#it just feels so serial to be here and be getting ready for college come fall

[mygoodfriendjohnathanharker]

Fixed the door that Johnathan had slipped through, not letting that happen again!

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[222col]

bimbo!reader x art donaldson

summary: your friend goes missing...

cw .ᐟ missing person, murder

꒰ notes ꒱ more of joe goldberg!art

art had been so good recently. kept his emotions in check, didn't make an rash decisions. he was focusing on you, wasn't letting anyone get in the way of your relationship. until, of course...

"artie!" your bloodshot eyes appear unannounced at his dorm, thank god he'd already gotten rid of the guy in his bathroom. his heart clenches at the sight of you, sniffling through your tears as your hands reach out for him immediately. art's already working out a new hiding spot at the sight of your tears, and he doesn't even know what happened yet.

his strong arms carry you into his room, cradling you in his lap, stroking through your hair as he waits for you to be ready to speak. he'd never rush you, art does everything at your pace. "my– my– she–" you mumble, choking out the words through sobs. "what is it, princess?" art coos, gently tilting up your chin to force your eyes onto his.

"y'know my friend lexi?" oh, fuck. he definitely knows lexi. lexi is currently in the trunk of his car, he was planning on discarding her body today, before you arrived. shit, shit, shit.

art nods softly, pushing down all feelings of panic that are threatening to boil over. he has to be here for you right now, not thinking about himself. "yeah, baby, i know lexi, she lives in your building, right?" of course he knows that, it's where he killed her. "mhm, yeah," you mumble, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you sniffle through more sobs.

"she's– she's missing," you whisper, as though saying it any louder would make it more real than it already was. your lip trembles as your doe eyes look to art for comfort. "oh, princess," he murmurs, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. christ, was this girl miss popular or something? art only killed her in the early hours of the morning. fuck, he's in deep shit. she's still in his fucking car and the whole campus is looking for her.

no, it's fine. a missing persons report can't be filed before she's been gone for twenty-four hours. art has time. the police will think she's just some college student who got too drunk and didn't come home. she'll turn up, they'll say, don't worry. yeah, she'll turn up. in a fuckin' ditch somewhere as soon as art's ready for her to be found.

and hey, look, art didn't have a choice, okay? he's not just some psycho that kills people for the fun of it. it's not fun. it's fucking hard work, actually. he had to find out exactly where she'd be, when she'd be alone, make a copy of her dorm key, make sure her roommate was out. and that's all before he killed her. he had to get her body out, unseen, bleach her dorm, get her into the trunk of his car, and he's still got to get rid of her body, now with everyone looking for her! it’s fucking hard to be a serial killer. especially one that doesn't get caught.

it's her own fault. stupid girl shouldn't have been bad mouthing you like that. to do it so out in the open too? bitch had it coming. yapping around campus how she only kept you around 'cause other people liked you. nuh uh, no one talks about art's girl like that. she'd been getting too close to you anyway, it was only a matter of time before art took things into his own hands.

"oh, baby, i'm sure she's fine," he murmurs, rubbing up and down your back under your, his, sweater. art's trying so hard not to let his mind run away with him, especially with the feeling of your skin under his and how fuckin' pretty you look with tear stained cheeks and that pout on your lips. "she probably just stayed at some frat boys house, lexi can be like that." lexi can be a slut, is what art's trying to nicely say. always dragging you with her to stupid frat parties, that art hates you going to. he's the only boy who should be seeing you all dolled up.

brows knitted, bottom lip still poking out as you meet his eyes again. nodding in agreement, always taking art's words as gospel. he would never lie to you, right? "think you should stay here, until she's back though, baby." art murmurs softly, holding your cheeks in his hands, breath ghosting across your face. any excuse to have you staying with him, he'll take. "yeah?" art hums, a smile threatening his features. poking your side, making you giggle, when you don't respond to him.

"yeah, artie." you mumble, smiling up to him. you're too easy. he'll have you convinced lexi was a horrible person by the time he's even dumped the body.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

[idk6505]

Something Special (Derek Morgan x BAU! Reid! reader)

Summary: The Team is out on a case and while Y/N is part of the team she has to stay back because of a leg injury so she’s spending the day in the conference room with the officer of supreme genius, Miss Penelope Garcia ( a la Jason Gideon when he had that cast but like Y/N is nicer) and once Derek calls Garcia for something kind of menial so Y/N speaks instead.

Paring: Derek Morgan x Reid! Reader (they're in that weird stage where they flirt but are like still a will they, won't they and they know they're into each other)

Warnings: So violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA, mentions of necrophilia, murder, serial killings. (I keep everything brief. It’s in one paragraph) use of y/n, fem!reader

Sadie notes: this isn’t the first fic I’m writing ever but it is my first fic about Derek Morgan and my first fic on Tumblr so please be gentle! Also I maybe spent too long on everything that happened before the call and like a little moment with Penelope before the call. this is around maybe season 4 or 5-ish

Another day, Another case. Y/n sighs as she walks into the bullpen with her crutches and her ankle all wrapped up. She immediately can feel Derek, Spencer, and Emily look at her. She does her best to just keep her head down.

“What happened to you? Wild night?” Emily is the first to speak, curiosity and teasing dripping from her tongue, and Y/n shakes her head as she makes her way to her desk.

“Girls' night with a friend from college went wrong… We had a good time, and then I rolled my ankle on some stairs and fell. There was a crack or two and lots of pain. My friend is a nurse…” She paused for a moment and turned her head to look at her brother.

“Spencer, do you remember my friend Maggie?” She asked him, knowing, of course, he remembered. She watched him nod.

“Interestingly enough I remember 2 people named Maggie that you mentioned. Was it Maggie, the Party animal, or Maggie, the never-left-her-room ex-roommate? Your letters from college talked about both.” He gives that thinking look he makes, the one where his eyebrows furrow and he pouts just a smidge.

“The 'never left her room' one” Y/n shrugs and uses your crutches to finally get to your desk.

“Anyway, she carried me to the closest urgent care apparently she's a boxer and got super into bodybuilding after college- anyway here we are” she shrugs and finally sits down. Derek looked her way and raised an eyebrow and she just shrugged it off and looked away from him.

“Is that why you texted me at 2 am, Sweet thing?” He asks Y/N as Emily and Spencer go back to other things they were probably doing before she came in, although that seemed suspicious. She looks at him and bites her lip a little, feeling bad, of course, that she didn’t tell him about her leg. Before she could say anything though Hotch came out of his office with JJ.

"We've got a case" Hotch spoke and she sighed and got to the conference room as quickly as she could with Derek helping her since she was on crutches. Her cheeks felt warm as she felt his hand on the small of her back, guiding her and providing support.

Part of her always liked the way he seemed to have such an effect on her and Derek being the guy he was always played with that shyness. He didn't do that this time though. "You gotta be more careful. I might have to come along next time and play knight in shining armor" He chuckled a little, though it was a little pained because he wished she wasn't hurt right now.

After the briefing, she makes her crutch-ed hobble to her desk by herself while the others get ready to go. She had been told by Hotch that she wasn't going into the field injured and even though she hated it she knew she needed to listen.

Thankfully, her brother was gracious enough to promise to text her everything or at least call her with how opposed he was to technology. So she texted Penelope, telling her what happened and when the rest of the team left. Y/n would spend time with Penelope and just help out over the phone.

After everyone was gone she and Penelope had set up in the conference room making a few interns help out since Y/n was on crutches. It all got done pretty smoothly and soon enough Y/n was sitting down and going through some files she had to finish reports on while waiting for the team to talk to her about new details on the profile for this new case.

"So when are you going to tell Derek about that big fat crush you're sitting on?" Garcia smirks a little, not looking up from her laptop for even a moment. Y/n is, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted at Penelope's comment. She does her best to shrug it off and looks at her files again. "I have no clue what you're talking about" Y/n mumbled as she wrote some things down about the case in the file she had worked on.

The topic wasn't dropped the way Y/n had hoped. Penelope gave her a knowing look and smiled. "You know I don't have to be a profiler to know you're totally lying. We all see the way you are with him. You lose all that quick thinking of yours the minute he calls you 'Sweet Thing'. We all see those heart eyes, well everyone but him." She giggles and gets back to her work.

Penelope's words stick with the younger Reid though. She thinks about it and hopes she really isn't that obvious about her crush. She mostly just hoped that Spencer didn't know. Her brother was usually oblivious to things like that.

A few hours later, Y/n is writing down everything her brother has texted her about the case so far. It seemed relatively straightforward. All they’d come up with so far is that the guy was clearly a narcissist and that it was definitely a guy. The victims all had their eyelids sewn shut and large cuts and autopsies of the bodies showed signs of assault both pre and post-mortem. This was a pretty gruesome case really. The guy doing this shouldn't have been so good at hiding but he was and that was why they had jobs.

Y/n sighs as she goes over the files they already had some more and Garcia comes in with her octopus mug filled with coffee. Sadie moves her rolly chair over to her stuff. She hears the phone ringing and she sees the number and she knows it's Morgan. she puts it on speaker as she answers it before Penelope can. "You have reached the brains and babes hotline! How may we be of service?" She bites her lip a little and looks at Garcia and hopes that was a good call opener that was similar enough to hers. Pen was practically about to burst with how adorable she thought Y/n's intro was.

"Well hello there, Sweet Thing! I was expecting my Babygirl but this is a change I welcome wholeheartedly." Derek spoke into the phone and Y/n didn't even have to be able to see him to know that he was smiling. "Well, you could always call again later or you have my personal and my work cell. Drop me a line sometime, baby?" Y/n smirked a little and she could see that their precious Penelope was trying not to squeal. "Will do Sweet Thing. Now I happen to need to talk to Garcia so pass me over?" He spoke to her.

Y/n sighs and gives a small 'uh huh' before passing over the phone. She lets them do work that only the unmitigated genius of Penelope Garcia can do. She went back to her files and kept a smile on her face. She was more than happy about this whole incident and it made her leg injury have a bit of an upside.

divider credit to: @aquazero @strangergraphics @ithemes

taglist: @justwhisperingfantasies

comment if you wanna join my taglist. I will write about Derek Morgan, Dean Winchester, and Gabriel! see you later, Lovies <3

[igotatasteforoldermendelrey]

Under the pale moon light.

A/N : hi guys, wrote this today so figured why not post it. Again, English is not my first language, there might be some mistakes in there. Always open about feedbacks!

Ship : dbf!Joel x reader

Summary : after getting fired by your boss with whom your boyfriend was cheating on you, you head back to Austin to your parent’s house. Having to face them with the undeniable failure of your life, you find support in Joel, your dad’s best friend and neighbour. Follows some flirting under the pale moon light.

Warnings : some feelings, reader got fired, age gap ( R is in her late twenties, J is forty-five), angst (a little bit with her parents), afab, flirting, smoking (cigarette), reader has a degree from an Ivy League (a girl can dream), brief mention of Sarah, asshole ex boyfriend.

I do not consent to any of my work to be translated or posted anywhere else without my permission.

Banner made on Pinterest.

You were back home for the summer. Scratch that, you were back home for an undetermined period.

Everything started great. You graduated from an Ivy League college, finding a job you loved and that paid well right away, met the perfect guy and move in together. You lived the city girl life until everything turned around. Your career stagnated, your perfect boyfriend turned out to be a serial cheater with non other than your boss whom you presented to him. Confronting the both of them led you to lose your job and your partner at the same time which meant moving out since you couldn’t afford the rend of your previous apartment. Let’s just resume by saying shit hit the fan and you had to get away.

So here you were, standing in front of your parent’s house, Texas heat dehydrating you the more you stayed under the sun. Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door, hoping your mother will be the one opening the door.

It’s not that you were scared of your father. It’s just that you weren’t sure that you, coming back home unannounced after losing everything, wouldn’t be questioned like you were a criminal. You didn’t feel ready to have this conversation since you weren’t out of the denial phase you pushed yourself into.

But the man that opened the door was neither of your parents but Joel, a neighbour and close friend of them. You met the man into your second year of college. Coming home for vacations your father presented him as the cool and grumpy neighbour. Sharing stories over a beer led them to link a friendship and the men were always together. Coming home from the grocery shop? The both of them helping you get the groceries inside. The garden needing a trim? The both of them taking care of it, one mowing the lawn the other pruning the trees. They were always together even with their ten year age gap.

So when the man opened the door you still find yourself surprised to see him standing in all his glory in front of you. You were the first one to talk, astonishment clear on his face.

Hi Joel. You started with a small smile not quite reaching your eyes.

Sweets? What the hell are you doing here?

That’s not the welcomed I thought I will get. You joked with a smirk.

Shit, yeah, sorry, come here. He said pulling you into a quick hug. Does your old man know-

Does who know what? The voice of your father interrupted your small talk. He came standing besides Joel, his mouth agape. Y/n?

Surprise? You tried with a smile.

What the hell are you doing here?

You had to choose between spilling everything right there on the porch with your father’s friend staring strangely at you or lying. You took the second option.

I wanted to surprise you! You falsely exclaimed.

Oh you’re so sweet come here honey. Your mother is going to be over the moon. He pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

While in his arms you stared at Joel finding him already looking at you, a light frown on his face. Deciding you didn’t want to know if he knew you were full of shit, you looked away.

Come on in then, ain’t gonna let you stand there to burn down with this sun.

None of them asked why you had so many bags nor why your trunk was packed of boxes.

~~~

Standing in the middle of your childhood bedroom, the enormity of your shit life hit you. The pastel Color of the wallpaper covered of posters of music bands you were not sure still existed, books and notebooks on the shelves. You never thought it would make you feel that way. Like a huge failure, moving back to her parents without them even knowing about it.

You could still hear the two men downstairs in the living room where you left them with an excuse of a well needed shower. Putting your luggage on the floor and opening them, you took out clothes and left to take a shower.

Opening the door, you heard your mother voice and decided to say hello to her. Arriving in the kitchen where she was putting groceries away, she turned around with a smile on her face and opened her arms as you walked in.

Hi mom. You said against her shoulder.

Hi baby. How are you honey? She asked as you parted way, her hands still on your shoulders and her eyes fixated on your face.

I’m alright. What about you?

I’m always good you know that. Is Jackson here too?

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer so you just shook your head.

Perfect then, I wouldn’t have enough either for dinner since Joel is staying too.

~~~

The night was slowing falling on Austin, cicadas falling silent such as the temperature. The four of you were seated outside, dinner served and your parents and Joel talking. You keep quiet for the most part of the evening, trying not to draw too much attention on you that could lead to questions. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear Joel asking you a question nor noticed everyone looking at you.

Sweets?

Hmm? Sorry what?

I asked you about Jeremy or Jack or… you know your accountant of a boyfriend. Joel asked again.

