#also this is what i have been up to for the last 2 days

[evelinessa]

I decided to answer all of these! If you're interested in any of my answers, you can see them below! 🥰

1. How many fics have you worked on since January?

Five works published in total. Three were oneshots, two were ongoing fics that I posted chapters for. Five published chapters in total for those aforementioned works (1 chapter for a fic I started posting for last year; 4 chapters posted for a fic I started posting for this year). One work with a finished, abridged version written, but unpublished (for a zine). I will likely finish the extended version and post to AO3 sometime next year.

As far as for the number of WIPs… I haven't kept track. I've started and worked on so many WIPs this year. At least dozens, I'd say. Aside from a few, I haven't necessarily made much progress on them, but I still worked on them, even if it was just spending a few minutes to plan or jot down more ideas.

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

Working on and starting to publish a longfic (In Another Life), if that counts. Though when I committed to starting to post it, the plan hadn't grown to longfic scope yet, so that was kinda accidental. Planning that fic (which I'm still doing), requires very extensive plotting beyond what I've done for anything else. I even invested in a plotting software just to make it a bit more manageable.

Another new thing I tried was in A Show of (Im)perfection, where I worked hard to make sure the scene transitions from when I go into a flashback and back to the present feel as seamless as possible, making the jump less jarring. This is usually from the character looking at or doing something in the past/present that continues or is followed up by something similar in the next scene (past or present).

One more possible new thing is that I spent more time in a dream/nightmare segment (A Demon's Justice chapter 4, WIP) and played around with the illogical nature of that/some symbolism. While I have written glimpses/short parts of dreams/nightmares before, it was the first time I did something longer and more continuous.

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I pretty much exclusively write for Ace Attorney, so that.

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

One: Ace Attorney.

5. What ships captured your heart?

It's always Mitsunaru/Narumitsu. My OTP out of any media. I'll always love them and want to create stories with them.

6. What characters captured your heart?

By extension of mainly writing my OTP, it would be the characters of the ship: Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix got to be the POV character of most of what I wrote this year, though Miles still had a turn. Miles is my absolute favorite character, so he captured my heart even if I wrote his POV less this year. I also got to write another fic from Trucy's POV, so she got to have some of the spotlight as well.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

Nope. Technically, I did start planning a WIP for a ship I haven't written before as part of a group project, but I haven't started actually writing it.

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

It's still a WIP and not published yet, but probably The Last Day of Summer. It's a slice of life kidfic (featuring the Signal Samurai Trio) that is part one of a Narumitsu series centering around a park by the courthouse.

I love slice of life and I love fluffy kidfic. I get pretty self-indulgent and usually have a lot of fun writing it. The reason this WIP means so much to me though, is because it's something that has been in the works since around May 2021. It's also one of two story ideas I had about a year before I even started writing (both originated as comic ideas). I had already adapted the first of the two into a fic (Keeping Up Appearances) a long time ago, but this one I'm still working on. It has expanded and changed a lot since it was first conceptualized as a comic, and even when it was first outlined as a story.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

The Last Day of Summer (still a WIP), for the same reasons stated in the previous question.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

I don't have many options, but probably (Just) A Haircut. It originally started as a fill for a prompt on Discord back in late 2022. I was motivated to expand and finish it for Narumitsu Week. I think it's satisfying to finally finish something that was started so long ago.

The fic I wrote for that previously mentioned zine was also originally inspired by a Discord conversation around the same time in 2022 (and also was greatly expanded during the writing process). I think that one is less satisfying for me since I still have to write the extended version at some point. So even though there is a finished version, it isn't truly finished for me.

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Possibly In Another Life, since the scope and how ambitious it is has been giving me trouble with plotting everything (and still not nearly done with the planning), even if the writing itself hasn't been particularly difficult (aside from the description-heavy scenes). Or it's the fic I wrote for that zine, as writing smut is incredibly difficult and stressful for me (plus it takes me forever to write).

12. What fic was the easiest to write?

Probably Where We Lay. I think I went from first thinking of the idea to being completely finished in a little over a week, all while forcing through the worst writer's block I've had. Unless something is only a few hundred words, I'm never able to write a fic (from first coming up with the idea to completion) in that short of a time frame, even in better circumstances than I was in.

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Shortest: Where We Lay at 2k.

Longest: In Another Life at 20.5k and 4/24 (but will likely have more chapters in the end) chapters posted.

14. What were your go-to writing songs?

I usually don't listen to anything while writing. I've sometimes listened to the AA orchestra CDs or the piano/some other remix ones, but I haven't done that in a long time. I think I've listened to a few songs with lyrics (especially on one of my fic playlists), but haven't done it enough to specify any go-to writing songs.

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

I don't have many options to choose from, but the one that took me the longest/was the most difficult was probably A Show of (Im)perfection. Where We Lay took me a bit too, but I don't think it took as long/was as difficult as A Show of (Im)perfection.

16. What's your favorite title of the year?

My favorite is probably A Demon's Justice, but since I technically didn't title that one this year, I'll go with In Another Life instead. I mean, I technically didn't title that one this year either (had a much smaller version of this fic planned & titled since at least 2023), but it at least was posted this year.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Not sure if it counts since the first chapter was published last year, but the opening line for A Demon's Justice:

The trial’s climax fast approached, and the scales of justice were tilted in his favor—as expected.

I feel like that one is the most gripping compared to the first lines of my other published fics this year, or known first lines to WIPs I worked on this year.

18. Share your favorite ending line

It's A Demon's Justice again. While it's not the last line of the entire fic, it's the final line of the most recently published chapter (chapter 3) which was posted earlier this year:

And so, he found solace in one simple truth: Miles was exactly where he deserved to be.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

I love dialogue! Not sure how short it should be to consider it a piece, but I've been quite fond of this exchange (from In Another Life chapter 2) ever since I wrote it. Here's the whole scene (it isn't too long):

20. Share your funniest line

Honestly, I don't really consider my stuff funny (humor isn't one of my strong points), but I do occasionally write lines/situations and banter that I find a bit humorous, or at least entertaining. It's also usually not a single line, since most of the humorous stuff I write happens in banter.

Several of Miles and Larry's interactions in my no DL-6, college AU WIP fic (where the Signal Samurai trio play Never Have I Ever together and get drunk) fit in that category. But YMMV on whether you find any humor in it or not. I would class it as more entertaining/amusing rather than funny, really.

I included several notable moments in this fic so far, especially since some build off each other (there are gaps between each screenshot with omitted text). This was just how Miles and Larry wanted to interact with each other in this fic. Miles and Larry kept wanting to argue (lightheartedly) and it was all unplanned. I had to keep reining the dialogue/direction of the fic back on track, because they would get into it with each other every so often and sidetrack the plot lol. One of the moments where I feel the characters are more in control than I am😂.

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

Something for this year? I guess the biggest would be deciding to add a subplot/an additional POV (Miles') to In Another Life. It's the main reason I'm still heavily involved in planning that fic before I write more. The entire fic was originally planned without having access to Miles' POV in mind (including everything written and published so far).

It changes the story quite a lot, but at the same time, not too much. It's important for me to keep (or only minorly change) all my original planned plot points, especially the major ones and the planned ending/direction of the story. I want to stay true to my original vision as much as possible, while still taking advantage of what I can do with an additional subplot and POV.

I can explore characters and relationships that otherwise wouldn't be touched on much or at all (elevating at least one character from cameo to supporting character status). It also gives me more plot moments to work with and help spread out the relationship moments and bulk up the timeline. It also gave me more ideas for relationship moments, which definitely helps as I'm still trying to think of more romance and bonding moments to write.

The negative is it does impact some plot points and I have to think about how to still have them work well. I've also thought of so much for that subplot, that it feels less like a C plot and closer to an A plot, so I might have to think of stuff to add to bulk up my actual A plot.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

Scrivener mostly, as it's my main writing program. I've also used Google Docs a little, particularly when I was editing down and finishing what I wrote for that zine fic. I always do my final editing in Word, since the grammar/spellcheck is not as good in Google Docs and pretty much nonexistent in Scrivener. Also, I write into a private Discord server at times when I get some ideas I want to write down, as it's quicker and easier than opening Scrivener (I move it there later) and I can do it on the go. I've written a bit into Dropbox's text editor, as that is the workaround to access my Scrivener files on my Android phone. While I've written by hand before, I don't recall writing any fic by hand this year.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

This is such a hard question, because I don't feel like there is something that really sticks out to me, especially not something that I haven't mentioned in the answer to another question.

This might not be what the question is asking, exactly, but there is one writing-related thing that sticks out to me.

Without going into details, someone had reached out to me to tell me that something I'd written had resonated with them and reading the story had given them some comfort during a difficult time. I was—and still am—touched that something I wrote was able to help someone and provide some measure of relief, even if temporary. I wish them well.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

Not really. Mostly just relax and do something not related to writing for a bit. Sometimes I hold off on a treat or doing something else I want to do when I'm trying to finish something (mostly when I'm up against a deadline). If that's the case, then I can allow myself to enjoy it once I'm finished. Mainly, I just allow myself to enjoy the sense of accomplishment of finishing a story, as well as the dopamine hit from getting to share it and having other people read it/share their thoughts.

25. How did you recharge between fics?

Nothing specific, just relaxing/doing something unrelated to writing that I enjoy. Spending that time completely guilt free and without thinking about how I should be writing instead. This is especially the case if I finished writing something for a deadline (likely very close to the deadline), since I procrastinate a lot.

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

Yes! I completed one drawing (of Ema Skye), but it isn't posted anywhere (aside from in a couple Discord servers). That was after not really drawing anything for years. I want to do more, but I've gotten wrapped up into my writing and other things instead.

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

One fic for the Narumitsu Big Bang 2024 (my first bang event), one fic for the Narumitsu ship week, one fic as part of a gift event for a friend's birthday, and two fics for zines. I also tried to take part in the Supernatural Mitsunaru Exchange & Fest 2024, but had to drop out, unfortunately.

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

Anyone who read my works this year, anyone who left a kudos and especially a comment. Anyone who told me (whether on AO3, Discord, or on social media) that they liked something I've written. It's always encouraging to know that stories I've created have been enjoyed by others.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Unless I surprise myself by coming up with and writing a very short fic idea, or making a lot of progress on one of my short WIPs, I don't plan, or expect, to have anything else finished or published this year.

I'd like to write at least a little more and make some progress on my WIPs, but I've been taking a bit of a break these last few weeks, so there's a chance I might not write anything else before the year ends.

30. What would you like to write next year?

Not sure about anything specific, but I'd generally like to work more on my existing WIPs. I'd love to finish and post the remaining chapters of A Demon's Justice. I'd also love to finally finish and post the first part of The Park by the Courthouse series, The Last Day of Summer, considering how I've been chipping away at it for years, and it's one of the first story ideas I had (before I even started writing fanfic).

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 4: The Loneliest

CHAPTER SUMMARY:  The end of the Americas triple header brings chaos, scandal, and conflict to your relationship with Franco. And after an unforgivable betrayal, your friendship may be beyond saving.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

WARNINGS: SO MUCH ANGST, reader is going through it, Franco is mean and lowkey kinkshames reader :( also Franco is a lil freak at the end so SMUT MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS YA FREAKS (affectionate). The long awaited chapter 4 is here! So sorry to dampen your holidays with this very sad chapter, but thank you all for being so patient with me while I was away. I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter as a reward for your patience!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

You’ll be the saddest part of me

The part of me that will never be mine

It’s obvious, tonight is gonna be the loneliest

You’re still the oxygen I breathe

I see your face when I close my eyes

It’s torturous, tonight is gonna be the loneliest

The morning light was torturous. It signaled the end of Franco’s short lived unconscious peace, and the breaking of the dawn forced him to confront the fact that it was race day. He hadn’t slept well. It had been one hell of a night.

One glance to the curtained window showed that the morning light was quickly going to be shrouded by rain clouds anyway. 

But despite his tiredness, he got up. If he had laid there too long he would have started thinking too much. About the race. About what was at stake.

About you.

He didn’t have time for that. He pushed that mixed jump pile of emotions—what exactly they were, he couldn’t name—down to the pit of his stomach as he quickly showered and gathered his things so he could get to the circuit quickly.

But even in the shower, as he tried to wash the memories of last night away, he couldn’t. His own nakedness didn’t even seem to be his, not anymore. The words you had written, imagining every inch of skin, stuck to him.

A wave of nausea hit him, and he felt like he was going to puke.

And it didn’t get any better as he dressed and gathered his things. There was a journal shaped space in his bag now, hollow without the evidence of his deception. He had kept it on him always to avoid you finding out. But now, it didn’t matter. He knew every word. Even if you did discover what he’d done, he had crossed a point of no return.

The journal itself still lay open at the foot of his bed. Had he fallen asleep after reading it, or just not had the energy to return it to its spot after feeling the shockwaves of the words? He didn’t remember.

All he knew was that his head was pounding. His entire body felt disconnected from the mind that governed it. It was too damn early, and too important of a day to be distracted like this. 

But it was all his fault. No one had forced him to read it. No—he had decided, of his own volition, to steal the journal. When you ran out of his room with tears in your eyes and ignored his calls for you down the hallway, he had glanced at the open journal, teasing him to commit this unforgivable offence. He ignored it then, leaving his room, but when he returned that night the temptation had become nearly too much to bear. So yes, just as you had accused him, he did steal the journal that morning before you arrived at the track. And he’d lied to your face about it. 

And you believed him. 

That didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting to the track and doing his job, showing everyone that he could do what he said he’d do. He had talked a big game—now was time to deliver.

So when he didn’t respond to your text that morning, you let it go. You knew how important of a day this was to him. Even though he never divulged the contents of his meeting to you, you had known him too long to not be able to assume that the stakes were much higher than anyone had originally thought. 

Why else would he be so standoffish when you finally saw him at the paddock that morning, brushing you off and quickly leaving? Why else would he not speak a single word to you the morning before qualifying? 

At first, the tonal change from last night—dancing in the pit lane and nearly meeting lips to a morning of being ignored—was shocking to you. But you knew Franco. And he had promised that you’d always have a place next to him. Maybe not this particular morning, when all he needed to do was perform. But always. And you trusted him.

So you let the transgression roll off you like the rain that continued into the morning. You took your usual spot at the back of the garage to avoid the ever present watching eye of the media cameras. After last night's stunt, you knew the world would be watching both you and Franco. You weren’t very keen to give the media what they wanted, knowing every gesture or word would inevitably be scrutinized. The fans, though, had been kind so far. 

All the things that they had said—we’re rooting for you—had hit you like a ton of bricks last night, alone in your room. You, too, had been unable to sleep. 

It was the effect of the ever-present possibility of what could be. You wanted Franco. All of him. His body, yes, but also his mind and his heart. You were in love with him, without a doubt, and since admitting it to yourself only a few weeks ago, you had fallen hard and fast. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t yours. He had a goal to work towards, and it wasn’t you.

But maybe one day it could be. Maybe when all of this was done, you’d still have him. That’s what he promised.

And for once, you’d allowed yourself to really and truly trust him.

You glanced at the screen that showed him sitting in his car before quali. His back was to you, and it felt odd to see him like this, so disconnected, as if you were just another fan rooting on your favorite athlete. 

Sure, he was your favorite athlete too, but he was also your best friend. 

You wanted so desperately to trust those words he spoke when he held you as you cried. You wanted to believe that his job would never come before you. So when those familiar insecurities rose in your throat like bile, you swallowed them down and forced a smile to your lips.

If the people were watching you, you’d give them a show. And if Franco had to perform today, so would you. 

So you let that sparkle come to your eyes when the fans with paddock passes strolled in and out in front of the garage, straining their necks to catch a glimpse of Franco in his car, and you in the background. 

Until it was time for quali. You had wanted to wish Franco good luck, but he had been so laser focused talking with his race engineers and fiddling with the car that you settled for whispering a silent prayer as he expertly rolled his car onto the track. 

You were always nervous for him. Even when the stakes were much lower, you knew the skill it took for him to do this job, and how dangerous it was. And on days like these, where the rain just kept coming and coming in sheets, you couldn’t help but let your anxiety win, knowing that anything could go wrong. 

But Franco was talented, and focused. He would be okay, and he’d exceed everyone’s expectations. You had to believe that right now, on track, all that was on his mind was becoming one with the road.

Unfortunately, Franco couldn’t focus as well as he needed to. His mind wandered, of course, to you. He had brushed you off earlier, unable to look you in the eye after what he’d read. 

Maybe, if there had been more time, he would have figured out what he was feeling. But he had chosen the worst possible night to do what he had done. Maybe his manager was right, he was distracted, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Or maybe, if he had been a better man, he wouldn’t have read it in the first place.

Regardless, he had, and even now, when he needed to focus, the emotions swelled up in him, coming in waves.

The first was shock. He read each sentence carefully, over and over again, praying that something had gotten lost in translation and you weren’t really saying what he thought you were saying. The second was disgust—how could his best friend write such detailed fantasies about him?

The third wave, the one he tried to ignore, was something he couldn’t name. A pool of warmth that settled at the bottom of his stomach as he read each filthy word, and the inevitable vision of the scenes he couldn’t help but imagine. He could feel his blood pulse through his veins as he let his mind give in to everything your words had commanded him to picture.

But the fourth wave came quicker, pushing down whatever the third had been. It was anger. Anger at himself for betraying you like this. Anger at you for writing all this and hiding it from him. Anger at life for putting him in this situation. Anger at his manager because she was right—he was distracted. 

He had been driving completely by muscle memory, even going silent with his race engineers. They angrily instructed him to return to the garage. 

He obeyed, apologizing to them for being so caught up in his own thoughts. But as he pulled the car into the garage and sat, he couldn’t help but let his eye wander the garage to you, standing towards the back as always, hands over the race headphones that they gave all the VIP guests so they could listen in on the actions. 

You looked so innocent. His best friend, just cheering him on from the sidelines, so blissfully unaware of what he had done. But what you’d done, too—the pages full to the margins of your fantasies—well, no one was truly innocent here, it seemed.

You looked up and gave him a reassuring smile, and he felt like he was going to lose it. 

He darted his eyes away, and thankfully, the race engineers cleared him to quickly return to the track. He would one last clean lap to finish off Q1, then return to the garage for Q2. 

But he couldn’t get your smile out of his head, even when he coasted through turn one. And that familiar queasiness returned in his stomach as he approached turn two.

The rain, and his distractedness, was too much to overcome. He spun and eventually hit the wall.

Back in the garage, you couldn’t breathe. The seconds of silence from his end of the radio felt like years as you waited to hear that he was okay.

All he let out was a sad, “Sorry mate,” to his engineer. But to even hear his voice was a blessing.

He eventually confirmed he was okay and made his return to the garage. His head hung low, weighed down by the expectations he had failed to fulfill. As his best friend, you wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to hold him and assure him that everything would be okay. But he didn’t even look at you. 

Turning his back away from you, he just stood solemnly as he removed his helmet and fluffed up his hair, before leaving to go speak with the media. 

As his car was wheeled into the garage, you thanked whatever God was listening to you that Franco had made it back to the paddock in one piece. The carnage was bad—and with the grand prix in only a few hours, the mechanics would have their work cut out for them. 

The garage was soon becoming too chaotic for your liking, so you slipped out to make your way to Williams hospitality to hopefully catch your best friend once he left the media tent. 

