#because I’m so behind on most of what’s happening

[liondrakes]

I was tagged by @that-dreaming-dragon to respond, and I’d love to! I answered these questions before on my side blog (@/brer-dragonne), but that was before I learned said blog was shadowbanned.

That said, I will share an updated version of the answers I had from my original response:

The Winged Lion(drake) Answers!

1.) Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

I am many things, to say the least. I'll start out simple by saying that I am transspecies. With that, I belong to the following communities: spacekind, dragonkind, fictionfolk, mythic and folcinteric kind, and polymorphic / shapeshifting-kind.

Outside of species, I am: ontoplanar, an archetroper, a soulbonder, and a dæmian. All things pertaining to my alterhumanity can be found here!

2.) What/who is/are your types)? (if you have any)

Before I discussed the specifics of my being, I will note that I only use kin-based language out of convenience. I personally no longer label myself as otherkin or therian due to my preference towards transspecies, but I do use vocabulary associated with both to put things in layman’s terms.

That said, I am a draconic polymorph. This is an umbrella of sorts to describe my identity.

As a draconic polymorph, I have six core identities: a metallic dragonne (a gold liondrake, specifically), an anymic sphinx, an anymic manticore, a celestial of creation, a Lionblood Mundu-Mugo and The Winged Lion of Golden Country. All of which, save for my Winged Lion fictomere, are sourced from D&D or some other TTRPG. These are not my only forms, but they do hold a lot of prominence in contrast to other species I belong to.

Of these six forms, the most prominent is myself as a gold liondrake. This is due to the species’s presence in my alterhumanity and its noemata respectively.

While they aren't listed amongst my core identities, I also consider my concept selves and my singular object self to be of immense importance. I am consistently these things alongside whatever species I currently am.

I am always the concepts of fantasy (as in the genre of fiction), folklore, magical realism and imagination. In terms of objecthood, I am always a bestiary as well. I experience this in both literal and metaphorical contexts, but getting into the details behind these experiences would take forever. Just know that these ‘types, despite not being core forms, are intrinsic to how I experience my alterhumanity.

3.) Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

Depends on the context. I never experience mental shifts because I am always a polymorph. I never leave that perspective; it is a natural part of my life. In terms of shifting between species, then yes, I do experience this since it is the very makeup of my being. Species shifts happen on a regular basis for me. This is experienced through a series of phantom bodies which indicate what I’m currently shifted into. Most are actual ‘types that I have.

I also experience cameo shifts, and they annoy me to hell and back. It’s hard enough making sense of my own polymorphism. Since it’s hard to tell whether or not a cameo shift is an identity I actually belong to, dealing with them worsens my experience. I usually don’t adopt a species or identity from a cameo shift into my repertoire since the experience leaves me so confused. Luckily, cameo shifts don’t occur often for me.

The most common species I shift into are my core identities. The strangest cameo shift I’ve had is probably a Ghost Leviathan.

4.) How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

How anyone would experience everyday life. Things that don’t seem “out of the norm” to orthohumans are practices that I do in relation to my alterhumanity.

Although not every draconic being hoards, I personally hoard books and dice because they are my treasures. I keep them in a massive trunk as one would keep gold in a chest. This practice also ties into my archetropy as a cloistered scholar.

In terms of appearance, I style my dreadlocks in ways that are reminiscent of a lion’s mane. I also tend to wear heavier clothing (bomber jackets, jackets lined with faux fur, etc) to simulate the shape and feel of a lion, kudu, elk, etc. Little touches that help me feel in touch with my animality, y’know? In addition to the physical body I maintain, I’m always shifted into some kind of phantom body that reflects my species at the moment.

There’s also the inner world I maintain. When I have the time and focus, I renovate that special place in my headspace. Communicating with and checking in on my soulbonds, as well as working with Maxwell (my dæmon), is all a part of routine.

My partner @venussxren has a part in it as well, although it’s by her choice rather than my request. Often asking me what form I’m in and taking on her own forms alongside me, it’s wonderful being able to share such an important part of my life with someone near and dear to me.

5.) What do you think of the community?

I'm not in every corner of this community, so it's a little difficult to announce my feelings as a whole knowing how broad the alterhuman community is.

That said, I will say that I am happiest when engaging with my fellow draconic beings and my fellow fictionfolk. I truly appreciate how understanding each community is, and learning more my peers’ unique experiences with draconity and fictionhood respectively brings me much joy.

Aside from those specific groups, I love reading about the alterhumanity and/or nonhumanity of folks’ outside of my own experiences. In my opinion, exploring perspectives you don’t relate to are far more interesting than seeking out ones that you personally relate to. I understand preferring the latter, but only seeking that gets monotonous very quickly.

All in all, I can’t give a definitive answer to this. However, I can say for certain that I enjoy being in this community.

6. What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

Writing. I had a pretty big burnout after getting my B.A., thanks to the massive workload I had to push through. Around then, I had little to no motivation to write the things I wanted to write. Whether it be my manuscript or my poetry, I just didn't have the energy for it.

When I started involving myself more in the community, I considered writing about how I felt but I didn’t have the words yet. It wasn’t until I attended the first Centaurus Festival when I got this burst of inspiration. It made me want to write again, and so I did. Gearing my writing towards my alterhumanity not only helped me get out of that funk, but using my passion to explore this part of me felt so good.

To this day, writing down my introspections and sharing them is a very euphoric experience.

7.) Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

Rarely. I don’t hate the body that I am in. The only thing I hate about it is my inability to physically change between forms.

After all, I am a polymorph. Synonymously, a shapeshifter. An entity who flows between states of being. To change my shape is my thing. That's the only feature (or lack thereof) belonging this body that makes me dysphoric. I shouldn't be confined to just one form. It feels unnatural.

Besides that, there’s also the lack of physical presence for my noncorporeal forms to account for. This experience is more disorienting and bothersome than dysphoria-inducing, though.

8.) What advice would you like to say to a young alterhumans who have just awakened?

Don’t fret over things like validity or what discourse you think is relevant. You have plenty of time to learn about yourself and your community. It's best to focus on how you feel about your identity and taking the time to explore those feelings, instead of sweating over trivial things.

I recommend looking into writings and lectures made by our community as a starting point.

Here are some places to start if you're looking into it: The Alterhuman Archive and The Wildpath Library for written works, and the Othercon YouTube Channel for spoken lectures and panels. There’s also a thread of information from my side blog that dives deeper into learning about one’s community and the knowledge it holds.

9.) Do you have/want to have gears?

I don't have any. That said, I would like those gloves with sequin scales. Bonus points if they come with claws. Those look quite nice, and l'd love to get a matching tail for them. I also wouldn't mind a mask— preferably of a lion or a cougar in the style of a puppy hood, kind of like this.

That said, these items are off my radar at the moment. They're not really high on my wishlist, just things of interest.

10.) Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

I will summarize since the full details aren't all the way there yet. What I understand so far is that I am a being that originates from a dimension outside of this one, one that relies on the universal practice of storytelling to continue existing.

This dimension is an alternate reality of Dungeons and Dragons in which each campaign or setting exists within its own "solar system", for a lack of better words.

This dimension still harbors traits that align with the established canons of D&D but has its own unique lore, contents and continuities nonetheless. It is because of this experience that I coined the term Ontoplanar. It is also why I consider myself to be canon-divergent, even though the context of what is and is not “canon” to D&D is highly subjective.

I see this body I occupy as a vessel of sorts. I'm not sure why I am positioned in this world or how that came to be, but either way, I know where I truly belong. That's as much as I know so far.

11.) Tag someone to answer these questions!

I invite @werecoyotl, @mackerelgray, @stormy-talks, @rareblackcat and @nimdreams to join in! Of course it’s up to you whether or not you want to do your own post like this, but I’m curious to read what y’all have to say!

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[rikstellar]

WALLFLOWER — (nrk x reader)

summary : in which you seem to be invisible to everyone, but not to him.

featuring : jungwon and sunoo from enhypen

cw : popular!riki x outcast!fem reader, angst, fluff, kissing

wc : 3.5k

nene’s note : this fic is inspired by twice’s wallflower !! pls reblog and tell me what you think of it !

“y/n? oh, you mean mina’s friend!”

“who’s y/n? the one who hangs out with nayoung and her friends?”