What about him? You answered looking at your plate, suddenly feeling hot.

Where is he?

In New York.

Why is he not with you? Is he coming later? Joel continued to push.

By the way how long are you staying?

Too many questions. You felt overwhelmed, you heart beating so fast you were sure they could all hear it.

Um… He won’t come here anymore because we are not together anymore and I don’t know how long I’m staying here, dad.

Don’t you have a job with people counting on you there? Don’t want you to get lost in your track because of some boy. Your father muttered, looking at you seriously.

You knew that look too well, he wasn’t understanding why you were not always talking about your job and he was starting to get disappointed. Having made a lot of sacrifices in order to send you to college, he wanted you to success and to work your ass off.

Dude, calm down, let her speak before you tried to speculate about things. Joel intervened.

No it’s fine Joel. You took a deep breath and start spilling out everything. My colleagues do not count on me because I do not have a job anymore. Yes I got fired because Jackson, who is by the way a music producer, cheated on me with my boss who didn’t have a hard choice between me and him. And no, dad, you do not need to speculate about my failure because it is true and I do not need a lecture either on men. If you’re done asking me questions, I’m going to go usptairs. You said, pushing back your chair and getting inside the house.

Going upstairs you locked yourself in your room, trying to gather your thoughts. Yes, storming out like that was not a reasonable reaction and you could already hear your father lecture you about how you needed to act like an adult. But you couldn’t. You just couldn’t stay there with how your parents and how Joel was looking at you. Like you were fucking crazy or something.

The truth is, saying everything that happened made it seems real. Too real for you, like you just realised how fucked up your life currently was.

Knowing your parents, they will wait for you to calm down and come to them on your own. Nothing good ever came out of them forcing a conversation with you. So you just laid down on your bed, staring at the roof trying to make it all make sense.

After a while you heard the both of them coming upstairs to their bedroom before closing the door, the sign they were off for the day. As you walked to your bag still on the floor, you phone pinged with a message. Taking it from the bedside table, you read the text coming from your mother.

I know you might not want to talk right now and we understand. Just know we love you no matter what and are really proud of you. Try to get some sleep.

Sighing with a mix of relief and sadness you put back your phone on the table and grabbed your bag. Taking out of it a pack of cigarettes before getting your lighter and leaving your room. You were not a smoker but in hard time came bad choices.

Closing the front door quietly behind you, you sat down on the stairs of the porch, Texas heat still high enough for you to be comfortable in T-shirt. Lighting a cigarette you stared at the sky, the absence of clouds allowed you to see the stars.

I didn’t take you for a smoker. A voice said besides you making you jump.

You turned around to face Joel, already staring at you with a strange look on his face.

Didn’t think I was a loser and here I am. You replied, exhaling the smoke.

Joel sighed before coming to sit besides you. You’re not a loser.

Go say that to my dad.

You really think that’s what he thinks? Nah. You’re old man is just worried for you but I’ve never seen a man so proud of his daughter. He tells everyone your this excellent lawyer who rules New York.

You snorted. I’m not a lawyer.

Yeah he knows, he just wants to make everyone jealous. But hey, he said lightly pushing you with his shoulder, I’m serious. You have nothing to be ashamed about. Hell you’ve got a degree from one of the most prestigious colleges. Got my kid wanting to do like you.

How is Sarah?

She’s doing good, first year of college, you know how it is.

What’s she studying?

History. Every time I get her on the phone she’s always talking about some stuff that happened centuries ago. Makes me feel fucking dumb.

You could tell how proud Joel was of his daughter but you could still see a part of him really missing her.

You’re not dumb. I mean maybe in historic stuff but in general you’re not dumb.

I know that. But I didn’t go to college, don’t know what it’s like.

Do you regret it? You asked making him turn to look at you.

I did for a while.

Well you could still go. You said with a smirk.

I’m way too old for that shit. He replied with a snort.

Dude you’re not that old. You’re what, forty-two?

Forty-five.

My bad you’re fucking almost dead. You deadpanned.

Shut up. He answered taking your cigarette and bringing it up to his mouth.

That move made you realised how handsome this man was. Sure you knew that already, just by the look he was getting from women in the street. But in the pale moon light, his profile stood out. Feeling your stare on him he looked over you with a brow raised forcing you to look in front of you.

Cat got your tongue?

Can’t I admire the work? You replied with a smirk.

Didn’t think you were trouble. He said, still staring at you.

What did you expect? I just got fired, apparently I’m a fucking tornado, according to some people. Your voice cracked on the last word, remembering what Jackson told you when you confronted him.

Come here. Joel said, pulling you in a side hug while killing the cigarette on the floor.

You let your head fall on his shoulder, hands resting on your laps. Fuck I’m a mess.

That’s okay. We’re all messed up at one point in our life. But I gotta tell you this asshole didn’t know what he had in his hands. Fucking idiot.

Maybe I should’ve called you to come with me to get my stuff. Maybe would have make him less arrogant.

You can. I’m serious. You need anything you just call me. I will be in the first plane.

You smiled at him, heart almost beating out of your chest. You might not need to take a plane anymore…

You won’t go back?

I’m not sure. Nothing is waiting for me there anymore. And it took me two days to drive home I’m sure as hell not ready to do that again yet.

Silence fall on the street, you’re head still resting on his shoulder.

I don’t think he would have done that. You broke the silence.

Do what? Joel asked.

Cross the country because I called him.

Fucking asshole. You’re better off without him, don’t a need an idiot with you. Plus, you will find someone as quick as you want it.

Is that so? You asked him with a smirk.

Yeah. I mean you look good, you’re intelligent and funny. No need to be a damn medium to know that.

Are you flirting with me Mr Miller? You joked, lightly tilting you head to get better look at him.

Wouldn’t dare even if I wanted to. You’re dad would fucking kill me. After torturing me. He replied, staring intensely at you.

You were going to answer him when the front door opened and your dad stepped out of the house. You took your head off his shoulder and he retreated his arm that was laying on yours.

The hell you two are doing?

Reassuring her that you’re not going to disinherit her because she got fired.

Of course I’m not gonna do that. Your dad replied, putting his hand on your head. Those New Yorkers don’t know what they lost. Now go home Joel or I’m gonna call the cops for trespassing. Don’t want you to get grumpier tomorrow.

Fine, hold your horse I’m going. He said to your father who sighed and went back inside.

Watching his back, you saw him turn around before adding. You look good too in the pale moon light sweets. And with that he left, going home, leaving you dumbfounded on the porch.

Well, this undetermined time here might be interesting after all….

[morbethgames]

Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A Halloween party where tensions rise and finally snap, and an unlucky encounter with the power to cancel out the happiness that comes out of it.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, drunken kissing, alcohol consumption, yandere behavior, misogyny, mention of murder.

— Notes: Hello, everybody! Welcome to chapter 4 (aka my favorite chapter in the series) <3 You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to post this one. Fun fact: the romantic scenes here were the first thing I planned for this story (added a serial killer and boom, Tunnel Vision was born). Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

can you feel my heart?

“I don't think this costume is original enough to place,” you mutter, smoothing out the skirt of your babydoll dress and shifting in your seat.

It's too cold to go out in minimal clothing, but you agreed to wear the dress for the sake of making the girls happy. Besides, you're supposed to match with Mikasa, who's sporting a red version of your dress so you can go as an angel and devil duo. It was her idea, so it saved you the hassle of coming up with your own costume while also filling you with reassurance from being well-liked.

“Well, we're not going for the costume contest. We're going to support Jean… and for drinks, of course,” Sasha prompts. 

“I still can't believe Jean is in a band. How did I not know this?”

“He's just filling in for the bassist tonight, but he's really good,” she explains. “He used to play in college.”

The Bobby pins in Sasha’s mouth mess with every other one of her words. You're sitting on the edge of Mikasa's bed as Sasha sits on her knees behind you, fixing your hair, while Mikasa is seated in front of you, doing your makeup.

It's not the most practical process, given that Sasha keeps moving your head around to do her job, earning annoyed looks from Mikasa as she struggles to finish applying your eyeshadow.

“Sasha, I love you to death, sweetie, but you're delaying my masterpiece,” Mikasa grumbles.

“Sorry,” Sasha sings. “I'm done now.” She climbs down from the bed and goes up front to admire her work.

“Ugh, you're so pretty,” she gushes, hands clasped together. You're not sure what Sasha is supposed to be. When she got to Mikasa's apartment, she said her costume was in her bag. For now, she's dressed in a black turtleneck top, black leggings, and red Converse. She squeals one last time before sitting down at Mikasa's vanity to fix her own makeup. 

“It feels a little weird,” you admit. “I'm, like, hyper-aware of how different I look.”

You like dressing up, looking sleek and polished. But the combination of the glitter sprinkled in your hair, the feathery halo headband on your head, and spaghetti straps step too far out of your usual fashion choices. It all leaves you feeling a bit vulnerable. 

Mikasa smiles.

“Don't sweat it. You look amazing.” 

The way she says it, so warmly and confidently, is comforting enough to pull a smile from you. You've never had a sister, but if you did, you imagined someone like Mikasa would be perfect.

“I know for sure one guy won't keep his eyes off of you tonight.”

Her words throw you off guard. Your lips fall open, ready to ask questions, or throw an excuse, or change the subject. But nothing comes to you, so you end up just staring at her in shock as you feel yourself build up a sweat.

She giggles as she makes the last finishing touches on your face.

The doorbell rings.

“Sash, get the door, please?” she asks as she walks to her vanity and starts rummaging through her makeup drawer in search of the perfect shade of lipstick to tie the look together.

“On it.” Sasha promptly stands, gives herself one last look in the mirror, and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Eagerly, she unlocks the front door and swings it open, only to instantly drop her smile for confusion when she takes in all four men lined before her.

“What are you supposed to be? A bunch of beat-up accountants?”

“Hey,” Armin whines.

Jean, Armin, Connie, and Eren are all wearing suits stained with fake blood. Minus the bass case slung on Jean's shoulder, which likely isn't part of his costume, there aren't many more hints to go off of.

Jean scoffs as he hooks his thumbs around his suspenders.

“Um… Reservoir Dogs? Hello?” 

“I've never heard of it,” she deadpans. She turns on her heel and goes to the sofa where she left her bag earlier, leaving the door wide open for everyone to follow inside.

“You cannot be serious, Sasha. It's Quentin Tarantino!”

“Ew, the foot fetishist?” Her face contorts in disgust.

Eren throws his head back in laughter. 

Jean throws his hands up in the air. 

“Oh, that you know.”

Sasha shrugs, not caring one bit about Jean's frustration.

“Connie, help me get this thing on,” she says, smoothing out her costume on the sofa. It's a hot dog.

The rest of the guys watch amusedly as the pair struggle to get Sasha into her costume. When her head finally pokes through, strands from her ponytail have come loose and she's gasping for air.

“Oh, man. They should add a zipper to these things,” she huffs.

Armin leans closer, his eye catching a flicker of silver movement on the side of the costume. His fingers hold onto the zipper as he looks up at Sasha with pursed lips.

Jean scoffs incredulously. 

“It has a zipper, you big dummy. I swear–”

He and Sasha lose themselves in a wave of bickering. That is until Eren clears his throat. He's been looking for signs of more people around the apartment, glancing at the kitchen or through the open crack of the bathroom door.

“Where's… everyone else?” he asks nobody in particular.

Jean abandons his play fight with Sasha to smirk at Eren. 

“Excited to see your girlfriend, Jaeger?”

Eren freezes, instantly taken aback by Jean's accusation. Everyone else exchanges shocked glances with each other, before ultimately landing their focus on Eren to gauge his reaction.

But he doesn't even move. All he does is look at the floor, cheeks red, and lips curled inwards as he struggles for a comeback.

Sasha’s the first to move. Her palm lands with a reprimanding force against Jean's head, who whines in protest.

“Oh, come on! We've all seen the way he looks at her.” He turns to Eren. “Why don't you just ask her out?”

Armin's quick to intervene.

“Jean, I don't think it's our place to say anything. I'm sure if Eren wants to, he will. It's none of our business.”

“I'm just saying… we all know you like her, you've got our support, Jaeger.”

Eren rolls his tongue against his cheek. When he finally speaks, his voice is practically a ghost of itself.

“We're just friends.” 

“And you're okay with that?”

Jean's question burns at Eren's cheeks. But before anything else can be said or done in his defense, Mikasa's bedroom door cracks open and the raven-haired girl's head pops out. Sasha instinctively shoots a warning glare at everyone to be quiet.

“Sorry for the wait, everybody.” Mikasa grins as she opens the door wider and steps out into the living room. “We're ready now.”

Eren waits with bated breath for you to come out. It seems like an eternity between the moment Mikasa moves aside and when you finally reveal yourself in a flowy white dress and a halo bouncing above your head. 

A soft ‘woah’ escapes him as he feels the usual flutter in his stomach he's been doing so good to ignore. 

Jean whistles in approval and all the other guys proceed to shower you with compliments. Your gaze bounces from face to face, flustered from all the attention, ultimately meeting with Eren, who keeps his distance from across the room.

It's been a couple of weeks since you last saw each other. It's been the same number of days since you realized why that flutter in your stomach came to be. It's no surprise to you when it happens now, along with a warm pressure in your chest when his lips curve into a shy smile. For a moment, it's just you and him.

The magic cuts off and scatters over the floor in imaginary golden dust when Connie announces the arrival of your ride to the bar. 

Everyone starts making their way out the door.

A heavy hand lands on Eren’s shoulder. Jean's voice murmurs the words ‘good luck’ in his ear before walking away.

Eren stands in place, watching as you close the distance between you with just a few steps.

“Hey.”

It might be Eren's imagination, warping his surroundings to further feed into the concept behind your costume, but he truly can't deny how breathtaking and radiant you look. It's like a vision from dreams he'll forever be too embarrassed to confess to. He can barely cough up a strangled ‘hi’ back.

You walk side by side until you reach the car. The entire time, Eren's careful not to brush against you, scared it might trigger his nerves and he won't be able to hide it. But once you're in the car, it's hard to avoid any physical contact, given that three of you are squished together in the back with Jean's bass. 

The entire ride is clouded with hyper-awareness of every accidental touch between you and Eren, hushed apologies for bumping knees, and trying to remain unfazed by each other's warmth as you draw closer to your destination — you're much better at it than he is.

The scent of your perfume is heavenly, the soft, mellow notes intoxicating Eren to the sweetest high. 

By the time you get to the bar, there's already a small crowd of people waiting for their turn to be let inside. In one swift glance, you make out several witch hats, vampire fangs, kitten ears, fairy wings, and much more.

A large banner that takes up the width of the entrance announces their Halloween weekend event in bursts of purple and silver tones.