But Franco never appeared. You assumed he had been dragged from meeting to meeting, trying to salvage what was left of this clusterfuck of a grand prix weekend. You watched qualifying from the screens in hospitality, wincing when Alex crashed too, and offering another prayer for the sanity of the poor William’s mechanics.

The rain only worsened into the afternoon, when the Grand Prix would have to take place even despite the monsoon that raged outside. You still hadn’t found Franco; you occupied your time by chatting with the fans that were now drenched in the general admission sections. They at least were trying to salvage some joy from the weekend, and you were too.

But it bothered you that you couldn’t find Franco, and that he had been avoiding you all day. It was an odd juxtaposition; on one hand, you had become so comfortable in the space of the race circuit that you no longer hid from the people, but sought them out, taking photos and cheering along with Franco’s many fans. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a prickling sensation at the back of your neck that something between you and Franco was wrong. But your anxiety had lied to you so many times that you no longer trusted your intuition. 

So, again, you tried to shake it off. It was going to be okay. Franco was going to focus and bounce back and get points. And when he did, he’d pick you up and spin you like he always did. And his beautiful smile would be yours again. 

When it came time to return to the garage to get ready for the race, you were hopeful but nervous, your emotions a delicate balancing act of steadying your fear with your desire to support the man you loved. 

As you entered the garage, you saw him, fiddling with the cuffs of his fireproof race suit, clearly annoyed by the scrunched lines in his forehead. And then, his eyes traveled up to meet yours.

It was like time froze. You had two options: do as you usually would and go up to him and wish him luck with a hug that was too close and too long to be strictly platonic. Or, ignore him and just silently wish him luck, praying that at the end of the race, he’d come running to you as he always did. 

You didn’t get to decide, though. Franco’s eyes darted away as quickly as he could move them, a subtle expression of disgust replacing his former frustration.

It felt like a knife to your heart. You slipped on your race headphones in silence. 

He’s just having a bad day. He’s stressed. He wasn’t even looking at you. He did it without thinking. A million thoughts ran through your head, faster than the F1 car that you now watched Franco climb into, readying himself for the race. 

You couldn’t look away from him, but he couldn’t even look at you. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the hotel and cry. You’d always been too sensitive, people had said, and that was part of the reason you started suppressing your emotions in the first place. But since you’d started your healing journey with your journal, you couldn’t stop the emotions anymore. The blush, the tears—all of it was beyond you, now. 

At least, if you cried, the rain would hide it.

That’s what you told yourself as you watched his car roll into the pit lane and onto the track. You prayed to whatever God was listening that Franco would be okay.

But it seems no God was listening to you that day. 

It started almost comically, with Lance Stroll crashing into the gravel on the formation lap. A miscommunication between the FIA and the drivers caused confusion on when the race would actually begin. And when the race finally did begin, it was nothing but chaos.

You held your breath during the first spin. It was Nico Hulkenburg, not Franco. Thankfully. Everyone was okay.

You counted the laps in your head, like you’d counted Franco’s breath when he would fall asleep in your apartment during your many past sleepovers. Like you’d counted his breaths when you woke up next to him in Singapore. 

Lap 32. He was okay. 

In your ears, you heard his race engineer warning him of the wet conditions, advising him to take extra caution with all the water on the track. 

Franco asked to box for wet tires. His engineer refused. He told Franco to survive.

A wave of anger rose in you. Is surviving not exactly what he was already doing?

Franco pushed back, asking if the engineer understood what he was saying. And again, he refused. An argument back and forth. Trust us, the engineer said. 

And then, he crashed.

A hard hit on the wall and a skid across the wet road. 

You felt like your knees were going to give out from under you. Everything was spinning.

The only thing that brought you back down to Earth was his voice in your ears. “I’m okay. I’m so sorry, guys,” he apologized.

In the aftermath of it all, you’d feel sorry for the William’s mechanics. But right now all you cared about was the man you loved and if he was really okay.

You didn’t care that he had been upset with you, for whatever reason beyond your knowledge. All you cared about was that he was alive and unharmed.

Your only want was to run to his arms, feel the warmth of his beating heart against your chest, assuring you that he was okay.

But he stomped into the garage and walked right past you, as if you didn’t even exist to him, like you were an invisible burden.

Your heart was pounding as if you were the one who had crashed. You watched as Franco disappeared into the paddock, likely heading to quickly speak to the media before sneaking off to God knows where.

Again, your mind went to the familiar choice, whether to go to him or hang back. But you’d been hanging back too much. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You followed in his general direction, but the paddock was buzzing with reporters and team officials. You scanned the crowd for the familiar curls of your favorite Argentine, but to no avail; the frustration threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

Until you saw him darting through the crowd, nearly as fast as his own car, rushing to get away from all the people with their eyes on him. You had become one of them.

You navigated your way to the crowd and back to his driver’s room, waiting until you and Franco were out of the crowd to call to him.

“Franco!” you yelled, “Franco, wait up.”

“Go away, YN.”

That familiar stab in your stomach pulsed again. “Franco, I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

He reached his room and slammed the door shut, locked it behind him. You sighed.

“Please, let me in,” you practically begged. He was silent on the other side of the door.

He had never shut you out like this before—literally or figuratively. You felt the tears begin to pool. With a shaky voice, you began, “Franco, I’m your friend. I just want to support you and be here for you when things go wrong. You’ve been ignoring me all day, and I’m just worried about you.”

His silence continued, and the quivers in your voice became more intense. 

“If you want space, I’ll give it to you. But don’t shut me out forever. I want to be here for you. I… I care about you.”

Your heart beat with the near Freudian slip you had said. You were so close to saying I love you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t said it before; you were best friends, after all, but the shift in the nature of your relationship had made the words take on a new meaning. You couldn’t say it now.

It seemed as if nothing you could say would have any effect, judging by the silence on the other side of the door. You had just turned to begin walking away when you heard the click of Franco unlocking the door. 

You knew it was a silent invitation to enter. And when he carefully opened the door, just wide enough for you to enter but not enough so that anyone else could see, you saw the redness in his cheeks and the puffiness in his eyes indicating that he, too, had been crying.

It broke your heart. 

You entered and locked the door behind you, instantly enveloping your best friend in a warm embrace. You wanted no distractions—just you, the man you loved, and the silence of the room that was only broken by your collective cries.

All you could do was hold him close, burying your face in his neck, relishing the smell of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the race and the familiar smell of the garage—mechanical, yet somehow like home to you now. 

“I ruined everything,” he sobbed into your shoulder. The statement was cliche, but by the strength of his sobs, you knew he felt it was true.

“You don’t know that,” you reassured him. “So many other driver’s have crashed today. It’s a mess out there. You did the best you could.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’ve fucked it all up. I’ve ruined it. I let everyone down.”

He clearly wasn’t in a state to be reasoned with, and you knew that wasn’t the best thing right now anyway. He just needed someone to be with him. 

“It’s going to be okay. I promise it will.” That, and a warm body pressed to his, was all you could give him.

But the thoughts cascading through his brain were much darker. He really had ruined everything. Yes, his crashes would likely lose him the Redbull seat. But what he really ruined was his relationship with you.

He had done the unforgivable, crossed the line that he couldn’t return from. Everything between you two would be different now, especially when you found out what he had done.

Part of him wanted to lie and act as if it had never happened. You never wrote those words, he never read them, and everything would go on as normal.

But he knew he couldn’t. It had only been a day and the guilt was eating him alive. And now, he had ruined his chance at securing his future.

Still, in the bottom of his stomach was again that jumbled feeling he couldn’t quite name—something like anger, or disgust, something… vile. His manager was right. You had become a distraction, through no action of your own. But the filthy thoughts that went through your head at the sight of him, all which you’d written down and he’d read… it excited and repulsed him all at once.

And these emotions all ran through him as he sobbed in your arms, a quiet solace from the world. Things were broken now.

But in this moment, Franco could act as if none of that was true. He broke the embrace and finally looked you in the eyes.

Your stomach turned with butterflies. He was so beautiful, even with his puffy bloodshot eyes and gentle blush dancing across his cheeks.

And as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, he gently cupped your chin, bringing your face to his, and kissed you.

The kiss was slow and tentative, soft, like you were something fragile. And this moment was fragile, evidenced by the silent peace between you when the kiss ended and you pulled away, staring at each other. 

Franco was about to go in for another when his manager knocked on the door. 

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, and the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wordlessly got up and left with her, leaving you alone in his driver’s room.

You were scared of what would happen when he returned, so you spent the rest of the day in Williams hospitality before leaving the track alone.

You never saw Franco again at the track, but you figured he was in deep shit for his crashes, and that you should keep your distance. But sitting in hospitality, your mind in the clouds as you heard the celebrations of Max Verstappen’s win in the distance, you were haunted by the feeling of Franco’s lips on yours.

It was soft, caring, full of… no. You couldn’t say it. 

You felt like there was a stone in your throat. You needed Franco now, but at the same time, you were terrified of what would happen the next time you saw him. So you left and went back to the hotel alone. You knew your usual routine; dinner together, spending a bit of time in his hotel room, then going to bed and heading home on separate flights.

And even though your journal had long left your mind, you imagined what would happen that night in his hotel room.

Another kiss, but rougher this time, more sure of what he wanted; and what he wanted was you. Hands wandering, hitched breaths, waking up next to each other in the morning light.

You felt like you were going to faint. But he never came by that night. No text, no call, no tentative knock on your door.

And even in the morning when you checked out of the hotel and made your way to the airport, still nothing.

You had hoped when you landed and turned your phone off airplane mode that you’d find a notification from him, but your texts were empty.

A day turned into a week. One week turned into two. No word from him. All your messages left on delivered.

It took you two weeks to get him on the phone. You had to call him out of the blue; that was the only time he answered you.

“Hello? YN? Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine. Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you—”

He cut you off. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know,” you answered, slowly, as to not cause an argument. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You paused. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He paused too, but his pause was more awkward than peaceful. Clearly what had happened in Brazil had changed things, to a point where even a phone call felt stiff and unnatural.

You continued, “Do you maybe want to get dinner this weekend? Our usual place?”

It was a neutral enough offer, something that would be absurd of him to refuse. 

“Yeah, let's do that. I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” His tone was cool, but you took any opportunity you had for connection. He had said yes to your invitation; that was enough.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to you, Franco was losing his fucking mind. 

He didn’t know why he had kissed you in his driver’s room. It was like he wasn’t in control of his body. But how beautiful was the result; his lips pressed to yours, so softly, felt like heaven. He relished every second of the slow and chaste kiss as if it would be his last.

And when his manager had ruined the moment, he realized that it might be. He snapped back into reality as he rushed down the hallways of the paddock with her. She was clearly pissed. She led him back to a small meeting room. The room was empty, but he knew soon the whole team would be there, and he walked in like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Before he had even sat, she took her place at the head of the conference table, small but imposing. He was in big trouble. 

She inhaled deeply before beginning.  “Franco, are you okay?”

He nodded. 

“Say it.”

“I’m okay. I’m so sorry, I—”

“You were distracted.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“But it’s the truth.” He was silent. She continued, “Look, I get it. You don’t have much experience driving in the rain. You wanted to switch to wets, I heard the radio. You tried your best during the race.”

He fiddled nervously with his hair like a child being scolded, not even able to meet her eyes. 

“I’m not upset that you crashed. Five other drivers crashed too. What I am pissed about is the media shitstorm that you’ve created. First that stunt last night, then crashing this morning? And I know you were distracted then, because you weren’t talking at all on the radio and then I saw you staring at YN before your last lap. What is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” She was right. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He paused, stretching and scratching the back of his neck. He had always tried to keep his personal and professional lives separate, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that he couldn’t do that for much longer. 

“I… things are just… weird with me and YN lately.”

“I can tell.”

He gathered his courage before his confession. “I think I’m in love with her.”

His manager sighed. “I figured.”

She sat, a more sympathetic expression crossing her face. She explained, “Look, we all love YN. She’s always been there for you. I’m not trying to tell you what you need to do in your personal life, you’re an adult. But I think you know what needs to be done.”

He did know. But he was so scared. So terrified of the unknown future now. He couldn’t even speak it. 

His manager continued, “Well, after today, it’ll be hard to salvage the Redbull contract. But we have interest from other teams, too. Alpine, mostly. You still have a shot at a seat for next year. We can do this.”

She reached over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He smiled and nodded, knowing there was much work ahead to be done.

And that work had truly kept him busy in the following days, though not too busy to reach out to you. He just couldn’t do it. He knew if he gave himself anything he’d fall too far in. You consumed his every waking thought—but he couldn’t bring himself to respond to your messages.

Instead, he spent his late, sleepless nights online, reading what everyone was saying about him. A horrible decision, in retrospect.

The commentators had thrown him under the bus, calling him underdeveloped and inexperienced. Hundreds of people calling him “crashpinto” and saying he didn’t deserve his seat. To them, maybe lighthearted, but to him, it meant everything he had ever worked for becoming a mockery on Twitter. 

When you called, he picked up on instinct. You never called out of the blue unless it was bad.

But you had just wanted to hear his voice.

Fuck.

He couldn’t do this. He knew he couldn’t do this. His manager had told him. The entire internet was telling him. But he agreed to see you that weekend anyway. 

At least, that was the plan. But Saturday came and went and no word from him, no knock on your door, no answered text. Even a call went straight to voicemail—he had declined it.

All week, you had been looking forward to seeing him. You were wearing that dress you’d always fantasized about, the one that was his favorite color, the only one you felt truly beautiful in.

You had gotten dolled up for dinner. You wanted to finally tell him how you felt.

And he stood you up.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. How could you not? Franco was sending you mixed signals and you couldn’t do it anymore. 

But when you woke up, it was worse.

A million notifications. At least, that's how it felt. Disoriented, you opened your phone to a video from last night; Franco, walking around Madrid, with an actress. He had stood you up for someone else.

And not just any someone. You had heard of this Argentine actress. She was…controversial. Older. Beautiful.

And Franco had spent the night with her. At least, from the video and comments, that’s what you would assume. They were seen outside his apartment. He was reportedly very…talkative with her. Touchy.

You wanted to puke. The comments didn’t make it any better.

FRANCO BABY GET AWAY FROM HER

How could he do that to YN? 

I know he and YN weren’t official but if a man danced with me in the rain one week and was caught with the most problematic actress of Argentina the next, I’d commit an act of violence.

He is so fucking stupid, does he really think this is gonna help his PR after Brazil?

OMG they are so cute! They could be Argentina’s power couple <3

The last comment made you cringe. The replies to it were not kind.

You read through far too many comments before checking your texts. No message from Franco, of course. But from someone else: his mother.

Call me when you can xx

You took a moment to compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you dialed her number. 

Her voice on the other line was comforting. 

“YN, dear, how are you?”

“Hi,” you said, “I’m… I’m okay.” You lied, and she knew it.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not really okay. Franco has been acting…odd lately.”

“I know. That’s what I called to ask about. I’m sure you’ve seen the video?”

You swallowed hard, as if you could force the pain down to your stomach and ignore it. “I have.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I haven’t heard from him for weeks, since Singapore. I thought I raised him better than this. The press is saying he was covering his face in the video because he didn’t want us, his own family, to know.”

“Seriously?” you questioned, aghast. But your shock was also at the implication of the statement—us, his own family. Even his mother considered you part of the family. But you were invisible to him, it seems. 

“Yes!” She responded. “And for good reason. I’ve never seen his father so angry. He’s throwing away his whole career for some… woman. He’s distracted.”

That word: distracted. It felt more powerful now than ever before. 

“I mean, he hasn’t seemed like himself lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I don’t either. I actually wanted to ask you to check in on him. He isn’t answering anyone, but I just need someone to talk some sense into him. Just go over to his apartment. If I was there, I’d be on his doorstep with a wooden spoon.”

You could hear the frustration and restraint in her voice. The visual of Franco’s mom on his doorstep with a spoon ready to discipline him was almost comical, if not given the context.

“I’ll try. But if he’s not listening to his own mother, I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”

“Well, if you at least try, that’s enough.” She sighed. “YN, I’m so worried for him.”

“So am I.”

The line grew quiet. You could tell his mother had more to ask, but was restraining herself. You were grateful; you didn’t have the energy to tell the insane back and forth you’d undergone with him in the past few days. You were exhausted. 

So you bid each other goodbye and you readied yourself to go to Franco’s apartment and confront him. This couldn’t go on forever. 

You were surprised that he ever even answered the door. You knocked tentatively at first.

“Franco, it’s YN. Let me in.”

He wordlessly shuffled to the door and opened it, not even stopping to greet you as he went back to his couch to scroll on his phone. 

“Hi,” you greeted, awkwardly, as he was clearly uninterested. He just gave you a small nod.

You sat down next to him. You weren’t quite sure what to say. You opened your mouth to begin, but he cut you off.

“If you’re just here to lecture me, don’t.”

“I’m not here to lecture you.” Except, you kinda were. “Franco… everyone’s worried about you. I’m worried, your mom is worried too. She asked me to check in on you.

He placed his phone down and laughed, an exclamation dripping with sarcasm and contempt. “I’m sure she did.”

“Franco—”

“No, she sent you over here to come scold me, didn’t she?”

“No,” you lied. “You’re just not acting like yourself—”

“No, don’t start with that. You’re here to tell me how badly I fucked up, aren’t you? Well you can save it. The entire internet and all my managers and sponsors and everyone else on the planet beat you to it.”

“Franco, will you let me talk?” You asked.

He ignored your question. “I already fucked up my chances at a Redbull seat, so might as well just keep doing it, right? Go big or go home.”

“Don’t you still have a chance with Alpine?” You had heard the rumors. It didn’t matter, though. Franco still had a chance at a seat, yes, but he was no longer the golden boy of F1, the perfect replacement for the driver that always crashed.

“Why does it matter? Redbull or Alpine or… Chinese F4 or whatever the people come up with. It’s over.”

In an ordinary conversation, you would have chuckled. But this was no laughing matter.

“Franco, everyone's rooting for you. We all want you to succeed, and we know you can. I know you can. I believe in you. Why are you doing this?”

He paused. “Doing what?”

You weren’t quite sure how to answer that. Ignoring you? Kissing you? Or spending the night with another woman?

“Doing things that hurt your reputation.”

“What, are you worried about the brand?”

“Yes. I am. And you should be, too.”

“Oh, fuck off. If you were really worried about ‘the brand’ you wouldn’t have been acting like you did in Brazil.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was full of pain. He’d never used that kind of language or cruel tone with you before.

“Acting like we’re a couple.”

“Franco, you initiated all of that.” The truth cut through both of you, leaving you raw and vulnerable. “And I thought you meant it. Was it all just… a lie?”

It couldn’t be. The dancing was public. But the kiss had to be real. Away from the cameras, the scrutiny, the potential of what could be. Just you and him. Two people who loved in each other—but in what exact way, it was impossible for you to know.

His only response was curt. “Don’t ask me that,” he whispered.

Silence blanketed the room for a moment.

“The actress,” you asked, “Do you love her?” It was a simple question, asked while still ignoring the elephant in the room of what had really happened in Brazil. 

“Why do you care?” he asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

You looked at him with bewilderment. “I care because I’m your friend! She has the potential to ruin your reputation, so I mean, it’s kind of different depending on if she’s the love of your life or just a quick fuck.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so concerned about my love life. I don’t ask about yours.” 