“i’m gonna ask the girl from jules’ class for help”

that’s all you ever were to people. someone’s friend, the one you can ask for help when you can’t figure your homework out. you lived in your friends’ shadows all the time, getting outshined every single day of your life. it was like you were invisible to everyone, as if you were a ghost desperately looking for someone who could see you. but that was never the case.

it’s not like your ‘friends’ paid that much attention to you either, they kept you around because you were kind enough to help them study whenever a big exam was coming. you weren’t oblivious to this treatment, in fact, you knew you didn’t deserve it. but the fear of being completely alone couldn’t let you walk away from them. but that loneliness, that emptiness within you never faded away, not even when you were surrounded by people. you spent most of your time with your nose stuck in a book, studying and studying for hours just to get distracted from those feelings inside you.

you wished someone could see you, get to know you, care about you. but you were sure that if you ever disappeared, no one would notice.

someone would notice, though.

that someone was nishimura riki. golden boy of the school, he was so skilled in every sport that multiple teams fought to have him in their group. he was friendly with everyone, boxy smile always showing whenever he met someone he talked with, even just one time, in the hallways. people absolutely adored him, always seeking his attention. he was everything you dreamed to be.

you didn’t know why, but he always greeted you with a smile whenever you crossed paths with him. you two didn’t even talk once, but he never lost the opportunity to flash you a grin whenever his eyes met yours. he was like that with everyone, you thought, probably because he pitied you. you thought it was a facade, he was popular, after all. he had a reputation to maintain. you disliked him for that reason, maybe it was just envy, but you just couldn’t stand seeing him surrounded by people all the time, while you lived in everyone’s shadow.

the bell rang, indicating the end of biology class. you were following mina and jules out of the classroom, when the teacher called out your name, gesturing you to stay. you turned to tell your two friends that you would stay behind and that you would see them later, but they were laughing between them, not even noticing you weren’t behind them anymore. you pressed your lips in a thin line, unfazed by the behavior since it happened so many times before. yet, it hurt every. single. time.

you pushed those thoughts aside, walking to the teacher who was waiting for you with a big smile. you liked her, she was always kind, always making time for her students whenever they were struggling. and that was exactly the reason why she called you.

“hi, y/n. sorry for keeping you behind, but i’d like to ask you a favor. there’s this student who’s failing biology and i was wondering if you could, perhaps, help them? if they fail it, they won’t be able to participate in next month’s tournament. do you think you could do it?” she explained, her voice soft and sweet as always.

you listen to her words carefully, smiling at her while you accepted her request. you weren’t so thrilled about it, since you knew it wasn’t going to be different from all the times you had ‘helped’ other students. they showed up, pretended to be interested just to make up an excuse and make you do all of their homework for them. but the teacher also promised you an extra credit, so you decided to comply anyway.

she told you to be at the school’s library on tuesdays and thursdays, from 4 to 6, and that she would notify the student for you.

so there you were, sitting at a library table, waiting for this mystery student to show up. it was already half past four, so you assumed that they wouldn’t even show up. you started gathering your things to leave, when you heard someone run behind you. you turned around to see who it was, just to find yourself face to face with nishimura riki. people glared at him while telling him to be silent, causing him to smile apologetically and bowing to them.

“i’m so sorry! practice ran late so i rushed here as fast i could, i’m glad you’re still here! you’re y/n, right? you should be the one helping me with biology” he explained, keeping his voice low to avoid getting scolded again by the students nearby.

on the other hand, you couldn’t believe your eyes. the boy you despised the most was in front of you, big smile as he looked down at you. the fact that he looked so pretty pissed you off even more.

“uh, don’t worry about it.” you simply said, uncomfortably shifting on your seat while he took the one right next to you. you took the book from your backpack and carefully placed it on the table, opening it on the page of the first chapter. you looked over at him for an instant, finding him with his own book open at the same page, waiting for you to say something.

“listen, i know you probably wanna be somewhere else, so i’ll spare you the trouble and bring you the homework done by tomor—” you were cut off by him, a confused expression displayed on his face. “what do you mean? i’m not gonna make you do my homework.” his eyebrows were furrowed, as if you were speaking nonsense. “i’d like some help to understand some of the topics, actually.” he said, his tone was soft, yet it seemed like he was bothered by what you said. did someone treat you like that before?

“oh.” that’s all you could say. you were feeling guilty for assuming his intentions, you were just so used to it.

there was an awkward silence for a brief moment, before riki took the matter into his own hands and started asking you questions about some concepts he hadn’t grasped before. you replied to them calmly, taking your time to repeat yourself or reformulate your sentences if he couldn’t understand them. during the whole time, he never once lost his focus, always looking at you attentively and, from time to time, praising your explanation skills, blabbering about how the book made everything look harder than it actually was.

having his eyes constantly on you made you feel a little overwhelmed, not being used to having so much attention on you. you felt… seen. it was awkward at first, but you couldn’t help but like it.

you reminded yourself that he was just being nice because you were helping him, not because he was actually interested in you.

the little tutoring session came to an end, faster than you thought, so you found yourself gathering your belongings to leave. riki did the same thing, casually greeting some of his friends while he walked with you towards the exit.

it was already dark outside, the days becoming shorter and shorter as the colder seasons approached. before you could excuse yourself to catch the bus, riki spoke. “um, you usually take the 6:30pm bus, right?” he asked, scratching his nape while he looked for your eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. you wondered how he knew which bus you took, but decided to not mull over it too much. you nodded, tilting your head to the side as if you were asking where he was trying to get at with his question. “it’s still early, i can’t leave you here, alone in the dark. do you mind if i wait with you?” saying that you were surprised by those words was an understatement. you could feel warmth creeping up your neck, you never really spent time with boys outside of tutoring, let alone spoke to them for this long. “uh.. sure” you replied, your voice low and timid. you think you will never forget the smile riki gave you that night.

you walked around with him, listening to him complain about how his coach threatened him to not let him play at the tournament if he didn’t pass biology, and how glad he was you were there to help him. he also asked you lots of question, such as your favorite subjects, what you did in your free time, whether you put cereals first and then milk or vice versa. and it wasn’t just to avoid awkward silence, he truly cared about your answers, even going on a long rant about how putting cereals after milk was nonsense and how inconvenient it was.

before you could realize, it was already time for you to catch the bus. he walked you to the stop and waited for you to get safely on the bus, waving his hand while grinning widely at you. he didn’t leave until he saw the bus driving away, which made you feel like he cared about your safety, but you convinced yourself you were overthinking it.

once in your bed, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the afternoon you spent with the boy you disliked so much — in vain, you thought — and how your heart started beating slightly faster when you got a message from him asking if you got home safely. you mentally slapped yourself, you couldn’t start to have feelings for a boy who was pitying you. still, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his stupid jokes and silly behavior, the memory of his laugh lulling you to sleep.

the next day, you were sitting alone at the cafeteria since your friends collectively decided to skip school without letting you know. you were used to it anyway, it’s not like you talked to them when you were in their company, you just limited yourself to listening to them brag about whoever they were dating at that moment or about some new gossip that was circulating around, while keeping to yourself.

that’s why you were startled when riki showed up with two of his friends, who you recognised to be sunoo and jungwon. they were also pretty popular, sunoo being a social butterfly and jungwon being part of the student council.

“mind if we sit here?” riki asked with his usual smile, waiting for you to agree before eventually sitting next to you, while the other two guys sat in front of you. you were still kind of taken aback from this situation, but you were snapped out of your thoughts by riki resting his hand on your shoulder.

“this is y/n! y/n, they’re sunoo and jungwon. they’re good guys, so feel free to be yourself around them” he explained, introducing you to his friends. you wanted to focus on the two boys sitting in front of you and politely greet them, but you could only feel riki’s hand on you, making your heart pound against your ribs.

“nice to meet you! — sunoo spoke, his voice lively and sweet — so you’re the famous y/n, huh? riki talks about you a lo—” he suddenly stopped, an ‘ouch’ escaping his lips as he massaged his leg. riki immediately grabbed your attention: “what he was saying is that i told them you were tutoring me and how well you explain things!” you missed the way he shot sunoo a glare before grinning at you.

jungwon, in the meantime, was snickering while eating his lunch, throwing a playful glance at riki with a smirk on his lips.

you weren’t exactly understanding what was happening, given that you were still confused by the sudden company and the fact that riki talked about you to his friends. it was probably because you could help them in the future, wasn’t it?

you had a great time during lunch, sunoo excitedly telling you about the new drama play he would star in next month and jungwon occasionally asking you questions about you. the awkwardness in you faded the more you spent time with the boys, breaking out of your shell and telling them stories of your childhood. riki was looking at you with a fond smile the entire time, head resting on his fist, thinking how nice was watching you finally open up and get along with his friends.

time flew once again, the bell that signaled the end of lunch break ringing in the cafeteria. you had learned to have a lesson in the classroom right next to sunoo’s, so you waved bye to riki and jungwon and made your way to class with the bubbly boy.

you had never felt this good before, it felt like a weight was lifted off your chest, loneliness being replaced by a nice feeling. this is what having someone caring about you meant? you wondered how you endured being alone until then, finally knowing what it felt to be seen.

you spent the whole time, thinking about the boy you were tutoring, catching yourself dumbly smiling at the thought of him. you needed a reality check, because in no way he was going to feel the same about you. so, with a sigh, you drifted your thoughts from riki to the teacher and his lesson.

weeks passed, your study dates with riki allowed you to become closer and closer to the boy. you started opening up more, laughing and making jokes with him, telling him about embarrassing moments from middle school and so on. you started seeing him outside of tutoring sessions as well, inviting you to have lunch with him, sunoo and jungwon more often, asking you to try a new cafe that opened in town with them.

you eventually fell for him, feeling nervous every time he stood too close to you or blushing when you caught him staring at you. you knew it was one sided, trying your hardest to not delude yourself and end up with a broken heart and alone all over again. you cherished his company more than anything in the world, so you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

you were walking to your locker when you heard your name being shouted by a voice you recognized in no time. you turned around, finding riki standing in front of you with a paper in his hand, encouraging you to take it. you looked at it and saw a 75/100 on his biology test. your eyes widened as much as your smile, looking up at him. “oh my god, riki! you passed!” you said, genuinely happy for the boy in front of you. he worked hard and definitely deserved the grade, you also felt a little proud of yourself at the same time. “yes! it’s all thanks to you!” he engulfed you in his arms, holding you close to his body for a second longer than he should. your face was completely red once he let go of you, you prayed for him to be too excited to notice how that brief — even though for you seemed like it lasted for hours — contact affected you.

