#you’re going to come in here; roast me; give me anxiety by gossiping about your neighbour who is going through it (and you know damn well

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. - 

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd  - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. -  other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK.  - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic​ - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory​ - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys.  -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre​ - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss.  -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry fic rec #drarry fic #soft drarry #OK FINE I RAMBLED BUT WHAT DID WE EXPECT #alexa play futile devices

[mildkatfics]

small talk  rating: m  word count: 6316 summary: Simon and Baz come to the family estate for Christmas, for the first time as an official couple. read on ao3

I did it with an email. Not even with my personal account. My fucking LSE address:  [email protected]. 

Dear All, 

Hope you’re well. I’m sending this message this way because it would be too crude to do it on my mobile, and I didn’t want to wait to be back at Hampshire to tell you. I hope you don’t mind. 

I’m gay. Simon Snow and I have been in a romantic relationship this whole time, and we are happy. 

I suspect none of you are surprised, but it was getting ridiculous to pretend like none of us knew the situation. I am, however, happy to carry on as always. I just figured it’s time for us to get through this bit. 

Regards, 

Basil 

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch 

MA Candidate, Teaching Assistant 

Department of Political Science | London School of Economics 

“Merlin, don’t use your email signature.” Snow peers next to me on the sofa. “Using this account is bad enough.” 

“I kind of like it,” I admit. “It reminds them to be proud of me.” 

“Remove it. And shut up, they’re proud of you.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. I can smell the coffee on him, though he’s showered after work. I wonder if he’ll ever stop smelling of Starbucks. He glares up at me through his eyelashes. “Say it.” 

I narrow my eyes. “No.” 

“Baz. Say it.” He rolls his eyes and shoves his body against mine, slightly toppling me over. He hasn’t gotten any gentler over the years. I love it. “Say that your family is proud of you.” 

I sigh, but give in. “My family is proud of me.” 

“So is your boyfriend.” 

I indulge in a sneer, and he throws it right back at me. I say it. “So is my boyfriend.” 

He grins, and sits back up. “Right. Now remove the email signature and send it. And remove my last name. You’re talking to your family, not applying for a mortgage.” 

I snort. “I’m pretty sure my father doesn’t know what a mortgage is.” 

“Here,” Snow takes my laptop from me and removes the signature and his last name from the email. I watch his brow furrow and his lips move slightly as he focuses on re-reading the text. He starts to tug on his hair, and I almost laugh. I didn’t bother spending too much time on the message, but here he is, reading and re-reading every word because he cares. I press my lips against his cheek. I let myself linger, inhaling his scent. Dark Roast. Probably the Christmas Blend. “Don’t give yourself a hemorrhage,” I murmur. 

He ignores me for a while before speaking again. “I’m gonna hit send, yeah?” 

I don’t take my eyes off him, not even bothering to read it over. “Yeah.” 

I watch his finger hesitate for a second on the trackpad, then clicks it. He blinks and takes a deep breath, and I laugh. “Are you going to be alright?” I joke. 

His eyes slide over to me. “You just came out to your family. I can’t tell if I’m overreacting, or if you’re...underreacting.” He cards his fingers through my hair. “I also can’t tell if you’re hiding your feelings from me, or if you’re a complete fucking sociopath.” 

I laugh again, and I consider his question seriously. “I’m happy,” I think out loud. I make sure to look in his eyes when I finish my sentence. “But that’s par for the course nowadays, isn’t it?” 

Snow tries to trap his grin into a smirk. “Sap.” He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. I lean hard and deepen the kiss, and I feel him grin for real and bite my bottom lip. I give an indignant grunt, but don’t bother pretending how much that gets me on. He pushes back until he braces himself against the arm of the sofa, trapping me. I grip his shirt in my fist, only because I would never let him do that to me. And I do it to him, because I get off on that kind of thing. And so does he. 

My laptop pings from the coffee table, and Snow breaks away. “What are you doing?” I hiss, and capture his mouth back in mine. 

“That’s probably your family.” He crawls back and opens my laptop. 

I slump back, keeping my eyes closed. “Is it my father?” 

I can feel him roll his eyes at me. “Baz. You read it.” I feel the sleek metal on my chest. I sigh, and I open it. 

Dear Basil, 

Thank you for your email, and for your candor. We look forward to seeing you both this Christmas. We’ve actually just invited loads of your aunts and uncles for this year. Wonderful timing, isn’t it? All my love to you and Simon. 

Also, please remember to bring my mixing bowl. 

Sincerely, 

Daphne 

Snow is peering over my shoulder. “I’ve always liked Daphne.” 

I have, too. 

— 

“I’m not asking you to memorize a family tree here, love.” I’m leaning against the condiment stand, now plastered with plastic snowflakes, a few feet from where Snow is working. The fairy lights around the place sparkle against his skin, complimenting his freckles. I watch the way his arms flex as he pulls chairs back, handles cups and saucers, and carries our conversation with a kind of effortless rhythm that I find really hot. “And you’ve done this before. You’ve spent, what, four other Christmasses with my family?”

“Oh, don’t even try pretending this is the same. This is the first Christmas since your email, not to mention all these people.” He replies without looking at me. He looks up and smiles towards the door when a patron enters, and turns his head back to an empty table. “You have, like, five uncles with loads of kids a piece, who all speak Latin—” 

“They speak English too.” 

“Not the French ones.” 

I purse my lips. “So you have been listening. Don’t worry about them. They stick amongst themselves, anyway.” 

“I’ll be right with you, mate.” Simon calls out to the guy. He throws his cloth onto his shoulder and starts walking backwards towards the bar. He redirects his attention to me. “Busy now, I need you to go away. We’ll talk about this at home.” 

I give him a pout. I’m six foot two, wearing a Tom Ford coat, and pouting at my boyfriend at a Starbucks. I’m shameless. 

His eyes, still locked on mine, sparkle for a second before he turns all his attention on his customer. “Sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” 

I let the smile stay on my face even as I exit the shop and head to class. 

— 

I lay my suitcase and my folded clothes on the bed. I almost ruined a white cashmere on my last trip by putting my toiletries on the same side, so I place it at the very top this time. Then I decide it’s actually better to put it at the bottom of the stack, to keep it safe. So I pull everything out to rearrange. I place my socks in between the empty spaces. “You should focus on your own packing instead of watching me do mine.” I turn to raise an eyebrow at Snow, watching me from the door. 

Snow mirrors the gesture, opens his dresser, and dumps a bunch of clothes into a black backpack that he picked up from the floor. “Done.” 

I wrinkle my nose. “Will you please let me pack for you next time?” 

Amusement lights up his face. “I think I should pack for you.” He sits on our bed, looks at my full suitcase, and looks up at me. “It’s two days, darling. Or is this one of your anxiety-packings?” 

“Aren’t you the one nervous to meet my family?” 

He groans and flops down on his back. “I’m trying not to panic, but the closer we get, the more I think about it.” He lifts his head to look at me. “Please tell me I’m not the only one. There has to be another cousin’s weird boyfriend or someone who flunked out of uni or whatever your family gossips about.” 

I consider it. “Elvira voted Labour in the last election and told everyone.” 

“Rookie mistake.” 

“I know. Don’t even utter anything remotely political in that house.” 

“Great. So don’t mention your school, career, or passions, and we should be good to go.” He sighs before muttering, so low that I can barely hear it, “Bloody hell.”

A beat of silence passes, and I can hear his brain spinning into overdrive. “Snow,” I start. 

“They’re gonna eat me alive.” 

“They won’t.” 

“They will.” 

“They won’t.” I look him in the eyes when I say it. “Do you trust me?” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes at my low blow. He looks at me for a moment, hesitates, then nods. 

“Good,” I say. “Just stay close to me and look pretty.” 

He shoves me, hard, and laughs. 

— 

The drive up to the country is still one of my favourites. Fiona would usually drive me each year in December for the holidays, and I loved watching London slowly disappear. The buildings and adverts fade away. The last minute Christmas Eve shoppers nowhere in sight. The snow on the roads thicker, whiter. Trees replacing lamp posts. The thrill is multiplied now that I’m behind the wheel, with Snow on the passenger seat, his fingers massaging my nape and pulling slightly on my hair. The road is deserted, and I accelerate. The engine purrs with the effort underneath us, and I can’t help but grin. I feel electric. 

Snow looks at me. “Are you smiling because you’re endangering my life?” 

I raise my eyebrow at him. I can make this drive with my eyes closed. I go faster, and his eyes light up. His finger travels up my nape, and starts scratching my scalp. Gooseflesh erupts across my arms. “You keep this up, and this car will spin off the path.”

“Anything to delay getting there, right?” 

My eyes slide towards him. Just as I try to gauge how serious he’s being, he retracts his hand to run it down his face. 

“Simon,” I start to say. 

“No, s’alright. S’alright, I promise. I think I just need to get through the first bit, then I’ll get in the zone.” I can hear his heartbeat pick up. I slow the car to a halt. 

He keeps his eyes closed when he mutters, “I may seem like I’m mental, but I’m fine. I’m great.” 

“I’m sure.” I keep my hands on the wheel when I turn to him. “We don’t have to do this, you know.” 

“‘Course we do.” 

“I’ll turn the car around right now if you’d like. I’m serious.” 

“And I’m serious when I say I can do this. I can. Besides,” he drops his hands and looks at me. “I want the roast beef.” 

I laugh, but my face settles into a frown. “Are you sure?” 

His lip quirks upward. “Start the car, Baz.” As we accelerate, he adds, “Though if Daphne decides to suddenly go vegetarian or something, I swear to Merlin and Morgana we are leaving.” 

I smile, and I let my right hand drop down to loosely lock with his left. The rest of the drive is as beautiful as I remember it. 

— 

When we pull in and step out, there are already cars lined along the path. Snow stretches his arms above his head, his green jumper riding slightly above his waist. I pop open the boot and grab my suitcase, but Snow touches my wrist. “Let me,” he says. I stare at him as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, take my suitcase and the paper bag in his right hand, and shuts the boot with his left. 

He takes my hand and starts walking. I roll my eyes. “Are you doing this to impress my father?” 

“I’m trying to impress my boyfriend.” 

He’s a git, and I love him. “At least let me carry the bloody mixing bowl,” I say, grabbing the bag. I think about how inappropriate it would be to snog him ten feet from my family home. We never did when we’d come for the holidays, but would we start, now that everyone knows we’re a couple? I spot a lamborghini parked near ours, and the possibility dissolves. Fat chance Snow would feel at ease enough to do anything like that.  

We approach the door, and I feel the heat and energy radiating off of him. His feet shuffle in place, and he rubs the back of his head. My finger hesitates before ringing the bell. I should say something. Some final words of affirmation, to make sure he’s feeling better— 

My eyes widen when Simon shoves me into the wall, and they flutter shut when he kisses me. Deeply. He looks sheepish when he breaks away, stil inches away from my face. “Sorry. Don’t know when I’ll get to do this again.” 

I kiss him another time before letting him go. “Idiot.” I let my smile stretch wide across my face as I ring the doorbell. 