Thanks to a laminated pass Jean digs from his pocket, the whole group gets to skip the line and are ushered inside right away. A staff member calls Jean aside to lead him to a greenroom in the back where the other band members are.

“I'll see you guys in a bit,” Jean calls over his shoulder, offering a salute before getting lost in the shadows.

“Let's find a booth before more people come in,” Mikasa suggests.

As you all follow her lead to an open spot, your eyes roam around, taking in the details of the place. It's a fairly large venue, the booths lined in an L shape against the left wall, and several round tables spread out before them until the open floor for crowds to gather in front of the stage. To the right, a dimly lit bar occupies nearly the whole length of the wall, with shelves upon shelves of liquor and glasses. Looking up, you have a view of the balcony contained by silver railings decorated in decorative skulls and purple tinsel, where more tables and booths line the four walls and large lamps hang from the high ceiling.

You shrug your jacket off your shoulders as you settle into the booth Mikasa chooses. It's center to the stage with a perfect view of every corner of the venue's bottom floor. Mikasa slides in at your right, Eren to your left, and Armin at the end.

“I'm gonna get us some drinks,” Connie offers, as he leans with his phone to scan the code for the menu taped to the table. 

“Gin and tonic, for me,” Armin says, not bothering to scroll further down the menu.

“Ooh,” Mikasa zooms in on an item on her screen.

“Long Island?” Connie grins, spotting the same name on his phone.

“Yup,” she replies.

“A cosmo for me, please,” you say, setting down your phone on the table. 

Connie shoots finger guns at you and clicks his tongue.

“You got it. Gin and tonic, Long Island, Cosmo…” He points to each of you as he recites your orders. “Eren? Vodka cranberry?”

Eren nods shyly.

“Yeah.” 

Connie recites your orders one last time before heading off to the bar, Sasha trails behind him to help carry the drinks back.

“What time is Jean supposed to come out again?” you ask.

“He's in the second band. I think around ten-ish?” Armin replies as he confirms the time on the flyer Jean sent into the group chat. 

“God, he's gonna be insufferable when he gets back,” Eren groans. Armin nods along, and Mikasa simply laughs.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“He's always so cocky after playing,” Eren explains. “When we were in college he had a ton of girls fawning all over him just because he was in a band, and it gave him an even bigger head.”

“Well, to be fair, he never acted like a jerk,” Armin argues. “He just liked the attention.”

“That's because he thought it'd make Mikasa jealous,” Eren scoffs.

Your head is whirling in every direction as you receive every new piece of information.

“I mean, it worked,” Mikasa counters with a shrug. 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Not once did it ever seem to you that anything was going on between Mikasa and Jean.

“You're dating Jean?” you express with shock laced through your tone.

She laughs.

“Someone has to take one for the team,” she jokes. “I kid, it's been great.”

Before you can ask how long they've been together, her phone starts buzzing on the table.

“Speak of the devil,” she grins, eyes skimming the text on her phone before she slides out of the booth. “I'll be back in a bit.” 

With a cheeky wink tossed over her shoulder, she's off. 

“I can't believe I never noticed Jean and Mikasa are together,” you say as you watch her scurry off into the backroom.

“They're pretty lowkey,” Eren replies with a shrug. “But I don't blame her. I'd be embarrassed if I were dating Jean, too,”

You laugh. 

“Come on, don't be mean,” Armin says, nudging his friend with his shoulder. He then turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “He acts like he hates him, but he actually helped Jean out when he asked Mikasa to be his girlfriend.”

“All I did was blow up balloons and buy flowers,” Eren huffs, embarrassed that his affection for Jean is out in the open.

“A little help, please,” a strained voice calls from a few feet away. 

It's Sasha. She's slowly walking toward the booth with her hands contorted at odd angles to balance four drinks in her hold. You all stand to relieve her from one drink each.

As soon as you settle into the booth again, Connie makes his way back, balancing a wooden bowl on top of everything.

“I got us some peanuts,” he grins, carefully setting everything down on the table. You all pass around each other's drink and take your first sips.

“Where's Mika?” Sasha asks, popping a peanut into her mouth. 

“Making out with Jean, I bet,” Connie jests.

“You're not wrong,” Armin sings.

You're interrupted by a brief sound of feedback screeching through the speakers, followed by a tap on the microphone at the center of the stage. The first band introduces themselves and begins to play. Every song gradually builds up the energy of the crowd which starts to gather to dance and sway to the music. It's loud enough to keep everyone nodding their head along to the beat but low enough to still have a conversation where one doesn't need to yell to be heard.

The peanut bowl is refilled and a second round of drinks is soon brought to the table, courtesy of Connie's credit card.

He and Sasha are the first to stray from the group to check out the band up close, just moments before Mikasa finds her way back. 

She's got a giddy air about her, and the artificial red of her lips is replaced by a more natural one.

When she asks for the missing pair, the three of you that remain nod toward the crowd, where you can easily spot Sasha’s hot dog costume bopping around to the music.

Mikasa laughs at the scene in between long sips of her Long Island. The two of you engage in a mushy conversation about her timeline with Jean. By the time she's halfway through her second Long Island, she's a giggling and blushing mess.

“I was right, you know?” she smiles as she affectionately strokes your head.

“About what?” You can't help but feel amused by her behavior, her enthusiasm is contagious. It pulls upwards at the corners of your lips. 

“Eren hasn't stopped looking at you.” 

Though tipsy, she's still grounded enough to speak lowly and close to your ear — you're grateful for her consideration. Otherwise, it would make the situation a lot more embarrassing. 

You don't have the guts to look back to verify for yourself, but Eren's track record makes it believable. Even so, you've glanced at Eren a couple of times during the night, only to find his gaze already set on you. He hasn't shied away as much tonight — a likely effect on his courage from the drinks he's had, or maybe because his instincts are dulled by the liquor. He still blushes like crazy, though. It's driving the butterflies in your stomach mad. Mikasa's notice only makes everything more real. It's a reminder that the world surrounding you and Eren doesn't disappear each time your eyes meet. 

“I'm gonna try to get a good spot before Jean comes out,” she says in a slightly louder voice. She stands from the booth and holds a hand out to Armin, gesturing for him to come with her. 

Quizzically, Armin allows himself to be pulled from his seat by her but then looks back with a mischievous grin spread across his face when Mikasa speaks something in his ear.

They both leave, and it's just you and Eren alone at the booth. You haven't been drinking much, just enough to feel a soft buzz in your muscles. But the sudden tension builds up a fever in your system. 

You glance back at Eren. He's laying back into the cushioned seat, legs spread, tie loosened, and eyes zeroed in on the glass nursed in his large, veiny hands. When his emerald irises look up at you through his lashes, his lips slowly part as if he's about to say something — or to suck in a breath — and finally press together in a lopsided smile.

Mirroring his expression, you scoot closer to him to close the distance that's been growing without intention as you lost yourselves in separate conversations throughout the night. 

“You know, you look good in a suit,” you say, allowing your back to fall into the cushioned seat. You lean your head back, angling it so that you have a good view of his face.

“Yeah? You think?” He mirrors your actions and allows his head to rest next to yours. It's a safe distance, yet your perfume still circles around him, getting him a different kind of drunk. Albeit, you can say the same thing about his cologne. 

“It's a big change from your usual t-shirt and jeans get-up.” 

“But still the good kind, right?” 

Your eyes wander over the glassiness hovering over his eyes, to the messy strands of hair that poke about on his head from combing through it with his hands so much, to his plump lips glossed over with saliva from his last sip of watered-down cranberry vodka to the two unmade buttons on his bloodstained shirt. 

“Absolutely,” you murmur, lips curved softly.

He bites back a smile, eyes darting to the side to seem nonchalant. Your gaze flits to the movement, taking in the way his teeth dig into the plumpness of his bottom lip. 

“So was the whole angel thing your idea?” he asks, hand motioning in your direction.

“It was Mikasa,” you murmur. “She got the first pick so I was pretty much cornered.” 

Pursing his lips, he nods.

“I don't think it suits me, though. I feel out of place.”

“Ah, because you're the devil incarnate?” He quirks a teasing eyebrow, causing a laugh to sputter from your lips. “I'm surprised this thing isn't burning a hole into your head.” He flicks the feathered halo, causing it to bobble. 

“Does it make me look silly?”

He fakes a long moment of contemplation. 

“No,” he finalizes. His voice grows lower, gentler. “It makes you look cute.” 

You cringe.

“Ah… so without it I look…”

He laughs. 

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant!” 

He runs a hand through his face. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or you that has him blushing profusely. 

“You’re still pretty without it. I’m just having an easier time talking to you when you’re wearing… this.” 

The irony of his nervous hand gestures and the cracks in his voice isn’t lost on you. Your eyes twinkle with amusement as he straightens his posture but continues to stumble over his words. 

“Not that it’s hard to talk to you. You’re not scary or anything! I mean, you can be a little intimidating but that’s only at the beginning! You just—”

He heavily sighs as he falls back into his seat again.

“You look cute right now, that's all. But you're always pretty.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just… I still get nervous around you,” he softly laughs. 

His admission can only be attributed to how foreign everything feels in his hazy state. It’s as if he can’t stop himself from spouting whatever comes to mind — no premeditation, no reason. He’s fully aware of what’s going on, but it’s easier to hide behind too many highballs as an excuse. This moment is what makes him finally understand what people mean when they refer to liquid courage. 

“I know.”

Your words knock the air out of his lungs. He already knows you know. How can you not if he’s been so blatantly obvious in his perception of you from the start? Still, it’s different when you openly acknowledge it. It breaks the barrier of politely feigned ignorance and makes everything much more real. And yet he held this microscopic hope this whole time that his date proposal is nothing but ancient history and his behavior toward you could’ve passed as ordinary shyness. 

Guilt starts pooling in his stomach. That feeling of rejection starts bubbling in his chest without warning. He doesn’t even register the affectionate way you gaze at him, glossy lips shaped into a gentle smile, as your eyebrows upturn in sympathy. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He keeps his head low, afraid he might’ve just set himself up for failure yet again. But you shake your head.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur. “It’s cute.”

The world falls silent. It’s either that or the first band of the night is done playing and the following act has yet to come on stage — Eren can’t tell the difference. He turns to you, all too used by now to face you with reddened cheeks and wide eyes. 

There’s a soft smile playing on your lips as you stare down at your lap, where your fidgeting hands rest. He averts his gaze, facing forward to spare his mind a moment to clear itself of any silly assumptions. His lips curl inwards — a habit for when he’s unsure of what to say. But when he looks back at you seconds later, you’re already looking at him — glossy lips parted and that glassiness to your eyes that makes his heart flutter.

Eren knows better than to think your gaze flickers to his lips. There’s no other explanation than it being a trick of his mind, right? And yet his tongue darts out instinctively, coating his lips with saliva, as his breaths grow shallow.

In one swift motion, your fingers wrap around his loosened tie to pull him closer as you lean forward to meet him halfway. There’s a brief pause just a hair away from your mouths colliding — a moment for him to process that this is truly happening and for you to wind up more courage — where your breaths swirl together before they’re absorbed by the other. Your lips meld perfectly into each other in one warm, cranberry-flavored kiss. You kiss once, twice, three times, and then once more. Each sweet contact brings you closer together, makes your heads grow dizzier and your chests to be relieved from their previous tension. 

Eren’s hands grip the edge of his seat, nails digging into the leather as if to keep himself tethered to this dimension. Each time your lips slot into his intoxicates him several times more than any liquor can. For weeks he’s wondered what it would be like to kiss you, and now that it’s happening, he’s scared for the moment to ever stop, afraid that no matter how hard he tries to convince himself, it’ll lose its quality to be real, and he’ll be left to wonder if it truly happened.

You’re the first to pull back, slowly and carefully, like you fear he might fall apart if you move too fast — and he just might. 

As you catch your breath, faces still inches away from each other, the world slowly comes back. The music crescendos along with the collective buzz of scattered conversations and clinking glasses. Your eyes flutter open, slowly taking in the shiny emerald gaze and dilated pupils that look down at you, mesmerized.

An energetic voice calls your name from a few feet away. To Eren’s dismay, your hand loses its grip on his tie, falling to your lap as you tear your gaze from him to watch Sasha clumsily make her way to the booth. 

“Come on, Jean’s band is starting!”

She pulls you from your seat, urging you to follow her. Flustered, you slide out of the booth and allow her to drag you away, but not before looking back at a still dumbfounded Eren and saying “I’ll be right back.”

Eren watches you leave, the disappointment gradually settling into the deepest parts of him. He brings a hand to his lips to gently trace the place where you marked him with the pads of his fingers. He can still feel the plush of your lips against his. If he closes his eyes, he can conjure the moment again and replay it in his mind. The scent of your perfume lingers and it suddenly doesn’t seem like such a wild idea that he can deeply miss someone who’s only wandered a few feet from him.

“Okay, I had to get out of there. The girls are getting rowdy.”

Armin’s voice pulls Eren from his daze. He laughs as he slides into the booth next to his best friend. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, making note of Eren’s flustered state.

Eren turns his gaze to the cluster of empty glasses on the table. 

“We kissed,” he murmurs, a red tint pooling his cheeks.

Armin’s face goes through a myriad of emotions. His features contort from confusion to realization, to shock, and excitement. 

“Are you serious?” he yells enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear at the news. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” 

He gleefully drums his palms on Eren’s back, slipping in a few teasing punches to his arm.

“I fucking knew it, I frickin’ called it. I’m literally Cupid!”

Eren finally laughs, raising a hand to comb nervously through his hair.

“So what happens next?” Armin asks, shuffling to find a cozy angle to hound his friend.

Eren shakes his head, still hesitant to accept his new reality. It’s starting to look foreign to him and he’d hate to think the kiss was just a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing.

“I don’t know. What do I do, Armin?”

The panic on his face causes Armin to soften with sympathy.

“What do you wanna do?” he murmurs.

A soft laugh pushes past Eren’s lips.

“I wanna kiss her again.”

Armin scrunches his nose, but he can’t help but grin at Eren’s bashful confession and his adorable demeanor.

“Well, she’s right over there.”

He juts his chin in the direction of the crowd in front of the stage. 

Eren presses a fist to his mouth. His cheeks are still burning and his heart has yet to fully calm down from the erratic rhythm your sudden kiss provoked.

“I think I still need a minute to recover,” he murmurs.

You didn’t make it back to the booth as soon as Eren and you hoped. When you did, there was usually another person or two coming back to catch their breath, leaving you no privacy to talk about what needed to be talked about. Eren had a turn to be dragged away to watch Jean’s performance. After everyone was back at the booth, you volunteered to get Mikasa, Sasha, and Connie — the drunkest of your group — water to rehydrate. The entire time it seemed to Eren like his luck had run out for a second chance to be alone. 

