wasn’t wrong; about any of it.

“Look, Jeff’s buddy invited us out to this hole-in-the-wall club in Hell’s Kitchen. Some kind of artsy, hippie shit. Thought it’d be cool.”

A quick snort of air left Eddie’s nostrils as he mulled it over. Artsy, hippie shit sounded like code for mushrooms and weed, which he could’ve honestly used more of in that moment. 

“You know what? Fine,” Eddie slapped either side of the worn leather as he hopped off the sofa, “Not like I got anything to lose anymore, right?”

Gareth grinned and clapped Eddie’s back, “Let’s get you to the Land of the Living, Munson.”

It didn’t take long for Eddie to realize this club was completely different from what he was expecting. Instead of the loud, psychedelic club scene he’d been used to this tour, the club gave a starving poet’s vibe; aside from the worn graffiti on the brick walls, this place could easily double as a coffee shop (which, Eddie found out later from the bartender, it did during the day). Eddie could’ve easily brushed this place off and sulked back to the tour bus; but a unique voice, what Eddie would classify as an airy rasp, radiated from the speakers, directing his gaze to an absolute angel sitting at an antique piano in the corner of the bar.

“What’s up, guys?” You casually asked into the mic. A couple regulars called back and gave a brief applause, “Thanks for coming out tonight. I’m back again with some new stuff I’ve been working on.”

Eddie barely took his eyes off you long enough to order an old fashioned. The melody that flowed through your fingers to the keys to the speakers left him speechless. It was light, with an air of melancholy; something Eddie could relate to all too well. He fixated on the loose curls that framed your face; your large doe eyes the stars of the show before you’d started singing. Then it was your pillowy lips, painted a deep merlot. And your voice.

Goddamn, Man Child. 

You fucked me so good that I almost said ‘I love you’.

That lyric earned a couple wolf whistles from the crowd.

You’re fun, and you’re wild. 

But you don’t know the half of the shit that you put me through.

As you continued, Gareth glanced at his friend whose gaze never left you.

Your poetry’s bad and you blame the news.

But I can’t change that and I can’t change your mood.

‘Cuz you’re just a man. It’s just what you do.

Your head in your hands

As you color me blue.

Eddie could feel the gutteral pain in your words, disguised in such a delicate tune. He stayed in his trance until the song was over and you were met with polite applause. Eddie joined, albeit a little more loudly.

“Thank you,” you waved to the crowd, “You have no idea how much your support means to me. Look, we got some other great talent here, tonight. Be sure to show them and our barkeep, Jim, some love too. Good night!”

In the mere seconds it took for him to down the whiskey in his glass, a voice from behind made him jump.

“Well, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, Corroded Coffin walks into mine.”

Eddie turned around, struck dumb by your presence before him.

“Uh, uh - yeah. Jeff, our drummer, invited us over,” Eddie stammered as you took the barstool next to him, ordering your usual from Jim. Eddie quickly gestured at Jim to put it on his tab, “I’m Eddie; Eddie Munson.”

“Oh, believe me, I know who you are,” you replied with a crooked smile, “My ex is a big fan.”

“I take it he’s the man child you were singing about?”

You nodded, quietly thanking Jim as he placed your drink on the bar, “But I gotta say, his taste in music was the one good quality about him. That song of yours, the one that’s on the charts right now-”

“Follow You?” Eddie guessed, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes! I actually really liked it. Definitely didn’t expect it from a bunch of metalheads.”

Eddie laughed at the (hopefully) unintentional jab, “I mean, what can I say? Us metalheads have feelings, too. Imagine that?”

“Did you write that?” You asked, taking a sip of your vodka soda. Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. That was me. I wrote it for my girl at the time, but I guess once it started hitting the Billboard, shit just didn’t work out,” Eddie quickly ordered another drink, “She broke it off last time I was back home.”

“That sucks,” you empathized, “At least my breakup was kind of mutual.”

Eddie only nodded in agreement, trying to pry the conversation out of the hole that was their exes.

“So, what’s a pretty, young, insanely talented girl like you doing playing a spot like this?”

You paused a second before answering, “I’m a junior at NYU.”

“Damn,” Eddie replied, impressed, “What’re ya studying?”

“Classical piano and composure,” you answered casually, as if you were naming off your to-do list, “Not sure if it’ll go anywhere, but I like the idea of making music. That’s why I play here in my downtime. It’s nice to play something other than Beethoven and Chopin every once in a while.”

“Are you kidding me?” Eddie asked, bewildered, “You’re incredible!” You raised an eyebrow at him, “I - I mean, your music - is, is incredible. What I heard out there? I could see that charting way above Follow You instantly.”

“Oh, I’m sure you say that to every musician you talk up at a bar,” you joked.