— 

The parlour is already half-full of people, but the staircase is blessedly tucked away when we enter the house. I can see a few of my relatives from where we stand. Most I recognize, and others I don’t. Cousins whose faces ring a bell but have changed since they’ve grown. New wives and husbands. Little toddlers using their magic like firecrackers, sending sparkles and clouds of smoke in the air as they chase each other up and down the stairs. 

Daphne shoos them away as she leads us to my room—our room. “How was the drive, darling?” 

“Lovely, thank you. The snow’s being kind to us this year, isn’t it?” I can already feel my tongue change inside my mouth. My years with Simon has morphed my vocabulary and made my words looser. More relaxed. Simon’s chuffed, of course; my slurring speech and clipped words are entirely his fault. Here at home, though, it’s like my whole body automatically straightens. 

“Oh, yes.” Daphne replies. She swiftly spells the stray toys and wrinkled carpets tidy. The mixing bowl has long floated to the kitchen. “Nothing can be as ghastly as last year. Your Uncle Edgar’s tires had a tough time, remember? He’s got a new car now.” 

Ah, yes. The lamborghini. 

“Have you got new flowers, Daphne?” Snow asks. This catches me by surprise. 

That makes her smile. “Yes, actually. I thought orchids might brighten the place up for the children. You’ll see the poinsettias in the kitchen.” She clasps her hands when we reach our room. “Right. I’ll let you two get settled. Don’t wait too long to come down, everyone’s excited to meet you.” She squeezes Simon’s hand and walks back to the party. 

Simon opens the door, drops the bags, and walks back out. “Right, let’s do this.” I look at him. I was planning on showering, at the very least changing clothes. He speaks again before I can ask. “If I go in there, I’m not gonna want to come back out. Let’s get on with it, yeah?” 

I hesitate, then I nod. I rub his back while we go down the stairs, as the party sounds get louder. Well, calling it ‘party sounds’ would be misleading. It’s murmurs, conversation, and the occasional clinking of dishware. 

Snow grips my elbow before we step into the parlour. “Stay close to me,” he whispers. 

There was a time when I wouldn’t say my reply out loud. That was a long time ago. “Always.” I say, firmly. 

— 

It’s fine. It’s only been two hours, but it’s been fine. 

Snow and I entered the parlour, and I don’t know what dark curse is after us, but my cousin Emille approaches us first. Of the French Pitches. 

“Basil! Bonsoir, comment ça va?" She had smiled warmly. We always got on well during these events. 

“Bien, bien. Et tu?”  

We kept up this back and forth for a few minutes, and it became clear that she had no intention of speaking to Simon. “Sorry, I don’t believe you’ve met Simon. My partner,” I say in English. I place my hand at the small of his back and smile at him. 

He smiles at her and holds out his hand, right when she goes in for a kiss on the cheek. 

The conversation didn't last very long. 

As I was steering us away from Emille, I caught my father’s eye from across the room. His smile almost reached his eyes when he called us over. Almost. 

“Basil,” He said, gripping my shoulder. “Welcome home.” I nod, and he turned to Simon. “All right, Simon?” 

Simon holds out his hand. “Good evening, sir.” He smiles, but I can see his jaw pulled taut. I can feel his pulse picking up. He’s called my father that every year. 

I waited for him to correct Simon, to call him literally anything else, but he shook Simon’s hand and replied, “Did the snow give you any trouble on the drive?” 

“Not at all. Made it in record time,” Simon replied, while I grit my teeth in annoyance. 

“Very good. Your aunts and uncles are thrilled to see you...” 

Thankfully, since then, we’ve stayed off to the side as each uncle and aunt exchanged pleasantries and tried their best to casually mention their child being brilliant or athletic or powerful. Each is playing their own game, and they’re all losing. I see Simon intently listening, his eyes darting back and forth to keep up with this pathetic six-person tennis match. I want to rub his back again. To tell him not to waste so much energy for this. That he’s too good for any of them. 

Instead, I sip my wine and look around the house. Fiona hasn’t arrived yet—typical. She’d probably bust in at half-nine, after dinner and when the children are about to sleep. I watch Mordelia sit in the far corner near the dining room, her nose in a book, with one of the toddlers curl up next to her. Softie. She’s gotten so tall since I last saw her... 

My attention whips back when I hear my Aunt Ariadne says my name. “Are you at uni, then, Basil?” 

I uncross my legs and straighten my spine. “Yes, doing my Master’s at LSE.” 

I pray she’ll let me leave it at that, and she replies with, “Oh, lovely. Your cousin Rainn is thinking of pursuing one as well. She’s almost done her undergrad. Over at Cambridge.” Good old Aunt Ariadne. 

I nod and smile, about to prompt her about her precious Rainn and Cambridge, when my father speaks up. “Have you decided on your dissertation, Basil?” 

I try not to sigh when I say my practiced reply. “I have. I’m doing it on democratic theory and fiscal austerity in the EU.” I leave it as vague as possible, and hope the conversation simmers away. 

I see Edgar sit up, and I brace for impact. “Good lad. More people your age ought to learn about personal responsibility and the free market.” 

I think about my work, the research I’ve poured over, that argues just the opposite. How the time for austerity has long gone. How democratic theory must be at the forefront of economic policy. But nothing can be worse than a roundtable discussion with my dear Uncle Edgar and half the Pitch extended family, so I swerve. “Yes, the school work can be a pain, but I’m grateful for the opportunity.” 

“Public discourse has thrown what really matters out the window,” he presses, and I can see his face begin to liven up. “It has corrupted our society. Having Labour in power now, of course, is a bloody nightmare. Giveaways here and there. Iced lollies, penny sweets, thousands of pounds a month?  What difference does that make? Throw it all to the wind! There’s a ‘public program’ for anything nowadays.” He makes air quotes with his hand. 

“Edgar,” Daphne starts. 

He ignores her and starts to speak with his hands. Clearly, he’s enjoying being a world-class twat. “And what will that do with my taxes, hm? Wasting and throwing it to bums and lunatics.”

Edgar’s points are so dogmatic, so cartoonishly cookie-cutter, that I almost laugh, but I feel Simon tense beside me. I gently nudge my thigh against his. Steady, love, I want to tell him. 

“Well, dinner’s just about ready. Let’s all wash up and get the children, shall we?” Daphne suggests. Bless her heart. The others heave off the sofa, chairs, and loveseats handsomely positioned all around the parlour, and disperses to different corners of the house. 

I start to get up, relieved to eat, when I see Snow stay put. His jaw is set, and his eyes are fixed on a spot at the wall. The parlour has cleared, so I take my hand loosely in his. “All right?” I ask. 

His fingers absently toy with mine, but it takes a minute for him to look at me. I’m an expert in reading Snow’s transparent face, but right now, I’m at a loss. He nods, stands up, and drops my hand. 

— 

Dinner, so far, is hardly better. At least Daphne didn’t go vegetarian. 

The table is spelled longer to accommodate all the guests, and it stretches from the dining table, past the archway, and into the parlour. 

Next to me, Snow is quiet. He’s aced the table manners over the years, and I smile at the lumps of food on his plate. Underneath the table, I tap his foot with mine, and he taps me back. 

This is good. We can do this. 

Aunt Willow—A Danish Pitch—takes a sip from her wine and turns to us. “So what do you study, Simon?” 

I feel Simon straighten up. “Oh, I don’t, actually. I’m working right now.” 

“Like for a gap year?”

“Er, I’m not sure yet.” He chuckles, and he hides his discomfort well. But not to me. “Just reckon I’d spend my time saving up if I’m not sure what I’d like to study.” 

“Of course, I think that’s wonderful.” I take another bite, and try my best to look nonchalant. But I already start to dread my family’s behaviour. My body feels like I’m about to enter a duel. “Where do you work, darling?” 

Simon hesitates before he replies, “Central London.” I watch his fork swirl around the mash. Willow smiles and nods, and just when I can see her about to turn to someone else, he abruptly adds, “I work at a Starbucks. In Central London. Just by LSE, actually.”

“Lovely,” she says, and I can tell she’s at a loss with what to say next, but that won’t stop her from carrying a conversation. “I tried a scone from there one morning when I was running late to a conference. It was quite good.” 

Simon laughs, and I can feel an edge to it. I decide to jump in. “I’ve had all their scones, Aunt Willow. Almost comparable to Watford, if you ask me.”

Daphne smiles. “Maybe someone can give Cook Pritchard a run for her money.” 

“Baz, you interned at the Home Secretary’s office, didn’t you? When you finished your undergrad?” I hear my father suddenly add.

“Yes, father.” I reply without a beat, though my brow raises slightly at the question. What is he on about? 

“Well, maybe you can connect Simon. He ought to have a better gap year than a cafe, eh?” He’s smiling, but when we make eye contact, I can feel a bucket of cold water splash through me. I clench my fist and I feel a loud clunk on the floor. Simon ducks down to fish his knife from beneath the table. I’m so taken aback from my father’s words that I’ve stopped keeping tabs on him. 

I stare at him from across the table. It’s completely quiet now. 

“Mummy, will you pass the gravy, please?” An even voice says from three seats down. I look over at Mordelia, with her plate almost empty. 

Daphne clears her throat. “Sure, darling.” When Mordelia gets the boat, she sets it down and doesn’t pour it on her plate. 

I clear my throat. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t think they’d even remember me.”

He nods once, and goes back to his roast beef. 

— 

Thankfully, the rest of dinner is quieter. Snow is quieter. 

He barely finishes dessert before he excuses himself and steps away from the table. I smile, excuse myself, and follow him through the parlour. 

I can tell Snow is trying not to stomp and barrel up the stairs. I can tell his jaw is clenched, so tightly that I can hear his teeth scrape together. He opens the door, and we go inside. 

My walls have been permanently spelled sound-proof since I was fifteen. I can still feel the magic I left behind, permeating the wallpaper and the tapestries. A part of my brain appreciates the irony of that; I spell them on the summer I tried to wank my feelings away, and now the spell still stands, concealing the clenching jaw and heavy footsteps of Simon Snow himself. I think I would have been thrilled, had I knew. 

Now, though, I feel my stomach constrict, like cold water sizzling against my heated insides. I sit down on the trunk at the foot of my bed. I want to ask him to sit with me, but I know better. I  watch him five feet away from me, running a hand through his hair. “You’re angry,” I say. 

“‘Yeah. I am.” He’s not saying anything else, but he’s anything but quiet. He takes a deep breath and exhales out his nose. His heart is thumping, and I can hear his blood rush across his veins. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. Like I have countless times before. 

When he speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “I wanted this visit to work. So badly. But those things he was saying. And you listening and taking it, and...and...” He huffs in frustration. It’s demeaning, Baz.” 

“Is it Edgar? My father?” I ask. “They’re old dickheads, Simon. They humiliate themselves. Can’t even go through small talk without—” 

“That’s the thing,” he interrupts me. His eyes flit to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but me. “It’s not just </i>small talk.</i> That rubbish he spouts? You think it’s jest?”

“Why do you care what he thinks?” Seeing him so upset is sending a ripple of panic fluttering from my chest. I scramble, and I grasp, and apparently, I break. 

“It’s not just Edgar, isn’t it? It’s that whole lot. What would they say when they find out their darling Basil is dating a bloody chav from a foster home? Leeching away his money ‘cause I serve coffee eight hours a day.” He laughs a bitter, joyles sound. He’s still not looking at me. “This is real life, Baz. It’s not small talk. It’s not a chat during a fucking garden promenade at your family’s club. I guess I’d know if I picked up a few shifts there, wouldn’t I?” 