You weren’t quite sure where his agitation was coming from, but it shocked you nonetheless. You responded back with your own passive aggression. “That’s because I don’t have one, Franco. I’m too busy flying around the world watching you race to go on dates.” It was true. But you left out the obvious fact that you were in love with him.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“You asked me to be here!” His words cut sharper than a knife. He had practically begged for you to be there. 

“Well, if it’s such a bother, then don’t come to the last three races. I need to focus, anyway.”

“It's not a bother. I enjoy being there! Franco, I’m just trying to talk to you, please don’t take out your anger on me.”

“You’re not trying to talk. You’re trying to tell me what to do, just like everyone else does. You all act like I’m a stupid child who can’t make any decisions on my own.”

Your anger grew. “Maybe it’s because you make decisions like this! You have a reputation to uphold and you’re choosing to associate with people like her?”

“You’re just jealous,” he said, with a thick venom in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat. You pushed your nervousness down and let anger replace it. In an equally snarky tone, you rolled your eyes and replied, “Look, obviously you’re not going to acknowledge whatever happened between us in Brazil. But I am not jealous. I’m your friend and I want to help you. And besides, not every woman wants to fuck you, Franco.”

“Oh, but you do.”

If your heart had skipped a beat before, it had just dropped into your stomach now. Was it that obvious? Before you could even summon any rebuttal, Franco continued, “You know what actually happened in Brazil? You found me out. I stole your little diary when you left it in my driver’s room. And I read every fucking word.”

All the color had drained from your face. Every single word—where you had declared your love for him, and written all your fantasies about ravishing him and him ravishing you. Every fear and frustration and moment of sadness that you had poured into that journal; he had read it. 

“What, nothing to say now?” he snapped at you. 

He was right; what could you say when your best friend had crossed a line, only to find out that you had crossed the line so much further?

You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t have the strength to push them away as you had always done. What was the point, anymore? 

Your only response came out like a sad whisper. “Why would you do that?”

But clearly, he felt no sympathy for you. “Why would you do that?” he retorted. “Everyone tells me constantly that you’re a distraction. And they’re right. Because I’m trying to win points and you’re in my driver’s room writing fantasies about us fucking. And then I crash and lose everything and you want to act like you’re so innocent, just wanting to help. Well I know what you really want. And it’s disgusting.”

For a second, you really thought Franco was insane. Somehow, he had managed to manipulate the situation into making this your fault. 

But if he had truly read every word, how could he come to the conclusion that all you wanted was his body? How could he not understand how deeply you loved him?

In mere moments, a million ways to convey this went through your head, But it was no use. He was beyond the point of reason. And your friendship was beyond saving.

You had nothing to say, and it felt like if you didn’t get out of there right that second, you’d go insane. “I think I should just go…” you muttered as you turned to grab your things and exit his apartment. 

“No, you don’t get to do that! You don’t get to just run away from this.”

Your anger returned at his refusal to let you go. “If you can do whatever you want, then why can’t I?” 

This time it was him who was silent. 

Just as you were finally about to leave, you heard his voice behind you, “I’ll prove you wrong.”

His four simple words released the flood of your anger. You turned to him. “Prove me wrong? All I’ve tried to do is tell you that you’re wrong, that you still have a chance to save this if you do the right thing. But what if you don’t, Franco? What if you don’t get a seat for next year? You know what will happen? She’ll leave you. And the entire world will forget about you, everyone except for me, because I’ve always been here, even when you were nothing. But this is how you treat me, you’re mean and you lie to me and you betray my trust and you blame everything on me! So don’t come crying to me when everything falls apart.”

And so you left. And that was that. 

The next few days went past like a blur.

You could only remember small snippets. A set of emails; your VIP passes had been revoked, your flights and hotel reservations canceled. 

A video of him kissing her in a nightclub. A video of her going home with another man. Rumors. Pain. 

All of the sudden, you weren’t in his life anymore. But life just…went on.

You knew it would be best to just get off social media for good, now. Try to move on with your life. But you couldn’t help it. You watched the gossip pages, the F1 updates, his own page.

His comments were full of angry people, lambasting the actress or trying to defend you. His managers even had to issue a statement.

In your head you could hear his manager’s voice, scolding him. You knew exactly what she’d say.

And halfway across the world at the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you were right.

The few days in between the video of the actress, his argument with you, and the Grand Prix weekend felt like a century. But he was here, for better or for worse.

Still, the icy glare of his manager cut through him. He’d gotten an earful after the video leaked. The tension still hadn’t settled. 

But media day had gone fairly well; little mention of you or the actress. In fact, everything had gone smooth—a little too smooth, going into qualifying. 

One last meeting before he’d have to get to the garage. The garage itself had felt oddly…quiet, without you there. Yes, he’d canceled everything in the hot aftermath of your argument. 

But he couldn’t ignore your absence, like a hole in his chest.

He went in and out of focus—he was doing that a lot, these days—as the meeting dwindled and staff filtered out of the room one by one, until again it was just Franco and his manager.

She felt the tension in the room, and knew it was a delicate balance. The wrong mention at the wrong time could ruin everything. So she didn’t mention your name, knowing that it could affect his performance.

“Hey, kid,” she teased him, “You’ve got this. You’ve been through a lot—Hell, you’ve put me through a lot, but you’ve still got three more weeks to show the world what you can do. And I believe in you.”

He only gave her a reassuring smile before he went to the garage. 

The smile was fake. He knew it. She knew it. Maybe the fans knew it. 

You certainly knew it, watching the Sky Sports broadcast from home. It was an odd duality; you couldn’t stop watching, but every time they showed Franco, you felt like you’d been stabbed right in the heart. 

And across the world, Franco felt that same pain. His manager hadn’t brought you up, but her words were far too similar to yours. I believe in you.

Of course she did. That was her job. But you? You believed in him when he was fourteen and couldn’t figure out how to wash his clothes alone. You believed in him when he was sick and when he crashed and when he fucked everything up. 

Everything you had said just echoed in his mind, over and over, every night. He hadn’t been sleeping well. 

But this was his own fault. He had ruined it. He had read the journal. He had revoked your VIP passes. 

He had no one to blame but himself. And it was eating him alive.

When he was younger, he fell in love with racing because of the freedom it gave him. When he was in the car, it was just him and the road. No one could touch him—he could drive into oblivion if he wanted to.

But now, even in the former bliss of that sacred space of his F1 car, his shoulders were weighed down by the weight of all he had done. 

The quali session was almost over when he crashed. 

There were no words anymore. He retired the car and went back to the garage in silence.

At home, you just cried. There was nothing else you could do. 

It wasn’t long before Franco heard a familiar knock at his driver’s room door—his manager. He had spoken to the media, answered all the questions perfectly. But he had cost the team more time and money. He had let everyone down.

He opened the door without speaking a word, bracing for his scolding. 

But when his manager entered, her expression was not one of anger. “Franco, talk to me. What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know. I just lost control of the car and—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He paused, a strange sense of deja vu washing over him. He sat down and brought his head to his hands. The words wouldn’t come out.

“Where is YN?”

“She’s not here.”

His manager’s tone grew angrier. “Yeah, I’m aware. Where is she?”

“At home.”

“Why isn’t she here? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Franco said, his frustration growing at his manager’s insistence. 

“Well, obviously something happened, because she’d have to be dead or in jail to not be attending one of your F1 races.”

He looked up, furrowing his brow. “You told me to do what I have to do. So I did.”

“She didn’t take it well? That's… surprising.”

His anger was now tinged with confusion. “Well, most people don’t take it well when they’re called a distraction.”

“...Franco, did you tell her that?”

“Yes, that’s what you wanted me to do!”

“Oh my—no, God, Franco, that’s not what I meant!”

The driver got up, ready to angrily speak with his hands. His manager didn’t cower one bit. She asked, “Franco, what the hell did you tell her?”

“I told her she was a distraction and that she didn’t need to come to the last races. And I told her that she doesn’t need to scold me because you already do that enough. I did what I had to do, exactly what you told me to do!”

His manager took a deep breath. “When I said that you should do what you had to do, I meant that you needed to sit down and tell her how you feel.”

Oh.

She continued, “Yes, you were distracted because of your feelings for her. But she isn’t a distraction. She’s your friend, right? And you love her. So why would you say that to her?”

He began, “I—I don’t know. I don’t…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, Franco. What has gotten into you?”

He couldn’t even speak. 

“Is there any chance in hell that this can be smoothed over before the race next week?”

He shook his head. No. Not after he had deliberately stood you up to go out with the actress. Not after he had spent the night with her, imagining your lips on his instead of hers. Not after everything he had said. Not after he’d rescinded his gift he’d worked so hard to give you by univiniting you to all the remaining races.

No, things were definitely not going to be smoothed over anytime soon. 

Qatar. Still no word from him. 

You’d contemplated reaching out a few times, but every time you’d gather up the courage, you’d remember what he said. There was no point anymore.

He crashed within the first laps of the race. It wasn’t even his fault, but still. The damage was done. 

The once promising young driver was now the laughing stock of the internet from all the work he’d made for the Williams’ mechanics. Unfortunately for your mental health, you’d still been keeping up with F1 news. 

Your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Has anyone else noticed that since YN hasn’t been at races, Franco hasn’t been performing well?

REPLY: Yeah, he does seem kind of off, even in interviews :(

REPLY: He didn’t do well in Brazil and she was there tho

REPLY: Yeah, but Brazil was a mess, no one except Max did well

REPLY: Call me parasocial but I 100% believe that he confessed his feelings and she didn’t reciprocate them. Why else would he immediately crash twice, hook up with a famous actress, and then YN isn’t at any races?

You laughed from the sheer absurdity of it all. Their assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. 

But time kept passing, like your entire world hadn’t been destroyed.

And again, as Franco traveled across the globe for races, his world was crumbling too.

It was becoming apparent that he wouldn’t get a seat for 2025. His time in F1—at least, for now—was coming to an end. And you were gone.

As he checked into his hotel room in Abu Dhabi, he could feel that familiar weight coming to rest on him. It hadn’t let up through the entire triple header. 

And when he was alone in his room, he couldn’t hide from it anymore.

You were just a phone call away. All he had to do was press a button and apologize. You were kind—he’d always loved that about you—you’d forgive him.

Or maybe you wouldn’t. Or maybe you couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought. So he didn’t call. Instead he tried to shake it off and take a shower, washing away the grit and grime of the airport, and the metaphorical dirt that now clung to him, the guilt of all he’d ruined. 

But even in the shower, his thoughts wandered to you, back in Brazil. You had held him, and he buried his head in your shoulder, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth of your embrace. 

His hand trailed from his hair, where he was rinsing out his shampoo, to lower on his body, over his toned stomach and the happy trail that dotted his stomach.

He imagined his hand was yours.

No. This was wrong. But you had done it, hadn’t you?

He finished his shower in record time. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed in just a towel, he remembered that night in Singapore.

Had you thought about him like this? You must have. Yes, he remembered, you wrote about it. 

He had kept the journal. It was there, in his backpack, at his feet. 

He didn’t even think when he did it, reaching down to grab the small leather bundle of sin, letting his towel fall to the floor and not bothering to pick it up. 

Climbing on the bed, he opened the journal again. His hand gripped his aching cock, but God, how he wished it was yours. 

He read. I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. 

Yes, he remembered. The memory of your closeness made his hard length twitch. His eyes darted further down the page. 

So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

He pumped himself up and down, slowly at first, then harder as your words got filthier. He imagined the scene; you on top of him, his hand being yours. God, how badly he wanted you, no, needed you right now. 

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. 

Yes, he was yours. His body was yours. His mind was yours. Everything that he was, was yours. How badly he wished he could tell you that. But all he could do now was keep himself on the edge, denying himself the sweet release as you’d imagined. 

He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

He mimicked the scene when his hips jerked involuntarily, eliciting a low groan from his throat as he released all the pent up anger and frustration. He hadn’t meant to finish this early, but your words and the memory of your lips on his had an effect on him that he couldn’t control. 

But even as his breathing slowed and he moved to clean up the evidence of his debauchery, he couldn’t help but wonder how you’d punish him for disobeying your commands.

God, he fucking missed you. 

Even with the clarity of his release, he didn’t seem to be thinking clearly. His phone still lay open, the screen on your contact. 

One phone call. That’s all it would take. One phone call and you could be there at the end of it all, just as you’d always been there at the start.

But he still couldn't do it. 

He tapped the settings icon and hit “block caller.”

[tealvenetianmask]

We need some Barbie Wire Analysis . . .

Because for a character with maybe . . . 2-3 minutes of screen time, she sure has an outsized importance in the show. This is rivaled only by Tilla, who we know even less about.

Barbie gets the major callback in the last scene of Season 2. As other bloggers have pointed out, it could have been Fizz, who's a much bigger character so far. Fizz hated Blitz for 15 years, and they were able to finally reconcile-- even though 15 years is still a long time, that would have been, arguably, a more hopeful, comforting story for Stolas to hear.

But Barb, well, she's on his mind. She always is. "I miss her every day."

Barbie's absense, I think, is made more real by the way in which the show introduces her through photos, and she's never overtly mentioned in all of Season 1.

We're told that Blitz has a twin, that they performed together in the circus (or maybe after), and through her non-mentions, that something bad happened.

Then she's in the photo that makes Blitz finally break down at the end of Ozzie's.

I like how the twins mirror each other here. Similar eyes and face shapes, circus marks on their foreheads, pointy teeth, simple joy and enthusiasm. Whatever their lives were like at that time, they experienced it together, and there were good times.

Barb is central to Blitz's loss and his capacity for love.

We finally meet Barb in Unhappy Campers, and the way she's introduced . . . well. Unfortunately a lot of us were so disappointed that Blitz wasn't going to visit Stolas that we couldn't fully process what he was doing. When he first asked about Barb, my first reaction was "who?"

But that hasn't been Blitz's experience. He's just been keeping a major part of his day to day thoughts and feelings from us.

This nurse knows what's up. He's come back again and again to see Barb, and no taser can deter him.

It's such an obvious and central part of his life- missing Barb, trying to reconnect with her, that he seems honestly unaware that he's never told Moxxie about her at all.

It might feel like we're thrown into an emotional family confrontation out of nowhere, but Blitz has gone through years, potentially, of trying to get Barb to talk to him and being shut down. The hurt in his face, how it wears on him, and how he can't bear to give up hope. Well. It's all there.

So at this point, we still don't know Barb deeply. We only know what Blitz has told us, but more importantly, how he reacts to her absence, how he refuses to give up.

It tells us a lot about his stubbornness, the fine line he walks between resilience, hope, and just a pigheaded refusal to give up.

Maybe Barb is a part of why Blitz is like this. Maybe losing her taught him that some things are so important that it's worth never giving up, even if continuing to try is painful.

Maybe there will be a reconciliation, in part or in full.

But honestly, I also won't mind if a lesson Blitz needs to learn is that sometimes you do need to give up on someone you love. For that person's freedom to reinvent themselves. For your own sanity and contentment in life.

And if Blitz does let her go (at least of the practical fight to reconnect)? He'll think of her every day still.

[unhappy-sometimes]

a 2024 reading retrospective

so. i read a lot of fics in 2024. here are some of my favorites.

before i get started, please note that these are not in any particular order and these are not all of my favorites!!!!!!!! i wanted to include so many more but i just wasn't able to! also please don't roast me for reading stuff from more than two years ago :(((

anyway, here we go!!

1. Air by Cantare

as always, @cantareincminor knocks it out of the park. i'm a sucker for alternate first meeting AUs and Air is one of the good ones!! i find that it can be hard to find authentic sounding banter between yor and twilight, but cantare manages it somehow! they have such great and natural sounding dialogue. it's just a one chapter fic, but maybe if we ask nicely enough, cantare will continue one day 😏

2. like the wild geese by anonymous_viscacha

okay in all honesty, i read this for the first time last week and i scrambled to add this one to the list. it's a short one shot about a shared lunch break between yor and loid, but it's so sweet and endearing that i just had to put it on. i love love love it when people let loid and yor catch up on the childhood they lost because they deserve it. i'm kinda obsessed with this fic right now.

3. what happens outside by aerequets

it's kinda unfair that @aerequets gets to be a great artist and author but here we are. i'm not complaining tho because what happens outside is a delightful read. i enjoy exploring post reveal pre relationship twiyor and this fic is perfect for that!! it's also just really cute and reading things from yor's perspective is super endearing.

4. chaos theory by sarsaparillia

so ngl this one scared me at first because i do NOT like major character death fics and this one really seems like it, but this fic was unexpectedly wholesome and has a happy ending!!! it's short but bittersweet so i can't really talk about it without spoiling it any more. go read it! it's short!

5. eventually i fall into you, you attack my heart by princessguard

i know this is a controversial (and somewhat ironic) take but i usually really don't like eden AUs but. this fic is proof that there are always exceptions to the rule. this one is a short little story about a serious student at eden and the weird girl he keeps meeting in trees. i don't know exactly why i love this one so much but it do. it's cute and the epilogue got me grinning like a fool.

6. like real people do by Puolain

once again another alternative meeting AU. i dunno, man, it's just so much fun to see twilight and yor having the chance to be real people and accidentally fall in love which each other. i eat that up every time. great work @loveroma!

7. I'll Be There in a Minute, Dear by fluffmelange

i was SO CLOSE to putting fluffmelange's "Leave No Trace of Yourself" here because that one is SO FUNNY but alas, this delightful fic barely won out in the end. you know what you should do? read both. fluffmelange is keeping us all fed with short and sweet fics that are so much fun to read. this one is a favorite simply because the premise is so goofy and simple but i could 100% see it being canon lol. we are in your capable hands @fluffmelange.

8. I've Been Throwing Bricks At Your Window Like There's No Better Way To Say Hello by thesmallestfishinthesea

this fic has such a silly and simply premise but i love it so so so much. it's about the three times yor forgets her keys (plus one extra time loid forgets!!!!) and it's so cute to have a view inside yor's (often frazzled) mind. i don't know what else to say other than READ IT RIGHT NOW!!! great work @smallest-fish-inthesea!

this is not all!! i really wanted to include the wonderful works of @whateversawesome, @briefhottubcoffee, @spencer-is-alive, luinel, and more (ao3 literally went out just as i was typing this UGH what awful timing) but i wanted to do something to give back to this awesome community. fun fact, today is my birthday and there's a tradition in my family where the birthday person gives presents to others. so this is my present to everyone!! thanks for everything you guys and here's to another great year!

oh oh oh one last thing, i tried to link everyone's tumblr if they have one, so if there's an author on here who has a tumblr that i didn't link, let me know and i'll link them.

okay! thanks everyone!

(ALSO DON'T MAKE FUN OF HOW DIFFERENT SOME OF THE DRAWING STYLES LOOK IN SOME OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS, I WAS EXPERIMENTING WITH DIFFERENT TECHNIQUES AND THEY LOOK STUPID ALL PUT TOGETHER LEAVE ME ALONE😭😭😭😭😭😭)

[barblaz-arts]

I know you've been making a lot of art of it lately, but out of curiosity, what's your opinion on Hazbin Hotel in general? I'm referring to both the show and the fandom here. Just curious.

God. What a loaded question. Are you ready? Bcuz I'm fresh from Vaggie discourse on twitter and I have a lot to say.