“so..” you started speaking, to recompose yourself. “no more tutoring sessions, huh?” you asked, disappointment could be easily found in your tone.

“hm.. about that.” riki said, looking a little nervous for some reasons you couldn’t quite tell. “are you going to prom, this weekend?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes while he looked down at you.

“no, i don’t think so.” you replied almost instantly. was he going to ask you out for prom? no, impossible.

“would you like t—” he couldn’t finish his sentence, that a girl tapped him on his shoulder, completely ignoring your presence or the fact that he was talking to you.

“hi riki.. i was wondering if you.. if you wanted to go to prom with me.” she asked, her pretty, long lashes batting quickly as she smiled at him, waiting for his answer.

“oh, thank you but i was going to ask someone else to go with me,” riki politely declined, obtaining a scoff in response. he shrugged his shoulders and turned back to where you were standing, only to see that you had disappeared.

you left the moment you heard the girl’s question, tears brimming in your eyes as you felt like a fool, thinking that he could ever have feelings for you. that day, you left school early, running to your house and shutting yourself in your room. you cried every tear you had within yourself.

riki had tried to reach out to you countless times, sending you lots of texts, even calling you endless times. but you ignored every one of them. you shouldn’t have gotten closer to the boy, you shouldn’t have fallen for him and you shouldn’t have hoped that he could, somehow, feel the same towards you.

it was prom night, you were on your couch, watching some old romcom filled with cliches and cringy lines, but that made you tear up everytime nonetheless.

suddenly, you heard a knock on your door. you wondered who could possibly be at that hour of a saturday night.

you opened the door, finding riki in formal attire, hair slicked back and a huge bouquet of purple flowers — which you remembered telling him was your favorite color.

“riki?” you called softly, closing the door behind you and looking at him with a confused expression. your heart skipped a beat when you saw him — he looked absolutely gorgeous, he looked like he’d stepped out a fairy tail.

“y/n..” he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nerves and determination. “i tried contacting you, but you weren’t replying. i wanted to ask you to prom, but since it’s too late, i thought about bringing prom to you.” a shy smile tugged at his full lips as he pronounced those words.

you stared at him, speechless. he wanted to go to prom with you? and when he couldn’t reach you, he came all the way to your house, just to make it happen? it felt like a dream, too good and too sweet to be true.

noticing your surprise, riki carefully set the bouquet on the ground. then, he took your hand in his, warmth spreading all over your face.

“dance with me,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with hope.

without waiting for your reply, he led you closer to him, his free hand settling on your waist, while with his other hand, he fumbled awkwardly with his phone, tongue poking out as he tried to play a slow song for you two to dance to.

the sight made you giggle, finding endearing how clumsy he was.

you looped your arms around his neck, gazing up at him as you swayed together. the world seemed to fall away — there was only the two of you, the soft music, and the steady rhythm of your movements.

he held your gaze the entire time, his lovesick smile resting on his pretty lips — the ones you couldn’t help but glance at more times than you cared to admit.

as the song came to an end, the world seemed to slow down around the two of you. he rested his forehead gently against yours, his warm breath fanning across your face as he took both of your hands in his, holding them like they were going to break if he applied to much force.

“y/n..” he began, his voice soft and steady, though you could sense the nervousness beneath it. “i like you. i’ve liked you for so long, i couldn’t resist keeping it to myself anymore.” he whispered, waiting for any reaction on your part.

tears welled up in your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. riki stiffened for a moment, his hand lingering on your back before holding you closer.

“i like you too, riki. so much, i can’t believe you actually feel the same” a soft laugh escaped his lips, filled with relief and happiness. he brought one of his hands to your cheek, delicately caressing your skin. “can i be your boyfriend, then?” he asked, his lips curling up into a shy smile as he bit down his lower lip to keep it from spreading too much.

you didn’t answer his question with words. instead, you leaned in, catching his lips in a passionate yet slow kiss. his hand on your cheek moved down to your neck, while his other hand rested on your waist.

at that moment, it felt as if you were touching the sky with a finger. you felt loved in a way that warmed every layer of your heart, cared for in a way that melted every lingering doubt. but, most importantly, you felt seen — truly seen — for the first time.

[wincore]

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away AIO | haechan

pairing: haechan x baker!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, rivals (?) to lovers (?)

warning(s): quite possibly you will be inflicted with cringe, shameless scamming, mild swearing, one (1) innuendo

words: 5.4k

song recs: santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter, too late for chocolate? by kana hanazawa, like a raspberry by 宇宙ネコ子, honey by kara

a/n: ty to my queens lana and cat for gassing up this dumpster fire i wrote in a caffeine haze while watching my bf die every 20 secs in ds3. the initial plot was going to be far longer and more fleshed out but i fear i'm past my prime ( ._. )" i still hope you guys have fun with this one!! i got to play around with hallmark comedy far more this time, so overall it was a fun time writing <3 happy new year, my lovely mooncakes!!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 3h

I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

I (24F, small bakery owner) faked my engagement to get free cake samples at my rival bakery but the employee said I needed my fiance to be there. I panicked and grabbed the first guy to come through the bakery door after me. Turns out he’s not just some random customer. To top it off, he was ridiculously attractive even though he pissed me off every two sentences. I had a panic attack, told myself it’s totally not my fault, and moved on by baking fourteen cakes over the weekend. I thought I got away with it, but three days later, I got an email from him—he’s now suing me for “emotional damages” and “theft of pastries.” Am I doomed, or is this just karma with extra frosting?

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 2,701 Comments

bun_theory0222 • 2h

INFO: Did you at least try the samples? Were they worth the lawsuit? We’re all dying to know here.

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.2k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h

nah cuz why is he suing when he CLEARLY wants to flirt??? this man is embarrassing but so are you. somebody matched ur freak <3

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m

YTA why can’t this shit happen to me. AT LEAST I would commit to the bit.

➥ Reply ⥣ 420 ⥥

cerealfordinner0323 • 2h

Bro sued you just to slide into your life again. He’s not slick, and neither are you. Good luck with that wedding cake.

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. . .

If you could hop a few steps to the right, feign unconsciousness, and climb right into the active fireplace, it could potentially make everything okay. For you, that is. Not for the poor bakery employees who would have to call the cops. 

“I’m sure he’s a handsome one!” The girl behind the counter giggles, light pink dusting her cheeks. “You’re- you’re so gorgeous!”

Setting aside the fact that most gorgeous women you know end up with malformed gargoyles, your current predicament is almost equally sinister. What started as an innocuous process to gain free wedding samples (in other words, a scam) has led to a question that should be obvious but completely escaped your mind following your trailing success.

“We’ll need to have you come in with your fiance for the free wedding cake samplers. Is he around?”

Is he around?! Boy, you sure hope so. Because now you’re also frantically looking around with the employee after you blurted out another lie: “He’s going to be here soon!”

When did you turn into a compulsive liar? You’re not sure if your mom would be proud of you for being so good at nabbing free food, or disappointed that you’re a filthy liar. After all, she did tell the buffet employees you were under 10 all the way till you were 14. So, really, you’re not the source of the problem! You brush your festive red skirt of invisible crumbs, trying to busy yourself.

The cafe itself is well decorated for Christmas—a silver reindeer bores holes into your head from by the front door, a small Christmas tree stands at the center that’s a little emaciated but the cute Sanrio ornaments in Santa hats make up for it, and most importantly, a beautiful Mont Blanc cake sparkles from atop the glass counter. (Seriously, why didn’t you think of this? Your own bakery is all sparkles and no play.)