Irritation swells in my throat. I think about the Easters, Christmases, summers at the club where I kept my mouth shut when my family makes gay jokes about lads and queers and faeries. He has never thrown my privilege in my face. “You know I don’t mean it like that.” 

“Actually, I haven’t the faintest idea what you do mean. Not when you sit there and say nothing.” He breathes again. “It’s not just everyone else.” He repeats. “It’s...it’s you.” 

Fights aren’t the same from when we were twenty. Now, at twenty-three, they don’t feel like we’re one shout from breaking up. They don’t feel like Simon will slip from my fingertips unless I hold on so tightly that my knuckles are white with the effort. They don’t feel like the love I had for him was an overflowing static, buzzing through the air and hurting anyone who dares come close. Now, they’re just fights. 

But they still fucking hurt. 

“Simon, love—” 

“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. He stares at a far wall when he talks to me. “Don’t call me that when I’m upset with you. Please.” 

I stand there, at a complete loss. He turns around, unzips his backpack, and starts shoving his clothes out on the bed. I can see his hands trembling. His heart is still thumping, blood still rushing. I shut my eyes and start to feel the tears well up. Long before I learned to retract my fangs, I’ve mastered retracting my tears first. But I don’t want to hold them back. Not here. Not with him. 

He keeps his back to me, and I stare at it—at the thick ridge, strained and tense. I know he can feel me looking. I want him to keep talking. I want him to yell at me, tell me what to do. Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. 

I turn around and open the door. 

“Your toothbrush is in mine,” I mutter. “You almost forgot it this morning.” I close the door shut, and I go down the stairs. 

I blink, but the tears don’t come. Like I said; my body knows when I’m home. 

— 

When you hang a left by the garage, there’s a brick wall on the side of the house. It’s completely dark at night, and dead quiet. At half-eleven, it would be tricky for any visitor to end up there, and I easily make my way down there without being spotted.  It was my favourite spot to sneak a fag. Not that I have one on me. I’d kill for one now. 

I stop when I see Mordelia standing near the bins, one leg folded to prop herself up. I see her blow smoke up to the sky, with the soft ember at her fingertips the only light between us. I had no idea she smoked. 

I walk up to her and join her against the wall. She looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. “Have you got a spare?” I ask her. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. Surely, not last Christmas? 

She flicks open her pack and holds it out to me. I put one between my lips, light it with my wand, take a deep drag, and exhale. I close my eyes and relish the way my head starts to spin. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me off?” Standing next to her, I realize that she’s almost past my shoulder. 

I shrug. “I was about your age when I started.” 

She narrows her eyes and bites her lip, and I think about my life at sixteen. Fifth year. I hope to Merlin and Morgana that she’s not going through even a portion of what I did. I think about saying something to her, or asking about Watford, when she says something that throws me off. “Is Simon never coming back here? After spending a night with the family?” 

I laugh, almost bitterly. I never give her enough credit. “That Edgar is a real wanker, isn’t he?” I deflect. She chuckles, and I take another drag. I follow her line of sight and look at the stars. They’re so much prettier here, away from London. I continue talking. “He’ll be alright; he’s always been stronger than me. It’s me who can’t stand it.” I look back at her and give a half-smile. “Do you want him to? Come back?” 

I was meaning to take the piss, but she slowly nods. “When he spent that first Christmas with us, I didn’t like it. Not cause he was the Chosen One, or whatever. Crowley, that seems like a lifetime ago.” She takes a drag and exhales. I wonder if our father would blame her smoking on me. “I didn’t like it because you were different with him. Where he goes, you go. And neither of you have any clue. It’s like someone cast ‘Shall we dance?’ on you. And it freaked me out to see you so different. It never changed with every December, you see. Didn’t waver or dampen. And Simon never stopped looking bloody terrified every year.” She pauses when I laugh, and then looks at me when she speaks again. “I can barely remember what you were like before him now. I’ve never seen you so happy.” 

I look at her with wide eyes. In the moonlight, I can see how her eyelashes flutter. How her cheeks redden in the cold. I wonder how much she’s absorbed, how much she’s grown up, right under my nose. She puts out her cigarette and stomps on it. Without another word, she turns to head back inside. 

“Mordelia,” I call after her. She turns back to me and raises her eyebrow. “Happy Christmas.” 

She rolls her eyes, but I can see a smile start to form. “Go back inside. Don’t cock it up.” 

— 

I don’t know what to expect when I carefully open our door. Part of me hopes he’d be asleep; he tossed and turned all night last night. 

Instead, I find him sitting on the floor cross-legged, facing the fireplace. He doesn’t say anything when I shut the door behind me. 

I pad across the room and join him, leaving a few feet of space when when I sit. I watch him for a moment in my periphery. He’s hunched over his knees, resting his chin at the top of his knees. I indulge in inhaling his scent. “I’m sorry,” I say. 

He’s silent for a long time. In the quiet, if I concentrate, I can still hear the party below us, louder now that they’ve brought out the brandy. I remember the drill, and I hate it. 

Instead, I listen to the crackling of the flames. Simon’s even heartbeat. 

“I’m not angry anymore,” Snow mutters. He keeps his gaze on the fire. 

“I fucked up tonight,” I say. 

Simon shakes his head, and I spot a small smile on his lips. “You don’t fuck up, darling. You’re too perfect for that. You miscalculated, maybe.” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood, because he knows how. He’s bloody brilliant with that. With me. But I won’t take it. “Simon...”

“We save that phrase for actual fuck-ups, like me.” 

“Simon. No.” I shift to properly face him. He keeps his eyes forward, but that’s alright. “You’re right. Those things are important, and they matter, and they were unacceptable. And I didn’t understand that. And I hurt you.” 

He hesitates before replying. “Don’t you think they have a point?” 

Anger rises in my chest. “No,” I almost growl. “They don’t.” My hands ball into fists, and I force them to open again. I breathe. “Please look at me, love.” 

He does. I scoot forward and lean in, pushing his curls back. “You are not a fuck-up, SiImon Snow. I will make a spreadsheet, I’ll write you a speech. I’ll do a dissertation, and I’ll pass with distinction. Because I’ll prove it. Crowley, I will prove it.” Nothing would be easier to do. Would make me happier to accomplish. 

He looks down and smiles. He takes my hand from his face, kisses my palm, and laces our fingers together. 

“Will you forgive me?” I whisper. 

He leans forward and kisses me. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he answers against my lips. He moves to my ear. “I know I’ll never be a fuck-up as long as I’m your boyfriend.” 

“Because Basil Pitch doesn’t date losers,” I answer breathlessly. 

“Indeed,” he whispers. He moves to my neck, kissing me there. “Merlin, I’ll live up to it. I could be buried with that title, and I’ll be the happiest ghost around.” 

I close my eyes and breathe him in. His pulse is so loud, so close to me, that it rings in my ears. I pretend that it’s mine, that we’re sharing a heartbeat. If I had to stay this close to keep my heart pumping for the rest of my life, I’ll accept it. Gladly. Gratefully. 

“Do you want to go home?” I murmur against his hair. 

He pulls back and looks at me. “Really?”

I can see in his eyes that he wants to. I nod. 

“What about your family?” 

My lip quirks upward. “I think they’ll manage.” 

He keeps looking at me, searching my eyes for hesitation. When he finds nothing, he smiles slowly. “Will you let me drive?” 

I purse my lips. “Then we’ll be even?” 

His eyes sparkle, lips twisting in wicked amusement. “Deal.” 

It’s almost one o’clock in the morning when we step out of the house with our luggage, so I wasn’t expecting anyone to notice. We almost make it past the gate when I hear a voice behind us. “Leaving so soon?” 

I turn around. Fiona. 

I look at her, unsure of what to say. Of whether or not she’d stop us. She drops her cigarette on the ground and stomps it out with her boot. She rolls her eyes and says, “Just give me a hug before you go.” 

I walk forward and wrap my arms around her. When we pull away, she nods at Simon behind me. “Drive safely, yeah?” She jerks her head towards me. “He’d cry if you wreck that Jag.”

I hear Simon chuckle. “I will.” 

She nods. “Go on, then. Before anyone sees you.” 

I kiss her cheek. “I’ll ring you when we get home.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” 

— 

Turns out, the drive is even better in total darkness. 

— 

We woke up on Christmas morning at eleven o’clock. 

I can’t remember the last Christmas where I slept in so late.

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #Tyrannus Basilton Pitch

[lolmyeyebags]

Tempting. But nah, I’m good. Unless? ;)

Summary: You find yourself attempting to swindle a witch. Naturally, it doesn’t work out and she casts a curse on you. How were you supposed to solve this curse before seven days?

Warnings: No smut but it’s basically an intro to a smut series; a prompt?

Word Count: 5,538

A/N: Oneshot? Series? We’ll find out in the next episode of-

Ao3 Link

This is her place, right? You’re sure this is the place you agreed to meet up on. You’ve double checked, no, triple checked your messages with the witch you met on bledit, Tituba. You’ve been to her house before but never in the dark. With your paranoia, you could only imagine how mortifying it would be if you were to arrive in a random demon or witch’s home, knocking on their door, and possibly being eaten or roasted alive. According to her message, you were at the correct destination... which was in the outskirts of the devildom, in the middle of the night.

At least, it felt like nighttime. Since the devildom had no sun - excluding Lord Diavolo’s private beach - your body had to adapt to the climate change and learned to tell time in a different way, and by that it meant you relied on your gut feeling and occasionally, checked the time on your DDD.

The gravel crunched and shuffled with each step you took, and with each step, your gnawing anxiety grew stronger. Please, there’s no way this is the wrong house. Although, maybe it was since it was pitch black and you were a powerless human in the night - ok - get a grip.

You know, maybe this wasn’t your brightest idea. I mean, what if you died in the most embarrassing way? What if a creature of Devildom decided to make you their food, feed you to their offspring, and leave your naked and mutilated body to be found. That’s just… no, you’d rather not think about that. You'd simply pass away if you let yourself die looking crusty as fuck.

Though, you wouldn't have found yourself in your little nighttime adventures if you'd just get a grip and master lucid dreaming the normal way. If you just had enough patience and practiced in a neat and timely routine, you would’ve mastered lucid dreaming and the ability to shift into your ‘desired reality’ as those clickclock creators instructed.

But who were you kidding? You know your dumb ass could never have the patience and consistency to do that. That’s like, some normie type of shit. And you? A whole ‘nother breed. Those foolish little clickclock creators have no idea that you were basically y/n and have a main character complex. What? Don’t look at me like that, me. We’re built? Different.

“Lucid dreaming isn’t that hard, it requires patience and understanding, yeah right,” you mocked the various clickclock creators and sent a pebble flying to a pile of rocks. “Stupid clickclock, stupid lucid dreaming, stupid hard and unobtainable 2d waifus and husbandos.”

All you wanted was to lucid dream once! Just once is enough. You wanted to open you eyes to an animated world and see your beloved 2D characters materialize right before you. Of course, you know it wasn’t all that possible to do in real life. I mean, if even the hardcore otaku himself hasn’t managed such a feat, how could you - the lowly human - accomplish what Mr. The Lord of Shadows couldn’t do for centuries?