I think that Hazbin Hotel seems worse than it is for people who know the fandom but haven't actually watched the show. Honestly, I think it's a fine show. It isnt super incredible and I'm not gonna sing praises about how deep and thought provoking it is or whether it's an artistic masterpiece. It never tried to be that and was never advertised as such(to my knowledge) anyway. I just had a lot of fun. Like, yeh sure the cussing in the dialogue can be a bit much, especially in ep 1, but there are different writers in other episodes, so it gets better. It can be super crude yeh, but I grew up watching things like the Scary Movie franchise and other dumb american movies (yes, i was too young for them. yes, i still watched them), so it's pretty tolerable for me. It also helps that Charlie is the main character. That's one of the main reasons why I watch HH but dont watch HB. It's probably a fun show, but without a sweetheart like Charlie to balance things out, I'd just get tired of the sex jokes and mean jokes.

Compared to my last hyperfixation, I think I have more things to love about Hazbin Hotel, believe it or not. With Netflix's Wednesday, I had already been an Addams Family fan for a while and hung on because I loved the family and eventually Enid and wenclair. The show itself was honestly meh... so far! I'll give season 2 another shot.

But with Hazbin Hotel, it catered to a lot of things I've always loved. Found family with a bunch of misfits? We didnt get to see it much bcuz of the fuckass 8-ep per season format we have nowadays, but its fine its there! The juxtaposition of a kind hearted woman in a harsh world? Love love Charlie for that, I watched the show in the first place because of her. A canon lesbian lover with a "fuck the world cuz my world is you" type of love for the protag? Fuck yes. How very Pearl-from-Steven-Universe of Vaggie. And the music? The music is soooo good. I didn't know the songwriter prior to watching, so I was nervous about the songs, but I knew most of the theater actors they cast(still cant believe Jeremy fucking Jordan is Lucifer) so I figured even if the songs are mid, at least the performances would be topnotch. And they were! But the songs were a pleasant surprise. Sam Haft did real damn well. I still listen to the soundtrack to this day.

The fandom, however, is probably the worst one I've been in. And I've been in a lot in my big age... Just... lacking media literacy, and based on the replies I get when I say something on twitter, it seems a lot of them lack reading comprehension and just plain emotional intelligence too.

There's a lot of criticisms about this show that I honestly think is fair. Pacing, character design, overuse of the F word, whatever. But in my opinion, claiming that Hazbin is a male-centered show is an unfair misconception that is mostly the fault of the fandom.

Bcuz, sure, the male characters are uber popular. Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, Angel Dust and the many web of ships they're involved in went trending every few business days. But come on now. How often does a fandom even have their main protag as the most talked about character? This has been going on for ages. Just because the boys have the most merch and fics and fanarts and thirsty fans doesn't mean that they had the spotlight for most of the show itself. It only meant that they were the ones the viewers paid attention to, in a fandom filled with people drooling over the next tumblr sexyman and toxic yaoi ship of the month.

But if you actually look back at what the show gave us so far, the boys didnt outshine the women. I actually think the women got to do more and be more as characters than the men did. Let's take a look at the male characters.

Alastor was not in all the episodes. In fact, he was MIA in two out of the eight episodes. In all the episodes he was in, he was a mere side character. His purpose in season one was to stir the pot and be the intriguing mystery that occasionally quips. But he was not the one whose deeper thoughts were explored and whose character and goals was challenged THROUGHOUT the show, merely alluded to at the VERY END of the season, which is hardly him taking the spotlight away from Charlie. If you merely looked at the fan content of him, you'd think he were a father figure to Charlie(or a love interest. whatever) and that he has developed a soft spot for the Hazbins deep down in that cannibal heart of his. But if you pay attention to the show, he never had even a meaningful one on one conversation with the Hazbins. The only time that happened is when (a)he threatened Husk's life (b)when he constantly mocked Charlie while she was down in the dumps and used this as an opportunity to manipulate her and (b)when he told Niffty watching the crew sure can "make one sentimental", even tho he had taken no prior opportunity to bond with them! There's no foundation for all the fandom's claims that he could be redeemed bcuz of a budding fondness for the group, but that's all you see of his fan content(aside from the horniness). I dont have any problem with his lack of an actual relationship with the Hazbins bcuz I believe redemption for him is not what the show is going for, but it's frustrating to see people interpreting it that way BUT not seeing how horridly developed it would be if that is the case, meanwhile they turn around and say that Vaggie and Chaggie as a ship "had terrible development".

Then we have the male Vees. Vox was only ever in episode two, and was essentially a youtube reactor in episode 8. He was in ep 4 but had no speaking lines. We only know of his obsession with Alastor and the toxic relationship he has with Val. Val, meanwhile, is merely shown as the sex obsessed fiend behind Hell's sex industry and Angel's abuse. They did what they needed to do with minimal screentime. It was fine, but that's IT. Despite what little CANON gave so far, you have hundreds of people writing essays and fics and fanarts about them being complicated characters. But to reiterate, this does not mean that they are bad characters or that they don't deserve the fame. But to say that these men are better written within canon than the women is such a bold statement when most of the depth they knew of these characters were lore drops given before the show and their own speculations as they dug into the shallow soil of what the show has so far.

I'm not gonna speak about Angel and Lucifer. Because I think they were characters who were legitimately well-explored so far.

Now onto the women. So many of them were given the opportunity to have their characters challenged or given the agency to push characters and the plot forward or give you intrigue about implications of what's to come for the characters and the plot. I've talked a lot about Charlie and Vaggie. So let me talk about the other, terribly underrated women of Hazbin.

Velvette and Carmilla were the ones who advanced the subplot in the war against Heaven. Because of Carmilla's love for her family despite being a demon, an angel was killed. It gave Heaven the excuse to escalate things, but it also gave Charlie hope later on in the season that they're not powerless. Carmilla was also the first demon shown to make selfless actions that is contrary to what is expected of demons, making it proof that Charlie's belief that demons deserve a second chance isn't unwarranted. She's an interesting character, as an overlord who hangs on to power but clearly has morals. But how often do you see people writing essays about her? Eating up the fact that she's a powerful overlord but would sacrifice anything for her daughters? If Carmilla were a man, hundreds of girlies would be drooling over the crime boss who has a soft spot for his daughters.

Meanwhile, Velvette got to demonstrate why exactly she's an Overlord despite being the youngest demon in there. She's calculating and observant. She gives off a haughty vibe and constantly boasts about how she's young and fresh, but she isn't naive. During that meeting, she paid attention to Carmilla and Zestial's relationship. In order to find out who killed the angel, she riled everyone up, and when she got the feeling it was Carmilla, she mocked Zestial so that Carmilla could slip up. By playing these Overlords who are older and more experienced than her, Velvette showed what exactly her asset was to the Vees and why she's a threat, something that Vox and Val have yet to be given the opportunity to do when they were busy eye-fucking Alastor and literally fucking Angel. But in fan content about the Vees, Velvette is almost treated as an after thought to the boys...

Then we have the Seraphs. Not only were their designs gorgeous, their dynamic and presence as characters had impact to the plot and main characters.

Emily is a much needed character to show that this story isn't meant to tell you that Heaven = bad; Hell = good. There is good and bad in both, and it is so important for the protags to know that they have an ally in Emily who represents the true virtues that heaven is supposed to uphold. And I love the confrontation she had with Sera when her own view of what's right and good was challenged. We got to see the strength of her character and started the seeds of what could be heaven's acceptance of Charlie's goals.

Sera is such an interesting character to me. She was also important to show that not all angels were sadistic like Adam and Lute, but not in the same way Emily was. I have no idea so far which direction this show would go with her. But I'm intrigued by the fact that she seems to be driven by fear, unlike Adam and Lute's cruelty. She knew Lucifer and was there when he was cast out for his disobedience. Whether everything she's doing is to prevent that from happening again remains to be seen, and I'm looking forward to this kind of subplot for her.

And then Rosie! I really really look forward to seeing more from her. Spoilers aside, something I barely see people talk about is how interesting it is that Rosie is every bit the leader that Charlie hopes to be. Rosie is able to be a respected overlord in her own faction without needing to sacrifice her love for showmanship and music and her positive disposition. When we were officially introduced to her, they show how she seems to care about actually taking care of her people, not JUST ordering them around, by talking to them personally and giving advice. That's exactly what Charlie wanted to do for her people, isn't it? The hotel to Charlie was what the emporium was to Rosie. They have a lot of similarities that could set up for Rosie to be the one to teach Charlie in becoming a leader. Now whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen, but it is rather compelling.

So yeah! With all that said, I really dont think this show ignores its women at all. Just because a bigger part of the fandom gravitated towards the men doesn't necessarily mean its a misogynistic show so far. But if certain people are claiming that the women are badly written, then I hope they also own up to the fact that their blorbos are just as shallowly presented within the show, maybe even more so. Which wouldn't even be a bad thing! Since when did a show or character have to be amazingly written for a person to like them? That's just no fun at all. All I'm saying is... Fuck this fandom's double standards, hiding behind claims that it's the writing's fault when the problem is they couldn't be bothered to think about the women.

[firstkanaphans]

Khun Dome's Peaceful Property fic, CH. 2

The director of Peaceful Property wrote a fic as a Christmas present for the fandom. You can read my translation of the first chapter here. And you can find the original Thai version of this chapter here.

2 days ago The night Peach called Home but he didn’t pick up Sat, 21/12 peach93 & Dome Online Psychic

peach93: [phone call to Dome lasting 01:13:06] peach93: Thank you na krap, Uncle Dome Online Psychic: Not a problem ja Dome Online Psychic: I’m always here if you need advice Dome Online Psychic: 💯💯💯 peach93: But Uncle krap peach93: I still have doubts peach93: Why does it have to be on the night of the 24th? Dome Online Psychic: It’s in accordance with the universal astrology Dome Online Psychic: It’s just a coincidence that it also happens to be Christmas Eve peach93: But aren’t you a Thai psychic krap? Dome Online Psychic: Do you believe me or not? peach93: Fine fine. I believe you krap. Dome Online Psychic: Just do exactly as your uncle tells you Dome Online Psychic: And it’ll fix your bad luck Dome Online Psychic: Your life will be free from aging, illness, and disease Dome Online Psychic: So you can love each other for a very long time peach93: We’re just friends krap Dome Online Psychic: [picture of a very surprised Peach] [Translator’s note: It’s Tay Tawan] peach93: Wait a minute na krap. How did you get my picture? Dome Online Psychic: I am a psychic Dome Online Psychic: Seeing the future ❌ Seeing two male friends act suspiciously ✅ Dome Online Psychic: May it be so. Like TayNew 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 peach93: Uncle!

Today Tue, 21/12 14:14 Vimarnsukman Ghost-Hunting Co.

pangx2🍞: [Screenshot of the thumbnail for an episode of “Ghost Talk Radio: The Haunting Wave of the New Generation.” The episode is titled “The Demon of Wat Pho Kla has been defeated” and the host’s name is Khun Polka.] [Translator's note: Wat Pho Kla is the temple Peach was visiting in the previous chapter. And also Khun Polka appears to be GMMTV manager P’Jack.] pangx2🍞: Isn’t this the ghost the villagers asked for your help with, Hia? peach93: Yes pangx2🍞: Oh! You did the job by yourself without saying anything? pangx2🍞: I missed out on filming the ghost-busting content peach93: Ha ha  go HOME!: [gif of Michael Scott from “The Office” saying “OH, WOW!”] Lawyer Kan: May I say something na ka Lawyer Kan: I have told the customers at the restaurant that we will be closing early tonight ka Lawyer Kan: For your Secret Santa activity, Khun Home peach93: Thank you so much, Kan! go HOME!: [gif of an animated penguin coming out of its shell saying “I LOVE YOU! ❤️”] Lawyer Kan: I will pretend not to see your message, Khun Home na ka go HOME!: 💔💔💔

pangx2🍞, Lawyer Kan, & Suradech Ketmuangrong

pangx2🍞: Did you see, Mae!!! Lawyer Kan: See what ka? pangx2🍞: [screenshot of the above text conversation where Peach admits to ghost-busting solo] Lawyer Kan: I can read it in the group just fine by myself na ka pangx2🍞: In my whole life, I’ve never caught Hia in a lie. Not even once pangx2🍞: This is the very first time! Lawyer Kan: What are you talking about na ka? pangx2🍞: I’ve already looked into everything pangx2🍞: Hia was the one who went to exorcise the ghost for the villagers that night pangx2🍞: But it seems Hia pangx2🍞: Oops. Sent it too soon ha ha pangx2🍞: It seems P’Home was there too pangx2🍞: They’re such good actors  pangx2🍞: Secretly going to exorcise ghosts together just the two of them! pangx2🍞: It’s very suspisious ka pangx2🍞: Isn’t that right, P’Suradech? Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krap Lawyer Kan: You spelled “suspicious” wrong ka Lawyer Kan: Why don’t you just ask them directly ka? Lawyer Kan: Since you’ve already figured everything out Lawyer Kan: As it is now, you’re hiding the truth just like them ka pangx2🍞: Whose side are you on, Maeeeee!!!! Lawyer Kan: I’m just saying that everything you’ve accused them of Lawyer Kan: Cannot be used as evidence in court ka Lawyer Kan: Legally… pangx2🍞: 😪😪😪 pangx2🍞: Wake me up when you’re done typing Lawyer Kan: You have to find more concrete evidence ka pangx2🍞: [picture of Peach and Home asleep in bed together] pangx2🍞: This isn’t evidence enough ka?! Lawyer Kan: Stop using the same old evidence ka pangx2🍞: Then what do you want me to do, Mae? pangx2🍞: In just a few hours, it will be time for Secret Santa pangx2🍞: I will not be able to hold it together long enough to play the game! pangx2🍞: I will not be able to hold it together long enough to play the gameee!!! pangx2🍞: I will not be able to hold it together long enough to play the gameeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!! Lawyer Kan: Then you need more evidence ka

Lawyer Kan invites Dome Online Psychic to chat

Dome Online Psychic: Hello, Khun Lawyer Kan. This is the new Line account of Uncle Dome Online Psychic since the old Line account I used for a very long time has disappeared. You can contact the team here na krap. Thank you krap 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 Lawyer Kan: @ Dome Online Psychic I would like to speak directly with Uncle Dome ka. I do not want to speak with the automated message response system ka. 

Dome Online Psychic joined to chat

Dome Online Psychic: What’s up ja, Nong Noo Kan? Lawyer Kan: Allow me to get right to the point na ka, Khun Uncle Dome Dome Online Psychic: Do you want a group reading? Dome Online Psychic: That will be more expensive na

Suradech Ketmuangrong left chat

pangx2🍞: Oh! P’Suradech!!! pangx2🍞: Wait! I will pay for you!!! Dome Online Psychic: What do you want to know, Nong Noo Kan? Dome Online Psychic: I see your soulmate is in this group too na Lawyer Kan: I don’t want to talk about that ka! pangx2🍞: [gif of a cartoon rabbit saying “EH, I’M CONFUZZLED…”]

pangx2🍞invites Suradech Ketmuangrong to chat

Dome Online Psychic: Oh! Then what do you want to talk about ja? Lawyer Kan: [picture of Peach and Home asleep in bed together] Dome Online Psychic: Didn’t you say not to use the same old evidence ja? Lawyer Kan: My friend is curious ka Lawyer Kan: Whether these two are dating ka Pangx2🍞: Not just me ka Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krap Dome Online Psychic: Hmm Dome Online Psychic: Where should I start? Lawyer Kan: You can just jump straight to the answer ka Dome Online Psychic: Well it’s like this…

15:13 peach93 & go HOME!

go HOME!: [picture of Home posing for the camera wearing a designer backpack] peach93: What do you want? go HOME!: I just thought you might like to see it peach93: You did not  peach93: Are you going to ask if you should post it? go HOME!: Should I post it?  peach93: Learn to think for yourself sometimes  go HOME!: [gif of Adam Sandler giving the camera a thumbs down, captioned “LAME”] go HOME!: [screenshot of the above picture now posted to Instagram with the caption “Once upon a time.” The picture has 1.3K likes and was posted 1 minute ago.] peach93: I bet if you post it, you will get a thousand likes immediately na go HOME!: I already posted it peach93: I was being sarcastic go HOME!: oh go HOME!: what’s your problem? go HOME!: if you didn’t want me to post it you could have just said so peach93: Would it have stopped you? go HOME!: fine go HOME!: i’ll delete it peach93: Why? peach93: It’s already out there peach93: People are reposting it on Twitter go HOME!: dude go HOME!: it’s called X now you know? peach93: Not funny go HOME!: so what do you want me to do? peach93: Forget it go HOME!: [gif of blinking man] go HOME!: i’m sorry na go HOME!: but when you post a picture go HOME!: you tag everyone go HOME!: except me peach93: I tag you go HOME!: hidden tags are not tags peach93: You’re talking nonsense peach93: You need to learn to think peach93: Why might I hide the tag? ​​go HOME!: i don’t like to think! go HOME!: if there’s something you want to say just say it peach93: 😩 go HOME!: fine ​​go HOME!: i’m dumb ​​go HOME!: i have no idea what you’re talking about ​​go HOME!: i never do​​ ​​go HOME!: that’s why i always have to ask you directly  peach93: For me, you are more special than anyone else peach93: Do you understand now? go HOME!: more special than anyone else go HOME!: are you making fun of me? peach93: Ughhhhhhhhhhhh go HOME!: then what do you want? peach93: 😩😩😩 ​​go HOME!: tell me!!!! peach93: Go tag me in that picture ​​go HOME!: tag you? ​​go HOME!: what for??? peach93: Are you going to tag me or not? ​​go HOME!: fine fine fine ​​go HOME!: [Screenshot of the same Instagram post with “peach93” now tagged right in the middle. The picture was posted 4 minutes ago and now has 2.7K likes.] go HOME!: happy now? peach93: I’m going to call you. Answer the phone peach93: [phone call with Home lasting 00:04:13] peach93: 🙂 ​​go HOME!: [gif of a confused man captioned “THAT’S IT?”] go HOME!: next time you have something to say, just say it directly  peach93: You still don’t understand go HOME!: 😿😿😿 ​​go HOME!: be patient with me ​​go HOME!: okay? peach93: Fine go HOME!: [Screenshot from Home’s Instagram of a picture of him shirtless sitting on the side of the pool. It has 13K likes and was posted 3 months ago.] peach93: Don’t post that one! ​​go HOME!: It was posted a long time ago!!!