You make your way to the bar, navigating between people sober and drunk just the same. A few minutes go by before you’re finally at the front of the line. 

“Three waters, please,” you say, holding up the same amount of fingers to the bartender. 

He promptly slides three bottles over the bar, a flirty grin on his face.

“Here you go, angel.”

When you don’t give him a reaction outside of politely nodding and thanking him while offering your card to pay, he kills off his coy demeanor. You start to make your way back to the booth, going over the exchange in your head and feeling awkward about it. You’re sure bartenders can act a bit friendly with patrons —  it’s part of the experience — but you’re not big on acting overly friendly with strangers. 

A tall, muscular figure bumps into you, causing your body to stumble back and your hands to lose their hold on the bottles. You glance up, ready to apologize before you can even collect your things, but you’re met with a pair of concerned eyes. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

He crouches down to retrieve the dropped bottles for you. When he stands again, he smiles at you warmly. 

“I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Again, I apologize.”

His polite manner seems sincere — certainly not like the kind other men have shown you.

For a moment, it seems like he hopes to hold a conversation with you. From the booth claimed by your group, a pair of stern emerald eyes watches the scene carefully, the owner ready to intervene against the man with his back to him. But the stranger’s chances of holding you up any longer are interrupted by a pretty girl calling his name — a name you don’t bother to register — from a few feet away as she stumbles her way to him. You catch a falter in his demeanor that goes as quickly as it arrives — though much too fast for you to get a hint of the emotion behind it. 

Before you can be witness to any foreign business, you murmur your own apology and thank him for his help before turning on your heel and continuing to where your friends are. 

“Sash, you don’t need two rides. I already told you, you and Connie live in the same apartment.” 

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. For the past ten minutes, he’s been trying to convince a still lightly buzzed Sasha that it doesn’t make sense for her and Connie to take separate rides. In her haze, she argued that it was completely reasonable for her to book a ride for herself and then book a second one for Connie once she made it to their apartment.

“Jean, you think you can go with them and make sure they get home safely?” 

Armin puts on his best pleading look for him. Jean clicks his tongue in aversion.

“No can do. I gotta take care of my girl.” He nods over to the bench outside of the bar where Mikasa is curled up in a way that should be uncomfortable but makes her look rather peaceful as she dozes off in fragments. 

Armin purses his lips, hands on his hips. 

“You know what? I give up, I’ll take them,” Armin huffs as he swipes Sasha’s phone from her hands and waits to be matched to a ride. He turns to you. “Oh, but we were supposed to ride together.”

You dismiss his offer with a wave of your hand. 

“I’m really not that tipsy. I can ride alone.” 

“You sure?” Armin’s eyebrows upturn in worry.

Eren raises his hand, a meek look on his face.

“I can make sure she gets home okay.”

“Don’t you live in opposite directions?” Jean smirks, as he hoists Mikasa up by her waist to prepare for their ride’s arrival.

Armin shoots him a warning glare over his shoulder. 

Jean clicks his tongue and theatrically smacks his forehead.

“Ah, no you don’t, silly me. I’m so out of it tonight.”

Ignoring Jean’s poor acting, you turn to Eren.

“You don’t have to. It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I want to,” he murmurs gently.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. 

He whips out his phone to find a ride and minutes later, you all head your separate ways.

The ride to your apartment building is quiet, save for the low music playing on the radio. Eren can’t keep himself from stealing glances at your side profile from the corner of his eye, and you can feel the burn in your cheeks as you stare out the window.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, finally fed up with the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he’s been fighting for a chance to talk to you since the kiss and this is a very brief opportunity, perhaps not to address what happened, but maybe just to get a feel for where you stand after the fact.

But you don’t seem up for a lengthy conversation, as you barely look back at him when you nod and reply with a solemn “I did”. 

He shrinks into his seat, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to find a different tactic to get you to look at him. But again, his luck seems to have run out, as you hit every green light on the way to your apartment. Sooner than he would’ve liked, the car comes to a halt in front of the brick building.

In a desperate attempt to collect a couple more minutes with you, he climbs out of the car with you. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he says. You just nod and turn to lead the way. 

There’s a hint of tension as you ride the elevator to the third floor. There’s something awkwardly polite about the strict distance you maintain until the elevator dings and you step into the hallway.

The silence between you has never felt so dreadful to Eren now that there’s something he so badly wants to talk about. But how does one bring up a surprise kiss if not right after it happened? By now it seems too embarrassing to suggest for conversation, even if it did happen less than two hours ago. The moment has passed, and if you don’t seem willing to talk, maybe it’s because you’re hoping to leave it in the past. 

You stop in front of your apartment door, number 307, and fish around your purse for your keys. Eren steps back in preparation to bid you goodbye as soon as the lock clicks open. 

“I’ll see you a—”

“Do you want some tea?” 

The question tumbles so quickly from your lips that he almost doesn’t comprehend it.

He blinks at you in surprise. A flutter stirs in his stomach at the idea of entering your apartment — your personal space. He doesn’t even think Armin has been inside before. It’s exciting. There’s a look in your eyes he’s never seen before. They shine differently now — with hope.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair and clears his throat, nodding fervently.

“Yeah, tea… tea sounds incredible right now.”

You release a breath of relief and push open the door, welcoming him to your corner of the world.

A flick of a switch bathes the area in bright, warm light. Eren soaks up every detail of your home, not wanting to miss a single thing. There’s a bookshelf overflowing with hardcovers and paperbacks, a collection too big for its modest size that you’ve opted for stacking anything that couldn’t fit on the floor beside it. A handmade blanket in warm colors is thrown over the loveseat fixed in front of the TV. Everything is colored in joyful pastel hues with a few more vibrant splashes from vases with flowers and some ceramic figurines scattered along the windowsill and the furniture — a stark contrast to your mostly neutral wardrobe. It’s all neatly put together save for a single forgotten book left at a careless angle on the coffee table — likely to be your current read — and a faint cinnamon scent wafts in the air, the probable work of a candle or an infuser somewhere. There are three more doors he assumes lead to your bedroom, the bathroom, and perhaps a storage closet.  

You toss your purse, headband, and coat onto the sofa and make your way across the open space to the kitchen, turning back to ask him to follow with an inviting look.

You move in silence to fill a pink tea kettle with water and set it on the stove. Your hands rummage through your pantry to find a pair of teabags to set aside while you wait for the kettle to whistle. 

“Your place is really nice,” Eren murmurs as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. “It’s very… colorful.”

The corners of your lips tug into an awkward smile.

“Does it not suit me?”

He chuckles softly, bringing a fist up to cover his amusement.

“No, it does,” he says, looking around once more. “It’s a nice surprise, to be honest.”

Your lips curl inwards as you nod. 

An easy silence blankets the room until the kettle signals the water’s ready. 

Eren stands to help you. 

“Where do you keep your mugs?”

You point to the cupboard next to his head as you grab a tea towel to wrap around the kettle.

He sets two mugs on the counter next to the stove — a yellow one for you, a blue one for him — and starts wandering around in search of something.

“You want sugar, right?” he asks, going through his memory of the time you met at the coffee shop. 

He spots a set of green ceramic containers on the counter and starts reaching for them until your voice interrupts him. 

“Actually, I'll have it with honey. It’s over there.”

You point him to the pantry where you took the tea bags from.  

A proud grin takes over his face as he strides over.

“I see I've spread the honey gospel.” 

You smile.

“Not really,” you murmur. “I use honey all the time. That day we met at the coffee shop was just an exception.”

He pouts.

“Why the sudden change back then?” he asks.

You shrug as you transport the mugs to the bar and fetch a honey wand from a drawer.

“Some stupid reason. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Eren’s brow furrows in confusion, but he doesn’t press any further. You take a seat next to each other and take turns with the honey wand before your first careful sip of tea. 

A fuzzy feeling swells in his chest when Eren looks over at you. The domesticity of the situation has him biting back a smile. He loses himself in your image for a moment. the way your hands nurse the mug as you blow at your tea, and the sheen left on your lips after you take a sip. Maybe this — being welcomed into your home and sitting beside each other while you share tea — is all he needs to gain some clarity on where your head is at. 

He takes another sip and sets his mug down, the heat threatening his pain tolerance in his hands.

“So, you live alone?” he asks.

You nod. 

“Yeah, I’m kind of a lone wolf.” You pause and start smiling. “I might be growing out of it, though.”

“What do you mean?”

A few seconds tick by as you ponder for an answer.

“I’ve never had this many friends before. I just keep to myself, usually, and that's worked great my whole life. But now I’m really happy to have met everybody.” You smile. “I’m having a lot of fun being surrounded by more people now. I can feel myself becoming a different person.”

He mirrors your expression as he returns his gaze to his tea. Your words tug at his heartstrings. Frankly, he couldn’t be any happier to hear those words come out of your mouth.

“I also told a guy I wasn’t into dating, but now I’m hoping he didn’t take it to heart.”

Your words echo in Eren’s head as he turns to look at you with hopeful eyes.

“Me?”

The question has him feeling stupid, but he has to know you aren’t talking about someone else, that it can only be him. 

Your timid gaze has his chest pounding furiously against his ribs. It’s not until you nod that he finally releases the breath that was caught in his throat.

“I thought that— You said you didn’t see me that way.”

Your expression softens.

“You kind of grew on me,” you murmur, looking down at the remaining tea in your mug as your cheeks warm with shyness.

Eren watches you in awe as you bite down on your bottom lip, too focused on the yellow mug to even notice his shaking hands and burning cheeks.  

The following seconds pass by in slow motion. Eren’s warm hands wrap around your face, demanding your attention as he closes the gap between you. Like you at the bar, he spares a split second for you to realize what’s happening before slotting his lips against yours. You sigh into his mouth as an instant fever courses through your body. 

His strong hands pull you closer in his desperate need to devour you. It’s all much more real now. Now he knows how you feel, and you’ve known how he’s felt about you this entire time so all that’s left to do is act on it. 

One of his hands drops its firm caress on your face to pull you from your seat by the waist and settle you on his lap. He presses you into his chest, relishing in the soft moans you pour into his mouth. 

It’s a moment that he’s sure will be etched in his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart thumps erratically, threatening to break free from its cage. Your breathing has grown shallow and eyebrows upturned in desperation as you cling onto his shirt. His cologne travels to your nose, enveloping you in a comforting embrace as the hand he has pressed against the small of your back pushes you closer to him with every wanton kiss.

You pull back abruptly, breathless, chest heaving, and eyebrows knit together as you swallow thickly.

“You okay?” Eren asks, equally short of breath.

You nod. 

“I just— I keep forgetting to breathe… and it feels like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.”

You look down at him with distress painted across your features.

“I'm sorry.”

For the second time since Eren met you, you look so small and fragile even if your compromising position has him tilting his face up to look at you. 

“You're joking, right?” he murmurs.

With a tremor still consuming his bones, he peels your right hand from his shirt and slides it down his chest, resting it right above his heart. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, watching you closely to see if you understand his message and the effect you have on him — he’s right there with you. 

The erratic beat of his heart thumps against your palm. You stare at your linked hands, completely mesmerized by how perfectly your hand fits in his and how ardently his heart beats for you. 

A soft laugh travels past your lips as you find relief in Eren’s matching anxiety. 

Without removing your hand from where he’s pressed it, you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

You stay there for as long as it takes for your breathing to steady and your heartbeats to sync to a peaceful rhythm.

“I got scared when you barely talked to me on the way here.” 

The vibrations of his voice are a comforting sensation; if you could snuggle further into his chest, you would.  

“I thought you were regretting what happened at the bar.”

Your breath tickles his neck when you laugh.

“I just didn’t want to talk in front of our driver.”

It’s his turn to laugh and if you could capture the sound in a bottle to cherish forever, you would.

“I have a question.”

You hum in encouragement, feeling yourself grow sleepy in his embrace. 

“If I ask you out on a date right now, will you say yes this time?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to check my planner; now that I'm open to dating I’ll be pretty busy.”

You can’t tell from your angle, but you can hear the amused grin in his voice when he talks again.

“Ah, right, of course. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself all over again,” he jokes, rolling his eyes.

Neither of you makes a move to separate from each other. His thumb makes soft strokes against the back of your hand.

“I really like you,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you murmur back. “I really like you, too.”

“Did I tell you how pretty you look dressed like an angel?”

You straighten your posture but remain on his lap.

“Not once the entire night. I'm actually kind of disappointed,” you joke.

He stifles a laugh.

“The things you do to me, I swear,” he whispers as you lean forward, brushing your noses together. “I couldn’t stop looking at you. I felt like I was losing my mind.”

He leans closer, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly before pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your phone buzzes from inside your bag on the sofa.

“You think it’s an emergency?” he whispers against your lips.

“Not likely,” you whisper back before returning his kiss.

You’re fully prepared to ignore whoever is on the other end, but the buzzing refuses to cease, so you ultimately stand to answer the call, though with much reluctance.

“Hey, Armin.”

Eren brings a fist to his mouth, mentally cursing at his best friend for interrupting such a tender moment.

“Yeah, I made it home safe… Eren? Oh, um…”

You turn to Eren for a sign of what to say. You’ve never been in this situation before, so you’re unsure of what to do. 

Eren mouths a response you struggle to understand.

“He’s… he’s still here.”

Eren’s jaw drops. You shrug innocently.

“Yeah… he’s on his way out though. We just had tea… Oh god, Armin.”

Eren watches your flustered demeanor closely, trying to make sense of the buzzing that reaches his ears from your phone — he deciphers nothing.

“Well, you can come over next time… okay… bye.”

You hang up.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. Just something about never getting to see my apartment,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

He laughs as he makes his way over to you.

“He’s definitely gonna hound me later for this,” he groans, rubbing his hands down his face. 

He rolls his shoulders back as he catches a glimpse of the time from the clock on your wall. “Oh, man, I really should be heading out, though.”

“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” you offer, already leading the way to the door.

The two of you walk side by side, now close enough for your shoulders to occasionally brush against each other. You exchange secretive glances along the way, biting down on smiles as you recall the events of the night.

When Eren steps into the elevator, you wave him goodbye. A second before the doors close, his hand shoots out to keep them open.

Your eyebrows rise in question.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Or, I guess, later.”

He watches your lips part and eyes wander in confusion.

“For what?”

“Our first date,” he grins. “Or is it too soon?”

A pleasant warmth tingles in your stomach as you try your best to contain your smile, but the excitement in your eyes shimmers brightly for him.

“No,” you say. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

His lips curl inwards to keep himself from grinning harder. He nods.