You move out of the way of other customers, and casually glance at the source of your awe and joy. Powdered sugar dusts the top as idyllic snow, covering the sugared cranberries and sugared chestnuts, not dent in them under the white fondant star. The base of the cake is tied with an edible red ribbon, completing the seasonal aesthetic of it. A sigh rests momentarily upon your lips before it escapes. 

You love Mont Blanc cakes, but you never quite get it right. That’s your biggest failure as an up-and-coming baker, and such is the reason for your unhinged serial sampling scam. You swear it started off as a search for inspiration in a creative rut but before you knew it, a lie had spilled from your eclair-sweetened lips, and another, and another. 

It is at this point that you briefly consider bolting for the door. Tibet is great around this time of the year. Maybe if you convert to a monk lifestyle and atone for your sins, you’ll be granted a pardon in the form of delicious sweets. Before you can make your escape, however, the front door jingles, and in strides a sight unbelievably reassuring. A man with caramel hair enters, who might as well be wrapped in a giant red ribbon and seated atop a snow-white horse in golden ornaments.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Hallelujah! They still apply to you.

His smile—soft and sweet as meringue hearts—lights up the room as he inhales the warm, sugary air of the bakery. You’re hit with the vaguest sense of familiarity. He might be one of the few customers you get these days. For a moment, you falter. Are you really going to victimize this stranger?

Yes. Yes, you are. The situation is dire.

“Hi darling!” You exclaim within earshot of the employee, before lowering your voice. “Could you help me out a little here?”

The man blinks, dazed for whatever reason. “Uh… sure?”

“Okay, then follow along and ask questions later,” you reply, and loop your arm through his gingerly. The touch of his fuzzy winter coat makes you relax a little. It is chocolate-colored, with beige fluff around the collar. Not now, you think to yourself, You need to stop thinking about sweets for one goddamn moment.

“Here he is,” you laugh sheepishly as you bring the man forward. Gosh, what in the heavens are you doing? You didn’t even ask his name. 

The employee stares, jaw agape. What’s with the reaction? He’s not that hot. 

“O-oh,” she responds. “That’s quite the surprise. I never knew. Congratulations, sir!”

You turn to look at him. He simply scratches his chin with a sheepish smile, and manages to respond with a “Thanks, Kimi.”

He must be a regular, you think. Oh, (Name), what did you get yourself into? You’re just gonna have to read his name off his coffee order first.

“We have a selection of samples for our wedding cake choices,” the girl, Kimi, moves to the far side of the counter, offering a small menu card to the two of you. “I know you’re not a big fan of wedding cakes, Mr. Lee, but the latest tiramisu flavors should suit your tastes, no?”

Just how close are they?! You chew on your lip and try to calm your depraved little heart.

“Well,” he responds, thinking for a second, “I actually hadn’t thought this far. What do you think, honey?”

He turns to you with a radiant smile, but you sense a hint of mischief. You don’t have time to think of that though—so you just change the topic. 

“Actually, do you have a Mont Blanc flavor? I’ve always had trouble perfecting it myself.”

Truth be told, that ‘honey’ had flowed from his lips and struck you straight in the heart. He’s not too bad to look at, you think now. His tousled hair catches the light with a playful sheen, framing his face and accentuating his disbelieving smile, while his fluffy coat adds a cozy touch to his charming, boyish demeanor. If you were to overthink a little, you’d find a hint of mischief in his voice. Alas, you’re a simple girl who only overthinks sweet treats, not boys.

“You bake?” He blurts, before his ears turn red from realization.

Kimi shoots him a puzzled look and your breath hitches in your throat. Was the miracle an idiot in disguise?

“I mean, uh, gosh, you make me so nervous, honey.” He looks like he’s trying his very best to ace an exam he never studied for. “I meant to ask if you're going to bake.. today? Don’t look at me like that.” 

Maybe you should’ve picked a candied apple and prayed that a witch had poisoned it. You can’t even force out a smile at that pathetic save.

“You’re a lucky man, Mister,” Kimi jabs, a look of distrust in her eyes before they flash to you. “I’m afraid Miss (Name) in a wedding dress would make me drop dead at the altar.”

“Oh, you- you flatter me,” you choke out, “I promise you wedding gowns aren’t my thing at all. Besides, you’d look beautiful in white yourself.”

Why is she so into this wedding conversation? How close are these two? You’re not sure how to react, and neither do you know how this man is going to explain your mysterious disappearance the next time he visits the bakery. You’re sure as hell not going to continue the act beyond this. It’s time you retired from this scam business. You’re not even sure how you’ll talk your way out of this with the man, currently engaged in small talk with Kimi. 

And— is he blushing?! Does he have something going on with the girl—Kimi? Did you just ruin something? Your heart tightens a little, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to the floor, head in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. When you open your mouth, you are interrupted.

“Actually, Miss, I think I take back what I said about the handsome part,” Kimi jokes, evident disdain sent towards Donghyuck.

Your natural response is a little laugh that leaves before you know it. Maybe, the feelings you sensed were of unrequited resentment. He does have the kind of face that looks like it’s often smacked by girls. No offense to him.

Kimi hands you the first sample (two delicious slices of Mont Blanc) and excuses herself to fetch the rest. The two of you make your way to a booth with the heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced. You might as well be at a funeral.

“So… free samples are that good, huh?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way,” he responds with a youthful laugh. “Might I have the honor of knowing my fiance's name?”

“(Name). And stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a short breath.

“You know, maybe we should’ve pretended it was an arranged marriage.”

“Quite proficient in the scamming business, are you?”

“Oh, you’re better off not knowing my dirty secrets.”

You couldn’t care less about his secrets but the look you shoot at him is certainly dirty.

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him to absolve yourself first. “Listen, I don’t do this often. And I’ll have you know it’s nothing personal. Well, not against you. The owner of this place maybe.”

Donghyuck blinks. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all for being a hater with my fiance.”

You stare at him, not impressed.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so this started a month or two ago. I had been working tirelessly, testing recipe after recipe, trying to perfect the Mont Blanc cake. It was my dream to make it iconic, you know? But before I could even settle on the perfect combination of flavors, some smug bastard opens a bakery right across from me. And what does he have as his specialty? Why, the Mont Blanc cake of course. Seasonal! Cute, elaborate new decor every two weeks! Just how rich is he? I bet he doesn't even bother to create his own recipes. This guy didn’t just steal my idea, he’s turned my passion into some overpriced, generic trend!”

You heave, tired from the onslaught of frustration. Chewing on your lower lip, a pout naturally makes its way onto your face, and so do more complaints. 

“And that’s not all, okay? I never see him at the bakery. I refrain from entering my competitors' establishments unless I greet them in person. But this asshole is just never there! What, is he too good to work at his own bakery? Too good to grace us lowly bakers with a visit? How could he just swoop in and steal my signature item?”

Donghyuck listens to your rant with intent, cheek resting against his palm. He even looks a little ridiculously charmed right now. 

“Wait… so you’re the infamous Free Cake Phantom everyone’s talking about?” He gasps.

You’ve finally turned to your poor, neglected Mont Blanc sample, just for your heart to jump out. “What?”

“Just kidding. Your secret is safe,” he says, digging into the cake with infuriating nonchalance. “But hey, you’ve got good taste. This Mont Blanc though? It’s my personal recipe.”

Your fork halts halfway to your mouth. “Your recipe? What, you work here or something? And, no offense, but it’s overwhipped.”

If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny. The man looks more like a confectionary than a confectioner. There’s no way he works here. He’s probably some jobless guy drifting from bakery to bakery on early Saturday mornings.

His jaw drops. “Overwhipped? Are you kidding me?”

You wave the fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Chestnut puree shouldn’t have the texture of mousse. It’s called finesse, Mr. Lee.”

Before he can respond, Kimi returns with another tray, and you slip back into character, placing your hand on Donghyuck’s. “Thank you,” you coo at her. “I can’t wait to share all these flavors at our wedding.”

Donghyuck stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he recovers quickly, plastering on the fakest grin known to man. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Kimi laughs. “You’re such a lovely couple. When’s the big day?”

You freeze, and so does Donghyuck. For a moment, neither of you has an answer.

“Oh, we’re still, uh, deciding,” you blurt, glancing at him for backup.

“Yeah, we’re thinking spring,” he adds smoothly. “Cherry blossoms. Very romantic.”

“Y-yes. Maybe the Raspberry Rose should be in the winner’s spot then.”

As Kimi bows politely and walks away again, Donghyuck leans in to whisper. “Should I book the honeymoon now, or…?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs. 

He makes a pained sound, but recovers quickly. 

The second flavor is dubbed “Marble Eclipse”, a decadent blend of rich chocolate and vanilla, perfectly balanced with a luscious buttercream frosting. You try to focus on the taste, but Donghyuck’s smug grin as he watches you take a bite is more distracting than you’d like to admit. You’re not easily flustered, not by men. Unfortunately, he would have been the exact type you’d have tried to nab in college.