And yeah, he’s the Lord of Shadows alright. If you learned anything from your writepod addiction in middle school, it’s the ability to spot a poorly disguised fan fiction based off of celebrities in real life from a mile away. Although, it did surprise you to find that the great author of the legendary TSL series was THE Simeon himself.

I mean, Simeon? Hello? The holiest of angels? That was a shocker.

OOF! You face planted into something soft, almost like a jello cup you’d eat in the summer. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you fell on the prickly leaves, ass first.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You balled your hands into fists and attempted to rub the disorientation away, and standing at a good 6’10” was quite possibly the tallest being you’ve ever laid your eyes on - and the most amusing to make fun of.

The witch fixed her gaze onto you, “you’re late.”

You felt a swirl of emotions wash over you. I wonder how you were going to torment her into casting a lucid dreaming spell on you. Or better yet, have her teach you how to shift realities with her witchy powers. Oh! Or even better, blackmail her into sending you off into a parallel universe in which your favorite anime are real and you were the all mighty ruler of that world, giving you the powers to switch dimensions and warp your realities with a snap of your fingers.

A grin tugged at your lips, “what’re yOu looking at Cocksucker69?”

The witch, Tituba, pressed her lips into a tight lipped smile and hissed, “I thought I told you to not refer to me as that, xXdiavoloismybitchXx.”

“I—“

“Did you forget what followed after you endeavored to bring me humiliation in public? Forget the way those demons turned around, their jaws slack with shock as I uttered your bledit username, exposing you as bledit’s most notorious troller, and all of your-“

“YES! I mean no! No, I haven’t forgotten. You right, my bad,” you shivered at the memory and shook your head.

It was as if it happened yesterday, because it did. It wasn’t the wide array of emotions the demons bore that bothered you. It was the fact Tituba emphasized your username, while you were in the entrance of RAD, no less!

You were one of the two only human exchange students and that made you quite a celebrity in the school. The demons knew that! They weren’t fools. Your username probably struck a cord that inspired a string of gossip and rumors to spread, that would no doubt reach Diavolo. You couldn’t bear the thought of reliving the wave - no, tsunami - of embarrassment that washed over you. No, it felt more like it drowned you. Like damn, that witch really had it out for you!

“Right so,” with a cheshire grin, you prod her arm with your elbow, “where were we?”

She groaned in exasperation.

“Child, you are accelerating my expiration,” the witch brought two fingers and pinched the space between her eyebrows, smoothing out her wrinkles, no doubt caused by you.

“I’ll behave this time, I swear! Scout’s honor!”

“Despite my knowing of my inevitable regret, I’m obligated to continue,” the witch pushed her door open and ushered you in. You stepped inside and a fresh crisp breeze licked at your cheeks. You sighed in content, welcoming the verdant ambiance of Tituba’s cottage.

The lace of your shoes became undone in a second, and in the next, you soared in the air and flopped unceremoniously on Tituba’s sex pit. It wasn’t an actual sex pit though. It was simply an indentation on the wooden floor that Tituba renovated into a conversation pit, which turned into her designated sleeping area, thanks to your persistence.

Pillows, throw pillows, plushies, fluffy blankets - if you had to choose a place to sleep for eternity, it would be Tituba’s sex pit. Your eyes widened in delight as it settled on the long shape of the body pillow you gifted Tituba as an apology gift… After you fell against her cauldron she was using to ferment blood moon water. It spilled all over the floor and became ‘unclean’ as she called it.

“Oh!!! The Barbatos body pillow I gifted you! I knew you still love me! You tsundere simp, you~!”

Tituba met your waggling eyebrows with an unamused stare. “Get to the point, MC.”

Just the slightest, you dipped your head, narrowed your eyes, and put on the biggest smirk you could manage - your signature Robbie Rotten face you always wore as you plan to blackmail her.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Yeah, the transactions weren’t as smooth as you thought it would be. Sure, maybe you tried to manipulate Tituba via sabotaging her date who she was talking to through the cinder app. Well, you didn’t try, you succeeded. And as a result, you were put under a supposedly ‘excruciating’ curse that even Solomon himself couldn’t break. ’Supposedly.’

“Heed my words, MC. If you are unable to find salvation by the seventh day, you will meet your demise, devoured by a great and powerful hellfire, subject to—“

“Yuh, I’ma dip, I have to binge my new anime I’ve been obsessed with - bungee street cats - peach out!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

What type of curse, spell, whatever it was, was it though? You couldn’t help but ruminate over Tituba’s warning.

...

Nah, she’s just playing with me. She’d never! Right? Even if it was a curse, a prank if you will, what would it be? Were you cursed to break out? An irrational fear of yours you shared with her? Is is that you fear you’d be subject to an embarrassing sequence of events that’d take you out? Fuck, if it was something embarrassing, you’d simply pass away. You had enough with the second hand embarrassment you got from awkward anime characters. You weren’t about to live through your own embarrassment. That was just... too cruel.

Nothing strange or unusual has been happening so far. It was just the normal you, the pure, selfless maiden going on about her life with the seven demon brothers. Sure, it should’ve made you feel better but it only unnerved you even more. Fuck! What exactly was the curse? Maybe you shouldn’t have cut her off and dipped. You felt a thin layer of sweat slowly creep up and you brought a hand up to fan your face. Damn, was it hot in here or was it just your wet ass pussy?

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, you fucking with some wet ass pussy. Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy. Give me- ♪

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a firm grip made contact with your shoulders.

A strangled cry left your lips as you doubled over. Fiery ropes of erotism enveloped your body. It was as if every nerve, every vein in your body was coursing with raw pleasure. You felt a blush come over not just your cheeks but your entire body as you locked eyes with the classroom that you disrupted with your lewd… sound.

The professor coughed and proceeded to point to the diagram of a demon, angel, and human anatomy, explaining what the three species have in common and what they don’t.

Your bottom lip sought comfort in being chewed by your teeth. With your head hung and your hair slightly covering your face, you followed the hand on your shoulder to its owner.

My, just how mortifying could it get? It was fucking Simeon. His cheeks were dusted pink and his lips were caught in an ‘o’ and his eyes were filled with surprise, then worry.

“Simeon, I,” your eyes were downcast, refusing to meet his gaze, “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

What the fawk. This is the worst day ever. Now the image of a little lamb you assumed Simeon had for you would be replaced by a horny, hormone monster.

Stupefied, Simeon sat still, staring at you.

Fuck! This is so awkward! I should probably explain that I didn’t mean to release a porn star moan just because he touched my shoulder! I mean, he’s an angel and this is just the worst fucking thing oh my gosh...

And with that, your dumb ass found yourself rambling to Simeon in great, excessive detail of your meeting with Tituba. Even going as far to expose your usernames and directly quoting yourself and that wretched witch.

“Oh my,” he lifted your chin with his fingers and you stiffened, resisting the urge to sing a song of the pleasure that coursed through you. He frowned and studied the way you reacted to his touch. He probably didn’t intend to almost send you into your first orgasm buuuut hot damn. Please, Simeon, stop being so breathtaking with your exposed shoulders.

Hold up. Shoulders? What the hell, just how far did you fall? You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain and you became the villain. You were literally a prime example of why dress code conduct in the human realm prohibited shoulders from being shown in school. Who would’ve thought?

“Not to worry, MC, counseling little lambs in their times of need is our job, after all.”

Fuck, why is he such a gentleman. You felt like putty from his touch alone and your thighs found itself squeezing together as a response to his touch.

“S-Simeon, please,” you grit your teeth and muster all of your willpower to not moan. Continuing with your impromptu explanation, you say, “it’s just, whenever I find myself bumping into anyone, it feels almost uncomfortably good. Like, pleasurable? I don’t know how to explain it but,” your chewed on your lip. “I don’t know how it came to that considering I’m literally as pure as anyone could get but I feel extremely overcome with lust for some reason.”

A husky timbre sang in your ear. “Oh? Is that so?”

Fuck. No no no! You hit back the urge to moan and doubled over in your seat, balling your hands into fists in an attempt to regain yourself.

Who-? Who fuck is this evil? You come back to your seated position and find yourself face to face with Solomon. His eyes were twinkling with pure mischief.

How in the world did you forget that Solomon sat right next to you? Directly to your left, no less. How much did he hear? Knowing him, he probably noticed your state of distress and took full advantage of it, listening in on everything you ranted to Simeon.

“Ah,” he stifled back his laughter, “so you weren’t kidding?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, bringing your hand up and preparing to smack a bitch until you realized you’d probably double over again from the skin to skin contact. “Ugh, you’re lucky I can’t strangle you.”

Well, you’re fucked.

“Aww, you shouldn’t be like that, MC!” Solomon brought a hand up to his chest and frowned. “After all, since a powerful witch like Tituba put you under a curse, you’d benefit from having The Greatest Sorcerer on your side.”

You groaned and slid down your chair, covering your face in equal parts shame and annoyance - only for Solomon, of course. Simeon, however, deserves the whole world.

“Little lamb, I think you should head over to the House of Lamentation early,” Simeon advised. You met his sympathetic gaze and felt a wave of relief wash over you. Truly, he was an angel.

“Can I really do that?”

“I’ll walk you over to the nurse’s office if you’re scared,” Solomon cooed. His lips brushed against the shell of your left ear and his fingers strummed along the small of your back.

“F-Fuck,” you whisper screamed and clutched your body, as if you were holding yourself down from the oncoming shockwaves his mere actions brought upon you.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

You found yourself in the common room, back at the House of Lamentation. You sat down on the rightmost part of a loveseat, welcoming the warmth of the fireplace and the sound of wood snapping and cracking against the fire. Fucking Solomon. That sneaky rat bastard. Who gave him the audacity to act like Hugh Hefner, when at best, motherfucker was Voldemort.

It was a wonder how you got here safely, really. Considering that you weren’t the best at keeping yourself composed when you were under pressure. Maybe you were born with it? Maybe it’s Maybelline.

Ding! Your DDD vibrated against your back pocket. Shame coursed through you as heat pooled in between your legs. Even from that? Really? To think you were acting more like a crusty, musty, virgin than Levi.

Who was it that texted you this time? Your face fell as you read the banner on your DDD.

Solomon.

Great, you wonder what he has planned for you this time. Taking a deep breath, you click on the notification.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Solomon: This is so funny. Guess what kind of curse you’re under.

MC: ...MF. Get on with it!!!

Solomon: It’s a fucking curse of temptation, charged with eros.

MC: ...

Solomon: ...

MC: Say sike rn. Please. I’m begging you.

Solomon: Then beg.

MC: ...

Solomon: LMAO

MC: You can break it right?! It’s just a fucking horny curse. It doesn’t seem that complicated

Solomon: Stupid hoe. Did you not pay attention to Unit 1 of Incantations?

MC: TF?? Who do you take me for? That was like the first week I was abducted. Ofc I was tryna convince myself I was just high or something or like I was in a weird ass dream

Solomon: ...Well, the simpler and more direct a curse is, the harder it is to break. Obviously, complicated curses are more susceptible to flaws and mistakes. And it’s just your luck because the curse Tituba placed you under is lined with malicious intent.