“I’ll pick you up for lunch, then? Two o’clock.”

You smile and nod. He smiles back.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eren.”

October 27, 2024

There’s nothing I hate more than loose women. They’re the worst. Always throwing themselves onto men and desperately groveling for attention. That’s why I had to kill this one. Disgusting little whore wouldn’t quit following me around the bar the whole night. 

But the good news is, I met a girl tonight. An angel. She was a vision from my purest dreams dressed in white with a halo on her head, smiling and laughing with her sloppy drunken friends. But she’s different from them, I can tell. If she could just smile at me the same way she smiled at him, maybe then I’ll be satisfied. If I could just have her smile at me every day, I’d be so happy. I'll do anything to have that look of adoration directed at me.

I wasn’t even looking to fall in love tonight and yet there she was. It has to be fate.

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taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop

[littleststarfighter]

Frerard fic recs part two

I have some more Frerard fic recs to share. Part one can be found here. If anyone has any recs I’d love to hear back. Please, as always these are just things I like, so they might not be to everyone's taste. I’m a bit of a fan of slow burn, pining and angst so that tends to pop up a lot. More to come as I’m reading so much lately.

This Tornado Loves You by theopteryx

1933. Frank's been on the run a long time and he's forced to stop in his old hometown. At first things are about what he expects - old friends, unpleasant memories, and a less-than-desirable home life. Everything changes one night when he stumbles on an old hedge maze hidden in the woods. It's not the hedge maze that intrigues him the most, though, but the secrets of the house hidden inside.

his ruins were beautiful by Softlyforgotten

A post-apocalyptic AU. "There's a boy in the next town," Toro says, "but people say he's crazy."

Heaven's Grief= Hell's Rain by Honestmouse

Gerard's your typical college drop out. He lives in his parent's basement. His best friend is his little brother. He has a whole truck load of shit wrong with his head and a past he doesn't want to talk about.

While Frank, on the other hand, isn't quite as average. He's a demon, hundreds of years old. He loves his job, really he does. He's on Hell's Guard, after all.

So, how hard would the world shake if the two meet?

Septicemia by Orphan_account

Gerard keeps ruining things, but he never means it. Frank keeps getting hurt, but he never feels it.

living for the knife By drunkonyou

Ten years ago Frank fell victim to a knife-wielding serial killer and not only walked away with his life, but with a set of comic-book-like abilities that he’s tried to make the best of.

Four years ago Gerard fell victim to that same killer, and not only walked away with his life, but with the inspiration to start a radio show dedicated to the man in the mask who saved him.

Growing tired of his role as New York’s resident vigilante, Frank is more than ready to retire the act — until he discovers that the man who tried to kill him has somehow escaped a life sentence and is now terrorizing Gerard live on air.

Who’s to say history doesn’t repeat itself?

Desecrated Kids by wellthisisprettyrisque (brainwitchletty)

Everyone moves into a new town and thinks it's strange. Stepping out of the car with a weird feeling tingling down the back of your neck isn't actually that unheard of, but finding that unmarked grave in the woods behind your house is.

Frank Iero wonders if his mother moved him here so he'd disappear off the face of the planet, or if she actually wants the body to be found. All he knows is that this town has some horrible things happening to it, and no one seems to care enough to lift their heads and actually see. He has no idea what's going on, and is one of the few people that wants to find out.

Luckily, Gerard is a few steps ahead of him.

24 Frames Per Second - The Belleville Fright Night Experiment of 1984 by Leandra

The 1984-Movie!AU: 1984: With new multiplexes opening up all over America, the run-down Belleville Film Palace is probably the least exciting place to work at for a teenager. Except if you’re a movie nut like projectionist Gerard and his closely knit circle of loser friends. When cocky and confident Frank joins their team as an usher, Gerard really doesn't think he'll stick around. Besides, there's something about Frank that just rubs Gerard the wrong way. Then an unforeseen event threatens the future of the movie theater and Gerard starts to questions things he's always taken for granted…

Remember Me as a Time of Day by cedarbranch

When it came to Frank's senior year of high school, he was prepared for the worst.

But he definitely wasn't prepared for a crash course on the supernatural world, a new school ruled by gossip, or a guy called Gerard with more sadness in his eyes than any living soul could take.

White Scars on the Necks of Teen Angels by wellthisisprettyrisque (brainwitchletty)

In the blazing month of April of 1958, Frank Iero considered himself a greaser punk old enough and wise enough to truly understand just how under appreciated and underestimated he was, as an eighteen year old teen writhing in the black leather world of greasers and subterraneans, freaks and reds. He could think ten more original thoughts by his first lazy jack off in the morning than half these assholes had in the whole damn school year, and Frank knew it.

On the outside, Frank was cool and aloof, and that was how he was meant to be. But inside, he was a god damn fream of a kid who had too many genius thoughts tumbling around than could be healthy. Ignorance was bliss, but Frank Iero? He was wide awake.

Gerard Way was that artsy kid that would have never caught his eye if he hadn't seen the kid walk out of the hospital covered in bruises. But now that Frank knew he existed, he couldn't look away.

I'm Just The Boy Who's Had Too Many Chances by MCRmyGeneral

Gerard knows his town. He knows his school, his classmates. He knows his family, and his dark, isolated room. He knows he's an artist, he knows he loves metal and punk music, he knows he likes horror maybe a little too much. And he knows he's gay, though he's never even whispered it out loud, not with his parents. He knows where he stands, he's got life figured out. High school, then art school, then hopefully comic book writer.

Until the cute new neighbor boy, Frank is thrown into the mix. Frnak also knows just where he stands in life; he's an impulsive little bastard that doesn't care about consequences; he just wants to have fun. Frank is the exact opposite of Gerard; he's not afraid to stand up for himself, he's loud, he's unafraid, and he's openly gay.

Gerard thought he had life all figured out. Then he met Frank. It's safe to say that Belleville, Belleville High, and most importantly, Gerard, will never be the same.

The Mess We've Made by ViciousVenin

Gerard isn't sure where his life is going. It feels like the world is shifting and changing around him and he's stuck in place, unable to move forward. But when he meets a guy at a club who tells him he's meant for something better, Gerard wants to believe him, and suddenly he's taking steps he never thought he would.

Somewhere In Neverland by chimneythunder

Gerard Way is living back at his parent’s house as a 28 year-old in recovery from alcoholism and severe depression. He’s supposed to be looking after Pete Wentz, the brattiest eight-year old he’s ever had the misfortune to meet, when Pete gets kidnapped by none other than Captain Hook and taken to Neverland. Before you can say “clap your hands if you believe in fairies”, Gerard’s been whisked off to Neverland by his old not-so-imaginary friend Peter Pan to save the kid and have some wonderful adventures of his own.

However, things are never as simple as they should be, and if Gerard ever wants to save Pete and get back home, he’s going to have to confront some very adult truths about himself, and in the meantime, he's also going to have to delve into the Peter Pan mythology and discover the truth about the boy who never grew up.

Harder Harmonies by melanch0licpumpkin WIP

Gerard finds himself trying to juggle touring nationally with his band and navigating his confusing and complicated relationship with one of his bandmates. With the band starting to make waves and gaining more attention, the idea of actual success and fame terrifies Gerard in a way he never expected, leaving him with the distinct sensation of drowning with no safe harbor in sight. He has also fallen hopelessly in love with Frank, an energetic and chaotic guitarist with a big heart and glaring commitment issues.

Nobody cares if you're losing yourself. Am I losing myself?

[winter-soldier-101]

The Legacy

Word count:1483

Disclaimer:I do not own any character of house of the dragon.

Warning: talk of murder and dead bodies.

Aemond looked at Viserys as he sat down in front of him.

“I asked to talk to your mother, where the hell is she?” Viserys asks Aemond.

“She has a Psychotic break when you were arrested she tried to kill herself then she tried to kill Otto so they locked her up and I was the only one left so it’s only me.” Aemond tells him.

“What did you want to tell me then?” Viserys asks Aemond.

“I want to continue what you were doing. I've always wanted to but I always thought it was wrong.” Aemond tells Viserys.

“I’ve waited to hear this, Aemond I’m proud of you.” Viserys tells Aemond as he finally feels like his son is truly his and tells him what he needs and who to pick and where to hide them and kill them and bury them after.

Aemond looks at his father with such deep passion and is ready to take on his legacy.

6 months later

Aemond sat down in class looking for his next victim so far Aemond has killed three women and he’s hidden them away and he knows he’ll never be caught.

“Hello everyone I would like to introduce our new student (Y/N) Snow she transferred from Winterfell College” Professor Strong tells the students.

Aemond looked up and all he felt was his own heart stop and he watched her walk around and sit right beside him and smile.

Aemond sat in the visitors room and waited to talk to his father.

“Aemond what is the matter you called and sounded scared?” Viserys asks Aemond.

“I found her the one to keep me calm.” Aemond tells his father.

“That’s good my boy you keep her happy till your ready for her to know the truth about you and if she is the one she will stay but if she’s not then you know what you must do.” Viserys tells Aemond.

Aemond sits down alone at lunch and (Y/N) stops and asks the people she’s walking in with why he’s alone?

“That’s Aemond Targaryen his father is Viserys Targaryen the famous serial killer that was caught last year Aemond used to be popular and everyone would talk to him and hang out with him but when news broke out about his dad and the woman that he killed everyone backed away from him and his family.” Nessi tells you.

“Hi, can I sit here?” (Y/N) asks Aemond

(Y/N) sets her lunch down and sits in front of Aemond as he nods slowly at you and is a little taken back that you sat alone with him as the other students look on and start whispering and looking concerned for your safety.

“You don’t have to sit here, you know that right?” Aemond tells (Y/N).

“I know but I want to get to know you first. I just don’t like the idea of everyone talking badly about you to me so I’m talking to you and getting to know you better.” (Y/N) tells Aemond as he smiles at you and you smile back at him.

2 years later

(Y/N) held Aemond’s hand as he talked to his brother and sister.

“Are you going to introduce her to father?” Helaena asks Aemond.

“Yes she wants to meet him and I’ll take her to the cemetery tomorrow to meet mother.” Aemond tells Helaena.

Aemond holds your hand as you both walk over to his mothers grave stone and you let go and kneel to the side and say a little prayer.

“Mother I want you to meet (Y/N) she’s my girlfriend (Y/N) this is my mother Alicent.” Aemond says as he looks at you.

“Aemond’s told me all about you and your three other children and I’m happy to have him in my life and I can’t wait to see what our future holds.” (Y/N) says as she looks up at Aemond.

Aemond held (Y/N)’s hand as they made their way over to the visitor area and waited for Viserys to come out.

“So you're the girl who stole my son's heart?” Viserys asks (Y/N) as he sits down and looks at you.

“Yes I’ve stolen his and he’s stolen mine.” (Y/N) tells Viserys.

(Y/N) leaves Aemond and Viserys to talk alone.

“She’s your one I can see it my boy she was made for you just like my Aemma was mine.” Viserys tells Aemond.

Three months later.

(Y/N) sat down after her name was called and she walked the stage getting her degree and diploma (Y/N) looked over and she’s her father and sister and brother and Aemond sitting close by and smiling at them and waving at them.

“Aemond I did it!” (Y/N) yells as she jumps into his arms.

“Sara, Cregan, father I’m so happy you could make it.” (Y/N) says as she pulls Aemond over to meet her family.

“Of course we would make it.” Sara says as she hugs you tight.

“This is Aemond Targaryen, my boyfriend.” (Y/N) says introducing him to her family.

Aemond held (Y/N) as they walked into the restaurant with her family walking behind them as they ate, everyone talked and laughed till dessert came.

Aemond got down on one knee and pulled out a little black box.

“(Y/N) Snow I’ve been in love with you for some time and I want to spend the rest of my life with you so will you marry me?” Aemond asks (Y/N).

“Yes I’ll marry you Aemond.” (Y/N) says as the tears fall down her face.

Three years later

Aemond helped (Y/N) sit up as she was seven months pregnant with their first child but soon everything would come crashing down for them both.

Two months ago

“Viserys Targaryen, your execution will take place in three months.” The Judge says as everyone in court cheers.

The day before Viserys execution he calls for some FBI agents and that he has information that they might want to have.

“Agent Harwin Strong it’s good to see you.” Viserys says as he looks up at Harwin.

“I’m here to see if your information is credible.” Harwin tells Viserys.

“There are three women’s body’s here and I know who killed them but what I want is to say goodbye to my daughter Rhaenyra and her children and my brother Daemon before I’m executed.” Viserys tells Harwin.

Harwin tells his senior agent and they get a team and start looking for the body’s and they find three women’s bodies and ten more bodies next to them.

“Who killed the three women?” Harwin asks Viserys.

“My son Aemond killed them till he met his wife.” Viserys says.

“Will see about that and you will be adding ten more counts of murder on you. We found ten more bodies and we know you killed them.” Harwin tells Viserys.

(Y/N) opens the door and sees the FBI and lets them in.

“What is going on?” (Y/N) asks the agents.

“We need to talk to Aemond Targaryen.” Harwin says.

“Aemond!” (Y/N) yells out.

“What’s going on here?” Aemond asks as he sees two FBI Agents in his home.

“Your father gave us information that you killed three women and he gave us the location of their bodies and now we need you to come with us now” Harwin tells Aemond.

“No, that's not true, is it Aemond?” (Y/N) asks Aemond.

“No it’s not true and I don’t know why he would say all this and I’ll go with you because I’ve done nothing wrong Agent Strong.” Aemond says as he follows Harwin.

Two months later

“Viserys Targaryen you are being charged with 13 counts of murder how do you plead?” The Judge asks him.

“Guilty.” Viserys says.

Aemond looked on at his father with hatred in his eyes Aemond had set up his father and used him so he could get away with all 13 murders Aemond had found out about his father long ago and used that to get his feel of killing and he got away with it using the method his father used and never used his own and now his father will pay for trying to take him away from his wife and soon to be born son.

“Are you happy that you got away with it?” (Y/N) asks Aemond as he looks at her shocked.

“What are you talking about?” Aemon asks (Y/N).

“Aemond I know you killed those women so please just tell me the truth. I'm not afraid of you. I've known for some time and I don’t care that you killed them.” (Y/N) tells Aemond as she kisses him softly.

“Yes I killed those 13 women (Y/N).” Aemond tells you as he breaks down and tells you everything.

Tag list: @namelesslosers @madelynwal

[rose-of-oz]

criminal minds + jj ship?

Love this so much, thank you!! Also gonna tag the Criminal Minds gang, @luucypevensie, @manyfandomocs, @thatmagickjuju, @xoteajays, and @endless-oc-creations!! <3

NAME: Eve Perez.

LOVE INTEREST: Jennifer “JJ” Jereau.