You shake your head. Focus, (Name), you think to yourself, You’re in the enemy’s lair right now!

“So… I might as well come clean,” Donghyuck says with a serious tone, right after you’ve taken a bite. You pause in horror. What arcane knowledge is he going to use for your humiliation this time?

“I visit your bakery often, and I must say your selection is just as good, if not better.”

You exhale.

“Oh, it’s better alright,” you retort, before realizing the unwarranted passion in your voice. You compose yourself. “I mean, maybe their Mont Blanc is… a solid competitor.”

Donghyuck laughs, clearly amused by the bashfulness on your face.

“Wait, are you patronizing me?”

“Of course not!” He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I think the difference is that this one keeps up with the youth.” He waves his fork about, explaining his point further. “Everyone loves new, shiny things. Cycle those as much as possible. Have you ever considered holding blind box events with your cupcakes? I’m sure the kids would love to find out which flavor of panda bear cupcake they got—matcha, my personal favorite, or coconut cream, or… god forbid, chocolate mint. Ugh. Have you considered removing that from the menu? Anyway, that shouldn’t take too much time and money, right?”

The youth? What is he, forty? However, however, the look on his face as he describes your own baked goods to you is enough to make you intensely flustered. Has this man visited so often? And you never noticed him? How could you miss that easy-going smile?

A familiar figure saves you from whatever awkward, garbled response you were going to muster.

Despite Kimi’s arrival, Donghyuck has a hard time taking his eyes off you. Lashes swaying with each flicker of his eyes over your face, he’s hardly taking a bit of the delicious marble cake, in fact. What, have you got something on your face?

Kimi apologizes profusely before you can say anything to greet her. 

“There’s only one slice prepared for the Tiramisu Dream sample,” she explains. “I’m so sorry about this. Would you mind sharing this one? I apologize again.”

“No worries, Kimi,” Donghyuck responds, laughing a little. You shake your head and reassure it’s alright too. 

Anyway, that slice is going to be yours. You’re ready to pry it from his cold, dead hands.  

To your surprise, though, he shoots a friendly smile at you. 

“Want the first bite?”

“May I?” You ask, just to be sure.

“By all means,” he says, gesturing grandly. “After all, what’s mine is yours, fiance.”

You swear, if he calls you that one more time, he’s going to end up in the cake display.

Kimi stares at the two of you blankly for a moment. It instantly flusters you and Donghyuck both, so much so that the idiot digs his fork into the cake slice and holds it up to your lips with a soft ‘ah’ —and so much so that you actually accept it graciously. 

And all that only for Kimi to not even notice as she excused her way back to the counter. So now you’re just two idiots deep in your romantic charades. Donghyuck clears his throat, too late to cover his coral-tinted cheeks and ears. You’re certain you wear a similar expression.

“You’re- you’re so weird,” you jab, unable to come up with an insult higher than middle school grade. 

“What, you wanted me to do airplanes too?!”

“Take that fork and drive it through your tongue, will you?”

“Woah, woah, no need for violence, Miss (Name). Peace and Love.”

Unexpectedly, it makes you break character into unbound laughter. The weariness of the act and the silliness of the whole situation leaks into the sound, and it’s enough to make Donghyuck join in. For passersby, you are just a couple already past your third, fifth and seventh dates.

“Any comments for the tiramisu cake?” Donghyuck asks, grinning ear to ear.

You catch your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I have a comment: who puts this much cocoa powder on top? Are you trying to choke your customers?”

“Awh, and I thought you were gonna be nice,” he whines, “Your smile is just so… inviting.”

As if on cue, he chokes on the cocoa powder. 

“I still like it,” you continue. “I’d just do it better.”

“I have the utmost confidence in that.”

Gosh, his smile is nauseating—too bright, too easy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Maybe he’s a rising actor, and you’re the one being hoodwinked. After all, who looks at someone like that on a first meeting?

A moment passes, and suddenly his thumb is at the corner of your lips, brushing off the cocoa powder with a touch so casual it feels anything but. “Got it,” he murmurs, and the air between you shifts, warm and oddly heavy.

“So, how do you know all this?” you ask, changing the topic. You’re forcing yourself to focus, to breathe. 

He leans back, a small laugh slipping out like he’s grateful for the lifeline. “You- uh- you could say I’m a connoisseur of pastries,” he offers, his voice lighter now. “I like to sample the best around town—just, you know, legally. I even take notes of my favorites.”

He gestures towards you, and you scoff.

The words settle between you as you toy with the edge of your skirt, smoothing the fabric down over your lap. There’s something about the way he speaks—so casual, so effortless—that needles at you. For a man so annoyingly confident, he sure seems relieved to have redirected the conversation.

Your hand grazes the tiny snowman buttons on your cardigan, tracing the cold plastic absentmindedly. His gaze flickers to the movement, then back to your face, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. You don’t know what’s more embarrassing—getting outed as the Cake Thief or the fact that he’s bound to know he flusters you.

You tilt your head, giving him a skeptical look. “How professional of you.”

The bite in your tone is softening, and you don’t like it one bit.

He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey, it’s an art. Someone’s gotta appreciate it, right?”

The faint chatter of other patrons fills the room, but his presence sharpens the moment, making it feel like it’s just the two of you. For a fleeting second, you catch yourself wondering what kind of person would take notes on pastries for fun. It’s so bizarrely specific, so utterly unnecessary—and yet, so like him.

His smile deepens, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the traitorous grin threatening to break through. You refuse to indulge him, even as you feel the faintest crack in your defenses.

"Maybe,” you say, finally.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, before leaning back against his chair with a satisfied air, as if he’s won something. You glance at the tray, willing yourself to focus on anything else.

How awkward. How warm. 

You spot a napkin fluttering off the table, carried by a sudden draft from the door. Instinctively, you step out of your chair to grab it, but Donghyuck beats you to it, scooping it up with an exaggerated flourish and a bow.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he declares dramatically, holding it out like a trophy.

“More like my nuisance in sugar-stained armor,” you retort, snatching it from his hand.

He laughs, unabashed. “Ah, so sharp. Yet here you are, sharing cake with said nuisance. Life is full of mysteries.”

“I’m just here for the cake,” you deadpan, dusting your hands off.

For a second, his smile falters—not in hurt but in sheer disbelief. He tilts his head, studying you with an incredulous expression, and you suddenly feel like a frog under a magnifying glass.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, almost to himself, his voice low but still playful.

“Get what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Donghyuck presses his lips together, fighting back a grin. He steps closer, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of chestnut cream. “I mean, I could spell it out for you, but that might ruin the fun.”

“Spell what out?” you press, a little flustered now.

He straightens with a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing, you airhead. Absolutely nothing. Is your head full of cotton candy, by any chance?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, he’s already pulling his chair back, resuming his seat with a sigh.

“Mont Blanc, Marble Eclipse, and Tiramisu on the first date,” he states, deep in thought. “Maybe Matcha Lemon, Lavender Peach, and White Chocolate on the second… Perhaps a Red Velvet and a Strawberry Shortcake before you realize I literally own this place?”

You feel the heat intensify on your cheeks. You almost miss the last part, clouded by the implications of the rest of his words. He… wants to go on more dates with you? Was this a date all along? You’ve been swindled into having fun with a man somehow. He even knows the ins and outs of a baker’s life. And he’s charming in an oddball sort of way. You shouldn’t be feeling solidarity with this weirdo. But then again, somehow, his laugh is very… endearing. 

Wait a minute.

“You- you really own the place?!” A scream dies in your throat.

Donghyuck looks positively taken aback. “So you actually weren’t aware?!”

“What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know?! You described yourself as a connoisseur of pastries. I thought you were some kind of freelance failure so I didn’t pry!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, either that or you’re unbelievably rich. But then you don’t look it. Your sleeves have flour and oil stains on them, and your shoes are all dusty too, and there’s gold flakes in your hair—okay, how did I miss this?”

“Geez, way to judge someone by their looks. I’m not taking that from the local tart snatcher.”

The retort barely registers because your brain is too busy replaying the words “I own this place.” The realization hits, and before you can think better of it, the chair screeches back as you bolt upright.

“Wait, where are you—” Donghyuck’s voice is cut off by your shrill, mortified “Bye!” as you make a beeline for the door, leaving behind a very startled staff and a half-empty tray of cakes. Immediately after your exit, you let out a shriek. 

What the hell are you doing?!

Your face burns as you speed-walk down the street, each step punctuated by the memory of your impulsive retreat. You must have cast your senses away at that moment, like some wide-eyed fool in a fairy tale, almost charmed by that silly man and his absurd little quirks. It’s not your fault, of course—it’s his, with his flour-dusted sleeves, that stupidly endearing laugh, and the way he talked about pastries like they were a love language. What was wrong with him?! you think, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was your awkwardness and runaway theatrics that had caused the scene. You’d blame it on sugar overload if it weren’t for the nagging realization that maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten under your skin, and the fact that you deserved it.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Not after your embarrassing getaway. But three days later, you’re staring at an email with the subject line: "Notice of Legal Action for Unauthorized Sampling."