16:17 pangx2🍞, Lawyer Kan, Suradech Ketmuangrong, & Dome Online Psychic

Dome Online Psychic: [phone call lasting 01:04:13] pangx2🍞: Oh my godddddddddd Lawyer Kan: Thank you for the information na ka, Uncle Dome Dome Online Psychic: Keep an open mind, kids! pangx2🍞: So do we have to pretend like we don’t know ka? Dome Online Psychic: I can’t give you much advice Dome Online Psychic: action = reaction Dome Online Psychic: Bad luck can only be stopped by not dwelling on it Lawyer Kan: But you’re sure your predictions are correct ka? Dome Online Psychic: My predictions are only estimates Lawyer Kan: I’m starting to doubt everything you’ve told us ka Dome Online Psychic: If there’s nothing else, I will be leaving now na ja

Dome Online Psychic left chat

pangx2🍞: Mae pangx2🍞: i think he overcharged you Lawyer Kan: Yes ka Lawyer Kan: This is clearly a scam. He is a fraud. Lawyer Kan: Where did he go? pangx2🍞: We should take everything he said with a grain of salt, Mae pangx2🍞: But at least we have more evidence now pangx2🍞: [gif of mischievous racoon rubbing his hands together captioned “Hehehehe….”] Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup

7 hours later 23:57 Vimarnsukman Ghost-Hunting Co.

pangx2🍞: [A collection of 4 pictures from the Secret Santa event.] [Translator’s note: They’re BTS pictures from the filming of Peaceful Property. Dome’s in one of them.] go HOME!: [gif of a tired baby raising his arms captioned “YAY”] pangx2🍞: So funnnnnnn pangx2🍞: except no one had time to dress according to the theme pangx2🍞: let’s do it again next year p’homeeeee 💖💖💖 go HOME!: sure thing girl! Lawyer Kan: I just got home na ka Lawyer Kan: Today was fun ka. Thank you na ka peach93: Are you sure it was fun? peach93: Ai’Home ate the cake all by himself and didn’t share with anyone pangx2🍞: 555555555555 go HOME!: [gif of man looking around as if to say “Me?”] go HOME!: who ate the cake and didn’t share it with anyone? pangx2🍞: 👀👀👀 Lawyer Kan: You’re a growing boy ka. I understand ka. Lawyer Kan: Merry Christmas, everyone ka pangx2🍞: merry christmas jaaaaaa peach93: 🥳 🥳 🥳 go HOME!: [gif of dancing Santa Claus captioned “MERRY CHRISTMAS”]

pangx2🍞, Lawyer Kan, & Suradech Ketmuangrong pangx2🍞: Mae!!! Lawyer Kan: What is it now ka? pangx2🍞: Did you see the way they were looking at each other? pangx2🍞: I only have one word: loveeeeeeeeeee Lawyer Kan: Khun Pang ka Lawyer Kan: Stop rambling ka Lawyer Kan: I think they were acting normal  Lawyer Kan: It’s normal for boys to flirt with each other Lawyer Kan: And argue like a married couple Lawyer Kan: And stare into each other’s eyes Lawyer Kan: It’s normal ka pangx2🍞: Normal pangx2🍞: When is that normal? pangx2🍞: since p’home came into my brother’s life  pangx2🍞: he smiles more often pangx2🍞: #crying 😭😭😭 Lawyer Kan: Just let them be themselves ka pangx2🍞: but i think they really like each other  pangx2🍞: it’s just that neither of them will make the first move pangx2🍞: right, p’suradech? Suradech Ketmuangrong: Krup pangx2🍞: you’re no fun pangx2🍞: i’m going to chat with my other friends Lawyer Kan: Congratulations on having more than four friends na ka

3 hours later Wed, 25/12 03:13 Vimarnsukman Ghost-Hunting Co.

Suradech Ketmuangrong: Everyone krap Suradech Ketmuangrong: Khun Noo has something he would like to tell everyone krap Suradech Ketmuangrong: Only he doesn’t want to disturb everyone’s sleep  Suradech Ketmuangrong: So I am typing this message for you to read later per his orders krap Suradech Ketmuangrong: [picture of Home in a hospital bed] Suradech Ketmuangrong: Khun Noo is very sick Suradech Ketmuangrong: He had been admitted to the hospital krap

To be continued

Chapter 3

[ohmystaxk]

For there is beauty | Chapter One: What is science, if not risks?

[MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

Tags/Warnings: Time Travel, Jayce is a Sweetheart, Jayce and Reader are childhood friends, Idiots in Love, Reader has a backstory, Undercity!Reader, Cait is Jayce and Reader's little sister, Protective Jayce, Jayce's Love Language is Physical Touch, Mutual Pining, Viktor-centric, Sassy Viktor, Viktor Needs a Hug, Viktor has a crush on Reader, Accidental Fake Dating, Miscommunication, Slow Burn Jayce/Reader/Viktor, Eventual Jayce/Viktor, Reader is greedy, Smut, Slow Romance, Romance, Canon Related, Possible AU timelines, Fluff, Angst, Reader has parents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read

Summary: Life was simple. You woke up each morning, and walked the streets of Piltover with Jayce by your side, joking and laughing while Cait could only roll her eyes at the two of you. You worked hard on your research and studied double as much at the Academy to prove your worth. Each day was the same, but that was until you crossed paths with Professor Heimerdinger's assistant at the library one day. His name escaped you, but that never stopped your curiosity for the man. Viktor, he said his name was. And you left the library with that, not expecting to cross paths with him again.

It was then the nightmares began, dreadful glimpses of a world you wish to never exist. A world empty of life, happiness, and freedom. But they were only that, nightmares, nothing more. So why did they feel so vivid? So real, and tangible?

N/A: hello everyone! just like everyone else, I folded and started writing for arcane. I have only watched the show, so my knowledge is ONLY from it! english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes you might encounter along the way.

I currently have 3 chapters written for the fic and I cannot wait to show them to all of you!

I have created playlists that I encourage you to listen to while reading (spotify, yt music and apple music) this fic!

spotify yt music apple music

I will also be uploading this to my ao3: @ohmystaxk

Track List: 1.Breakfast with Lou 2.Bewitched 3.Cinnamon Girl

The warmth was the first thing you noticed, something almost comforting. You let out a breath you were not aware you were holding in the first place. The blood in your body rose to your head as something touched your forehead; that same warmth now replaced your blood, running down every vein, clinging to each cell. It was becoming one with you.

“We were always one .” A voice, distorted and unfamiliar, spoke.

Your heart is empty of blood, only pumping warmth. Your chest is heavy, your lungs chasing for that last bit of air.

“Do not be afraid.” The touch on your forehead shifted to your cheek. “I am right here with you.”

You wanted to open your eyes, look around, and find where that voice originated. You tried to turn your head around, but the touch on your cheek moved to your chin, holding your face in place. Even when the touch was demanding, you did not feel threatened.

“Soon, you will see. ” The voice was different, almost that of a woman. “Truly see what has been hiding underneath. It is time for you to go back. ”

Your body suddenly regained its bearings, jolting you awake as you gasped. The morning light blinded you, forcing your eyes to close once again. Your heart beating worryingly fast, your head felt heavy, and your body tingled. The sound of faraway voices made your head snap towards it, your brows furrowed as footsteps crept closer your way. Then a knock came from the door of your bedroom.

“Are you awake? Did you stay up too late again?”

When you recognized the voice, you pushed the comforter away and stood up from your bed. Your head spun, and your vision went blurry. Suddenly, your knees hit the floor.

Your door flew open.

“Hey, what's wrong?” A pair of hands touched you, one on your back and the other on your forearm. “What happened?”

You grabbed your head with one hand, frowning from the buzzing feeling.

“I don’t think I’m feeling too good right now, Jayce.” Looking up to meet his eyes, you only saw worry in them.

“Yeah, no kidding.” He scoffed awkwardly.

He moved his hand on your arm towards your elbow while the other took your waist.

With some effort, he helped you stand up, walking you back to your bed.

“How did you get in?” You asked once you sat back down at the edge of the mattress.

“I remembered where you keep the spare key.” Jayce stood in front of you, his eyes looking around your room.

“Is everything alright?” You heard a voice coming from somewhere in your apartment.

“Did you bring Cait here with you?” You asked the man with a whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah, she wanted to come over to the workshop again.” Jayce crouched, amber eyes taking in your features. “Cait!” He called out to the girl.

“Yes?” She answered quickly, a bit of a tremble in her voice.

“Could you bring me a glass of water, please?”

“Oh...Yes!” You then hear the girl walk to what you knew to be your kitchen.

“Hey.” You looked back at Jayce, not realizing you had started to space out. “What are you feeling? Do you need us to take you to a clinic?”

“No-. Just…I’m just a bit dizzy, that’s all.”

Caitlyn entered the room, glass of water in hand as she eyed you. It was a similar look to the one Jayce was giving you.

“Thanks, Cait.” Jayce looked over his shoulder, and the girl walked over and handed him the glass.

“Are you alright?” She hugged herself, head tilted to the side.

“I will be, just a minute.” You sighed, bringing your hand to your temple.

“Here.” Jayce gently handed you the glass, keeping his hand on yours. “I still think we should take you to a clinic.”

“You look pale.” Cait pointed out, leaning against the small dresser in your room.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you finally took the glass and drank from it.

“Did you feel like this last night?” Jayce held the glass for you once you finished the water.

“No. I felt fine. I think…” Your mind wonders about your strange dream, and how it made you feel.

“What is it?” Jayce leaned closer, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

“I had a strange dream. It startled me. I felt just like I did now; I was dreading something.”

“What was it?” Cait asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

“I don’t know, my eyes were closed the entire time. I just heard a voice.”

Jayce frowned. He placed a gentle hand on your knee before he stood up.

“I think I will take Cait back to her house. I’ll come back with something for you to eat-.”

“No, I’m already feeling better, Jayce.” You stood up, your legs giving you the support you needed.

“You don’t have to exert yourself.”

“I’m not.” You looked at the man with a smile. “Besides, Cait and I know you will barely get things done if I’m not there to help.”

You gave his arm a quick squeeze. Then you walked towards your closet, opened it, and heard Jayce take a few steps.

“We can work on it once you feel better.”

“I feel better, Jayce.” You looked over your shoulder. The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to change and then we can head out.”

“Just-...Yell if you need anything.” He stepped back, then turned around, heading to the door. “Come on, Cait.”

The two of them walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

You let out a heavy sigh, your hands going to your face. It was true that you were not feeling great, but you were feeling better than before. You stayed up late the night before, reviewing notes from Jayce's project, while also studying for your research paper. You had also forgotten to eat anything, perhaps that had affected you now.

Walking through the streets of Piltover alongside Jayce and Cait had become a bit of a routine for the three of you. Since Counsellor Kiramman had acquired the lab for Jayce, Caitlyn had started tagging along. Especially after she heard about your and Jayce’s projects. Cait was curious, always wanting to help the two of you with whatever was necessary. 

She seemed to enjoy watching you correct Jayce’s work, or talk to her about engineering and the theories for your research paper. It was funny really; two people in their twenties hanging out with a teenager, who they saw like a little sister. The truth was, Caitlyn, reminded you a lot of Jayce all those years ago. 

You opened the front door of your home, sunset had started to set by the time you arrived. You took off your bag and let it fall by the entrance, voices came from the kitchen, and you looked up to find your mother seated on the dining table, a woman across from her as the two laughed. Your mother’s gaze fell on you, a bright smile on her face as she widened her eyes.

“There you are! How was school, baby?” She stood up and gently placed the mug she had in hand on the table. “Come here, I want you to meet someone.”

You slowly approached the table, the other woman turned on her chair, and she smiled once she saw you. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black. Her eyes were light brown and she had a pretty mole next to her right eye.

“Oh, isn’t she adorable?” The woman said. Your mother met you halfway, placing a hand on your shoulder and the other between your shoulder blades, nudging you towards her.

“Say hi, baby.” Your mother brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hello,” Your voice was small, just above a whisper. You played with your hands.

“Hello, your mother was just telling me about you. I’m Ximena, a friend.” She extended her hand to you, and with a trembling hand, you took it. “Oh, you are a bit shy. Please don’t be.”

“Ximena is a friend of your dad and me. She has a son your age, and we wanted the two of you to get to know each other.” Your mother explained with a smile. “Now, take a sit while I serve you dinner, you must be hungry by now.”

Your mother gently directed you towards the table, you took a seat and watched Ximena as she adjusted herself on her chair.

“Oh yes, my boy should be here any minute now. I believe the two of you go to the same school, but he is a year older than you, sweetheart.” At that you frowned, wondering who her son was out of all the boys in your school.

“Okay.” That was the only thing you could reply with. Under the table you kept playing with your hands, your nails picking at the skin.

“You didn’t tell me how school was? Did the professor grade the painting yet?” Your mother asked, your nails dug deeper into the flesh.

“I-it was okay. She liked it.”

“I’m glad she did! I told Ximena how hard you have been working on the art project.” You bit your lip, your vision blurring as you picked even more at the skin.

A knock came from the front door. Ximena stood up from her chair, fixing her skirt as she walked to the door.

“Must be my boy.” She said, you did not look up, your eyes focused on the markings on the table.

The door opened, and you tuned out the voices, your lips quivering as your vision became blurry. Your heart was heavy on your chest, and the next thing you knew, you heard your mother call your name.

In front of you was a boy, and his honey eyes were so bright and shiny. He smiled at you, a tooth gap on his front teeth. But his smile failed him, his brows furrowing as he looked at you.

“Sweetheart,” It was Ximena who spoke. “Are you alright?” You could hear the worry in her voice as you quickly stood up and ran to your room.

You shut the door behind you, falling face-first on the mattress as you started sobbing into the pillow. The door opened and you felt the weight shift the mattress someone sat down next to you.“What’s wrong?” Your mother brushed your hair away from your face. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head, sobbing even more. Your mother ran her fingers through your hair, traveling down to soothe your back.

“You know you can tell me anything, baby.”

“T-they they ri-pped the paint-ing.” You struggled in between sobs. Your mother immediately pulled you closer to her, hugging you tightly.

“Who did?” Your mother spoke at the top of your head.

“T-hey said I w-was an Under-city r-rat.” You cried even harder into the crook of your mother’s neck.

After your mother calmed you down and assured you the kids were wrong, she left you in your room to get you food. You lay in your bed, curled up as you traced the patterns on the wall.

“Did you paint those?” You quickly sat up on your bed, your head snapping to the door, standing there was Ximena’s son. His gaze was on one of the paintings on one of the walls of your room.

“M-my mom and me.” You replied, and your voice came out hoarse and small.

“And this one?” He pointed at another one, you now were by the edge of the bed, your legs barely touching the floor.

“Me.” When you said that, he turned to face you. Your face was puffed up, your eyes red from crying.

“I like it.” He said, and the boy walked up to you, he sat down on the bed next to you. “My name is Jayce.” You told him your name, and he smiled at you. “You have a pretty name.”

It was later you two shared your curiosity for science and inventions. You two finally found things in common; Magic, science, art, and literature. It was those moments that had led to your friendship of twelve years .

“Like I said, I was reviewing my notes.” You rolled your eyes. Jayce walked right beside you, your shoulders brushing.

“And are you sure to went straight to bed?” He leaned down a bit, wanting to see your face as you held the strap of your bag tightly. “Did you eat anything?”

“Well-.”

“I knew it!” He snapped his fingers, pointing forward as you tilted your head away with a sigh, closing your eyes. “I told you we could stop by and get some dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry…” You looked at him.

Jayce’s hair was neatly styled. You could smell his aftershave as he leaned over, his arm reaching your right shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“Aren’t you the one always reminding me to eat? Especially when I don’t want to.”

“You do always remind him.” Cait shimmed in. When you look to your right to narrow your eyes at her, she simply shrugs.

“Thanks, Cait.” Jayce now wrapped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you even closer. “Which is why we are grabbing a bite before we head to the studio.” You threw your head back.

“I need to stop by the library first.” You glanced up at Jayce, his amber eyes narrowing. “Just remembered that I need to get some books.”

“Right now?” He asked with a pointed look.

“Might as well, the library is right across.” You pointed with your eyes at the massive building across the street.

Jayce slowed down his steps, making you slow down as well.

“Your research paper?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You gave his chest a quick pat and pulled back a bit, his arm sliding over your back before he too pulled away. “I still need to finish the draft before I can start working on the actual paper.”

You adjusted the weight of your bag.

“Think you feel better to head on your own?” Jayce scratched his head, eying you as you laughed.

“Don’t worry, if I need a big strong man to help me, I’m sure I can find one there.” You slapped his arm with the back of your hand. Jayce rolled his eyes, scoffing at the comment. “I won’t stay long, how about you start heading over and grab me something to eat? I’ll see you two in a few.”

“You want the same thing from yesterday?” He asked as you were already starting to walk away.

“Sure, sounds good. Cait, keep an eye on this one, don’t let him wander off with strange women.” You smiled at the girl, and Cait simply laughed with a nod.

“I-. I don’t wander off!” He called out once you started crossing the street.

“Didn’t hear you deny the last part though!” You laughed as you ran, holding your bag tightly.

The Piltover library was massive, with three floors and an impressive collection, even containing two extra lower levels for more restricted books and archives. You immediately went to the second floor, walking past tall bookshelves. The sunlight was casting different colors due to the stained glass from the windows. Then you took a turn, finding the section you were looking for. You stopped when you saw that someone was standing at the other end. He had brown hair and a strong nose, his focus deep in a book. The man leaned on a cane, the light filtering from the stained glass casting a yellow glow on him.

With a thud, he closed the book he was reading. He placed the book back on the shelf, his eyes looking at the spines. You recognized him as Professor Heimerdinger's apprentice; his name escaped you. 

You fixed your bag, and you focused on the book titles closest to you, trying to see if you could find what you were looking for. But with every two books you looked at, your eyes could not help but glance towards him.

You had always seen him around the academy, always on his own. Whenever you saw him, he would be reading a book or writing something down in his notebook. You had asked about him out of curiosity a good number of times to other students, they also seemed to barely know anything about him. Then there were a couple that mentioned how his mysteriousness was rather, attractive. But the only thing that everyone seemed to agree on was that he was… gifted . He had to be if he had caught the attention of the Dean.

Without knowing, you were already standing shoulder to shoulder next to him. You accidentally bumped into him.

“I’m sorry!” You immediately uttered, your eyebrows shooting up and your face burning hot. “I was distracted.”

He already had another book in hand. He looked your way, seemingly also surprised. His eyes scanned you, falling on your eyes before he spoke.

“No need to worry.” He said with an accent you didn’t quite recognize, it sounded nice. “I didn’t see you.” It suits him.

The man took a step to the side to create some distance between the two of you.

“Sorry.” You said more quietly, your eyes glancing back and forth between him and the shelves.

As you tried your best to compose yourself, your eyes caught sight of a book you were looking for. You looked at him, making sure you were not in his way, and reached for it.

“Excuse me, going to grab this.” You called out. 

You needed to finish the research paper, three months had gone by so fast that trying to meet the deadline felt almost impossible.

Once you picked it up, you noticed a few more and quickly grabbed them. You stepped back with your stack of books and turned around, heading back to the main hall. 

That was until you heard his cane and feet shift.

“Those are about Astrophysics.” The man suddenly spoke again. Your eyes widened as you stood in place. “Is it curiosity or for research?”

 You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting with his bright amber eyes; they were similar to Jayce’s, but perhaps they were a bit lighter.

“B-both.” You were caught off guard. After many years and countless times of seeing him around the Academy; this was the first time you had interacted with him.

“Um.” He gave a quick nod. His eyes shifted towards your books before meeting your gaze once more.

“It’s research. For my final.” You fixed your posture, your body turning to face his.

“I have…seen you before, in the academy.” He stated, shifting his weight on the cane more comfortably.

“Yes, I’m part of the Engineering department.” You put the weight of the books on your hip. “Or I was. I was part of Professor Heimendinger’s lecture last summer.”

“Oh.” He’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “I remember now. You sat close to the middle row.”

You remembered when you and Jayce had arrived at the lecture for the first time. How excited he was, talking your ear off as the two of you sat down. You remembered how dark the auditorium always was, except for the chalkboard and the podium the Professor stood. It became a habit to always sit in the same spot, not out of preference, but it just did. Sometimes whenever someone decided to take those two spots, you and Jayce would jokingly say things like ‘ The audacity. ’ or ‘ We should start carving our names on the desk at this point. ’

It was then you remember seeing the assistant in the corner of the room many times, almost like he was hiding in the shadows. You would meet his eyes on occasion, even in the dark you were always impressed by how bright his eyes seemed to shine.