Solomon: Didn’t you say she only spoke a single sentence when she cast her spell on you?

MC: Oh fuck.

Solomon: LOL! Literally. I could break it in a day or two if it was any other witch. But this is Tituba we’re talking about.

MC: Her breed? Different >:)

Solomon: ...

MC: Ok! I’m sorry. Please, go on oh great and powerful one.

Solomon: Hold on, I’ve only just figured out what type of curse you’re under. Give me a few hours and I’ll head over there and explain it to you once I’ve solved it.

MC: MAKE IT QUICK. IF THE BROTHERS FIND OUT, I’M GOING TO PASS AWAY FROM EMBARRASSMENT

Solomon: dO YOU WANT ME TO SOLVE IT OR NOT?

MC: I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, take your time oh, Solomon the Wise. But come quick! Please

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

“LOL! You’ll never guess what happens in chapter 22 of Being An Old Man, I Thought It Was Too Late For Me To Have Kids With My Wife Sarah But God Blessed Me A Son!”

“You wouldn’t dare! I haven’t reached that part yet! You wouldn’t use such dirty tactics to distract me.”

“Abraham has to sacrifice his-“

“NOOO!”

“Levi, MC, please,” Satan sighed and lowered his book, meeting your sheepish grin and Levi's scoff with an unamused stare.

The common room was full of life. Satan sat right across from you, engrossed in another one of his nerdy books and Asmo sat beside him, humming a tune as he painted his nails - for like, the third time this week. Mammon sat right next to him, fixed on his DDD. You could barely make out the layout of the akuzon app. Stupid mammon, he’s already on another online shopping spree despite having more frozen bank accounts that even Lucifer himself could count.

Speaking of Lucifer, you turn your gaze to him as he sat on the armchair, smack down in the middle of the two loveseats right across from each other. He just came back from another meeting with Diavolo and was sorting through his papers.

What in the name of Christopher Gray... how could one man look that stunning after being holed up in a meeting for five hours. Your dumb ass would step out of the meeting looking like you haven’t washed your hair in years.

Beel sat to the left of Levi. He chewed on a stick of bat jerky and was watching some video on his DDD - probably about working out or food - and Belphie laid by himself, curled up right in front of the fireplace with his head resting on his cow pillow, knocked out cold. Or well, knocked out warm.

It was almost strange how calm the ambiance was. You felt a spike of anxiety churn at your stomach. Why do you feel like something bad is going to happen?

“Hey, pay attention normie! I’m about to beat your high score in subway swimmers!” Levi stick his tongue out in concentration, deft fingers swiping away at obstacles and collecting grimm as he ran away from the kraken security guardian.

“Oh no! NOOO!” You clutch your DDD, just in time to watch your character collide with a bed of coral. Your face fell at the words displayed on the screen. ‘Save me!’

“No, I ran out of keys,” you groan and threw your DDD at Levi, crossing your arms.

“The only reason you’ve been able to keep up with me all this time is because of all the money you’ve spent on keys, MC!”

“Hey!” You scoff, “you’re making me feel like Mammon!”

“Oi! I don’t spend that much money!”

Without missing a beat, Satan quips back, “Only because Lucifer confiscated Goldie from you - again.”

Beel nodded his head. He took the last bite of his bat jerky and hummed in agreement.

Ding! Dong!

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, “Who’s at the door?”

Shit. You forgot how the brothers don’t exactly hold Solomon in the highest regards.

Nervously laughing, you answered him, “Ah, that would be Solomon.”

Feeling his scrutinizing gaze, you look up and lock eye contact with Lucifer. His eyes narrowed and you feel yourself growing hot under his gaze. Not that he was turning you on, no. You never liked this kind of attention on you. I mean, who’d openly like to get gawked at?

As if answering your question, Asmodeus gives you a playful smile. “Oh? Solomon? I didn’t know you two were close.”

“Uhh, well, it’s-“

“Oh! Solomon! I’ll get the door!” Levi snapped out of his trance and pressed pause on his game. Thank goodness Levi and Solomon bonded over TSL. You couldn’t imagine any other brothers welcoming him inside if it weren’t for his connection to Levi.

Belphie began to stir from the commotion. He brought himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” He yawned.

“MC.”

You turned your attention to Lucifer who looks more daddy than ever. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were pressed together in disapproval. His frown was only the cherry on the top. “Would you care to explain why you invited Solomon over?”

Fuck. Please stop being such an alpha male for once. Images of his physique towering over yours flooded your mind. His hands would pin yours right above your head, rendering your arms useless, and his strong legs would encase you in a cage like hold. Then, him being Lucifer, would say something clever and sensual at the same time, and you'd melt under his gaze.

Wait. UGH! Snap out of it!

You opened your mouth to respond to him when Solomon beats you to it.

“I’ve figured out the exact curse MC has been afflicted with,” and with a smirk, “and how to relieve her of it.”

Shit. Oh shit. He really wants to watch the world burn, huh? You grimaced, bracing yourself for the onslaught of questions from the demon brothers.

Satan’s glare directed at Solomon disappears and is replaced with concern, “a curse?”

“No! It’s not fair! You’re supposed to be my Henry for all of eternity! You can't be cursed!”

“Hey MC! Just what kinda things have ya been up to? I’m s’posed to be protecting you, ya hear?”

“Poor MC! She looks so stressed! That's sooo not good for your skin!”

“Can’t she just sleep it off?”

“MC,” Beel frowned and you returned his concerned expression with a small smile.

Lucifer slammed his hands on the coffee table, it was like thunder just went off inside of the house. “Enough!” His brows were bunched together in a glare and his arms were crossed. “Solomon, would you care to explain the kind of curse MC is under and who the identity of the caster is?”

Your jaw fell slack and you gave Solomon your best ‘please no’ stare you could muster. Your hands were collected in front of you like a prayer.

Solomon only smiled and a chill ran up your spine. That’s not how a smile is supposed to look. No, a real smile would be if your eyes shrank, forming half crescent moons, with wrinkles in the corners. No way. Was he really…?

“If you don’t mind, Lucifer, I’d like to get MC’s approval before continuing.”

Confusion. Yeah, that’s the best way to describe how the brothers reacted. Complete and utter confusion.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

She signed defeatedly, “fine. Do your worst.”

Is that idiot really going to tempt me into unleashing as much chaos as I could possibly muster? Which is… a lot. I mean, I am known as The Great Sorcerer.

Though, she looks so tempting when she’s so defeated - so small and weak, pathetic, even - it only brings me more amusement. Now, I wonder what route I’m going to choose this time. Should I play as the devious sorcerer? The kindhearted and forgiving human friend of MC? Who am I kidding? Both! Yeah, that wasn’t even a question. I almost laughed out loud. Man, I really am a genius.

I cleared my throat, unwavering as I felt the collective gaze of the demon brothers fall upon my being. And a lustier one from emanating from Asmodeus. No surprise there.

Choose your words carefully, Solomon. You gotta be on her side.

“MC has been afflicted with a curse of temptation, charged with eros, by Tituba the witch. It’ll continue to affect her over the course of seven days, subjugating her to extreme heat that will boil her from the inside out lest she finds relief. She has until the clock strikes midnight on the seventh day.”

Perfect.

A furious blush cascaded over Mammon’s features. He was the first to break the silence. “O-Oi! You’re kidding right?”

“Wah!” Asmo crooned. He gave MC a half-lidded smile. “My my! Now isn’t this a wonderful turn of events~!”

Satan elbowed Asmo on his side. “That’s enough with the teasing, Asmo,” he lectured.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Satan, those bright red cheeks of yours aren't fooling anyone.”

“A-Asmo!”

“Whoa! This is just like the anime I’ve been watching! I Attempted To Manipulate A Great And Powerful Witch And Now I’ve Been Cursed And The Only Way I Can Break Out Of It Is For Me To Kiss The One I love!”

Beel gave Levi a frown, shaking his head at his antics despite the pink that dusted his features.

A glee of joy overcame me as I watched everything unfold. Lucifer looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of its sockets. He was torn between maintaining his stunned gaze onto me or onto MC, whose probably attempting to curl up into a ball at this point.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Y’know what, I really am going to smack a bitch. And by that, I mean Solomon and how that sneaky bastard carefully chose his words to bring forth a reaction like… well, like this.

You were so engrossed by the chorus of reactions harmonizing with each other, and focused on morphing into a ball of shame, you almost forgot about Belphie. That was, until he placed his hand on your calf, coaxing you out of your ball. He gave you a kind and sympathetic gaze. His lips were set in a small frown, his eyebrows downcast.

It happened in only a few seconds. You were filled with equal parts horror and pleasure because he didn’t know that simple touches like this could affect you to such a degree. Couldn’t blame him though, he was the only brother that didn’t react in such an inappropriate way to your predicament. And he didn’t even seem amused by it at all.

You, however, well... His warm touch, placed on your calf only sent you into overdrive. “N-No! Don’t touch me!” The absolute lewdest, cry - followed by a moan - escaped your lips. Your body shivered and as if on cue, an overwhelmingly hot fire washed over you. A deep, unyielding fire. It fucking sent you, and the brothers.

“Ah,” Solomon laughed, “I may have forgot to mention that during this period, MC’s senses will be hightened tenfold. If not, possibly more. I figured that’s what the extreme heat stood for and this just proved me right.”

“F-Fuck,” you breathed. Shit, fucking get a grip, MC! You’re in the middle of the brothers and stinky Solomon who’s thriving off of your suffering. Scowling, you sent him a middle finger.

You caught yourself staring at Belphie. His eyes, which were filled with sympathy was now clouded over by something else. It darkened, and you saw his pupils blown wide, threatening to devour the bluish violet color that surrounded it.

“I’m sorry, Belphie, I should’ve told you before,” you murmur.

This was it though. This is the day you die. Cause of death? Embarrassment. Yeah, that’s right. Like a fucking sim dying because it peed in front of the other sims in the club, probably because you kept on cancelling their whim to use the restroom.

“I can help you find relief.”

Pause.

Your moth fell agape at Belphie’s suggestion. Did he really just suggest that? To you? Do you pretend to be Helen Keller? Do you become Jared, 19? There’s no way you could say yes, despite the temptations you’ve felt, longing for sexual touch. After all, your first kiss happened such a long time ago. And even then, you broke it off after a brief moment because you found yourself unwilling to make a fool of yourself. Ha! You, accepting Belphie’s proposal. What a long shot. You were definitely prepared to pass away before you could make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of the brothers and Solomon.

“B-Belphie! Hey! Get your hands off my human!”

Satan and Beel were at a loss for words. To your surprise, so was Lucifer. And Levi, you could only assume, is passed out next to you on the couch after hearing your cry of pleasure.

“Guys, uhh,” you scratched the back of your neck, “it’s okay. I’ll just accept my fate and boil over by the seventh day.”

Right! I saved them from the discomfort of being obliged to help me relieve myself. Plus, that was sorta awkward. I mean, if it happened to someone I didn’t harbor any feelings for, why should I have to help them get laid or something? This was only fair.

At your words, Lucifer was roused to take control of this discord. “Absolutely not. As the eldest and trusted advisor to Diavolo, it is my duty to-“

“Oh, come on Lucifer! Don’t give us that! Just admit you’d be more than willing to help our little MC out in her predicament,” teased Asmo.