You open it with trembling fingers, only to find what can only be described as the world’s most dramatic—and definitely fake—lawsuit. 

Your jaw drops as you scroll through the email. He’d even attached a fake case number: #CAKE-404-NO-FUN.

The body of the email was littered with ridiculous legalese. Phrases like "egregious acts of confectionery negligence" and "failure to properly appreciate artisanal craftsmanship" were scattered between absurdly specific accusations.

There is a diagram. An actual diagram. Arrows pointing to "Exhibit A" (the Mont Blanc) and "Exhibit B" (the empty spot on the tray), annotated with notes like "victim of hasty consumption" and "left to fend for itself."

And then, at the very bottom, there it was—the pièce de résistance:

“This suit may be settled by one (1) heartfelt apology and one (1) coffee date at the aforementioned bakery. Should you require legal counsel, I suggest bringing your A-game. I am, after all, a connoisseur of arguments… and pastries. 😉”

You groan, head thunking against the back of your chair. The audacity. The drama. The fuckass emojis. 

This man is getting to you.

Your first reaction is, of course, panic. Your second? Rage. And by the time you storm into the bakery at ass o’clock before it even opens, Donghyuck is waiting for you, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. (Which he does, actually.)

He’s propped on his elbows, his posture easy and unhurried, as if he’s been expecting you. The black apron around his waist is slightly askew, and his beige T-shirt bears faint streaks of flour across the chest, a testament to an already busy morning. His fluffy brown hair is an artful mess, the kind that looks unintentional but infuriatingly perfect, with a few errant strands curling over his forehead. There’s a streak of something golden—sugar, maybe?—on his cheek, catching the light as he tilts his head to regard you with an expression that’s equal parts curious and smug.

“You’re early,” he remarks, his voice low and teasing, as though he isn’t the root of all evil.

“You think this is funny?” you demand, shoving your phone in his face.

Donghyuck grins, unbothered. “Hilarious, actually. Did it get your attention?”

“You can’t just send someone a fake legal notice!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He shrugs, leaning back with infuriating calmness. “Besides, you owed me an explanation for your Houdini act. You know, poor Kimi had to clear your tray. She almost cried.”

“She did not!”

As if on cue, Kimi pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, she absolutely did. It was tragic,” she deadpans before ducking back in.

You groan, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. “You’re unbelievable.”

Donghyuck leans back, smug as ever, and gestures to the email still open on your phone. “Unbelievable or resourceful? Let’s review: I sent a single, harmless message—full of creativity and wit, I might add—and look where we are.”

“At me wanting to strangle you?”

“At you running right to me,” he corrects, his grin widening. “What, were you worried?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap. “I’m here because—” 

You stop, realizing you don’t have a decent answer. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I took you seriously.”

“Oh, you absolutely took me seriously.” He nods sagely. “I saw the panic in your eyes. Admit it: for a second, you thought you were going to have to pay me a hundred grand or grovel at my feet.”

“I- ugh- fuck you!” is all you can muster, stepping forward without thinking.

He mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by degrees. 

“But seriously, you ghosted me, and I had to get creative. What the hell was I supposed to do? I figured the legal drama might get my point across.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to see you again.” The words come out so easily, so matter-of-fact, you don’t know how to respond. When you finally glance up, he’s watching you closely, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“Just because you’re all cute and covered in flour like the star of some indie chef movie doesn’t mean you get to toy with me.”

“Ha! You’re presumptuous—despite all the fine details on me you seem to observe.” He leans in. “But guess what, I’m a greedy bastard that loves attention. So, look closer.”

And you look anywhere but his lips, too pink and too plush, as your face grows hotter than a convection oven on broil.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you manage, staring resolutely at the display of cakes. “That hardly counts as details.”

“Details,” he echoes, his grin growing wider. “Like the way I look at you?”

“You’re just a flirt,” you mutter.

He gasps, mock-offended, and gestures dramatically to the kitchen. “Kimi, did you hear that? I’m just a flirt!”

“You said it, not me,” Kimi calls back without missing a beat.

You laugh despite yourself, the sound surprising you. And Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. His gaze softens, the teasing edge in his voice dropping slightly. “There it is. I knew you could laugh without running away.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, the air shifts, the humor giving way to something quieter. Donghyuck’s gaze lingers—not on your awkward posture or flushed cheeks, but on you, as though trying to piece together something he doesn’t quite understand.

“What?” you finally ask, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but there’s a small, genuine smile now. “Just... you’re such a fidgety person.”

“Are you trying to shell out an insult?”

“No, I mean, I always see you scuttling here and there. Always on the move. Always observing, but never stopping long enough to be seen. You just… don’t seem like someone who takes much time for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s crossed a line.

“I’m wrong?” he asks, almost sheepishly.

“I—” You pause, unsure of how to respond. “You’re nosy, that’s what you are.”

“That’s a yes,” he decides, grinning again.

Donghyuck chuckles, leaning just a little closer, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. “Tell you what,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’ll prove I’m not just nosy. Let me take you out. Somewhere you don’t have to bolt out the door halfway through.”

“You think I’d agree to that?” you retort, though your words lack bite. The proximity is doing something to your brain, and you’re acutely aware of how close he’s leaned in.

His grin is confident and infuriating. “I think you’d be curious enough to say yes.”

Your breath hitches as you realize how little space is left between the two of you, your noses almost brushing. “Woah,” you whisper, trying to play it off, “my mommy warned me about boys like you. All up close and personal with flour in their hair.”

He raises a brow, unrepentant. “Smart woman. But she didn’t tell you we’re pretty good at first dates, did she?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, soft but genuine. “Fine,” you say, straightening up and taking a step back before your pulse betrays you further. “But you’re paying. And no weird cakes this time.”

“Deal,” he replies, his smile softer now, more sincere.

And for a moment, you believe it—not just the act, not just the cakes and the banter, but the idea that maybe, somehow, this strange, sugar-dusted series of events has led to something real.

. . .

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 16h

UPDATE: I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

Fine, you guys were right. We’re dating now. Let’s just say we’ve been filling my cream puffs lately  🫠

Edit: I also got the Mont Blanc recipe!!

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 3,297 Comments

kimikakes • 13h

KIMI HERE, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE: they literally argued over frosting consistency for half an hour yesterday. This relationship is built on chaos and croissants.

➥ Reply ⥣ 7.1k ⥥

bun_theory0222 • 2h

Hellooo where are the recipes. Priorities, OP :/

➥ Reply ⥣ 4.1k ⥥

lil_sugar_daddy0813 • 1h

man i was betting on donghyuck dying alone i dont wanna lose my $20

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h Give me your money NYEOW ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m why are you suddenly a furry ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h pays the bills ➥ Reply ⥣ 2.7k ⥥

[zorosangell]

I’ll request for Cora then! I don’t really know what to request tho 🤔 but I love all your writing so I’m sure I’ll love whatever you write. how about just general headcanons? thank you! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。corazon general and specific headcanons

synopsis: just some headcanons for the nine-foot tall blonde of my dreams

cw: none

a/n: this was so fun to write! thanks anon for the ask. i think i'm gonna open up my inbox for headcanons on other characters like kid or law or whatever

a/n 2: stay safe and rive carefully y'all. happy new year <3

general headcanons (you both are in a relationship)

— while i've seen others view cora as an overall shy, introverted person, i actually think the opposite, at least in some cases

— granted, he's not shouting from the mountain tops or actively going out of his way to talk to others, he is very extroverted with the people he knows and trusts

— like you, queen <3

— he likes to tell jokes and use his clumsiness to make you laugh, even if it isn't on purpose most of the time

— and when you do, he feels like he's on top of the world

— he's also very protective of you

— certain things in your relationship he likes to take a back seat on, but your safety is not one of them

— he's seen some things, and he'll be damned if something happens to you because of his negligence

— in a crowded room, he'll position himself behind you, acting as a guard dog as he keeps tabs on all possible threats

— in a bar, he'll keep a watchful eye on your drink and make sure an arm is around your waist at all times

— on the sidewalk, he will always, always make sure he's on the street side

— but that ties in with him being a perfect gentleman

— that being said... YOU NEVER HAVE TO PAY FOR ANYTHING

— actually gets offended if you try

— you're his lady; when you're with him, you don't lift a finger

— he may be on a marine's salary but when it comes to you he acts as if he has all the money in the world

— loves to splurge on you

"aw, baby, look! that necklace would look great on you, wouldn't it!"

"cora, honey, it's 90,000 berries... and you just got me a 70,000 berry bracelet last week"

"and?"