“No, I’m serious. Look,” Eddie swiftly grabbed a pen off Jim and a bar napkin and started scribbling, “My manager, Dave, knows some higher ups. He’s more used to managing shitheads like Corroded Coffin, but he could pull some strings if you’re interested,” he slid a napkin with a phone number scrawled across it, “There’s the number to their City office, if you want to set up a demo.”

You stare at the napkin, shocked, before sliding it into your purse, “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

Eddie stood stunned as you grabbed the pen from him and started writing on your bar napkin, “And here’s my number. Maybe we could get together next time you’re in the city.”

“How ‘bout New Years Eve?” Eddie asked, “Got any plans? The guys & I were just gonna go to Times Square. Y’know, do the tourist-y shit and watch the ball drop.”

You met his eyes with a genuine smile, “Sure, I’d like that.”

You agreed to meet at the bar for drinks before walking through Times Square. And that’s how you rang in 1990 with a kiss from Corroded Coffin’s front man. And that’s how you rang in every New Year since.

[vole-mon-amour]

Sometimes I see comments about Jamie and "if you told me back in s1 that he'd become my fav character" and I'm so :') As a person that saw the potential, that fell in love with him and his personality, that shipped him with Roy straight off the bat at the auction episode where "Used to love watching you play" but also "To you dying" and it wasn't only about shipping but about his personality as well. The way I could see trauma from the way he talked and acted that early on in the show. The way I felt there's more to his behavior. He was charismatic and fun to watch, sure, but it's his depth that drew me to him.

Like, I'm not gonna lie, I tried to stop myself from loving him or at least not to show it much—he's mean, he's a bully, he can do better. I didn't see much support for him, but a lot of hate instead & I didn't want to get hate for openly loving him as well. Once he's nice enough, it's gonna be ok to love him and talk about it with other people, that kind of thing. Insecure, I know. Well, I was. But then with every episode I saw more and more of him & I couldn't resist. Couldn't help myself.

He's one of my fav type of characters. Jerk with a heart of gold. Traumatized. Deserved better. Wonderful. Genuinely good. Can be a brick. A precious baby boy. Can do the right thing. Self-aware. Would punch you in the face if you really deserve/need it. Soft and gentle. Like, for me, he has everything. He hits all the spots.

I knew I'll love him when I saw him. I knew how wonderful he could be. And I'm glad they went there. He is, unironically, has always been my fav. "Coach, I'm me. Why would I want to be anything else?" And in the end, he is still himself. Just loved, appreciated, and respected now. Matured (and understanding so much more about himself and the relationships he has with other people.) No longer a bully, but a good friend to the entire team.

The sky really is his limit.

And he deserves to be cherished every day of his life and be reminded what a good, precious, amazing, wonderful boy he is. He deserves the entire world. And he deserves a partner (partners?) that will treat him right and will share it all with him.

"...she wants me to be a good lad. Wants me to be happy." Exactly that. And if Jamie wants both Roy and Keeley (or either of them, or neither of them (but we know that he does)), they better fucking treat him right. Because so far, Jamie really has been fucking amazing & he should give himself some credit for that.

[eomma-jpeg]

Hello again! So, I've got one for you Fic-specific Ask Game! (For In the Meadow, of course. XD) For Want of a Nail: So, I'm curious as to how this would turn out. Instead of the insurance gals having to head out to send in their resignations, instead it's Vash and Knives who have to leave for a few days for Reasons™️. (I'm imagining something related to their past? Like maybe a bounty hunter has been sniffing around and is getting too close to the farm. Or one of the Gung-Ho Guns survived or something. Or maybe it's something mundane like they have to go find a specific part to replace for the Plant and it can only be found in December. Either way, they gotta skedaddle!) I wanna know how you'd think it'd play out! I can only imagine the absolute terror Knives would be on a two day road trip when he knows he's missing the first tomatoes (and also Milly, but shhhh! He's being stupid about that still!) And also what would the gals be doing back on the farm? (Pining away, I'm sure. Omg, I bet Milly will be a mess when the first tomato comes in and Knives isn't there. 😭) Thoughts? 👀

oh veil,,,, you have put many thoughts in my head....

Knives and Vash road trip

I think.... it would be something like the eye of michael is still kicking?? and it would give me an excuse to include Livio (I WANT TO PUT HIM SOMEWHERE BUT I JUST CANT FIND A GOOD EXPLANATION)

Vash would leave, and I think at that point in the story, Knives would feel the need to come. specifically, he still wouldnt be comfortable around humans without Vash (even Milly. I think the thought of truly being surrounded by only humans would freak him out).