“Yes.” You let out a chuckle. Your eyebrows furrowing. How did he remember that? “And you are the Professor’s assistant.”

His eyes fell on your hips, taking note of your posture. “I am, yes.”

“How did you get the offer?” You fixed the hold on the books. “That’s a very big opportunity.”

“My charms I believe.” He shrugged. You smiled as you let out a laugh.

“Oh yes, those are very important.” You took a step forward. “Every inventor needs them.”

“Not everyone has those.” He grinned as he placed back the book he was holding on the shelf.

“Do I?” You played along.

He stopped his hand, his fingertips brushing the spine of the book. He raised an eyebrow, amber eyes staring at yours with curiosity.

“Um.” He eyed you. “What is it that intrigues you the most? Astrophysics or Engineering?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. What a charmer , you thought.

“Why not both?” You tilted your head to the side with a grin.

He nodded with a smile. You noticed the moles adorning his cheek and upper lip.

“Well, what is it about Astrophysics that made you want to pursue it?”

“The many unanswered questions space holds from us; about gravity, the sun, and the moon. But I didn’t get into Astrophysics for that only. I am searching for something more, something out there in the universe.”

“Which is?” He took a step forward.

“Magic.” You answered breathlessly. “Time, space, the possibility of actions and consequences. What other possibilities those could have led to.”

“Time travel.” He answered, his eyes widen a fraction.

“Multiple timelines possibly coexisting within the same plane. I believe the Arcane is capable of that.”

He looked at you, his eyes shifting between yours and the books still resting on your hip.

“The Arcane is wild magic…not something science could master.”

“You’re right, but I believe science could help us understand magic.” You started talking with your hand. “I’m not thinking of bending the Arcane to science’s will. But I wish to find an understanding.”

The two of you stood there in silence. The noise of people speaking and walking around soothing your nerves. It had been your dream that had connected you with Jayce, the mutual understanding of what magic could do and the wonders it held.

“Those types of ideas could get you expelled from the Academy.” If he had spoken those words with a serious tone, it would have scared you. Instead, he still held curiosity in his eyes. “But what is science, if not risks?”

You let out a breath you did not know you were holding in. You frowned.

“Are you going to tell the Professor?” You watched him soften his eyes.

“I’m his assistant, not his whisperer.” He grinned and you could not help but let out a nervous laugh.

“I have to go…” You held his gaze. “It was nice to finally talk to you.”

“Likewise.” He smiled at you. You felt your cheeks suddenly heat up. “You have a great mind.”

“Thank you…” You were going to say his name when you realized you could not remember it. 

“Vik tor .” You felt a sudden touch in the back of your head. Your eyes narrowed for a second, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice change. “You can call me Viktor.”

“T-Thank you, Viktor.” You gave him your name, taking a step back as you slowly started retreating. “I will go now.”

You turned around and started heading to the hall. Your heart started beating fast once more. Perhaps, you were still having side effects. Or the Academy was making you begin to lose your mind.

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[pyrodolls]

HIII i loved your down bad hcs and figured i'd drop a request 👉👈

can i get some hcs for the lin kuei trio + kenshi w/ a gn!reader who's very clingy?

like someone who'll literally follow them wherever they go just for some physical affection and is very cuddly. bonus points if the reader is talkative too :]

LIN KUEI TRIO + KENSHI X CLINGY!READER HCS

WARNINGS: sfw, established relationship, gender neutral reader, lowercase intended, mk1 characters, mk1 spoilers, takes place after the story and before the khaos reigns dlc cuz i haven't played it yet lmfaoooo

A/N: hey... hey.... how y'all doing... erm it's been a while but here we go with another mortal kombat post!! the last time i posted about it was nearly a YEAR ago y'all i suckkkk i'm sorry. but as an apology and a late christmas gift, i'm posting 5 different reqs this week woohoooo *everyone cheers* and i'm sorry it took so long for me to write, i just didn't feel like it. but here we are! also apologies for making tomas and kenshi's hcs short, i just don't have a lot of writing experience for kenshi and tomas only has like 2 minutes of screentime ijbol

with BI-HAN, he'd hate for you to be clingy while he is working. he has an entire clan to take care of, and his stress was worsened after kuai liang and tomas's betrayal. even though you may be his spouse, his main goal will always remain with the lin kuei and taking control of earthrealm. but in private, you could be physically affectionate or talk to your heart's desire.

he's not going to reciprocate your affections, though. he's not used to the concept of romance, especially from someone as vulnerable as you. his entire life he was trained to be cold and ruthless. sure, he grew up with kind brothers, but he saw their friendly nature as weakness. he'll often criticize you for being open with your feelings, but that's only because that was what he was taught. he may behave as if he resents your attachment, but he secretly enjoys the domesticity. it delights him that you are so devoted to him. his hatred for his former brothers grows every day due to their betrayal, so having you around him softens his temper, as he requires reassurance that you aren't going to turn on him. (he'll never admit that, though.) he also doesn't mind when you follow him around as long as you do not disrupt his duties or make a fool out of him. keep your affections private, and you'll stay his. you wouldn't want him to punish you for misbehaving in front of the entire clan, would you?

KUAI LIANG is far more accepting of your behavior than his colder brother. he understands that you're clingy because you care about him, so he tries to make an effort to reciprocate your affections whenever he can. but he often worries for your safety as his spouse. he worries that the lin kuei could target you if they find out about your love. you're free to be clingy, but you must keep it private.

he believes your love is one of the last good things he has left in his life. after bi-han's betrayal, his life has been one of little to no rest. having you by his side keeps his anxieties at bay for a short amount of time. you can talk to him as much as you want, and he won't interrupt you unless it's important. he would listen to your thoughts without judgement. he may question you, but he'll never judge. he may not be as talkative as you are, because he tries to show you how he feels with actions rather than words. but he still manages to keep up with you because he loves you. he's grateful to have some happiness in his dangerous life. that happiness is you.

TOMAS is similar to his brothers as he does not wish for your affections to be public, for safety reasons. however, he makes it very clear that he is appreciative of your clingy nature and never fails to turn beet red when you hug him. while he is busy building the shirai ryu, he has much more free time than his brothers. he enjoys going on walks with you and hearing you talk for hours. he stays engaged and asks questions and laughs along at your jokes, even if they aren't funny. he isn't as energetic as you are, but he attempts to reciprocate your energy the best he can. he grew up with bi-han's harsh criticisms and kuai liang's gentle guidance, but he's never had someone always excited to see him like you. you never fail to put a smile on his face and brighten a dark day.

KENSHI is now a government agent, so he often comes home to you at different times every night. he feels guilty for making you wait for him so late at night, but his concerns wash away the moment you run to hug him. he has a dangerous job, and he can handle himself despite losing his vision, but it doesn't stop him from worrying about you every time he leaves the house. just like the lin kuei trio, he wants to keep your relationship private, so you aren't hunted down like he is. he feels bad that you can't have a normal relationship with him, and it has gotten you in a few arguments, since he believes you deserve better. but ultimately, it's always worked out in the end when you reassure him that you're happy with him and nobody else. he doesn't care that you're a bit clingy, he appreciates that you care about him. it breaks his heart when he has to push you away for his job, but he just wishes to protect you, since your relationship is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

[fishsticksloser]

Megumi SFW HCs

Warnings: opinions, fluff, slight spoilers

A/N: Gumi is my spirit animal... Requests are still open!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He doesn't seem very affectionate.

Over all he's not very touchy, normally showing his love with quality time, just enjoying time with his partner.

Especially after the last battle, he's very touch adverse, scared that Sukuna hasn't left and that he'll hurt his partner. He feels very icky, making touch feel like pin pricks...

At least for a while anyways.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his partner's hands. He enjoys holding them, massaging them. He likes playing with their fingers when he's anxious, often doing it unconsciously as well.

He doesn't really favor any part of him. He uses his hands a lot with his sorcery so he'd probably just say that.

But overall, he doesn't really have a reason.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Not really?

Megumi isn't against it, sometimes there are just days where he needs it, but he doesn't go out of his way to get cuddles.

If his partner wants them, he will give them though.

He finds that his partner laying on top of him is the most comfortable, leaving his arms free so he can read or something.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He does, especially after the last battle. He doesn't want to fight anymore. He wants to have a normal life or at least one as normal as possible given he's a sorcerer.

He's very clean, making sure every space he was is cleaner than he got it. And he's a decent cook.

He can learn pretty quick and has been taught a few recipes by Yuji.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Blunt as hell.

There's no sugarcoating, no comfort.

If it was done to protect his partner, he stews on it afterwards, wanting to go running back, but he knows its better this way. He knows they deserve better.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He things commitment is a good thing, but not something he's been capable of.

Megumi is not going from partner to partner by any means, but he feels like his sorcery keeps him from being able to commit. What if something happens to his partner? He can't protect everyone.

If he is able to, he waits at least 2 years, giving them plenty of time to leave if needed. He also waits until he and his partner have a deep conversation about where this is going.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically he's pretty gentle, though he can be rough too. (ie smacking Yuji) He will never outright hurt his partner, but if they're playing around, he can get pretty rough.

Emotionally he is very rough. He doesn't really like sugarcoating things, valuing communication over feelings. BUT! He can get pretty sentimental, his voice and words soft. This is very rare though.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He's not the biggest fan, but he also doesn't turn them down.

He only gives hugs if someone asks or if they force him into one (Yuji).

They're normally loose, especially if he doesn't want or know the person. But they do tighten, squeezing the person a little tighter than you'd think.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Never...

Well... At least it feels like it. Megumi is very anxious about saying it, worried that once he does, everything will change.

When he does, it's in passing in hopes his partner doesn't notice. He feels so nervous saying it, he wants it to feel natural, unnoticeable.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn't get jealous so much as he gets insecure.

Megumi can definitely get jealous, but he's more worried that his partner will leave him because he's broken and unwell.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He loves kissing his partner's lips, but also their cheeks. The way the scrunch up, how soft they are...

He likes when his partner kisses his face, anywhere on his face. It makes him feel grounded.

They're normally soft and sweet.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's not great with kids.

They're sticky and gross. Coughing with their mouths open like that? EW

But does he want kids...? He's not really against the idea.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's up and moving

He has things to do, people to see, so he has to get up pretty early.

He'll kiss his partner before he leaves, sending them a small text to brighten their morning when they wake up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Megumi joins his partner's nighttime routine.

He enjoys the intimacy and closeness. He may not do exactly what they do, but there are a lot of small touches and giggles as they get ready for bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He's pretty standoffish.

The simpler things (favorite color and such) he'll share

But he takes a while to get into the deeper stuff.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a fairly short temper, but its also a choice few things that really set him off.

When he is angry, he normally gets pretty quiet when he's angry, trying to get it under control before he snaps.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

This man keeps it all in a notebook that he keeps hidden from prying eyes.

It has every little important thing his partner has every said, shown interest in, etc.

He has a pretty good memory, but it helps to write it down.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first kiss

Taking his partner on the first big date

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective

Megumi does everything in his power to protect his partner. They're his everything.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates, anniversaries, gifts... He doesn't put a whole lot of effort into, it's just not how he shows love. But if its something very very special, he'll put in a lot of effort.

Everyday tasks, he gives it his all.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He bites his nails a lot, so they're in bad shape. It's a habit he's been trying to break.

Megumi also has a habit of pulling his hair when he's overwhelmed, then shutting down afterwards.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not overly worried.

He'll dress up nice for his partner, enjoying how excited they get.

He normally looks pretty nice anyways, but he puts in a lot of extra to make sure when needed.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He knows he can live without his partner, he knows that.

But he definitely doesn't want to.

He feels incomplete, but he knows that's just a symptom of his partner not being around.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

While he's very quiet, Megumi takes in everything.

He has a habit of always make sure he knows he knows what's going on, eavesdropping unintendedly.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Don't mess with him like Gojo does, that is reserved for Gojo himself.

Don't assume things. It makes him angry, especially if it means embarrassing him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

If he has a nightmare, he can't wake up by himself, he needs help.

But most of the time, he just cuddles close, sleeping soundly.

He's a light sleeper though, so small noises can wake him.

[t1red-twilight]

through the ages

part 3

content/warnings: gn!reader, spencer’s pov, season 4, angsty, past!spencelle, guilt, jealousy, crashout lol

notes: bring back men who yearn

word count: 3.1k

masterlist series masterlist s. r. masterlist

prev. part

the office was quiet. spencer showed up early, just as he always did. this was the only time he could hear the buzz of the electricity, and the soft thrum of the heating and cooling system. after setting his things down, spencer headed into the kitchenette to make a coffee.

he knew that pretty soon you’d be in, so he fashioned one for you as well. best case scenario, you’d be in when it had cooled down a little. you took your coffee sweet, but nowhere near as sweet as his was. “diabetes inducing,” you’d called it. he’d told you that type 2 diabetes would have to be triggered by many more habits than just his coffee consumption. you’d laughed, despite him not joking.

your desk was conjoined with his, a pane of glass separated them. he walked to your desk and set the coffee cup down and sat in his office chair. your mugs were part of a set: yours had a star pattern and his had moons. he had still taken the care to label both of them with your corresponding names.

by the time you had come in, it was a quarter to eight. you usually showed up at about this time, only ever held back if you missed your train or the traffic got bad on the off chance you took your car.

“spencer!” you exclaimed when you got to your desk. “thank you for the coffee! how are you doing this morning?” it was as if your voice physically brightened the room, alleviating the harsh led lights.

your voice was melodic, it rung in a way that scratched every itch in his brain. “it was no problem. it should be relatively warm by now.” he smiled, hoping his cheeks weren’t too red. he lifted his mug to his lips and sipped a mouthful of coffee.

oh, you had asked his how he was. he thumbed the corner of his mouth where a droplet remained, and answered your question. he gazed over the glass pane dividing you where you had sat. “i’m doing okay,” he stated.

“just okay?” you followed. one of your eyebrows quirked up, you smiled crookedly. the glint in your eye; ah, you were teasing him.

he took another sip of his coffee and set down his mug. “well, not enough has happened today to say whether today has been good or bad,“ he answered. you leaned back in your chair and smiled at his response. “also, are you free tonight? there’s a film screening that I wanted to go to. it’s in korean, and there isn’t a translation yet, but i can whisper a translation to you like i did last time. did you want to go with me?”

an apologetic look blossomed on your face. before you even spoke, spencer knew what your answer would be. “sorry, i have plans.” you paused, almost as if you were contemplating on if you should say the next part. “i have a date.” his heart dropped to his stomach. a date? of all things that could occupy your time it had to be a date?

spencer swallowed down the sinking feeling that grew inside him. he nodded before he spoke, trying desperately to hold onto his composure; you could not, under any circumstances find out about anything. “oh, okay. i’ll let you know how it goes, though.” he stretched his lips into a smile as casually as he could. “it should be a good one.“

you took a sip of the coffee he had made for you. “please do! next time i’ll definitely come with you,” you stated. your eyebrows were slightly pulled together, and your smile had dropped but not disappeared. it would’ve been much more desirable to melt into his office chair than look at the expression of remorse that you showed.

the paperwork that he was normally completed speedily glared up at him. typical office days usually droned on and on, but something about his earlier interaction with you set him off.

suddenly, the taking of the clock pounded in his ears. he couldn’t focus, and he was always good at focusing. what about your plans was setting him off?

the times new roman print stared at him, waiting for him to do something. the contrast of the black lettering on white background burned his eyes the longer he looked at it. the bustling sound of the office grated his ears.

he felt selfish for the feeling of surprise that swelled in him when you had stated that you had a date. he felt even worse when he had the brief hope that you wouldn’t have another date any time soon. there was a piece of him that wanted to spend every waking moment with you and another very real piece that just wanted you to be happy. perhaps he was merely biding his time until he wasn’t the most important relationship you had.

it was just a date, just one. two dates was not guaranteed, and a lifelong romantic relationship was definitely not guaranteed. memorized statistics assured him of that. this was fine, you’d go on your date and go to work and it’d be perfectly fine. but why did he even care that you had a date? It shouldn’t matter to him.

how dare he think he could have any opinion over your love life? your friendship meant a lot to him, and he knew that it meant a lot to you as well. slipping into a jealous insecure mindset would only hurt his friendship with you.

he looked again at his file. he had already completed one or two, and was midway through another. he could just go home and watch way too much doctor who and pass out on his couch once he finished his paperwork.

by lunchtime he had pushed down his downtrodden feelings in exchange for attempted apathy. it did not help that every time he looked up over the glass pane he saw you, dutifully accomplishing your paperwork.

your forehead crinkled and your lips pursed. you’d comment or ask questions regarding the case you were filling out every now and then and it didn’t seem you noticed his minor distress. as far as you were concerned you were just friends, best friends maybe.

liking you the way he did felt like betrayal, or even like he was lying. you saw him as a friend, he saw you as something else: the difference in this perception felt almost gross to him. he’d known you for a couple of years at this point and felt this way for most of it and everything had gone fine until now. so, hopefully he couple continue to shove his insecurity everything down until you were just his friend again.

-

spencer had decided not to go to the film festival at all. later, he met up with morgan, and derek had dragged him to a bar that wasn’t too far from the office.

he figured that it wasn’t worth it to go to the film festival if you couldn’t participate in his ideal activity, which was spending time with you. it didn’t take long for derek to realize that something was definitely up.

the two of them were sitting at the bar top, derek had an alcoholic drink in front of him, spencer was drinking a water. “all right. pretty boy, what’s up?” derek asked outright. this caught spencer off guard, as he was trying desperately to seem like everything was going perfectly okay.

“what do you mean?” spencer replied, his voice lowered. he avoided eye contact, but tried to keep his face as deadpan as possible. given their profession, obviously this wasn’t working. derek took note of his slump of his shoulders, and the pattern he was repeatedly tapping on the countertop.

derek rolled his eyes. in no way did spencer think derek was stupid, he just thought that he could maybe get away with facing the confrontation of how he was acting. realistically, it was only a matter of time before derek called him out.

derek leaned his head down, trying to catch spencer’s eye line. when he was unsuccessful, he returned to his laid-back position on the barstool, and rolled his eyes.

given that it was a six pm on a random wednesday, the bar filled or crowded. there was another man sitting at the bar for down, but he seemed to be minding his own business. there were a few other people, but no one worthy of note.

spencer picked up his glass and swallowed his water around. seeing as he wasn’t going to elaborate on how he was acting or how he was feeling, derek moved on. he had some clue as to why spencer was behaving the way he was, so he attempted to test the waters. “i heard that someone had a date today,” he stated. he raised his eyebrows slightly, trying to gauge spencer’s reaction.

spencer slumped further over the countertop. one hand raised to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, but he dropped his hand as quickly as it had risen. jackpot.

“yeah. what about it?” spencer’s tone was stiff and standoffish. he said he set his cup down on the counter more harshly than he would’ve liked to. it was just a date. why did he even care? “i hope it goes well.”

derek worked an eyebrow up and denial, but spencer could not see it. he was still avoiding eye contact as best he could. few people knew him as well as you did, and derek was one of these people. it was clear to anyone viewing the interaction that spencer was upset, but it was especially clear to derek that spencer was especially downtrodden.

following elle leaving the bau, spencer had opened up to derek about his feelings, and the things that had happened between the two of them. spencer had firmly planted himself in the position that he would never feel that way about another person again. derek confirmed that he would surely find another person, and spencer vehemently rejected the idea.

spencer hadn’t been, well spencer, derek would have patted his back or rubbed his shoulders in sympathy. but, all he could do was provide comfort in the only way spencer excepted it. and, this was through quiet emotional support. they sat in silence for a couple more moments before derek spoke up again.