— honestly not very opinionated, doesn't really have many preferences when it comes to material things

— often has you order for him at restaurants, or pick out his clothes for the day

— hates arguing and fighting in general (though arguments are few and far between for you both anyway)

— if you don't like kids, that might be a bit of a deal breaker, seeing as law is a large part of his life

— not only that, but if you just are not a kind or decent person, this is not the man for you

— but trust, if you hit it off with law, you will have this man's heart forever (easier said than done tho)

specific headcanon (story-ish i guess)

— for the sake of whatever, let's say you're the nurse of doflamingo's crew (by circumstance, you're still a good person)

— when you first joined, cora was floored by your beauty; like actually, he fell flat on his face when doflamingo introduced you to the crew

— he was baffled that someone like you was a pirate, and even more so when you opened your mouth to reveal that you were incredibly kind and warm hearted

— (he would later learn that you had been blackmailed by his brother into joining the crew—the warlord promised no harm would come to your family if you joined him)

— initially, he was both enamored and suspicious, seeing as only those with cruel intentions joined his brother's crew

— but as time went by, he was quick to learn that it was quite the opposite, and quick to grow a certain fondness for you

— i imagine cora as a slow burner, so of course all of this happens over a decent amount of time

— but within that time you manage to weasel your way into his heart

— being the ship's nurse, you are always tasked with patching him up after his mishaps

— even though you do slip up and let out a chuckle or two, it never comes from a place of malice, unlike the others

— and even still, you scold and warn him about being careful around fires and hot liquids

— though, most of the time, it goes in one ear and out the other

— sometimes he's too preoccupied with your soft hands on him, or your pretty eyes locked with his

— sidebar: he blushes like a school girl because of his fair skin, i'm talking full on tomato

— anyway, it isn't long before you two become incredibly close

— communicating is a bit of a hassle given his silence, but he appreciates your constant effort

— he makes a point to keep you as far away from doflamingo as possible, often sending you on "errands" to avoid the two of you from interacting

— and when he can't do that, he floats around, not straying too far away as his brother pulls you aside for a chat or asks you to check a pain on his abdomen (barf)

— that doesn't just apply for his brother, btw

— he does that for everyone on the crew, executive or not

— no one gets you on your own without him knowing about it

— on the outside looking in it might sound stalker-ish, but in his mind he justified it as performing his duty as a marine

— all he was doing was protecting a helpless... sweet-smelling... adorably-laughing... angel-looking... young woman

— but in actuality, he was protecting his dream girl

— his dream girl who absolutely loves kids! (if you don't, then, once again, cora might not be the one for you)

— you always treat baby 5 and buffalo with such kindness, even when they act like little monsters; making sure they take their baths, making sure they eat, giving them their monthly check-ups

— it's one of the many things cora loves about your personality

— as well as nurse, you play the role of nanny to the kids onboard

— and your mothering only expands when law and dellinger join the crew

— fast forward to when cora is about to take law away, he comes to you first, severely surprising you by reciting a passionate dissertation as to why you should join him

— he couldn't imagine leaving you behind in the clutches of his brother; no protection, no one to shield you from the horrors of the family

— so it was only natural that his heart fell to his ass when you declined, but your reasoning was that doflamingo still had your family hostage

— though, on one particular night, when you had happened to walk past the door to his study, you overheard him talking to the other executives about how gullible you were, as he had killed your family years ago

— distraught, you ran away with cora and law that night

— and it was bbq chicken from there...

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Tower Moments °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Unserious behavior, (some) inaccuracies bc lets face it, even if you are an F1 fan you still get things wrong (😭), fighting w Franco and ofc another crash

Note: Happy new year everyone! I can’t believe we’re already halfway through the series. This year has been such a rollercoaster with so many ups and downs, hopefully we get to see more of that in F1 soon, more ups than downs (and hopefully more of Franco). Love you all and thank you for the unbelievable support once again!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

@f1obsessed123 not y/n ditching williams for mclaren out of nowhere. girl, what happened?? 💀 #vegasgp

@pitlaneee from being ‘casual’ with franco, to now being a papaya girl? y/n’s really committed to keeping us on our toes 😭

@oversteerchic i need answers. y/n has been repping williams all season, and now she’s mclaren? what is going ON? 😳

@dr3hyper not people acting like she didn’t rep vcarb AND mclaren before she was even over at williams

@f1teaspiller okay but hear me out: y/n switched teams because of franco. i’m connecting the dots, people🕵️‍♀️

The Las Vegas Grand Prix buzzed with its usual energy—fans flooding the paddock, the flashing lights of the Strip in the background, and the distinct hum of engines roaring in the garages.

You’d been invited to both Williams and McLaren hospitality for the weekend, but somehow, you found yourself seated in McLaren’s bright, sleek lounge, a papaya lanyard around your neck.

The decision to hang out with McLaren wasn’t entirely intentional—or maybe it was. You’d started the day visiting the Williams garage, exchanging friendly hellos and taking a few casual photos for your social media. But by evening, your Instagram story was a full-blown McLaren takeover.

“Alright, one more time,” Lando said, tossing a playful arm around your shoulder as he grinned at the camera.

The McLaren PR team snapped away, and Oscar stood to your other side, holding up a peace sign.

“You know, this is the most McLaren content I’ve ever posted,” you joked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you handed your phone to Lando to snap a selfie.

“Well, welcome to the better side of the paddock,” Lando quipped, smirking. “Papaya looks good on you, by the way.”

Oscar chimed in, his tone light but teasing. “Careful, Lando. She’s supposed to be neutral.”

“I’m just visiting,” you laughed, but the comment hung in the air longer than you intended.

You glanced at your phone, the likes and comments piling up.

— Y/N in the McLaren garage?? WHAT IS HAPPENING???

— Not her switching to McLaren… does Franco know about this??

— Wait, did they break up?? She’s with Lando and Oscar now???

The whispers in the paddock weren’t far behind. When a friend forwarded you a post from a popular F1 gossip page a few days after the Brazilian Grand Prix, your stomach dropped.

Franco had been spotted with someone else—a woman who was older and carried a reputation for stirring trouble.

The caption read: Franco Colapinto seen with an unexpected companion after the Brazil race… trouble in paradise with Y/n?

“Great, just what I needed,” you muttered under your breath, seeing Franco walking by as you scoff in disbelief.

“What’s up?” Lando asked, leaning over to peek at your phone. His eyebrows shot up as he read the caption. “Yikes. That’s… not great.”

Oscar glanced over, frowning. “Wait, is that about Franco?”

You nodded, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Apparently. They’re already calling him a cheater and a liar.”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. “Gossip pages will say anything for clicks. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

“Still,” you said, your voice quieter now, “it’s not exactly fun to see.”

“You okay?” Oscar asked, his expression genuinely concerned.

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just… it’s a lot. People are already jumping to conclusions.”

“Well, if you’re hanging out with us out of spite,” Lando teased, trying to lighten the mood, “at least let me know so I can make it look convincing.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite the tension swirling in your chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Norris. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Good,” Oscar said, his tone soft but firm. “Because you’re always welcome here.”

As the night wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the pointed stares from fans in the paddock and the occasional murmur of your name as you passed by. The drama was snowballing fast, and the gossip pages were eating it up.

Later, as you sat in the McLaren hospitality suite, sipping a glass of water to calm your nerves, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from one of your friends.

“You’ve seen the rumors, right? Are you okay?”

You sighed, staring out at the track as the lights of Vegas twinkled in the night, creating a show of the glitz and glamour that came with sin city.

“Yeah,” you whispered to yourself, though you weren’t entirely sure it was true.

The day Franco was spotted with the woman, the weight of the rumors and the sight of him with someone else hit you like a freight train.

The feeling was immediate—raw, painful, and, for some reason, unsettling. You hadn’t expected to care this much, but there it was, gnawing at you.

In a daze, you pulled your phone from your bag, your hands trembling as you tapped his contact. The call rang through, the usual excitement of hearing his voice now replaced by a thick, uneasy silence.

“Pick up, Franco,” you muttered under your breath, as if the words themselves could will him to answer.

The phone clicked, and you almost sighed in relief when you heard his voice. “Hey, Y/N,” Franco said, a faint edge of surprise in his tone. “What’s up?”

Before he could say anything else, you cut straight to the point, your words coming out in a rush. “I saw the pictures. What the hell, Franco?”

There was a long pause, and then the sound of rustling—likely him running a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about?”

“The woman,” you spat, feeling your heart race. “With you. Out in the city that night. Don’t play dumb.”

His voice hardened, but you could still hear the confusion. “Y/n, relax. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “Then explain it to me, because it sure as hell looks like you’re out here with someone else.”

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is,” Franco said, his voice losing its patience. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” You were incredulous now, the words tumbling out. “Why are you even with her, then? What is it, Franco? Am I just some sort of… game to you? I thought you’d at least care a bit more to not humiliate me like this.”