You fidgeted in your seat. How were you going to explain to the brothers in a logical manner that you’d rather die than admit you’re an inexperienced virgin that could rival Levi himself?

Oh no. You were too late. Solomon caught on to your trepidation and released a dramatic gasp, “MC, don’t tell me,” he paused, for dramatic effect, “were you not kidding when you claimed to be pure? Are you actually a virgin?”

You smiled like the calm before the storm, the waves pulling back before the tsunami crashed. It was the way the earth stilled before the meteorite connected. “I’ll take that as my cue to pass away.”

You closed your eyes and pretended you were in a place, free from embarrassment. Ignoring the gasps and murmurs from Mammon and Satan (and Levi who woke up after passing out), the hums of approval from Asmo and Belphie, the way Solomon stifled back his laughter, and you couldn’t hear it but you were guessing Beel and Lucifer were completely speechless.

“MC, you can’t just close your eyes and pretend we aren’t here,” Satan coaxed, "we're not going to let you perish because of this curse."

You cock one eye open and nodded, ruminating over the different ways you could respond to his infuriatingly rational comment.  “I can try,” you maintained your smile and sat cross legged on the couch, meditating into the astral realm. That's where your soul was, of course, after you died from the embarrassment.

“Oh honey,” cooed Asmo, “we only want what's best for you. Plus, I could practically taste the desire oozing out of you.”

“Asmo!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

This was going to be a long night. Solomon bid farewell to the brothers after chatting with Lucifer, discussing the curse as in depth as he could without revealing the little snippet of information he decided to keep for himself. The rest of the brothers went back and forth with MC, trying to convince her to think over her choice and the severity of the curse but with a pride that could rival Lucifer’s, she rejected it with a shake of her head and kept her arms crossed. It took her a while before it dawned on her -  the brothers would not yield until she gave them a satisfactory answer. Defeated, she told them that she would consider it.

It was getting late.

The brothers returned to their rooms and MC followed not long afterwards. The House of Lamentation was filled with a different tension tonight, one unlike any other.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfic x reader

[calleo-bricriu]

Well, that was interesting.

All right! Let's see who we're gossiping about tonight!

Annnnd, we'll be narrowing it down a bit as the first card just describes someone with a happy home/personal life. That could be any number of people I know.

Followed by another fairly--it's not vague, it just doesn't narrow it down much; whoever it is has decent luck, decent karma, and handles negative change or upheaval well. I'm inclined to think we're gossiping about me as I've always been fairly good at just sort of rolling with whatever gets thrown at me without it causing too much of a problem but, I'll try for a third clarification here.

Third card just muddied the waters again. Be. More. Specific.

Oh! We're gossiping about @absintheabsence​   this time. I think, I'll just double check that. Yep. I need a bigger table for this and I'm not putting them on the floor.

Anyway.

Suppose we can move on to what it is about  @absintheabsence​  we're gossiping about and hope he doesn't try to burn a card he doesn't like.

Yes, thank you, I already knew he's a stubborn pain in the neck who routinely uses defensive or aggressive behaviour to try and cover up any sort of vulnerability, and who somehow ends up coming out on top in the end and will probably make at least a lewd gesture for the way I worded that.

At this rate, I'm less inclined to think we're gossiping and more inclined to think the cards are just sort of roasting him for entertainment.

  @absintheabsence​ you're not allowed to roast my cards. I like this deck.

So, the Moon especially next to the Chariot, indicates a subconscious level of insecurity, fear, and anxiety around--based on every other card so far--anything to do with close personal relationships and the general requirement that one can't always remain aloof and coldly distant.

This next one is almost always indicative of an older woman who, essentially, is one of those sorts that will always have your back but will also tell you directly to your face, in great detail, when you're being an idiot and not behaving as you should. HA! The last time that happened, it was when Mum sent him a howler after he made some off colour comment at me. Scared him half to death too! I’m not sure he’d ever received one of those before.

Oh, okay, hey @absintheabsence​   talk to Mum if you're being indecisive and weird about something, she probably gives better advice than I do any given day anyway.

Whatever you get on her about looks like it'll just land back in stability on the domestic front; I'm the one that's got to deal with the financial front which also looks to be good if you are.

Either that or the two of you are going to be conspiring against me in a perfectly benign way that I won't be cross about.

Last one is a bit of a stint in self-reflection and gaining a deeper understanding of yourself and, for a damn change, should focus on yourself and having your own needs met instead of ignoring them. Probably means you can (and should) say something if I end up too focused on what I'm doing which, I might add, I've been working on not doing and haven't been doing too terrible with it.

Unless you just haven't been saying anything.

Look at that, though, largely positive cards and not a whole pile of swords!

#divination #tarot #hp rp #I'm here all--until I get tired and go to sleep #whenever that is #(but also these are fun to do IC so y'all can feel free to send Calleo asks about it) #(he'll probably complain about it because Diviniation is nonsense still but they're fun for ME so he can cope. :) )

[rounse-error]

V-rella

[Mystic Messenger © Cheritz

Cinderella/Cendrillon © Charles Perrault

Story © rounse-error]

Please do not plagiarize my work! 

Plot: “Take away the magic and whatnot. How would a fairytale turn out to be?” 

AU: Cinderella Universe

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Comedy 

Pairing: Jihyun Kim (V) X MC

For @jihyunmcweek; Day 5: Fairy Tale 

Author’s Note: I originally wanted to write a one-shot but inspiration overtook me so yeah, here you go...a mini series for the event. After this, I’ll be sure to work on my 2nd batch request. 

Side note: My writing style - for this series - will change depending on the perspective of the focused character.

Part 1: Crown Princess MC

“As future queen, your main priority is to rule and lead our people in the right direction. However, as you are my precious daughter, I pray that you choose the right one.”

“Of course. I shall not fail you, father.”

***

The capital city of the Han Kingdom buzzed with life and wonder. The streets were crowded with citizens as usual and went on with their daily routines. Numerous shops were open and its store keepers advertised their goods to the public with booming and lively voices. Children ran around and played around to their hearts’ content.

But unbeknownst to the citizens, the crown princess stood amongst them. Disguised in a simple attire, MC strolled around the ever-busy streets with ease and by her side was her faithful maid and friend, Jaehee who kept an eye on her.

“Shouldn’t we do our main objective by now, Mi-…MC?”

“Oh, Jaehee! We have until sundown to accomplish it! Why don’t we entertain ourselves with the common pleasantries first, hm?”

“No, MC. Our objective must be our priority or else, the Ki-…your father will be disappointed.”

MC huffed out her annoyance of Jaehee’s constant nagging and placed her palms on her hips. With a pout, she stated, “Jaehee…but father dearie also did say that I can enjoy eating common foods called food in a stick, watch puppet shows, and other fun things!”

“Fine. You may do whatever you want for two hours only…”

“Thanks, Jaehee!”

And thus, her venture began.

Amazed and curious about the commoners and their simple world, MC subconsciously slipped away from Jaehee’s watchful eyes and failed to anticipate a nervous lad – who was burdened with carrying a file – running into her direction. Her eyes focused in a certain painting until they both collided against each other in a forceful impact. Due to her small structure, she fell flat on the cemented ground and soiled her dress in the process.

MC was rather surprised by a hand held out to her yet pushed the feelings of embarrassment aside and took the stranger’s hand. Although it was brief, MC noticed how calloused and larger the stranger’s hand was as well as the faint colorful smudges in the ends of their fingers.

Those smudges…they’re dried paint, aren’t they?

“I-I’m so sorry, Miss! I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

MC was taken aback by the harmonious and refined voice of a handsome stranger. She felt being lulled to sleep as he continued to utter words of apologies. Despite her nearly spacing out, a stern and queenly part of her willed herself back to reality. She forced herself to focus at the mint-haired beauty before her without letting herself slip away.

“It is fine. No harm was done to me,” she stated to end the awkwardness between them.

With her reply, he blinked away all the stress and anxiety away and she felt herself being captivated by staring deep into a pair of beautiful turquoise orbs. Those eyes held serenity and kindness yet underneath them was a pair of virtuoso eyes that saw the world much deeper compared to her imaginative and childish view.

For this man to be so perfect, he must have been an angel in disguise or maybe, this was just her imagination talking…

“-ss? Hello, Miss? Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine. The heat is just getting to me,” MC reasoned while faking in rubbing her nonexistent sweat away with one forearm.

Great job, MC. You managed to make a fool of yourself. Of course, no one would buy your excuse-

“Well, the heat is certainly extreme around this time of the month,” he said with a nervous chuckle. He felt the urge to copy the same action as MC but resisted due to the confidential file in his grasp.  

He’s either playing along or didn’t notice it at all…

As MC opted to looking at anywhere but him, the file in his possession caught her interest. The stranger paled as MC attempted to squint her eyes to get a better look on his father’s file. “Um, Miss?”

“What’s that you’re holding?”

“Well, this file consists of financial statements of my father’s business...”

“Ah. Could it be that your father is a businessman?”

“A merchant to be extact…”

“Interesting,” MC stated with eyes brightening up in curiosity. Perhaps, he could be of help with her request.

“It sure is.”

“If you’re a merchant’s son…then, can I ask you a question about a certain product?”

“I’ll do my best to answer it,” he replied, trying not to let his worry get the best of him as MC forgot about her ruined attire and didn’t have the slightest clue about bystanders staring at her disheveled form while gossiping among their peers.  

“I’d really like to ask permission from a painter who made this beautiful painting…if I could buy it,” her hand gestured to a painting that stood out amongst other paintings outside of an art shop as merely a display to which his eyes followed her gesture and they widened in surprise. Then she continued, “…perhaps, you might know him or her?”

“That painting?”

She nodded after he pointed to a painting of the sun that shone over the Han Kingdom, then he fell silent as if pondering over something much more complex than she could think of. She waited in anticipation, hoping that he knew of the mysterious painter called V.

“Fortunately, I know whom you speak of. I’d certainly ask him, but may I inquire as to why you desire to have it?”

“Well…you see, I-…I mean, the crown princess is secretly fond of V’s art works. I promised to purchase one for her if it’s possible,” she hoped that her reason was convincing enough not to draw suspicion from him, and to her relief, he nodded without question.

“Oh, I see. He would definitely be delighted to hear such a praise.”

“Thank you very much. Well-“

Their conversation came to an end as they saw Jaehee frantically calling out to MC. All color was drained from MC’s face, fully knowing that she’d prepare for the worst to come once she’s been found. “I should get going. See you around!”

He waved at her in response before turning his back and his figure slowly faded from her line of sight. She smiled dreamily before a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders to turn her back and she came to face with a furious Jaehee.

“You gave me such a fright! Your father would have my head if I truly lost you!” Jaehee’s grip on her tightened yet MC knew that Jaehee was also careful enough not to bruise her so MC made no effort to peel herself away from her frightening grip and sheepishly grinned instead.  

“Sorry. I got distracted and left you behind…I didn’t expect the capital to be this fun!”

“I’d have to report your unruly behavior-“

“Let’s leave that for later! Jaehee, I found the one for my upcoming ball!”