SUMMARY: A former sex worker who’d basically fought her way through getting a double degree in criminal justice and psychology later in life, Eve had had only one mission when she’d gotten into the FBI Academy: to do her damnedest to ensure that every killer targeting sex workers and the homeless that she could set her sights on was actually acknowledged and caught, and that none of her sisters would have to die an unavenged death ever again. After seeing so many of her peers attacked and cruelly murdered, only to be ignored by law enforcement or be too scared to come forward, she was fucking exhausted and ready to do whatever she had to to make a difference, so she had clawed her way through college and the Academy, no matter how many snide comments or shitty treatment from teachers she had endured, fiercely determined to get into the Bureau and make everyone who dared to target people like her regret the day they’d ever even thought about it. And though actually getting into the Behavioural Analysis Unit is almost a dream come true for her, Eve isn’t really sure whether to be able to trust her new teammates with the details of her past, worried about their judgement - especially that of the team’s sweet media liaison, who makes Eve feel like flowers are blooming in her chest whenever she smiles at her.

OTHER INFO:

Is this kind of me expressing my personal anger at how often serial killers purposefully target sex workers, and how many sex workers won’t come forward about being attacked in fear of being arrested themselves because of their profession, and the fact that sex work is still so dangerous in large part because it’s still illegal? …It’s a possibility.

Look, Eve’s just a total badass and I adore her, okay?

And she is trans, of course, because Zión Moreno is, which has only made her past experiences and her time in the Academy that much worse for her. But she loves herself and who she is, and the whole team does too!

JJ and Will are still together for a while here, and Henry still comes to exist, but they eventually agree to part as friends and share custody, and are amazing co-parents. (And Will actually loves Eve, so that’s a massive bonus.)

JJ does need to go through her whole queer awakening and the struggles that come with that even after she and Will break up, so she and Eve are a big slow burn, but they’re so amazing and sweet and loving when they do get together!

send me a fandom and a faceclaim/love interest and i’ll make an oc!!

[milevenxdepression]

✰ the sounds good feels good legacy challenge ✰

a while ago i started this challenge and never got around to finish it. but here it is! a sims legacy challenge inspired by my favourite album. hope you enjoy!

if you don't like any prompts feel free to change them, especially if you don't have certain packs. use as many mods or any lifespan you like!

use the hashtag #sgfglegacy, i would love to see your posts!

this challenge is inspired by dizzywhims’ sour and simlidge’s harry’s house legacy challenge. <3

rules and gens under the cut!

generation zero: money ✰

you’re 20, you’ve just graduated from a music program and are ready to start your life. your big dreams: become rich and famous, and everybody in the place should catch that feeling.

traits: music lover, outgoing, erratic

aspiration: fabulously wealthy

skills: guitar, singing, dj mixing

career: entertainer, musician branch

regularly perform for other sims

go on vacation every season when you reach the musician branch

date and elope with someone you've met when partying

generation one: she's kinda hot ✰

all the money your mom and dad have made you a bit spoiled, so you drop out of college and see sim after sim. when you realize all your partners only want you for your money, you decide to give it all away. you’re alright though.

traits: materialistic, self-absorbed, romantic

aspiration: serial romantic

skills: media production, acting, charisma

career: social media, internet personality branch

drop out of college after one term

every time you break up with someone they take 2k of your money

have a kid with one of your one night stands and donate all your money when they become a teen

generation two: hey everybody ✰

with your parent not leaving you any of their money, you decide it’s not the end of the world, because you don’t want it anyway. you just want to raise a happy family with as little money as possible, living in a dream suburban home.

traits: family oriented, cheerful, neat

aspiration: successful lineage

skills: research and debate, parenting, baking

career: education, professor branch

have a mini-job during high school and college to support yourself

move to the suburbs and own a white picket fence home with your partner

have at least three kids and quit your job once you reach level 10 to be a stay-at-home-parent

generation three: permanent vacation ✰

you’re sick of your parents’ and siblings‘ conformity and rebel your way through high school. in college you’re known for the campus-wide protests you hold. frustration and desperation with society lead you to wanting to change the system.

traits: self-assured, vegetarian, good

aspiration: neighbourhood confidante

skills: logic, charisma, video games

career: politician, politician branch

move out the moment you turn into a young adult

hold one protest a week, marry someone you met protesting

have kids, but then divorce your partner, taking all kids with you

generation four: jet black heart ✰

growing up in a very messy and loud household, writing is your only escape. as a young-adult you try to work over your depression, but it isn’t until you meet a certain someone that you burst back into colors, returning to life.

traits: gloomy, perfectionist, romantic

aspiration: bestselling author

skills: writing, painting, knitting

career: writer, journalist branch

stay in most days and rarely go out with friends until you meet your partner

meet said future partner by having to interview them for your work

write three bestsellers and earn 20k with paintings.

generation five: catch fire ✰

you’ve fallen in love for the first time and then they cheat on you. you’re devastated. you go through college never getting over them. but since survivor’s guilt can be so unkind, they come back to start a family with you.

traits: bro, loves outdoors, active

aspiration: bodybuilder

skills: fitness, charisma, snowboarding

career: athlete, professional athlete branch

get cheated on by your bf/gf when you’re in high school

distract yourself by pouring everything into sports

eventually marrry the sim who cheated on you in high school

generation six: safety pin ✰

you can tell that your parents' relationship is not what they make it out to be and them brushing over it, has always bothered you. but then a broken boy meets a broken girl and the two of you are unstoppable and in love like no one else.

traits: creative, art lover, cheerful

aspiration: party animal

skills: painting, piano, dancing

career: painter, patron of the arts branch

meet another broken sim and run away together with 500§ between the two of you

have paintings worth 50.000§ in your home

adopt at least one child and have one of your own

generation seven: waste the night ✰

growing up all you want to have is a love like your parents. you do experience it, but one faithful night ends it all. to get distracted you drown yourself in coursework, hoping not to make the same mistakes again.

traits: ambitious, overachiever, bookworm

aspiration: academic

skills: research and debate, programming, logic

career: law, judge branch

be in a romantic relationship, but be mean to them in an argument and break up

complete three uni degrees and don’t flirt with anyone

meet and marry someone new, but always keep a little distance

generation eight: vapor ✰

you didn’t think it would ever hit you like this, but you are addicted to your partner and you need to be around them all the time. even though they sometimes seem kind of distant and make it sound so sweet when they lie to you.

traits: loyal, generous, foodie

aspiration: mixologist

skills: mixology, gourmet cooking, parenting

career: critic, food critic branch

call your partner every morning and night

when you move in together woohoo every two days until your first kid

have your partner get pregnant from someone else/get someone else pregnant, but raise it as your own

generation nine: castaway ✰

you also go through a big break up in your 20s, except you also have a kid beside you, your partner having walked out, leaving you stranded. so you pack up your things and the two of you move to the countryside to start a peaceful new life.

traits: animal enthusiast, family-oriented, loves outdoors

aspiration: country caretaker

skills: gardening, flower arranging, wellness

career: gardener, botanist branch

have a kid with your partner and then have them leave you all of a sudden

move to the countryside and run a farm

never marry and raise your kid as a single parent

generation ten: the girl who cried wolf ✰

you are bored of the countryside and of your high school partner, who loves you a lot. you cheat on them during college and date around a bit. but no one can love you like your first and no matter how much you two fight, they’re not leaving.

traits: hot headed, non-committal, high maintenance

aspiration: villainous valentine

skills: entrepreneur, fitness, media production

career: social media, public relations branch

have a bf/gf in high school who adores you

cheat on them with someone from a different city and follow them there

date around in said city, but eventually marry your high school sweetheart

generation eleven: broken home ✰

your parents say they’re in love, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. you’d hope, you’d pray, you were waiting it out, but you eventually grow to hate everyone around you. except for that one person who introduces you to a very, very bad world.

traits: kleptomaniac, evil, loner

aspiration: seeker of secrets

skills: mischief, programming, handiness

career: secret agent, villain branch

keep happy relationships until you become a teen, then lose all of them

meet someone who works as a criminal, have them be your only positive relationhip

never officially date them but have kids together

generation twelve: fly away ✰

you try to get away from your family as soon as possible, wanting to take your heart to the end of the world. you want to see everything and know everyone, which sometimes leads you to forget what - or who - is most important.

traits: adventurous, outgoing, creative

aspiration: friend of the world

skills: writing, painting, mixology

career: freelance writer or artist

skip college and move to a different world right out of high school

have lived in four different worlds throughout your life

marry someone from the second world you’ve moved to. have multiple kids, neglect one of them

generation thirteen: invisible ✰

neglected by your parents, you don’t know yourself, until you meet someone who does. together you raise a kid and scared for them to grow up the way you did, you maybe pay a little too much attention to them.

traits: paranoid, family oriented, jealous

aspiration: super parent

skills: parenting, cooking, pet training

career: culinary, chef branch

keep a close relationship with your siblings, but not with your parents

meet someone out on the street. reject them first, thinking you’re not good enough

helicopter-parent your kid

generation fourteen: airplanes ✰

you find shelter in your best friend with your parents always up your way. when you turn 18 you start to rebel against them and together with your best friend, now partner, you move to san myshuno with nothing to lose in this city.

traits: party animal, goofball, romantic

aspiration: city native

skills: photography, media production, comedy

career: style influencer, stylist branch

spend more time at your best friend’s house than your own as a teen

move into an apartment with your partner in san myshuno

get eloped on ‘a night out on the town’ day

generation fifteen: san francisco ✰

growing up the city is all you know, this is where you fell in love, never thinking it would end. but then they pass and you move to the mountains where you find a new life and new love, but never forgetting (with) who you originally were.

traits: perfectionist, good, loyal

aspiration: mt. komorebi sightseer

skills: logic, programming, skiing

career: salaryperson, expert branch

fall in love with someone from san myshuno. have them pass away

move to mt. komorebi and max your career before dating again

marry a mt. komorebi native and have kids. have pictures of your first love in your house

generation sixteen: os / co ✰

after 16 generations of love, loss and heartbreak, you are very scared of losing your partner, so you break up with them out of fear. but with the way the universe works you find your way back together and you let the good times roll.

traits: gloomy, romantic, loves outdoors

aspiration: inner peace

skills: wellness, gourmet cooking, piano

career: conservationist, marine biologist branch

break up with your partner when you reach a relationship level of 100

after some time get back together with your true love

have a long and peaceful life and never have kids. thank u for playing :)

[wrapmeinatortilla]

Chapter 10 - Overprotective Friends Come in Handy

There are three things Y/n knows for certain:

1.) Danielle is her best friend

2.) Her favorite color is pink

3.) And the seven guys showing up in her dreams are hot as hell

When y/n starts college at her dream university, Decelis Academy, her dreams start to fade into reality. Things that are hidden come to light and she starts wishing some would have stayed in the shadows.

Alternatively, you’re thrown into a world of supernatural beings. Are they friends, foes, or lovers? The choice is yours.

Reblogs are appreciated <3

To put it simply, Y/n was not at all excited to be working on this project. In fact, as soon as she entered the library her body was overcome with dread. As soon as she saw the table that Beomgyu was sitting at, his laptop already pulled out in preparation, she could feel herself break out into a cold sweat.

Y/n felt awful about feeling this way. Beomgyu had been nothing but kind to her and probably even made time in his busy schedule to make sure she wouldn't be working on this alone. So Y/n bit her tongue, shook her head of the silly negative thoughts, and pushed on through towards the table.

Beomgyu looked up at Y/n with a charming smile as she sat down across him.

"I'm sorry that I'm a little late, my friend Mark had a little emergency and he needed some help." Y/n spoke. This was a blatant lie on her part. She couldn't just outwardly say that she was late in reality because she was dragging her feet to get here. Besides it was quite easy to throw Mark under the bus with his tummy issues and all.

"It's no problem," Beomgyu replied "you ready to get started?" he said. Y/n nodded, pulling her laptop and psych book out of her bag.

"So the premise of this project is to analyze psychopathy using a famous serial killer as a model. For our presentation we have to have both a powerpoint and a ten minute speech prepared." Y/n recited, scrolling through the projects guideline.

Beomgyu merely hummed in response. "Do you have ideas on who we should do?" Y/n asked, looking up from her laptop at the boy in front of her.

"I think we should stay away from the popular ones like Dahmer and Bundy because they're pretty overdone and everyone in our class is going to choose them." the boy stated. Y/n nodded, he wasn't wrong but that also ruled out easy sources.

"As for who I think we should do," he began, sending a powerpoint to Y/n for her to open, "I think this is our guy."

Y/n opened the powerpoint that Beomgyu had made. Vlad the Impaler stared back at her in big, bolded text. Y/n gulped, her eyes focused entirely on the subject. Beomgyu smirked before breaking her out of her stupor.

"Unless you have any ideas?" he asked innocently, his smirk changing quickly into an inquisitive smile once the girl looked back up at him.

Y/n gave him a strained smile. "No it's fine with me. I'll get a doc ready for our speech." she responded. Dracula. She was going to research dracula. How ironic considering all the dreams she was having recently.

The two worked silently on finding information to use for their project. Y/n tried to pay attention to all the words she was reading, but every time she read the word 'vampire' or 'blood', she could feel herself grow slightly squeamish. Flashes of her dreams played like movies in her head with every word she read about warlord. The thought of Jungwon with his face so close to hers, his smiling face then turning to one with fangs couldn't be shaken from her head. The girl also tried to ignore the stares that the boy would give her every time she breathed a little to short.

"So do you think he really was a vampire?" Beomgyu asked, his question making Y/n stutter in her typing.

"Do I what?" she replied back. Beomgyu shrugged, "Do you really think he was a vampire."

Y/n could feel her breath hitch, "I don't think so no. Vampires don't exist. Now did you find any sources about-"

"What makes you say that?" Beomgyu spoke almost menacingly. Y/n refused to answer, goading more of a response from the boy.

"I mean one could literally be sitting in front of you and you would be none the wiser." Beomgyu continued, his head tilting like a confused puppy. Before Y/n could do anything, her phone rang.

She pulled her phone from her pocket to see Yunjin was calling her.

"Hey"

"Is everything alright? You haven't responded to the groupchat in like an hour."

"Yeah sorry I'm at the library working on a project with Beomgyu"

"You sound a little off...do I need to arrange an emergency extraction?"

"....yeah."

Sobs quickly filled Y/n's speaker causing Y/n to hold her phone away from her ear.

"I can't believe that he blew me off n/n....I thought we were going to be together forever!!!" Yunjin practically screamed.

Y/n would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that she needed to pretend to be as concerned as possible to get out of here.

"It's okay yunnie! How about I leave a bit early and grab some ice cream on the way home?"