“are you sure about that?” any teasing down that he might’ve held had completely dissipated. maybe spencer wasn’t willing to admit to himself how he felt, but derek could see through him clearly like a freshly cleaned window.

if spencer was alone he might have cried. but the admission of tears would in some part be an admission of guilt for how he felt. it wasn’t right the way he felt, you were his friend. and he intended to keep it that way. spencer pondered over what he might say next.

“they deserve it. after everything they’ve been through i think they deserve to at least go on one good date,” he muttered. “or two, or three-“ he trailed off. his voice lowered as he uttered the next phrase. “and if they end up with a long-term partner, that’s all the better.” there was a slight flavor of sarcasm derek felt between the lines of with spencer was actually saying. and he would be lying too, if he said that it didn’t catch him a little bit off guard.

derek didn’t respond for a moment after that. If he was being honest, he didn’t really know how to. usually spencer was pleasant, if not relatively soft spoken. well, soft spoken when he wasn’t dumping copious amounts of information on a random topic. over the past few years your habit of insisting on listening to exactly what spencer had to say rubbed off on the rest of the team. this had approved, extremely beneficial and high intensity situations. though, some team members refused to admit it.

silent glances amongst team members were exchanged when spencer had started making your coffee for you. or, when he brought in little trinkets and doodads when he went on paid leave to visit his mother. that wasn’t something anyone was really quite used to. there was a rhetorical acknowledgment of something that might be going on between the two of you.

spencer opened his mouth and closed it a few times. derek noticed this, and was shocked that spencer didn’t know what to say for once. “what if,” spencer mumbled. “there’s a part of me, a very small part of me,” he clarified, “that doesn’t…want their day to go exactly according to plan?”

he finally looked up at derek; and his expression was difficult to read. it was a mix of confusion, deep thought, and something hard to read. corner of derek’s mouth pulled up, but he wasn’t smiling nor adjusting. this was an expression that spencer was all too used to, but he deeply disliked. pity; something that seemed all too familiar to him.

“i think that’s all right.“ spencer took another step of his water, though it still remained quite untouched. “that’s how you feel. and I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that.“

spencer looked up at him in puzzlement. this was not the answer that he had been expecting. he had been expecting to be chastised, for he should be happy for how his friend’s life was going. “they’re my best friend. i want them to be happy,” he finished, and he unmistakably meant it.

-

as soon as spencer had gotten home, he had knocked out like a light. the next morning at the office, he was later than he usually was. he didn’t like to be late, but the morning dragged on and on.

the train was a minute and thirty-seven seconds late, the people walking in front of him were way too slow, and most of all he just really did not want to come into work. coming into work meant he had to face you, and pretend like everything was fine.

he still made your coffee. just the way you liked it, like he did every morning. he set it on your desk next to your computer and got right to work. he had so much paperwork left over from the day previous that he had to get done. he saw you out of his periphery, and looked up and gave you as genuine a smile as he could.

“how are you doing this morning, spencer?” your inquiry was not similar to the ones you asked him every single morning. and just like every single morning, he responded with a similar answer.

he sat down his pen, took a sip of his coffee, and met your gaze. “i’m doing fine,” his voice easier to keep steady than it had been yesterday. he pulled a smile tautly across his lips. “i didn’t sleep very well last night, but that’s no big deal.”

you shot him a sympathetic gaze, before setting your things down and sitting down at your desk. “i’m sorry,” your replied.

the clear sheet in between you too provided relief; he could perhaps hide behind it and avoid looking at you.

the silence that was momentarily held was broken when you asked him a question. “how was that movie festival?” spencer instinctually fiddled with the wrist of his sweater. it was his favorite sweater, he hoped that it would help him relax more easily today.

he rested his hands atop one another on his desk, and looked at the space above your eyebrows. maybe you wouldn’t be able to tell that he wasn’t looking into your eyes, not exactly. “it was good!”he had waddled back and forth between the decision of telling you if he had gone or not. obviously, he settled on the latter.

it seemed like you were much too tired to catch on the small tells that he was lying, seeing as his voice had risen in tone and he was fiddling with his sweater sleeves. he knew when you knew that he was lying, your face held itself a certain way. in some ways, you were quite easy to read.

just the look of you made spencer’s stomach sink. he didn’t entirely know why, but he knew that it felt awful. “how was your date?” he said offhandedly as he could. he figured that that was something that he should ask.

your face lit up at the mention, and his stomach sunk even further. it was practically at his toes at this point. “it was good!” you chimed. He could tell that you were being honest, there was nothing in your face or your body that hinted that you were lying to say face. and anyway, you wouldn’t have done that. you wouldn’t lie to him.

be smiled a small smile. “that’s great! do you think you’ll go on another one?”

you thought briefly for a moment, before responding. “i think i will, we have a lot of common interest. he also has an affinity for science fiction. i think you might like him.” spencer was lost on how he should reply to this remark, surely he did not like science fiction as much as spencer did.

eventually, he settled on agreeing that science fiction was a great genre. he and your mystery man most definitely like the genre for separate reasons, but in this moment, he guessed that that didn’t matter. unfortunately, they had something in common.

the awkward nature of the conversation might’ve been lost to you, but it was not lost to spencer. he couldn’t help but feel sick at the small talk that he was being forced to endure in the moment.

finally, he felt what he had been wanting. relief. your date had gone well. you really, truly were deserving of good moments and good people. if, on the contrary, it had gone horribly awry he might’ve felt near violent.

spencer picked up his pen and continued to work on his files. he paused for a moment, and looked back up at you. he opened his mouth and closed it a couple times before deciding not to add anything else.

quickly he was drawn into his paperwork. the pencil scratched away against the paper at moore quick and paste than yesterday, and he was relieved that his mind had finally calmed.

before he could forget that this interaction ever happened, you handedly remarked some thing that he knew would stick with him, even though it was completely insignificant. “i might need help finding movies to watch with him. if we even get that far.”

if he agreed, he would have to learn more about this guy that he already had a distaste for. on the contrary, he would also spend more time with you. and there was no mistaking that he valued his time with you greatly.

“that’s what friends are for, right?”

next part

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || SILK & SHAPESHIFTERS

Sam Winchester x Thick!Fem!Reader

Content Warning reader being shorter than Sam, reader desc as having thick thighs, dean being annoying, swearing, reader wanting to fuck sam (but no sexual content in this fic)

Summary Fluff, (Sexual tension lowk) strangers to acquaintances to lovers(?) - You didn't work in the field. You did research. But when your good friend Bobby Singer asks you to help some friends of his by posing as a couple at a charity ball, you don't refuse.

W.C. 2.2k words

Playlist: ♫ Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

A.N. sam fic ! i am curvy so i was excited asf for this req !!! part 2 coming soon... ;) - claire xx

Being a Lore-keeper has its perks. It let you put your literary degree to some use, and it didn't usually get you into too much trouble. But, tonight it had. Bobby Singer was one of your favorite hunters; always treated you well, housed you in sticky situations, and sometimes had books or information you didn’t know about that he offered for you to borrow. Usually, he came to you for information. He didn’t hunt a lot, but it was still more than you hunted. But, when he and his hunter friends did go out looking for trouble, he often came to you for information. When he’d asked you to help out some of his family on a case that was real serious, you agreed begrudgingly. But only after Bobby told you your outfit, dinner, and drinks that night would be paid for by this said ‘family’ of his. 

You’d already done a bit of research for him about this particular case and even you knew it was a tricky one. You’d spent the last week trying to piece all of the information together — running it through your countless trusted lore books, sites you favored, and even paper clippings and newspapers from the library. The place in question was only a few hours from Bobby’s in some fancy estate you’d mapped out by memory the last few days. You were guessing it was your least favorite of the supernatural creatures you’d perilously studied — shapeshifters. They made your skin crawl, and were tricky when they came in multiple. The family you suspected they were impersonating were the Bradys, a rich family that had lived in South Dakota for generations and hosted fundraiser parties each year for some organization their rich friends ran. Some of the members of the family had been photographed partaking in some suspicious activity, activity of which the police deemed fine of course; but you were smart enough to know this was your type of problem. A few of them had also seemingly gone missing, and either mysteriously turned up fine, or were still a missing persons case. 

You decided to use Bobby’s as a place to get ready the second he offered, he lived closest anyways. You thought it was best to come over in the morning to talk more to him and whoever you were going on the case with, plan everything out. He’d been vague about who it was, though, and when you walked inside and saw Sam and Dean Winchester holding suits, a shopping bag, an EMF reader, and a pack of Coronas, you knew why. 

You’d never given the boys information directly — Bobby had told you he relayed much information from you to them in tricky cases, but that the older one, Dean, was too prideful to ask you directly yet. Of course, like all male jackass hunters, he had eventually asked when he learned what they were dealing with and all the intricacies that you were extremely skillful in. The catch was that you hated field work, but also loved an excuse to get dressed up. You’d told Bobby your dress and shoe size, and sure enough, the taller one was holding a dark velvety blue dress over his arm. 

“y/n, this is Sam, and this is Dean.” The shorter one, though he towered over you still, stuck out his hand, that jackass smirk on his face you knew he’d have. 

“Heard a lot about you.” He spoke, the smirk still on his, admittedly handsome, face.

You didn’t like having your guard up. You hated it really, but being in your line of work and constantly dealing with men who dismissed your intelligence made you rightfully put up walls when you’d first meet them. 

“Heard a lot about you too, but don’t think that means I’m your best friend now. I’m doing this for Bobby.” 

The taller one smiled gingery, letting out a silent laugh watching Dean’s ego deflate. You turned to him, sticking out your hand. “Sam. Nice to meet you. And uh, thanks for coming out on this case, Bobby said field work isn't usually your thing so we really appreciate it.” You already preferred him. A lot, actually. He was tall, and looked way too fucking cute in that oversized brown hoodie he still had on despite being inside Bobby’s fairly warm home. 

“We’re taking off at five so we’ll be right on time, okay?” Dean said to the two of you, rolling his eyes at how you hadn’t made any sassy comments at his brother. 

“Sounds good. May I have my items, gentleman? I’m not doing this for free.” Sam smiled again, more noticeably this time, handing you the dress and shoes, and a purse, which you hadn't asked for but were not going to turn down. 

“Thank you. So, the game plan is…?” “Game plan is you and I pose as a date and distract people while Dean sneaks around and corners a couple shifters, ganks ‘em, and then we get out before all hell breaks loose.”

You shrugged, looking at Sam, “Sounds good to me.” Of course he was cute and smart. God, you usually never let some guy get between you and case work, but he was making it hard. But if all you had to do was pose as a couple…

“Wait. If you needed me for acting I don’t know why you couldn’t call someone else.” 

“We don’t know who's a shifter and who isn’t. That’s the problem. You know their tells, what makes them tick, how to trick them, the layout of the place. Bobby got some ear pieces for all of us so you can help me from afar, don’t have to get your hands dirty.” Dean grunted, losing his dark leather jacket and grabbing a suit, heading to the bathroom to change. 

“How thoughtful,” you mused, and he smiled annoyingly at you.

“We’ll talk more in the car, okay? Just get ready and we’ll be here if you have any more questions.” Sam said softly. HIs voice was deep and smooth, and it made you want to grab him by his collar and lock the two of you in Bobby’s guest room. Instead, you opted for pushing your thighs together and clearing your throat. “Sounds good. Thank you.” He smiled, going into the guest room with his own suit. You opted to lock yourself upstairs in the bathroom blasting music while you did your makeup in order to pump yourself up. You were a bit nervous, but you didn’t have to do dirty work, you got a nice new outfit, hopefully a nice drink, and a hot date? This was much better than how you thought your night was going to go — curled up on the couch, looking through way too many old files and books for another hunter, playing an old movie in the background and wishing you were elsewhere. You liked your job, you really did. But sometimes it drove you crazy how little you saw other people, people your own age especially. Tonight was like a gift sent from the angels. Well, ones that you hadn’t met; so far they had all been dicks. 

“y/n, ya’ almost ready?” Dean called up, just as you finished styling your hair in a classy style. 

“Coming!” You came down the stairs in a navy dress that hugged your curves pretty well, you thought. The dress was pretty low cut and the sides came up at a slit high up on your right leg. You honestly felt exposed, you usually didn't dress like this. Sam still had your heels, and when you came down, the first thing you saw was his eyes on your legs, stopping him from tying up his shoes.

You heard a low whistle behind you, and Dean’s gruff voice, “Damn, you clean up nice.” Bobby smacked him over the head with the book he was reading, going to the kitchen to get you an earpiece he had for each of you. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You smiled, walking over to Sam on the couch. He was still occupied with your dress, and his eyes were making your face burn up. Your brain couldn't decipher how he was feeling based on his face… you teetered between him wanting to rip off your dress and stay home with you all night, or that he thought you looked…not good. You knew you didn't have skinny model legs, but that wasn't you job. Your job was to decode, translate, find, and relay important information to hunters, stopping people from dying. That was you job, and you were good at it. There was so much more to you than your looks, and if someone couldn't see that then fuck them. But, with how stuffy the room was and how close Sam was to you, you wrapped your arms around your shoulders, sitting a bit far from Sam asking for your shoes despite the voices in your head telling you you were fine.

“Y-yeah, here. I’ll put them on.” Your mouth opened to speak, but it was dry and nothing came out. Sam leaned down from the couch, sitting on his knees right in front of you. You finally stretched out your left ankle, and he slid on one of the black stilettos they'd picked out for you. He set down your foot after buckling the straps, grabbing your right ankle and moving it forward gently, causing the fabric of your dress to fall between your thighs on one side, and on the very back of your hip on the other, your leg completely bare. Sam finished tying up your second shoe, his eyes flashing to your soft thigh before clearing his throat and offering a hand to help you stand up. 

Once you were stable, you flattened down your dress. You looked up at Sam and pouted at how much taller he still was than you. 

“Aren’t these like…almost 4 inches?” Sam looked down at you and chuckled deeply. 

“Uh, yeah. They are. Disappointed you're still shorter than me?” You rolled your eyes and glimpsed over him — eyes trailing his fitted black suit, the fabric clinging to his chest and legs nicely.  

“What are you, like part giant? 7 feet tall?” You said it as a joke, but you honestly thought he had to be close to that. 

“Please,” Sam said, a bit close to your ear, leaning down to talk to you, “I’m…6’5. Just about.”

“Jesus…” you muttered, and realized you’d said it outloud. “Uh, we should get going soon, I think, it’s almost five, right?”

Sam nodded, squinting his eyes at your lower body so quickly you almost missed it. Dean put ear pieces in each of your hands and showed you how to use them. You followed the brothers out to their car and said bye to Bobby.

“Be careful, idjits. Keep in contact.”

“Will do.” You said, smiling to Bobby before getting in the back of the car, Sam opening and closing the door for you before sliding into the front seat a bit awkwardly from how long his legs were.  

“Ready?” Dean uttered, putting his elbow on Sam’s seat. 

“As ever.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, seeing Dean’s vividly green eyes through the rear view mirror. Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC came on, and Sam mused on your quiet singing.

“You like AC/DC?” Sam asked, turning around a bit to talk to you more clearly. 

“Yea, that, Metallica, some Guns N’ Roses, Rolling Stones....” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes, knowing Dean would have some stupid comment about that. 

“Really?” Dean spoke up, turning down the music a bit.

“Yes. Don’t cream your pants.” Sam smiled at that. It wasn’t super often that women Dean hit on shut him down as unreservedly as you did. 

“I know you got eyes for my idiot brother, but at least entertain me.”

“Okay. Who was the one that picked out the dress? And shoes? And purse?” You smirked at the back of Dean’s head. 

“Sammy…” Dean mumbled begrudgingly. 

“That's what I thought. Can you turn the music back up?” Dean’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He’d never had someone come in his car and tell him to do something like that, but he did so without saying anything. 

Hours passed, and the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the biggest most obnoxious house you’d ever seen. 

“Jesus. Showoff much?” Dean voiced from the front seat, unbuckling and stepping out. Sam followed, opening your door before you got the chance. 

“So civilized.” You said poshly, seeing that adorable smile you liked seeing on Sam’s beautiful face. 

“Alright. You two go inside first. Use the earpiece to tell me when you know where one is, tell me which way to go. We don’t know each other, got it? You got your fake, y/n?” said Dean.

“My what?” Sam handed you an ID with a photo of your face, but it didn’t say your name. “How many of these do you guys have? Actually, don’t answer that.” Sam held out his right arm and you slid yours under his. He began walking, taking large spread out steps. You saw his face flash, knowing he realized you were struggling to keep up; not just from your heels, but from his obnoxious height. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, again, with that deep, smooth voice close to your ear. Fuck. This is gonna be a hard night. 

[pparacxosm]

okay so.

hi lol

the rumours are true, they didn’t want me to return to tumblr but God did. did you guys think i was dead, be honest. how did you think it happened? tiger mauling? did you think i, like, rose to the occasion with the tiger? like did i put up a fight, in your mind? let me know i’m serious

anyway yes. hey all.

happy holidays, happy early new year, and happy belated *checks notes* CEO assassination?

i guess you’re wondering where i’ve been (hadestown reference for all who have the ears to listen; who’s heard the west end recording btw? good right??) and, too, why i left.

concisely, things were a little tough. things are still a little tough. but so persists the body, whether fond thereof or not ! and anyway if i was successful and well adjusted then i wouldn’t be able to write fanfics centred around pathetically hapless young adult main characters so really you guys are very supportive of my potential gap year next year, right? you are, aren’t you? please tell my mom.

i’ve been up to some stuff. i flunked my first year. i ghosted my therapist (shoutout georgia, that was my bad). i proceeded to be admitted into outpatient treatment. trigger warning? you can fill in the blanks. i watched west side story with my little brother on four separate occasions, not kidding. i held space for the lyrics of defying gravity. i missed you all. lots and lots. please don’t think i didn’t.

i’m still not totally well, but i’m alive and i’m happy to be back and do y’all still give a fuck about challengers?? be fr.

because i do !

in fact i have something for you, if you want it. the haters want to say i’m not an art girl sooooo bad. you will be dealt with.

but BEFORE any of that !! i want to know what i’ve missed. please tell me !!! is everyone still here?? did anyone have a baby? did you name it challengers ??

seriously do tell

i am accepting any and all news and, most importantly, any and all recs !!

any writing posted in the last 2 months that moved you, that flayed your heart, that made you shut your phone off at the dinner table, puhleaseee let me know

and that includes your own stuff !! save your shame for the vicar !!! i want all the self-promo, i will take it as a personal offence if no one recommends something of their own to me !!!!

i’ll post the thing i’m working on either tomorrow or sunday (holy day, which is actually pretty topical, you’ll see), but in the meantime i just wanna spend some time reading and interacting with some good shit so nothing is off limits !!

also once again i missed you.

really i did.

and i really really appreciate anyone missing me back

i love you guys, and i love tashi duncan, and i love mike faist. (but if i speak on the josh o’connor developments.. yeah let’s keep it cordial.)

[st-eve-barnes]

I always make this end of the year post on here looking back on the good and bad things that happened that year but I don't really know where to begin this time. Ever since we buried my aunt in February and had a car accident on the same day this year has felt very off and it hasn't changed since.