Never had she seen Jaehee look so relieved in her entire life. Could it be she’d given her poor friend enough trouble for these past few weeks? Feeling her shoulders being free from Jaehee, the numbing ache began acting up. MC let them keep hurting, fully aware that she deserved it for giving Jaehee a new set of wrinkles in her forehead.

“That is great news. So, what do you plan next?”

MC tapped on her hip, trying to remember her next move while Jaehee prayed that it didn’t involve trespassing someone’s premises and whatnot.

“Well…”

***

MC grinned in triumph as she held a piece of intel about her chosen partner. Putting it inside her gown pocket, she knew that there was no point in staying here – Merchant Kim’s premises – any further. MC checked for unwanted presences within her line of vision before leaping out of an open window and landed perfectly on the moist grassy land.

Not far from where she stood was Jaehee hidden inside the bushes and MC could faintly hear her mantras of apologies in breaking the law and indulging the wishes of her mischievous princess.

“Jaehee, I’m over here…”

Upon hearing her princess, Jaehee crawled out of her hiding spot and heaved out a sigh, feeling relieved that MC managed to sneak in someone’s premises – that was packed with busy workers – undetected.

“We’re done here, now it’s time to flee,” she said as she grabbed for Jaehee’s hand and they fled the premises sneakily, managing to be out of the workers’ sight by hiding behind every tree and every bush.

Now, they sat on a bench in a local parker and basked themselves under the light of sundown. They took a quick breather before MC handed Jaehee the piece of paper, Jaehee’s brows narrowed in confusion as she read the details.

“But what you wrote is someone’s measurement for the trousers, the top-…wait, what am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’ll be shopping for a bit,” MC answered, still enjoying her roasted corn in a stick. Then she proceeded, “and then…you’ll be playing Fairy Godmother for this person if it’s alright.”

An amateur drawing of a min-haired man was in Jaehee’s grasp. Her blank expression offered no guarantee of her request being fulfilled. MC secretly hoped she’d be willing to accept it…

“To think that Crown Prince from Choi Kingdom influenced you this much, I’d have to report this to your father as well…”

“But Saeyoung is my new friend who turned out not be a snob or an arrogant idiot! And please Jaehee, this will be my last request!”

“Well, I-“

[TBC]

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme event #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme fanfic #mysme fluff #jihyunmcweek #jihyun x mc #mysme v #mysme jihyun #jihyun kim #mysme jaehee #jaehee kang #mysme jumin #jumin han #mysme 707 #saeyoung choi

[blazerina]

Mine (Matt x MC)

[A little note: I am in love with this pairing right now and cannot get enough. Just want to give a shout out to my amazing team of encouragers who keep me going and make writing fun - @mrswalkerwrites @somefanfictitious @angstymarshmallow @enmchoices - thank you ladies for making a difference in my life!]

[Summary: This piece is a quick little one about an innocent date and the paparazzi finding out that Veronica and Matt are an item.  Through more time spent with her, Matt realizes the seriousness of his feelings for Veronica, and Veronica finally realizes that this thing with Matt is for real.]

[Word Count: 2729]

“That man has been following us since dinner.” Veronica whispered clinging to Matt’s arm with both of her hands wrapped around it.  

She couldn’t get any closer to him in public without it being indecent.  Picking up the pace, Matt kept his gaze fixed in front of him, refusing to look backwards over his shoulder and give them what they wanted.

“How do you do this all the time?” Veronica continued, falling in step with him.  “How is this legal?”

Her voice indicated how worried she was, as it shook with every word.  She looked up at him, her hazel eyes had turned dark and sad.  She wasn’t sure she was ready for this.  How did she know if he was a harmless reporter, or a stalker?

Instinctively, Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.  “It sucks. I know.”

He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “Come on.  We’re almost there.”

Matt led her into the movie theater, where they were hoping to stay under the radar. All he wanted was a normal, quiet, regular night with her and here was this guy, making their night anything but typical.

After purchasing their tickets, they walked pashed the usher and stood in front of the concessions. Matt was glued to Veronica’s side, holding her hand and trying to be as protective of her as possible. He wanted her to feel safe. Internally, he began to worry that she would decide this was too much for her. That she couldn’t live a life like this with him if this is what every outing would entail.  

“I need to run to the restroom.  Wait for me?” Veronica asked, her eyes pleading for protection.  She was trying to keep it cool, but something about tonight had weirded her out big time.  She didn’t want Matt to think she was a wuss, or unable to take care of herself, but this was something she had truly never experienced before.

“Sure thing.” He nodded, walking her to the entrance of the women’s restroom.  She quickly peeled herself away from him, and disappeared behind the wall.  Nervously biting his lip, Matt noticed a man trying to take pictures of him while he waited. Clenching his fist in frustration, he tried to ignore it, but as Veronica’s face and the anxiety in her eyes flashed across his mind, he turned around quickly and approached the photographer.

Matt caught him unaware as he was scrolling through some pictures on his digital camera.  “Mr. Rodriguez…I…uh…”

Clearly surprised, the older man took a step back, not expecting to have Matt Rodriguez in his face.

“Look – I don’t normally do this…I know this is all part of the gig…but I need you to go.  Leave us alone.  There’s nothing to see here, so just be on your way, okay?”

“That’s fine by me. I got everything I need.” The man smiled.

He was slimy. He looked greasy, physically dirty, and his breath reeked of a mixture of cigarette smoke, spearmint gum and…pine tree air freshener. Matt had to hold his breath for fear of gagging.

“What does that mean?” Matt shuddered.  

“That’s a pretty girl you got there witcha.  Who is she?” The man wickedly licked his lips, and reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone.  Matt assumed it was to take notes.

“Listen, dude – if you don’t get out of here I’m calling the cops. Got it? Leave us alone, or you’re being reported. Don’t think I won’t do it.” Matt didn’t like threatening the guy, but felt like he had no other options.

“Okay, okay!” The man surrendered, holding his hands above his head. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you two again soon.” He winked, making Matt feel sick to his stomach, and slowly scurried away.

Matt quickly returned to the concession stand and could hear Veronica laughing. His heart soared hearing that noise.  He was pretty sure he’d recognize that sound anywhere.

His happiness eluded him, however, when he saw another man, one he didn’t recognize, leaning over the candy counter, extremely close to her.  Who’s this chump? He thought to himself as he came up to them.

“You would like banana runts…” Veronica teased, playfully brushing her hand across the man’s shoulder.  

“I like banana Laffy Taffy too.” Her friend responded.

“So that’s where all your material comes from!” She joked, covering her mouth and then adding, “Oooohhhh” as she spoke into her hands, acting as though she had roasted him.

“I deserved that, Iowa. You’re getting good at this, you sure you don’t want to try your hand at stand up?”

At this point, Matt decided he had seen and heard more than enough. He quickly cleared his throat, very loudly, causing Veronica to turn around and notice him standing there.

“There you are!” She exclaimed proudly, moving closer to him.  “Matt, this is Seth. My neighbor and first-ever-LA-friend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Seth extended a hand and shook Matt’s with an intense grip.

Matt simultaneously felt a pang of jealousy. He suddenly felt the urge to pick Veronica up in his arms, set her on the counter on top of the Raisinets and make out with her in front of this guy, solely for the purpose of proving to this neighbor friend, that Veronica was all his and off limits.

It was a foreign feeling for Matt because he really never cared about what other people thought of the girls he was with before.  It didn’t matter because he knew deep down inside he didn’t really care about them. Or their relationship. She was usually there to be seen and he didn’t want to be alone. That was typically the extent of his dating history.  Nothing ever too serious.  He didn’t want to be tied down, he told himself. But now…

Now everything had changed. He had run off a member of the press and was restraining himself from punching this guy’s lights out – a poor harmless fellow he didn’t even know – all because of her.  The girl who was slowly changing his life.

Veronica felt awkward. She had been surprised and happy to see Seth. She didn’t expect Matt to really understand why she was a little unnerved, but she felt relieved to have a warm and familiar face inserted into this unexpectedly stressful evening.  She had hugged him tightly, right away, and he was a little concerned.  He tried to lighten the mood by asking her about her favorite candy and that’s when Matt had reappeared.

“You too.” Matt responded, nodding in Seth’s direction and making sure their eyes met.

“Iowa here has told me a lot about you.” Seth grinned, hoping he was being a good wingman.

“Iowa?” Matt questioned, looking at Veronica.

She shrugged, sheepishly, “It’s just a nickname he calls me…he said it the first night I met him and it just kind of…stuck.” She tried to explain.

Matt stayed quiet, sizing Seth up.  

“You’re starting to fit in so well down here.  I forget sometimes that’s where you’re from.” He replied, grabbing Veronica’s hand and lacing his fingers between hers.  

“I hate to run off but our movie starts in just a few minutes and if we want to get any snacks, we need to order. It’s nice to meet you, Steve, was it?”

“It’s SETH.” Veronica snapped, removing her hand from Matt’s and staring him down.  

“I’ve gotta be headed into the theater myself. You guys enjoy the show! See you at home, Veronica!” Seth waved, and lightly jogged off to meet up with his group of friends who were hanging out in the arcade portion of the theater.

“See you at home?” Matt raised an eyebrow, questioning Veronica.

“We’re neighbors.  He does stand up.  It’s a joke.” She emphasized, walking up to the counter and placing her order. She didn’t wait for Matt to get his popcorn before she was moving quickly to their specific movie.

As the previews started and Matt looked for where Veronica sat down, he found her and then plopped down in his seat with a thud.

“Are you mad?” He asked her, shocked and surprised by her actions.

“I just threw that nasty paparazzi guy out of here for you and this is how you repay me?”

Veronica pouted and took a sip of her drink.

“You were rude to one of my only friends for absolutely no reason. I’ve met plenty of yours and have never acted that way.” She turned to face him, making sure he could see her face.

“That’s why I’m mad.” She reached across him and took a handful of popcorn out of the bucket he was holding.

“Now be quiet, the movie’s starting.”

She turned her attention to the screen in front of her, as Matt sat in his seat, stunned. He didn’t have a response, but watched as the light from the projector flitted across her face. She was in awe of the pictures on the screen, and he was in awe of her.

You’ve got it bad, Rodriguez. He told himself.  She just gave you what for, and all you could do was sit there and think about how beautiful she is.  What are you going to do?

***

About a week later, the news had broken that Matt and Veronica were a couple.  Rumors had been posted online, in magazines and Veronica’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. She considered changing her number, but instead gave in to the attention every now and then.  Neither of them would comment explicitly on their relationship, as they were both determined to be sought after for their work, their craft, their art – and not for the latest round of gossip.

Life had kept them both so busy since their date at the movies, that they had not really had a chance to talk much about Matt’s “run-in” with Seth, or the photographer at the theater. Matt was starting to wonder if Veronica would call it quits and throw in the towel any minute now, because she just didn’t seem herself with him lately.  Although, he knew that wasn’t really a fair thought due to the fact that they had not had a moment to themselves, just the two of them, in over a week.

Veronica stared at her phone.  She had typed out a long text message to Matt.  It was gutsy. It was bold. She bit at the side of her thumbnail as she read it for what felt like the thousandth time.  She missed him. She didn’t want to seem clingy, but she had to somehow show him and prove to him that what they had wasn’t nothing to her.  And even if he rejected her or felt like she was taking things too seriously, it was worth the risk to her.  She had to be true to herself and share her feelings.  