"Please do," Yunjin wailed. Y/n made eye contact with Beomgyu. Giving a sympathetic smile, she packed up her things and left the library, Yunjin's fake sobs still reverberating through her ear. Once Y/n was out of the library she laughed.

"Stood up by a he?" Y/n chuckled.

"Shut up! I am never acting straight for you again." Yunjin pouted.

"I'll still bring you ice cream, meet me at mine?" Y/n asked her footsteps quickening towards the store.

"Yup and you gotta tell me what happened."

Beomgyu sat at the table, starring at the place that Y/n once inhabited, his face devoid of any emotion. His eyes flashed red as he continued to listen to your giggles.

"Oh Y/n...you are such a liar," he spoke softly to himself, "How fun." Beomgyu pulled out his phone to send a quick text before grabbing his things and disappearing entirely.

Chapter 9 ~ Chapter 11

[elfboyeros]

The Cult Vesperine

Hey, welcome/welcome back if you have read my Lloyd x OC content before, I hope you are happy to see Corlette again. The last little story I did was Lloyd confessing his feelings because I was in that headspace but now I am ready to tackle their meeting and Corlette saving from her little cult endeavors.

We are talking about sacrificing and death a little bit and organized religion.

 SPEAKING OF RELIGION! I am NOT attempting to bad-mouth organized religion, I am not making a statement about religion or the Christian system, any parallels are simply because the most well-known nuns are often linked with the Christian faith. Whereas I am not religious and have no history with faith in general,  but if you are Religious in any regard and do not like the fact that I will be writing about a cult that makes mention of a fictional god (Literally a god I have made up) and uses a system similar to the sisterhood of nuns that often found in Christianity that may do some human sacrificing, you can make your exit, I write this is good-faith and dispute not talking a religious class in college I have taken a class on Serial Killers, and we briefly touch on murdering cults, so this isn’t even a one to one of Religious cults.

Anyway, sorry for the long note, please enjoy!

“Do not mess with my girls!”

It sounds quite predatory coming from a man of a religious cloth who is much older than a large percentage of his body of worship. Especially when the “my girls” is how you refer to the nuns.

But it’s also more than that. He’s not telling Lloyd to stay away from the cloister, Father Laurent is telling the green ninja to stay away from one nun specially.

Sister Clover or Corlette Esper.

The bisque-skinned woman around his age, with thick green hair that flows out of her headdress. The only nun taking care of him ever since he ended up on the steps of the church injured from whatever battle he had just escaped.

Hah! Don’t mess with Corlette. Oh, that sounds like a challenge, and Lloyd is up for a little challenge, while in the house of what is looking more in more like a cult.

Simply because meeting her was interesting enough to want to continue knowing. She was gentle and soft, tending to him with such care, engaging in light banter with him as he watched her wrap his wounds, inquiring about his odd scars and seeming willing to listen to his stories. Yet, she often looked dejected and sad.

Now here he is a few weeks since arriving laying in the grass of a darkening courtyard after learning some interesting things from Zane. Replaying his conversation with the ice nindroid over and over in his head.

“They are worshipping a god that is known for curing illness and the being creation of medicine. Yet, reports since the merge about the cathedral of Vesperine indicate that they are displaying more extreme cult-like tendencies.”

“What are you saying, Zane? They are sacrificing people?” Lloyd asked over the phone.

“Individuals in the area have gone missing,” Zane replied.

“So, I should get out of here as soon as possible,” Lloyd remarked.

Zane hummed in agreement, “Sora, Arin, Nya, and myself are traveling to your location as we speak, we’ll be there tomorrow.”

Lloyd’s suspicions, along with jokes made to Corlette in private of nunnery’s little library over history books, are now true and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Do you often sleep in the grass?”

Lloyd opened his eyes looking at Corlette as she stood over him, her voice so tender and quiet.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he replied sitting up.

“You fooled me,” she giggled, sitting down next to him, “what’s bothering you?”

“How tied are you to your religion?” he asked.

Corlette sighed, “If you asked me before I met you, I would have said I was devoted,” she muttered, “I… I don’t know anymore.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“I…I…”

“Because you can! You can leave, Corlette you may not realize it, but Laurent is disgusting and whether you worship Vesperine or not you should not be near that man!”

“So, if I leave where do I go?” She asked him in a whisper, “The church is all I have!”

“You could come with me,” Lloyd replied quickly, “I’ve already taken in a gaggle of teens, that me and the others are training now. We could always use an herbalist.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Corlette scoffed.

“Because it can be easy!”

“Lloyd,” Corlette sighed shaking her head.

“Corlette, I leave tomorrow! If what I suspect is going on is actually going on you are in danger, and neither Vesperine nor I going to be able to help you!” Lloyd verbalized harshly, “If you come to the monastery with me, I can protect you, all of us can! You can still worship Vesperine if you want to, hell, you can continue to wear the nun habit for all I care! But if you still here—”

“Stop,” Corlette muttered, “Please.”

He stops rambling, looking at her and seeing the melancholy expression, “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“You’re not the issue,” she remarked, “I just… I can’t leave… not yet.”

“Then promise me something,” he replied.

Corlette sighed, “What?”

“If things start going sideways, or if you want to leave, give me a call,” Lloyd instructed.

“I promise,” she declared, “I wouldn’t think of calling anyone else.”

That was it,  they went their separate ways for the night, only to see one another the next morning when standing in front of the church.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Lloyd asked, “You can just jump on the Bounty with me and just leave.”

Corlette shook her head after looking around to make sure no one was listening in, “It would be better right now if I stayed here,” she replied.

“My offer still stands, always,” he remarked.

“I’m aware,” Corlette commented, “Your children, look like they need you.”

Lloyd looked behind his shoulder, seeing Sora, Arin, Nya, and even Zane staring at him from the ship all looking in different directions when he stared back at him.

“Call me if you’re in trouble,” he stated, handing her a small piece of paper with his number scrambled on it.

It comes out like a soft demand something that Corlette must do, as if she has no choice.

Corlette nodded, “I would think of calling no one else.”

It was odd saying goodbye, “I’ll see you again, Lloyd.”

He nodded before turning to get on the bounty.

“Is she the new Harumi?” Nya joked once he got settled.

“No,” Lloyd scoffed shaking his head, “She just took care of me while I was there.”

“Does she have healing powers?” Arin asked.

“No, but she’s a very talented herbist,” Lloyd commented.

Nya stared at him for a moment, “what?”

“You have a look on your face.” She replied.

“What face?”

“You’re worried…”

As Corlette watched the bounty travel out of view, she sighed, feeling more separated from all the people here than she had ever had merge or not, she wasn’t like anyone here. Once she was standing in her sorrow she turned, now face to face with Father Lament.

“Father,” she gasped jumping at his closeness, “Sorry I wasn’t aware you were behind me.”

“Sister, I wish to perform a baptism on you,” he said simply.

“Father, but I’ve already been baptized,” she replied cautiously.

“Will you follow me?” Lament asked.

Corlette followed him carefully before being led to a small room with only a white dress laid out on the small bed in the corner of the empty room, and a landline phone on a side table, “Father?”

“Change, and we can perform your baptism,” he stated.

“But I—” the door was shut behind her before she could finish her sentence.

Corlette instantly went for the phone trying her best to be as quiet as possible, using the piece of paper that had been crumbled in her hand, “Hello?”

“You were right,” Corlette huffed in a hushed tone.

“Corlette?”

“I should have left with you! Father Lament says he wants to baptize me, but I’ve been baptized, there is something wrong!”

“Hang in there we’re turning around!”

“Please I’m sort—”

To Lloyd, it sounded like she was hit before the line went dead, “ZANE, TURN AROUND!”

“Lloyd!?”

“TURN AROUND,” he yelled, “Corlette’s in trouble!”

“Corlette?” Nya asked.

“The nun! That cult is I-I-I don’t fucking know, but we have to get back there!” Lloyd raved.

“Alright! Alright!”

On the land of the church is a large and deep lake, now as the skies darken, stands the clergy on one side of the lake and Lament and Corlette on the pier on the other side. The light spring dem and willow green-haired girl with her long-pointed ears and hands tied behind her back as Father Lament preached.

“Corlette the heretic!”

“Corlette the sinner!”

“Corlette the traitor!”

“Sister Corlette the nonbeliever!”

“I AM NOT A TRAITOR!” Corlette screamed struggling against her binds, “I’VE DONE NOTHING BUT WORSHIP VESPERINE FOR YEARS, I GREW UP HERE! I’M NOT A HERETIC!”

Lament pulled the back of her hair, “Then why were you getting friendly with the blonde boy?”

“YOU ASKED ME TO TAKE CARE OF HIM!”

“Taking care of the boy and flirting with him are completely different things,” he whispered.

“I didn’t—AAH!”

“Corlette!” Lloyd yelled.

She looked at the green ninja with such fear in her eyes as she stood on the pier captive.

“Lloyd, are we going to attack a group of nuns?!” Arin asked, as all the nuns watching looked behind their group seeing the ninja, battle-ready.

“… I don’t know,” Lloyd huffed, “just don’t hurt anyone… too bad if it gets too bad.”

“Prevent those heathens from preventing our ceremony!” Lament ordered before the nuns attempted to attempt to grab the ninja.

“BY VESPERINE’S GRACE AND FORTUNE, THE HERETIC SHALL BE THROWN IN THE WATER! IF SHE SHALL SWIM—”

“Lloyd! I’m sorry!” Corlette pleaded after he elbowed a nun in the ribs.

“Why are you apologizing!” Lloyd scoffed running towards the pier, “None of this is your fault!”

Corlette attempted to speak, to justify her apology, yet Laurent pushed her in the lake and of course, Lloyd jumped in after.

“Lloyd jumped in the lake!”  Sora exclaimed.

“What?!”

“LLOYD JUMPED IN THE LAKE!”

Zane, Arin, Sora, and Nya were more focused on the lake, as the nuns and Laurent began burning down the church. Lloyd soon popped out of the lake arm around Corlette dragging her out of the lake. Get her to the bank of the river letting her heave and cough while staring at the grass below her knees.

Lloyd sat beside her heaving, “The church,” he huffed, “Nya, Zane! It’s on fire!”

Nya and Zane tried to stop the fire from spreading as Lloyd continued to stare at Corlette, staring at her hair, the little dark green hair stuck to her face.

“Your hair… is gorgeous,” he sighed.

Corlette began laughing which of course made Lloyd laugh, and they both laughed for a while before Corlette laughter turned into crying leaning against Lloyd as she cried. After the fire was controlled, Corlette went to what used to be her room grabbing the few of her personal belongings that were not burned.

She left with Lloyd and the others still in that stupid white gown, for her sacrifice. Late in the evening, she sat on the deck on the bounty alone, legs close to her chest, staring at the floorboards.

“Corlette,” Lloyd asked softly draping a blanket over her shoulders, “Do you want to change?”

“No.”

He said down next to her, “Are you alright?”

“…no…”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Corlette hugged herself, “I was one of his favorites,” she began making Lloyd cringe, “I guess... I thought… I don’t know what I thought! You really screw things up for me!”

He knows that she’s not angry, “I’m sorry,” he apologized, nonetheless.

Corlette giggled, “you are very charismatic,” she sniffled, “and you did save me, thank you!”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

The ex-nun rested her head on Lloyd’s shoulder, “Can you promise me something?” she asked quietly.

“Mhm?”

“Promise you will always save me.”

“Promise.”

He replied quickly, quicker than he probably should have, yet he intended to keep that promise for the rest of his life.

[leimeurab]

im bored and i have nothing to do nor someone to yap about my random thoughts so i guess i'll just leave them here.

i really miss high school. i long for the carefree freeling of high school. i don't know, it just went by, you know? like, the world is moving so fast for me; i can't keep up. i am a sentimental person and this is very hard for me. i have to live with the fact that i have to move on everytime or else i'll just live by my past and not enjoy today. i'm afraid i won't be able to keep up and i'll just be here all alone and not knowing what to do next.

another thing for me is that i can't live on my own. i've come to a realization that i am not ready for the world and i'm still not doing anything to prepare me for what's about to hit me in the future. i need my mom, i need my best friend, i need my friends; i need everything. i'm scared there wouldn't be anyone for me in the distant future. i'm scared of losing my mother early, hell, i'm afraid of just losing her in general.

one more thing i'm scared of is the thought of me reaching my limits in terms of learning. i've got this fear of not being able to learn topics, like, at all. what if i don't get to know how computers really work? or how to code? i mean, it's my dream to code (though i still have no idea as to what am i really learning coding for, all i know is just i want to learn coding and computers). math is another thing, i just know there's gonna be a point where it won't make sense to me and i'm scared of it.

i really enjoyed my first year college. it went by so fast also but the end didn't really felt like the end. maybe it's the thought that i made friends of a lifetime and i just know these friendships i made will last. i guess i'm comforted by that thought.

i liked to think i really aced calculus. i really really love calculus that i want to master it. it's just so beautiful, you know? also physics. though i really struggled with the application and with my exams, i get to really know physics on a surface level. i enjoyed it, thanks to such a brillant professor (thank you sir kite, i will be forever grateful for the help and for the teachings that i will forever treasure 🫶).

in these boring times, i get so many random thoughts. there are times i just want to write a calculus textbook for the pleasure of learning the subject more (i really love learning, if you can't tell). i want to have everything written so that i won't be able to forget them, specially now that i am feeling forgetful and i just know this is not gonna end well for me. i also struggle at learning at times, i feel like i have a serious mental health issue and it is scaring me. i don't want to be forgetful. i'm scared i would just randomly forget everything on a random tuesday while going home from school and i wouldn't be able to find my way home. i fear for my life.

there's also this story i want to write. i want to write a mystery-thriller about a serial killer offing people in the most brutal ways but perfecting the scenes is one thing; there's also my struggle with characterization, like, i can't even think of names to my characters. this was once my dream, you know? to be a successful writer, if not a director. that dream was re-lit after doing this short film for our ethics subject where we're given the topic of kantian ethics/deontological ethics/duty ethics and i thought of this brillant story where a killer targets people who failed to do their duty. i remember thinking of the name, "kantian ripper" for the killer while on a jeepney ride to school far from home so i really have some time to think inside my head. my vision for the film shattered with lack of time and resources though so i thought i should write a story on it. up til now, i haven't got anything started but ideas for the kills.

i don't know what i really should be doing in the future but i know i can't be a civil engineer. well, plot twist, i enrolled at the civil engineering program. i hate myself but also love myself for doing it. i don't know what to do in life. im confused. i'm pretty sure you can tell by just reading this blog how confused i am with everything. it's just like this in my head: everything is all over the place. i've decided now to take yhe computer engineering program as i think i can see myself working with computers and softwares and stuffs. should've taken IT but it's a long story. long story short it was not my decision, i just took it.

i really wish i can get to have a more organized mind, you know? i don't knlw what's wrong with me or if this is even really wrong for a person but i don't like how confusing my brain is. the thoughts are just overlapping in there and blanking is really the more prominent result from it. im always blank. i just said thoughts that come up because i can say them. confusing, i know. here it is again, i am blanking. i don't know how to deal with this and it's really affecting my well-being. i fear there will be a time where i really lack of any thoughts. at all. i'm scared i'll be blank forever.

this is really getting long but i guess this helps me let out thoughts that would rather bug my mind. i fear of people not knowing how i really feel about them (unless i hate them, of course) but i'll leave these here if ever it has come to a point where i wouldn't be able to tell my mother this:

i love you so so much, mother. i appreciate everything you have ever done for me and raising me alone must've been really hard for you. i'm sorry if i can't really help you everytime with your struggles. i wish i could've helped more. but please, i love you so so much. i just wish i get to die first because i cannot afford to lose you.

i really wish i get to be better.