Even yesterday we celebrated Christmas with the family and it ended in drama, which just does not happen in our family, ever. (it involved my sister's bf, our family is fine). But it just feels in line with the rest of this weird year.

There's been several deaths around us this year and I've never had as many sick days before, nothing big (I'm lucky here) but many smaller things piling up.

I've been quiet on here lately in fandom as well because I feel like I lost my fangirl vibe a bit. I stopped writing months ago and just been feeling very meh about it all (of course the disappointing season 2 and now lack of content doesn't help). It is what it is, I can't force it.

But let me end with the positive because there have been a lot of good things and many beautiful moments as well. One of the major things for me this year is that I managed to kick my depression. I was in a very dark place last year and the beginning of this one, crying so often for no reason and feeling very out of touch with everything. I'm glad to say I've been feeling much better in that department. The goal for next year is to now kick my anxiety because that one has been on a high this year (how could it not with the state of the world right now??)

But back to the positive, while I've been quiet on here I've been more present in real life, focussing on other hobbies and spending more time outside. When I stopped writing I also picked up reading books again and I'm really enjoying it and indulging in it. My husband has been through it all with me last year and it only confirms what I already knew, that he is the best guy in the entire world. We've grown closer this year (if that was even possible), he is my rock and the absolute best thing in my life.

I'm not quite sure what next year will bring, my anxiety makes it hard to feel entirely positive, but we have a lot of things to look forward to and I hope fandom can pull me back in and I might even write something again one day. But I'm not forcing the muses to come back, things are good as they are now and you might get more aesthetic than fandom posts on this blog for a while longer ;)

I want to tag some people that have kept me company during this year. I hope your holidays are everything you want them to be and the next year will bring you good things❤️ (this goes for all my mutuals not just the ones I tag because I will forget so many people)

@neonhairspray @whitedarkmoonflower @koediepatoedies @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @boundlessfantasy @arcielee @bouncehousedemons @lipstipsky @felteppsters @kaelatargaryen @ms-oswald @lovebittenbyevans @aemonds-fire @dr-aegon @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @lord-aldhelm @persephonerinyes @poppy-in-the-woods @anjelicawrites @gemini-mama @mrsarnasdelicious @livmondcole @sylasthegrim @thenameswinter99

[eridanus-posessed-microwave]

It has been a long couple of days in one of my fandoms. I’m not naming the fandom. I am not naming the authors involved. I am not naming the fics.

Because it doesn’t matter.

In one of my fandoms I came across a fic on AO3. A quite long fic, marked complete.

I thought it would be nice to settle in and read post Christmas festivities.

I think I ruined the Christmas holidays for multiple people by being the bearer of bad news.

You see, straight up, the ‘author’ of the fic mentions that they used parts of other people’s fics and had the fics in the author notes section.

I assumed they meant they had used OC’s and were inspired by them. Strange they hadn’t linked them properly.

I had not even gotten part way through the first chapter and felt sick.

You see those authors? Are all on a discord server with me. I knew well enough they would not have given permission to anyone to copy and paste entire chunks and chapters of their fics.

Four different authors with four different fics.

So I asked politely on the fic if the ‘author’ had asked permission. I also DM’d the authors with a link and a ‘Have you seen this’.

The authors had not.

The ‘author’ proclaimed they ‘tried for a year’ and couldn’t figure out how to contact them.

Me: *slow blink*

Also me: I know at least two of the authors had links to the discord a year ago. I also know that all four authors answer comments regularly.

I have gone back and forth with them- because I was trying to be gentle. It’s the internet- they could be anywhere from 8 to 100 (I do know their age now, since assuming they were younger was insulting.)

I was trying to gently educate that this isn’t ok to do and to offer ways that they could have contacted the authors (and in future can contact authors- mainly leaving a comment in their fics comment section).

One of the authors that I contacted, when she commented, was basically told that ‘I’ll change that one bit’ ignoring all the rest that was copied and used.

The ‘author’ has taken down a couple of chapters and told us we are harassing, belittling and bashing their fic and it’s our fault it’s having parts taken down.

Keep in mind- they said they wrote 2/3 of the fic. Going through it I was recognising my friends fics as huge parts of it up to the last six chapters (of a 25 chapter, 300+k fic)

Which lead me to think.

Maybe people don’t realise that there are unspoken of rules to writing fanfic and inspiring your fics off of someone else’s.

So maybe we need rules actually written out.

Fanfic writing is a lawless place, but I’m pretty sure everyone is going to agree with these.

Rules for writing fanfiction

1: Being inspired by fics is great. Always try to link the fics to yours- on AO3 there is a data field for this.

2: If you want to use a scene etc and build off of it/go in a different direction, ask the author first. Especially if you plan on using part of their writing. We can’t stop you from writing it but it’s polite. Accept that you may be told no.

3: Do not take entire chapters and copy it word for word. It’s plagiarism. If you are doing it to multiple fics in one story, you will end up with contradictory scenes.

Changing one or two words out of an entire scene or chapter, or changing a single sentence does not make it yours. It is still plagiarism.

4: If you know a character is an OC, ask permission. Accept that you may be told no.

Remember: No answer is not consent.

5: AO3 has a lovely comment function where you can ask things of authors. If the author you want to ask things of has comments turned off, accept that they do not wish to be contacted and accept that no contact does not mean do what you want. No contact means no permission.

6: Consent is sexy. If you want to do anything with someone else’s work, you ask. This includes using any part of their written words, any of their OC’s. This includes podfics and translations and to a certain point, art.

A: Podfic. It’s always good to ask- again acknowledging you may get a no- or be told it is fine so long as it is not done by ai- or uploaded via any place that came make money off of it.

B: Translations. This one is a tricky one. Some authors will be fine and some will not. The issue stems from translations not being word for word and some concepts being lost in translation. I acknowledge it is great to have fics in multiple languages however I also acknowledge that it is a lot of hard work between the translator and the author to ensure there is nothing lost. Not all authors have the bandwidth to do this, especially on fics that can be a few hundred thousand words.

C: Art. Most fic writers are fine with fan art. It’s only here because someone is going to bring it up. If an author has ‘fan art welcome’ go for it and post using the inspired by thing on ao3. If they don’t- ask. It’s likely a yes but everyone has their comfort levels and it’s still polite.

There are probably more but honestly? It’s fanfiction. It’s a lawless place held together with strings and ideas. It’s made on playing in other peoples sandboxes.

Just please, remember that people’s OC’s aren’t public property unless stated otherwise- and don’t blatantly copy other people’s work.

Someone will realise it feels familiar and we are fandoms. We don’t tend to forgive and forget when it comes to the big things.

And yes, it is an odd feeling to write ‘don’t use other authors OC’s without permission’ while also saying it is fine to write established characters that are from various forms of media. The difference is honestly a respect thing. Think of fandoms as sand boxes with a few toys scattered in. Anyone can play with those toys. If someone brings their own toys to play, you don’t just take them without asking.

I’m going to likely never post another tumblr post. I’m asking please don’t go looking for the author or the work. I don’t want them to continue to pull the harassment/bullying/bashing card. Which honestly led me to asking on two discord servers if my responses were bashing anything (no they weren’t. So at least I don’t feel like a bully on top of being the bearer of bad news).

Now it’s time for Eli to take over for a bit. Everyone needs a half feral, under socialised hellhound teen in their head (you don’t want him. He likes stabbing people and eating hearts).

Just remember.

No means no.

Consent is sexy.

The absence of a response is not a yes.

[fkinkindagauche]

Possibly Maybe

I got a little carried away combining three of my @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas Mini-Event prompts, and wrote 16K of omegaverse bullshit. Prompt fills were: 1) cookies, 2) meet cute, and 3) candy canes.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 16K | Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Meet-Cute, Omega Verse, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Eddie Munson, Alpha Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson, Top Steve Harrington, Barebacking, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Intersex Omegas, Knotting

Summary: Eddie falls in love with the cookies from a little shop run by a really annoying guy. Definitely just the cookies.

Full fic on AO3.

Eddie wasn't sure why he had to be the one to pick up the cookies. It was Jeff's mate's baby shower, why couldn't one of her friends have picked them up? He was pissed he even had to go to the baby shower, but Jeff insisted that Melissa would be upset if his only omega friend hadn't shown up to support them.

So Eddie was already in a bad mood when he walked into the cookie shop, and his mood wasn't improved by the long line. It was a kitschy shop he'd never heard of that was somehow able to survive selling only cookies. No other baked goods. No coffee. It looked like there was only one employee working today. Eddie checked his watch. He was gonna be late and Jeff was gonna kill him.

The line moved at a snail's pace. Eddie inched slowly toward the counter, where an unfairly attractive guy was working the register. He looked like he'd be much more at home in a yacht club with his perfectly styled brown hair and form-fitting polo and khakis. Exactly like all the guys who'd made Eddie's teenage years absolute hell. The only sign that he belonged in the cookie shop was the flour-stained bright pink apron he had on over his outfit.

By the time Eddie finally got to the register, the acrid scent of his frustration was bleeding through his dampeners. He'd always been an unfortunately pungent omega. It made it so much harder to hide what he was feeling, which had also contributed to making his teenage years something of a disaster.

"How can I help you?" the employee asked when Eddie got to the register. The employee's calm demeanor in the face of Eddie's rapidly rising panic at how late he was going to be was the last straw for Eddie. He hated nothing more than being faced with someone cool, calm, and collected when he was about to lose his shit.

"Does this place always make customers wait so long, or is it just when you're working," Eddie's eyes flicked down to the guy's name badge, "Steve?"

Steve's eyebrows shot up, but he gave no other visible sign of offense. "Sorry for the inconvenience," he said, in perfect, soulless retail-speak. "It's a busy time of year, and one of my only other employees has the flu. What can I get you?"

Eddie bristled at the brush-off. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Steve. "I'm here to pick up an order. For Benson."

Steve nodded. "One second." He turned around and went into a back room. Eddie glanced at his watch again. Even if he sped all the way to Jeff's, he'd still be late.

"Any time this morning would be great!" Eddie yelled after the man.

An old woman in line behind him tutted disapprovingly, but he ignored her. Eddie stared at the cookies in the display case while he waited. Most of them were ridiculously overdone, decorated like fucking cakes or something, but his eyes were drawn to a perfect-looking, simple chocolate chip cookie. His stomach grumbled. He hadn't had time for breakfast that morning.

He was still staring at the cookie when Steve finally walked back up to the register carrying a large box, vacant customer service expression still on his face. Eddie couldn't pick up any scent at all coming from him.

Steve followed Eddie's eyes to the display case, pulling out the cookie Eddie was staring at and placing it in a small bag. "For your trouble," he said, handing the cookie to Eddie with a smile. "I appreciate your patience."

Eddie grabbed the cookie from his hand with a glare. This bozo wasn't gonna be able to win him over with a free cookie and a smile. But also Eddie definitely wasn't going to turn down that cookie. He shoved it in his pocket and picked up the box of baby shower cookies. Jeff had already paid for them.

"Have a good day!" Steve called as Eddie left without a word. "Come again soon!"

Eddie angrily shoved the consolation cookie in his mouth with one hand while he hurried to his car. It was, of course, obscenely good, which only made Eddie more annoyed.

Jeff and Melissa were not pleased when Eddie rolled in thirty minutes late.

"What the hell, Eddie?" Melissa hissed, grabbing the cookies from him. "You've already missed some of the games!"

"Oh, however will I recover," Eddie deadpanned, holding a hand to his heart.

Melissa glared at him, opening the box. Her face instantly lit up. "These are amazing!" she cooed. "You were right, Jeffy, this guy is fantastic!"

Jeff looked over her shoulder at the unnecessarily fancy cookies. "Oh, yeah, look at that. Chrissy was right, this guy's cookies are great."

Eddie snorted. "Well you should tell him, whoever he is, that the customer service at his shop sucks. There was only one employee there, and he was annoying."

Jeff gave him a confused look. "I've only ever seen the owner working there. I don't even know if he has other employees."

"Well, he must," Eddie insisted. "Because there's no way the guy who was there today owns a cookie shop."

Jeff shrugged and changed the subject. "Thanks for picking them up. At least you got them here before the party ended," he teased.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about that fucking chocolate chip cookie. It was the best cookie he'd ever had. In his entire life. And he considered himself a bit of a cookie connoisseur. Whoever was running that shop knew what they were doing. About cookies, at least. Maybe not about hiring.

He really tried not to go back to the shop, not wanting to chance another encounter with Steve. He went on a cookie journey throughout the city, searching in vain for a comparable chocolate chip experience. But nothing hit the spot quite like that cookie.

Which is how he found himself standing in front of the shop a few weeks after Melissa's shower, trying to peer in through the window to see if that asshole was working again. There were no customers, though, so whoever was working must have been in the back.

Jeff had said it was almost always the owner working, so Eddie decided to take his chances and hope that's who he'd get this time. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

A bell tinkled above the door as Eddie breathed in the scent of fresh-baked cookies. "Just a second!" a voice called from a room behind the counter.

Eddie walked to the counter, looking at the cookies. There were plenty of the fancy, decorated cookies that the shop was apparently known for, but also quite a few simple cookies which made Eddie's mouth water.

He looked up as the door behind the counter opened. Steve, the man from before, came out, smiling pleasantly.

Eddie's face fell. "You again?" he groused.

Steve looked confused for a moment, then recognition crossed his face. "Ah," he huffed. "Come to scold me for my poor customer service again?"

These pretty rich kids really thought their shit didn't stink. "Does the owner of this place know you're such a little shit?" Eddie growled.

"I'm the owner of this place," Steve drawled with an amused smile. "Did you like the chocolate chip cookie?"

Eddie's scent soured with annoyance. "Seriously?" he groaned.

"Seriously," Steve replied. He looked way too pleased with himself. A vague scent started to bleed into the air from Steve, surprising Eddie. He had assumed the man was a beta. He was too big for an omega, but he ran a cookie store, a very unorthodox career choice for an alpha.

The scent was a delicate mix of pine and sandalwood, with just a hint of something sharp and sweet that reminded Eddie of candy canes. Eddie was startled to realize he liked it. He hadn't liked the scent of anyone who wasn't in his immediate pack in a really fucking long time. Figured it would happen with a replica of a Ken doll. He probably had the personality of a Ken doll, too.

"Well? Was the cookie good?"Steve prompted when he got no response from Eddie.

"No," Eddie lied.

"Then why are you back?"

As much as Eddie wanted to leave without buying anything, that was a betrayal his stomach wouldn't allow. "My friend. Who had the baby shower. She has really bad taste in cookies so I guess she likes yours. She wants more." It sounded idiotic even to Eddie's ears.

"Sure." Steve smirked. "What does she want? More of the iced cookies? I have some pretty Christmas trees right now." He motioned to the case.

"No," Eddie snapped. "She wants to try the snickerdoodles. And the peanut butter cookies." Eddie paused, trying to rein himself in. He felt the ensuing blurt come directly from his stomach, "And five of the chocolate chip cookies."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "She just knows she's going to want five of them? Even though she's never tried them?"

Eddie swallowed audibly. "Yes. I described them to her. I'm a really talented food narrator."

Steve hummed thoughtfully, getting out a box for the cookies. "How'd you describe them? I'm intrigued."

"Don't remember," Eddie mumbled.

"Oh. Do you wanna try one again now to jog your memory?" Steve held one of the heavenly cookies out to Eddie. The scent wafted into his nostrils. Eddie worried he might start drooling.

"No!" Eddie yelped, batting away the cookie before he lost all self-control. "I told you, I didn't like them."

"Right," Steve said, drawing out the vowel.

"Just give me the cookies," Eddie grumbled, pulling out his wallet.

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched up in an aborted smile as he packed up the rest of the cookies. He cashed Eddie out, handing over the box.

"Hope your friend enjoys," Steve needled.

Eddie grabbed the box and fled.

Read the full fic on AO3!

Other Twelve Days of Christmas Prompt Fills:

A Golden Opportunity - threesome, elf

The Indiana Lakers - make up sex

A Naughty Lullaby - mpreg, morning sex

White and Rare and Full of All Kinds of Rage - chill, frost, travel - WARNING NON-CON

[alicenpai]

🌟 ART SUMMARY 2024 🥂

this was a year where i didnt draw a lot, despite that, i tried to make every drawing count. thank you all for the support in 2024, here's to 2025 ! 🫶

⭐ [read more starts here]

i continued my goals from last year with regards to perfectionism. the tldr is that i strongly feel my perfectionism kept me away from completing as many drawings as i could, and i had to make an effort to just finish drawings no matter how lukewarm I felt about them. 2024 was a strange year, it came and went in the blink of an eye, even more than previous years! life has been stressful, so i've been trying to focus more on myself and taking time off drawing. ironic, although i think i succeeded in that above goal, i expected to get more drawings out of it, but ended up taking more time off drawing anyways. towards the end of the year, i started feeling more burnt out, and drawing became a slow and arduous process. i think part of the reason was because 2024 was my first year doing 5 events - 2 full weekend conventions (anime north and otakuthon), and 3 single day events (bamtori fall aapi market, toronto game expo, bamtori jinglebam market), when in the past 2 years i'd just opt to do 1-2 local cons. it was also my first time doing single day events, which were super chill! although you have to both set up and tear down on the same day, i felt more casual at those events, had more time to chat and look around. back to my point - despite being fun, doing so many events took its toll on me - especially during the colder months of the year, where i wasn't so used to going to events haha! usually i take fall as the time to rejuvenate and recover from summer events, but i couldn't really do that this year. i kept questioning myself, "does this drawing have appeal? will people buy this?" "is my art hireable?" and it's just not a healthy mindset to have. next year i'll try to draw more of what i enjoy and what's on my mind, instead of worrying too much if it's sellable! *feeling like the HAHA YES sickos meme* - 2025 art goals outlined below: - oc zine (aiming for a character guide with some test comics) - character interactions & poses! e.g. dancing, hugs - generally stuff that's more difficult to draw. my art is more illustrative, but sometimes i wished it was more engaging emotionally? like i want people to smile and cry with my characters... - illustrations that challenge me. when i say illusts that challenge me it's pretty abstract - do research and gather inspiration for every illust.. compositions that are difficult/complex and take a while to draft.. strong theme.. it's more for me to understand AHAHAHA. as the years go by you can see my art becoming more unified in theme and self indulgent... i want to keep going, i want to make art that is uniquely mine. less priority: - get used to sketching! truly miss how i used to fill up sketchbooks every year - sticker sheets (this is on the less priority list bc i will probably fulfill this goal regardless) - oc merch (happy with the stickers i made in the last 2 yrs, let's keep going!) - silly things! e.g. 4koma, silly doodles. comedy is an art, it IS a skill you can study and chip away at (e.g. comedians and comedy writers). make sure i take notes on really stand-out jokes i find funny & why

other various things to try and draw more of: - group pictures - animals - layouts and props. i find layouts and anything with hard surfaces difficult to draw, which is why i draw a lot of flowers and fabric LMAO. one thing i gotta do is start by either drawing characters holding props more (easy baby steps!) and/ or start drawing props around them and make my way towards harder things (e.g. practice drawing a character sitting, i'll start by drawing a simple chair, then a table, then objects on that table). this is also one of my weaknesses - draw the ground they're standing on if possible, e.g. characters standing on a grid - vehicles, if i can. i mostly draw stuff from fantasy series where cars don't exist LOL but i'll try...