They had made plans to go to a movie premiere together later that evening.  She didn’t know the details, or even if Matt still wanted to take her, given all that had happened with the press and the phone calls and the interviews lately.  But, she desperately wanted to go with him. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to be the girl on Matt Rodriguez’s arm. And if that meant smiling pretty and taking some photos, well then, she could do that. For him.

Matt stared at his phone. He had typed and retyped a text message over and over again to send to Veronica. He missed her. He wanted to reach out to her and tell her just how much she meant to him. He wanted to “define the relationship” as stupid as that sounded.  He was tired of wondering if she was committed to him, if she felt the same way he did.  Why was he so nervous? He honestly could not remember a time in his life, not even in high school, where he felt more unsure of himself.

As he typed yet another rendition of his message to her, his phone dinged and he saw her name flash on his screen.

His eyes scanned her message as his heart raced.  She wanted to go tonight. She was excited to see him. She was ready to spend some good quality time together.  She missed him.

Matt wrote back and told her he’d pick her up at 7. He had never been more excited to see her. The anticipation of seeing her all dressed up, ready for a premiere, just might kill him. Even though it wasn’t one of his movies, he really wasn’t sure he could be any more thrilled to be seen with her tonight.

While they made their way to the red carpet, Veronica took a deep breath as Matt squeezed her hand. Before rounding the corner where cameras, flashes and reporters waited, he looked her in the eyes and asked, “Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly and squeezed his hand as he reassured her.  Matt had already told her time and time again how beautiful she looked and how poised she was and how prepared she was for a night like this.

Before long, the couple was making their way to the entrance of the theater. People were shouting Matt’s name from every direction and Veronica tried hard not to let it distract her. She focused on Matt and being with him, that was her only responsibility tonight.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a reporter appeared as Matt held his arm around her waist, he gripped his arm around Veronica’s hips instinctively as the reporter began to ask them questions.

“Veronica Morgan – the world hardly knows you, but over the last week or so we’ve learned that you’ve been seen with Mr. Rodriguez here quite a bit lately.  How does it feel to be with him tonight, walking down this red carpet, when only a few months ago you were at home in Iowa hoping to make it big one day?

Hesitantly, Veronica responded, “My dreams are definitely coming true!”  She was going to say more, but stopped herself.

Again, the reporter did not let up, adding, “There are plenty of girls, some of whom are here tonight, who would love to be living your life.  Do you just wake up every morning feeling incredibly lucky to have such an amazing man by your side?”

Matt could not stay silent. There was no other way to really prove to her just what she meant to him. He didn’t want the interview to be about him, but some things just had to be said.

“I can actually answer that.” He smiled, waving to the crowd gathered alongside the carpet, while people chanted his name.  “You know…people keep saying that to Veronica…about her getting to have such an amazing man by her side, and for once I’d like to clear the air on this and make it known that I’m the lucky one to have her by my side. She’s not living in my shadow. I’m the one who’s life has been changed for the better because of her - not the other way around.”

He nodded, took Veronica by the hand and politely declined other interviews as he went into the building.

Speechless and in a daze because of his words, Veronica quietly sat next to him and exhaled with a huge sigh of relief. Matt placed their drink orders and as he sat back down beside her, Veronica grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

“Matt?” She asked.

“Yeah, babe?” He responded, taking a sip of the water that had already been placed at their table.

When he turned to face her, she held his face in her hands and kissed him. Their eyes fluttered closed at the same moment, and it felt like their lips were tangled together for an eternity. Each one of them swore they could feel the other’s pulse as they held onto one another and let their feelings intertwine.

“Thank you.” She whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

“You’re welcome.” He said sincerely, kissing her on the cheek and looking at her again, in awe.

“If that’s my reward for defending you, I’ll do it over and over again.”

Giggling, Veronica settled into his arms knowing that the show, as well as their future together, was just about to begin. 

#matt x mc #matt rodriguez #rcd #red carpet diaries fanfic #blazerina babbles #matt again #sigh #not sure where this is going to go #hope you enjoy #can't wait until fridayyyy

[grcy-blog1]

⌈ kim taehyung, cismale, he/him ⌋ hey, is it GRAY SIWOO that you’re looking for? you know, the TWENTY-ONE year old STUDENT. typically i see them hanging around ROAST CAFE so you could try there! i hear they’ve been in living in SAUGATUCK RESIDENTIAL for HIS WHOLE LIFE. gristol wouldn’t the same without them, right? anyway, whenever i see them they make me think of ripped jeans, colorful retro sunglasses, painted nails.

some quick info:

full name: gray siwoo

age: 21

date of birth: june 10

gender: cis male

pronouns: he/him

orientation: bisexual

occupation: student

allergies: peanut

zodiac sign: gemini

ok so gray was born and raised in gristol by his parents. his mom moved very young from korea to study abroad ( law more specifically ) and decided to stay when she met his father ( politics major ) and the two of them fell quickly and deeply at a very young age. however her family didn’t agree to it so she decided to cut them off even though she was very attached to them, so gray doesn’t know his family on his mother’s side at all. never spoke to them, don’t know what they look like, anything.

she didn’t come from a wealthy family but his father did!  once gray’s grandfather passed away his father being the only son took over their real estate brokerage business, making their lives way too easy. despite having her degree, his mom decide to dedicate herself to her family only and her kids, spoiling him rotten and giving literally everything he wants. gray could pretty much get away with everything if he pouts, which has helped him into his selfish and manipulative behaviors where he needs to get what he wants one way or another.

however, in order to shape him into a decent human he could get anything he wantedin his parents terms. he wasn’t handed everything, his dad was very rigid about that. instead he had to work  for it. do chores around the house, get good grades, that kinda thing. that really shaped him into a working man dhsuidfh ( even though most of the time his mom would let him off said chores )

TW DEATH

his mom was the sweet one in the house, but when gray was around 12 his mom fell sick and they discovered that she had leukemia and gray watched as his mom was no longer her best-self and never left her side to her last breath. his father was never a very loving type of father and often times he wanted to protect gray from seeing his mom that way but even at 12 years old gray was very mature and refused to let his father take away his time with his mom. the day she passed away was the day gray disconnected from his father completely, he blames him for her death and refuses to believe that now they can have a relationship when he spent so much time busy with work and away from them. gray still suffers a lot with her death but he never lets it show, not wanting to be vulnerable around others and doesn’t really want to worry his sister more than he already does.

he tries to not let the sadness and all the negative feelings take over him, figuring that his mom would want him to be kind and respectful to others like she was. he misses her dearly, she was his everything.

END OF TW

his dad has been the MAYOR of gristol for a couple years now, still a couple to go and will probably run again. gray thinks it’s hilarious that he can’t even take care of their house, how could he handle a whole town? but doesn’t say anything, in fact he takes advantage of his dad’s title to do whatever TF HE WANTS

his dad is also lowkey a homophobic and is that type who sees two guys kissing and public and cringes and comments about how its an indecency but wont do the same for the straight couples lol so gray prefers to hide that he kisses boys too from him but for everyone else he is out n proud ok 

at school gray was always kind of popular, he had his group of friends of course but he was naturally very social. he liked to talk and make people laugh and that continues through this day. he’s very sarcastic too which can be funny and because he’s a gemini he has those mood swings so pls be patient, sometimes he’ll be funny and cheerful and sometimes he’ll lock himself in his room for days without explanation

he was always very into music and was classic trained since he was a kid. that was very important to his parents. he can play piano, guitar, he can sing but he doesn’t think he can so he avoids the whole thing, loves playing though, especially the piano. catch him randomly playing just because at 6 am to wake up everyone because he’s THAT annoying lmao

his father demands a lot out of both him and expects him to be the perfect son and beCAUSE of that he goes against everything his dad wants. he wanted gray to attend politics school as well so he could be like him but gray decided to take arts instead, which he loves btw - he’s very artsy and loves to paint, draw, do some digital art and all that

he’s not a very big spender thankfully ( except w clothes tho ) , he likes to save his money even though thats never really lacked in his family.  he has plans of eventually leaving his father’s house and moving somewhere else away from him, the only reason why he hasn’t yet is hana. he can’t leave her. he’s simple, but likes to dress well and is obsessed with technology, he always has to have the newest phones, notebooks, watches, video games etc

very addicted to his phone and social media, instagram specially, in fact he likes to posts his art content and everything he does in there, updates his story all the goddamn time, i’d say he has a big following bc homeboy has a pretty face

a little bit of a hoe not going to lie, he’s very flirty and loves seeing his charm work on people, he tends to not let it go very far unless he feels very attracted to the person, he’s not the type to go fuck randoms and all that, he needs to have some type of connection before he gets intimate with someone

he can be a little hesitant to get close to people because he has major trust issues but once u get him talking there’s really no way to stop him, loves to roast and tease people just to be cute, he likes attention

a gentleman, he’s the real boyfriend material. he will open the door for you, carry your bags, carry yOU if you say you’re tired, go out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable, he’s your servant feel free to abuse it

however there are times where he snaps out of nowhere or just wants to be alone and is mean all suddenly but after will act like nothing has happened lmao

EXTREMELY affectionate, likes to touch hold hands hug kiss, he likes it when people play with his hair but all of that only applies to people he’s comfortable with, if you don’t know him well don’t touch him

[ anxiety tw ] he suffers w anxiety a lot due to his mom and stress and fighting w his father, sometimes he disappears and that’s when he’s having a crisis. he has panic attacks when its at its peak and he works out a lot and does yoga and all that as well as taking medication to keep it all at balance for his own sake [ end of anxiety tw ]

tries to eat healthy and watches what he eats a lot, he used to be chubby for a bit as a kid and that pushed him to work on himself which also makes him a little insecure about his body and his appearance. it’s still a little hard for him to believe that someone could be attracted to him and it’s also hard for him to just take a compliment without turning it into a joke.

neat freak, likes everything organized and clean and will freak out if you come over and mess up his room or go through his things

has terrible luck with relationships but never says no to love, tbh he’s a hopeless romantic and loves the chase. loves to gossip and he’s a bit shady when he doesn’t like someone ( which is not often this boy has a heart of gold ) fiughduf

omg i tried to keep this short and failed miserably

here’s some possible connections but i’m always up for anything

friends, ex-friends, enemies

someone who pretends to like him but actually talks shit about him behind his back

exes in good terms, exes in bad terms, there can be a few exes fjfgsdfhf

some sort of toxic relationship where they’re playing w each others feelings

flirtationship

someone he has a crush on but the other doesn’t or vice versa

a best friend, give him some bros pls

A CHILDHOOD best friend pls i love those

cousins, neighbors etc

party friends

iDK class mates

family friends

will they won’t they type thing

first kiss, first times etc

ENEMIES, people who just dislike him for any reason

someone who used to be friends w him but for whatever reason they have stopped talking ( perhaps a fight ) and now it’s either awkward as hell or they’re on their way to working things out

hook ups, friends w benefits etc

someone that likes fashion a lot too so they can go shopping together

work out buddy lets go

someone that likes his content on insta and knows him from there iDK

idk i’ll think of more later i swear

hit me up for plots love yall im excitED

#gristolintro #me being messy as always love me anyways pls n thanks