Unfortunately, Knives wouldn't realize how DESPERATELY HE WOULD MISS IT UNTIL HE'S GONE.

him and vash all alone in the desert, away from humans (which is what he wanted originally) but he just,,, he cant help wishing to go back. he wants to go back so bad, so he and vash work their BUTTS off to get this business done and over with cuz Knives just wants his routine and his girl back

this,,,,, could also be a good spot for vash v knives conflict vis a vis how the both of them feel about murder (knives feels its necessary especially when taking down the eye of michael, while vash it still on a pacifist route, despite his kind of..... completion of Rem's memory?)

because i'm mushy and i like parallels, if Milly doesn't have her scandalous dream in December... then Knives gets to have a mushy domestic one.

he dreams about Milly in the garden and the sunlight glistens in her shiny hair, they have a thriving crop, and milly just has the brightest smile on her face when she spots him, glowing with happiness. he wakes up after milly hugs him, arms wrapping around his body, pulling him tight and brushes a kiss on his cheek

He wakes up just,,, starstruck and makes Vash drive them home in the middle of the night. zero impulse control from this boy.

Milly and Meryl back at home

this change means that milly gets to pick the tomatoes without knives.

i ... i could absolutely see Milly doing good, like holding it together all morning, putting on a show that she's alright. she gathers them with ease and puts them in a cute lil basket she got from her mom

but then later when Meryl asks her how many tomatoes she gathered, Milly holds up each tomato individually and tears just kind of fall as she realizes that its the first time since the beginning of the garden that she had to do the work alone, and it hits her like a brick wall. she misses him so much.

Meryl: oh gosh i thought i was just asking about the tomatoes I didn't see this coming

I think it could be the trigger that Milly needs to realize that she really does like him.

if im being honest, this might speed up the romance process quite a bit, because if Milly falls first, its over. She would completely smother Knives in like welcome back kisses and he wouldn't know what to do LOLOL

okay, to stick with the slowburn, i could see Knives coming back and complimenting Milly on the harvest, and Milly unwittingly admitting that she had missed him. Then, quietly, mostly because Knives doesn't particularly want to admit it to himself, he tells her he missed her too.

Milly, being herself, just takes his hand and kisses his cheek, probably unable to tell him with words.

and then idk.............. thats a whole new fic.....

ty veil !!!!! i really liked thinking about this lolol

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home - Author Notes

Page 27

Cleric: Shadow sorcery isn’t unholy. Matilda: (meanwhile beheading an effigy of the Dawnfather)

Someone please supervise this child.

There was a longer sequence of events here planned initially; she was supposed to get burned by the candle at first and then get mad at it and snuff it out with her shadow powers and start playing around with the shadow, but there ended up not being room to make clear what was happening with all this dialogue. (Also realistically she would have yelped and called attention to herself, precluding the entire conversation.) I had also planned for the entire scene to take place with the “camera” in front of the adults at her level, so we don’t see their faces, just her wandering around doing things in the background between them, but the distance made it hard to tell what exactly she was doing. (The static perspective would have definitely saved me some time though!!)

The circumstances of Matilda’s birth are also discussed in Remember Us (which is not quite part of the Mintywolf Comic Universe but it is adjacent to it), where it is suggested that she Strength of the Grave’d herself back to life after being born a stillbirth. (Because that’s actually a level 1 shadow sorcerer skill, so was already Like That her entire life, long before Delilah’s interference!) Back when chapter 2 of this was Laudna’s whole backstory still in one solid, blunt-force-trauma-inducing brick, it started with that scene, before I had the idea of having it broken up into achronological pieces and conveyed to Imogen via telepathy. The scene got cut, because she obviously doesn’t have an actual memory of the incident to show her but it went pretty much how she describes it in the fic. It’s snowing, dad is hurrying home because the baby is coming early but arrives to find his wife in tears. The midwife tries to reassure him that perhaps it was “a mercy” because, being born too soon and in the dead of winter, the child would have had a hard time of it. Then a cleric comes to perform the last rites and the presumed-dead infant alarms everyone by being in fact alive, thank you very much. (I changed that version a little for this; instead of actively resisting her last rites she’s just kind of bewildered but content to be alive, which I think fits better with the ongoing theme Marisha has described for Laudna as not really being an active participant in her destiny, just kind of being swept along through history by a series of incomprehensibly horrible events and making the best of it.)

I tried preserving some of those lines in her dad’s retelling of the incident here but her parents are already on thin ice with some of you people (adoption applications for Matilda have been steadily accumulating since page 24, haha) and I didn’t want to risk implying that they didn’t want her. They did! Despite what happens in the coming pages I think she was very loved and wanted and they were really trying to do what they thought was best for her.

This page also introduces a concept I hinted at earlier — that there are simultaneous, conflicting but equally-true versions of Laudna’s past in her memory, a paradox caused by Bells Hells entering her memories through the Domain of Dread. In DnD, sorcerous origins are either ancestral or the result of some life-changing incident, and with the shadow sorcerer origin the incident is exposure to the Shadowfell. Are her powers hereditary, or did she have a brush with the Raven Queen’s realm in the Shadowfell at birth, or did her powers start manifesting after first coming into contact with Imogen and her friends in Darkstone?