[of-many-aus]

Why Jake calls you ‘Angel’

Summary: there’s always an origin story to a nickname, this one is yours

Warnings: none

A/N: let me know what you think of this series so far :)

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

This was stupid. You had no idea why you had even let Natasha talk you into this, she knew this wasn’t your thing.

The noise was deafening with everyone screaming at the top of their lungs. Cheers and boos for this team or that.

Bodies rammed into one another as they jumped up and down, supporting their respective teams that were made up of either a sky blue, or a crimson red.

“You have to get to know him,” Nat chatted your ear off above all the yells, keeping your arms linked tightly as you wove back and forth in the crowd, “He’s your roommate, and you hardly know a thing about him.”

“Yeah,” You snapped back, shooting her a small glare, “Maybe he’s a serial killer. How does that feel, Nat? You could very well be the person who pressured me into accepting a living situation with a murderer.”

She rolled her eyes, long since used to your dramatic antics, “A cute murderer.” Your best friend flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes sarcastically, “Well, what he lacks in personality, I suppose he makes up for in looks.”

“Exactly!” She cheered, finally pushing through a clearing and towards seemingly the only two empty seats in the whole stadium, not giving you the chance to open your mouth and snap back about being sarcastic. She knew very well that you were.

It had been about two weeks since you and the star of your college's baseball team, Jake Seresin, had made a temporary arrangement of moving into an apartment together. And the two of you had been walking on eggshells around each other, which Natasha Trace never failed to throw in your face.

Honestly, you were more than fine keeping it that way. The less you were forced to talk to the cocky, ego driven athlete, the better.

Your best friend, on the other hand, seemed to think that it was fate that the two of you were thrown into the same living establishment. And apparently, it was an opportunity not to be passed up. Now, you had been dragged to his team's second game of the season. Evidently, missing his first one was some sort of crime in Natasha’s eyes and you now had to make up for it.

What did it matter anyway? He didn’t even know that you were here, and honestly, you hoped that it stayed that way. You didn’t need him thinking something other than the simple fact that you were dragged here, fighting tooth and nail to get away. But it was useless, Nat was impossible to stop when she put her mind to something.

Of course, the only seats available had to be in the very front row, just to the right of home plate.

The game had already started by the time you two sat down, and Jake's team was getting absolutely demolished.

No wonder all the other spectators were getting rowdy so quickly. Your school was trying to urge the team into coming back, and the other school was trying to keep their team up. The score was 1-6 and it was only the second inning.

Jakes team was up at bat, more specifically, a man you recognized to be Reuben Fitch, who was in your science class, at the plate, bat up and at the ready. According to the scoreboard, there was already one out, two pitches thrown, and nobody on the bases.

The pitcher from the other team glared against the sun as he wound his arm back, ready to release the ball. And when he so, it hooked in such a way that poor Reuben didn’t stand a chance of hitting it.

You felt a pang of pity in your heart for him, he had always been friendly to you, and watching his lips move in the shape of a curse and shaking his head in disappointment at himself made you sad to see. He made his way back to the dug out with a head hung low, not even reacting when Pete Mitchell, the coach, clapped him on the back in reassurance when he shuffled past him.

A frown pulled at your lips, “This is just sad,” You commented, “You picked the absolute worst day to force me to come and see a game.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to rebuttal, only to snap it shut when her eyes locked onto something behind you. A smirk slowly made its way onto her face, “Or maybe not.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you turned in your seat to see what she was looking at, only to lock eyes on a jersey you had grown accustomed to seeing thrown lazily around your apartment- along with other pieces of gear he never bothered to pick up- making it’s way towards you.

Jake was up at bat.

There was a determined aura about him, you could tell from the way his eyes stayed trained on the pitchers mound and from the way his jaw was set and shoulders were in a ridged square.

High pitched squeals erupted from behind you in a way that made you cringe at the sudden noise.

“It’s Jake!”

“He looks so hot.”

“He was totally checking me out earlier.”

You rolled your eyes at the group of girls behind you, babbling like a bunch of teenagers at the mall, and crossed your arms over your chest.

Natasha was looking over at you with a smirk that had morphed into a knowing one.

“What?” You snapped.

Her grin only widened, “Nothing, nothing.” She murmured, turning her attention back to the game.

After allowing your eyes to linger suspiciously on her for another moment, you tore them away from her and too looked to where Jake was now winding up to bat.

The pitcher threw the next one faster than he had moments ago, and it headed straight for the blond man.

Your heart jumped to your throat and your arms unconsciously loosened, falling to your sides as you leaned forward.

Jake jumped backwards out of the way just in time, the ball narrowly missing his stomach in the process.

Shouts of protest came from all over the stadium, cursing out the pitcher for trying to take out the star player.

A breath slipped through your lips and you felt the muscles in your shoulders loosen. Why they were even tense in the first place, you didn’t know.

Seresin let out a huff, taking a step back from the plate to give himself a moment to collect himself, and his gaze unconsciously swept over the crowd.

Bright green eyes locked onto yours before you could even think about looking away and trying to hide yourself.

Jake stilled.

All of the sounds seemed to drown out around you. Neither of you let up your stares, no matter how much as you knew you should.

Then, the corner of his lips quirked up the tiniest bit, and he threw a wink in your direction before turning back to the plate and stepping up once more.

One of the girls squealed from behind you, “Did you see that? Did you? Did you? He winked at me!”

You barely even heard her, eyes still yet to leave Jakes tall form.

“What was that all about?” You could hear the grin in her voice as Natasha whispered to you.

Not an answer came out of you though. You were too transfixed in the game.

When the ball came at him again, he was ready, and he hit it out of the park. Literally.

Again, it seemed like almost every person in the stadium began screaming at the top of their lungs. Whether it was from anger or pure joy at the home run the man had just hit.

Somehow, you had joined in with them, clapping as loudly as you could and cheering.

Jake threw one glance to you over his shoulder before taking a jog around the bases, a grin of victory playing on his lips.

It only went uphill from there.

Somehow, when put in the outfield, every single ball went Jake's way, and he caught each and every one of them. Then each time he came up to bat, he would get at least one other person home.

There was a reason he was the star player.

By the end, the score was 12-6, and your throat was raw from all the screaming you had done, as well as most likely every other person in the audience.

“Well?” You finally tore your eyes away from the field at your best friend's voice, “Worth coming?”

You hid a grin and tried to shrug nonchalantly, “I suppose.”

She laughed loudly, linking your arms together and beginning to lead you into the slowly dispersing crowd.

The two of you chatted all the way back to the row of cars, when a voice calling out your name made you both stop and turn.

Jake jogged after the two of you, baseball gear bag slung over one shoulder.

The group of girls that had been obnoxious behind you for the entire game now stood a few yards away with dropped jaws that soon turned into sneers.

Your roommate paid them no mind though, as he came to a stop in front of you, slightly breathless as if he had run all the way from the dugout to catch up with you.

“Hi,” You breathed out in surprise, eyebrows raised.

He grinned that blinding, award winning smile of his, “You came to my game.”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha piped up, nodding excitedly from beside you, “She practically dragged me here.”

Your head snapped into her direction and your eyes widened for a brief second before you began glaring daggers at her, “I did not-“

“I’m glad you came.”

The gentleness of his tone made your mouth snap shut and your attention turn to him once more.

“We were losing, bad, but then you showed up, and we suddenly won again.” He was yet to drop his grin.

You shook your head, “That wasn’t me-“

“Sure it was,” He laughed lightly, “You’re like my own guardian angel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

If it was even possible, his grin seemed to widen, “Why not? I think it’s fitting.”

A scoff left your lips, and whatever weird haze you had been in during the game finally shook off, “Don’t you dare.” You warned.

“Hangman!” Bradley Bradshaw called from a couple paces away, waving the man down, “Come on! The boys are going out to celebrate!”

“Be right there!” The blond called back before winking at you once more, “See you at home, Angel.”

With that, he jogged off, leaving you in a speechless state that was so unlike you.

Nat moved to stand in front of you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You hesitated before softly shoving her, “Shut up.” You mumbled, turning to make your way to the car.

Taglist: none yet

[olderthannetfic]

audience question: what books/movies would you give (or have given) your kids to become their formative media? i'm interested to see what makes the cut 👀

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I'd let them have access to my library. If it's a book, I'll let them figure out when they're ready to handle it.

(Works fine as long as you're a decent parent and answer questions that come up without being a weirdo about it and freaking them out so they never ask you anything again.)

For films and other things... hmm... it's tricky because all of the formative tings for me were the genre I'd call Weird Art Films About Weird Sex.

If my kid were shaping up to be that kind of weirdo at 14, maybe I'd leave some of these around, but I think it would be pretty intrusive to thrust them upon anybody outside of a film school seminar. Maybe Harold & Maude. My parents rented that when I was a tween. It made An Impression. It's rare for me to see something even two or three times, but Harold and Maude I've seen dozens.

I still think the opening to Harold and Maude is one of the best of any film:

You immediately know what kind of people both of these characters are and that this isn't going to be a simple comedy, dark or otherwise.

The first time I watched it, I knew nothing about the film and was surprised at both this and all of Harold's other antics. It's hilarious until it isn't. It's a movie about zest for life vs. wanting to die, and it walks an interesting line tonally. I remember rewatching it to show it to friends in college... and for the first time understanding that look Harold gets when he sees Maude's arm.

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There was definitely media I loved pre-puberty, but the things I remember are all like Nancy Drew.

I consumed vast quantities of mystery, and it's probably why I'm a mystery novelist today, but I don't remember anything specific that feels formative in other ways. I wouldn't try to stop a kid from reading trash. I remember how infuriating it was to have adults constantly trying to make me read something "better" than Nancy Drew. But I wouldn't specifically hand my kid those or any of the other formulaic junk series (Sweet Valley High et al.). They'll find whichever ones are popular at the time just fine.

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There's a very particular feeling of my brain lighting up that I remember mostly from my teen years. Those media made me quiver and have to pause the movie. I felt seen or maybe I felt too much to handle. That's the feeling I associate with formative media for me.

Here are the ones that instantly spring to mind even after all this time:

Velvet Goldmine - Music fan investigates the glam rockers of his youth, meditating on his sexual awakening and trying to solve the mystery of where one of them went. Ewan McGregor's tweet is the sequel. I will accept no other outcome.

Crash - James Spader at the peak of his beauty falls into the world of car crash fetishists who are dealing with the ennui of modern life and the alienation of the big city and technology by becoming perverts. Contains people going down on scars and tattoos, fetishy leg braces, and what teen me assumed was homoerotic subtext. (Spoiler: it was not subtext.)

Matador - A serial killer murders her victims like a bullfighter would; she stalks her favorite retired bullfighter who is also a serial killer. Antonio Banderas plays a dweeb like always in Spain. (The rest of Almodóvar's 80s and 90s movies were also favorites.)

Kissed - The fluffy necrophilia movie

The City of Lost Children - Less horny, but what is up with Miette and One's vibe? Visually a feast. Ten times the movie Amélie is. Sorry, not sorry.

Cemetery Man - Rupert Everett kills zombies in this bizarre Italian horror movie based on a comic book character drawn to look like Rupert Everett. My stepfather thought it looked like something I'd like and rented it for one of my birthday parties in high school. Around the time of the quasi necrophilia sex scene I realized 1. he'd chosen well and 2. he had clearly not read the back too carefully.

The Pillow Book - Japanese-Chinese novelist named after Sei Shonagon has a battle of literary wits with the publisher who blackmailed her father into sex with him. Involves a lot of calligraphy on naked men, including Ewan McGregor.

Sex, Lies & Videotape - Unfulfilled housewife has her world turned upside down when her shitty husband's college best friend comes to visit. This dude has become unable to be with women after a bad breakup and interviews and videotapes women discussing their masturbation habits for his own private use. Contains a famous and stupid quote about men falling in love with the people they sleep with and women becoming more and more attracted to the people they love, but the movie is far less gender normative than the character saying that.

Tesis - Uptight film student who pretends not to like violence decides to do a thesis on violence in Spanish media. Her advisor dies while watching a mysterious tape he got from somewhere. She steals it, finds out it's a snuff film, and investigates with the help of a creepy horror film nerd.

The best scene is when they're watching some violent shit she asked him for ("for her thesis") and she says "What kind of people watch this stuff?"

He answers: "You, for example."

That one I discovered when my roommate in Japan was watching it a couple of years after college. Many of these I saw in high school. That's the range where I remember things being particularly formative. Or maybe it's about what I'm open to at different points in my life: I think weird art films can still make me feel too much, but I don't always like that feeling, and I don't seek them out as much now.

Knife+Heart made me flash back to that era though. It's a neon-drenched period piece about a lesbian director of artsy gay male pornos investigating a serial killer targeting her actors. The sheer levels of meta insanity and horny murder scenes, my god!!!

Running through all of these are themes of ambiguous sexuality, often queer but also non-genitally-focused, massive quantities of voyeurism, meditations on what it means to be a fan, and a boatload of death=sex=death vibes.

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That's not quite what you asked, but basically, my own formative media isn't something I'd share with just anyone. If people want to watch necrophilia-filled art films of the 90s, I think they need to choose that for themselves.

I guess all that access to Beatrix Potter and watching basically no TV other than Mystery! or Masterpiece Theater (i.e. UK costume dramas catering to a teaboo market and co-funded by the US) during my early childhood had an effect. So did going to schools where we studied Asian American history and read Dragonwings.

None of those media stand out. I'd share them with my kid, but one example is as good as another. Knives Out delivers substantially the same experience as most of them. Watching whatever anime is hot now will be as good as watching the anime I liked when I was young.