Franco sighed, and the exasperation in his tone made your stomach churn. “Y/N, we’re not even actually dating. Why do you care so much?”

The words hit you like a slap, ringing in your ears. The hurt was immediate, settling deep into your chest as if your heart had been crushed.

You took a step back, forcing yourself to breathe, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, that’s it? Our friendship and everything nothing? This whole thing… it was just some game to you?”

There was a long pause before Franco’s voice came through, distant and unbothered. “Y/N, it was just for fun. You know that.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to ignore the sting of insecurity creeping in. He didn’t need to remind you—it was fake dating, you knew that. But hearing him say it so plainly made something inside you twist.

You exhaled, your response barely a whisper. “Yeah, I get it.”

The line went silent, and for a moment, you just stood there, trying to steady your breath, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.

Franco’s voice softened, but you could hear the distance in it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, okay? It’s just... complicated.”

But you didn’t have the energy to respond. The weight of everything crashed over you—his words, the rumors, the disappointment. “I need space,” you muttered, your voice shaky. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You ended the call without waiting for him to respond, the screen of your phone flickering as you stared at it, your finger hovering over the end button for longer than necessary.

Another lump formed in your throat, and for a moment, you just stood there in silence, the reality of it all settling on your shoulders like an unbearable weight.

The connection between you and Franco, whatever it had been, felt like it had snapped in that moment.

You tried to reach out a few more times over the next couple of days—texts, DMs, trying to keep up the act—but each time, the words you typed felt hollow.

The distance between you grew, and without him, the pretenses seemed meaningless.

The final straw came when he didn’t respond to one of your messages, and it was then that you realized—he wasn’t even trying anymore.

With a heavy heart, you stopped contacting him altogether.

liked by landonorris, lettiemng and others.

ynbardot vegas day 1 (feat. spontaneous dinner w friends) x

lilymhe stunning baby!

flavy.barla oh you’re glowing sweet girl

ln4enthusiast wait, lando in y/n’s post? did her and franco break up or...?

You tried your best to hide the knot in your stomach as you scrolled through your phone, the news of Franco’s crash during qualifying still weighing heavily on you.

His name was all over the timeline, and despite what you told yourself about keeping your distance, you couldn’t shake the worry.

You knew he was fine, but the image of him in the car, skidding out of control, kept replaying in your mind. You could feel your anxiety building, but you told yourself not to overthink it.

“Y/n, you good?” Lando’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you glanced up to see him giving you a concerned look.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly replied, forcing a smile. You didn’t want to seem distracted, especially with Lando walking you through the paddock on your way to McLaren hospitality. You had a job to do, after all.

But as you rounded a corner, you froze. There, standing near the McLaren hospitality, was Franco. His posture was relaxed, but his usual easygoing demeanor seemed off.

The second his eyes met yours, the tension in the air was palpable, even though he gave you a small, almost apologetic smile.

Lando, always the sharp one, raised an eyebrow as he glanced between you and Franco, clearly aware of the history between you two.

“Wait, why are you here, Franco?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he looked from you to the McLaren hospitality.

Franco’s gaze flickered uncomfortably for a second before he shrugged, his tone nonchalant but a little too forced. “Just... visiting. Thought I’d say hi, you know?”

Lando raised another eyebrow, clearly confused. “You visiting McLaren? That’s a new one.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the situation. Franco’s smile was faint, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to navigate this, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to downplay the tension between you.

“Yeah, well... small world, right?” you said, trying to steer the conversation away from the awkwardness.

Lando, still eyeing Franco with a skeptical look, finally shrugged. “Alright, alright. Anyway, let’s head inside before the hospitality people think we’re getting into trouble out here.”

The three of you walked in, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Lando wasn’t quite buying the situation. The entire moment felt strange, but you pushed it to the back of your mind, following them into the McLaren lounge.

Later that evening, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. Franco’s name flashed on the screen, and despite the mix of frustration and confusion swirling inside you, you hesitated for only a moment before answering.

"Y/n," Franco's voice came through, sharp but laced with something else. "What was that back there with Lando? That whole... thing? What's going on with you?"

You leaned back against the hotel room wall, taking a deep breath. You had tried to shake off the tension, but hearing his voice again stirred everything you were trying to avoid.

You swallowed your annoyance, but it came out in your tone.

"Why do you care so much about who I’m with? We aren’t even dating, Franco," you said, the words harsher than you intended.

The silence on the other end was deafening, and you immediately regretted the way they’d come out. But the damage was done.

Franco's voice was quieter when he spoke again, though you could still hear the frustration beneath it. “Forget it, Y/n. It’s not worth it.”

You could feel the weight of the conversation hanging between you, thick and uncomfortable, but you refused to let it drag you down.

"Fine," you replied, voice almost flat. "We’re not dating, so what does it matter?"

“Yeah, right," Franco said with a sigh. "Just... forget it, alright? It's not worth this."

He hung up before you could respond, leaving you with the feeling that, despite everything, something had shifted. You sat in the silence, your phone still in your hand, wondering what exactly was worth it.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[mywhisperingwords]

the end of the beginning | fred g. weasley

summary: the new year is perfect to leave behind the past and start a new beginning word count: 1.9k masterlist

The Burrow was alive with music, chatter, and bursts of laughter. People moved through the crowded living room, glasses clinking as they toasted to the year that had been and the one yet to come. You were here because you had to be. That was what you told yourself, anyway.

Ginny had insisted, Molly had pleaded, and even George had joined in on the cajoling. You had no good excuse not to come. So here you were, holding a drink you’d barely touched, hovering near the window where the cold air seeped through the glass and pricked at your skin.

Fred was across the room. Of course he was.

You hadn’t spoken to him in months—not properly, at least. There had been plenty of chances, fleeting moments where his gaze caught yours across a room or his voice reached your ears in passing. But you’d always looked away, kept your words clipped and impersonal. He hadn’t exactly tried to stop you.

That was what stung the most.

“Not joining the fun?” George’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. He sidled up next to you, his expression unreadable.

“I’m fine here,” you said, your tone too curt to be convincing.

George hummed, his eyes drifting toward Fred. “He’s been acting weird all night, you know. Nervous, jumpy. Unusual for him.”

You didn’t respond, but your grip tightened around your glass.

George gave you a look, one that said he knew exactly why you weren’t replying. “You’re both being stubborn, you know that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, turning away.

“Sure you don’t.” George’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “Well, you’ve got about an hour to figure it out before the clock strikes twelve. Don’t waste it.”

Before you could say anything, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The next hour passed in a blur of meaningless conversations and forced smiles. Every time you caught sight of Fred, your stomach twisted, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go near him.

It wasn’t until the countdown loomed close that you found yourself cornered—literally.

You’d been trying to avoid the throng gathering near the fireplace for the countdown when you turned a corner and almost collided with Fred. He froze, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with something you couldn’t name.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, stepping back.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice low. “It’s been a while since we’ve been this close, hasn’t it?”

You swallowed, your pulse quickening. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “But can we… I mean, do we really have to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” you asked, though you both knew exactly what he meant.

Fred hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Pretending like nothing happened.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could respond, the room erupted into noise.

“Ten!”

The countdown had begun, and the voices of everyone around you drowned out whatever you might have said.

Fred didn’t move. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Nine!”

You felt the weight of his words, of everything unsaid between you, pressing down like a physical thing.

“Eight!”

For a moment, you thought about running. About slipping out the door and disappearing into the night. This situation between you didn’t feel like your fault at all.

“Seven!”

But Fred shifted closer, his presence impossible to ignore.

“Six!”

“We’ll talk,” he said suddenly, his voice almost lost in the cacophony. “After this. Okay?”

“Five!”

You nodded, unsure if you even had a choice.

“Four!”

Fred’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Good.”

“Three!”

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with a thousand things you wanted to say but couldn’t.

“Two!”

And then, just as the final number came, Fred leaned in close. His voice, soft and steady, cut through the chaos like a secret meant only for you.

“One.”

The room erupted. Cheers and laughter filled the air, fireworks bursting in vivid colors just beyond the windowpanes. The noise swelled, but it all seemed distant, muted, like you were underwater.

Because Fred kissed you.

It wasn’t hurried or hesitant—it was deliberate, certain, and heartbreakingly warm. For a fleeting moment, you froze, the weight of his lips on yours both unexpected and overwhelming. But as the initial shock ebbed, instinct took over. Your hand found its way to his chest, your lips pressing back against his, and the world around you melted away.

It ended far too soon, his forehead resting lightly against yours as his hands lingered at your waist. His breath mingled with yours, still catching up to the moment, while the noise of the party receded into a distant hum.

“You’ve been avoiding me all year,” he murmured, his voice low but heavy with emotion. There was no accusation, just an edge of something raw and unspoken.

You hesitated, the rapid thrum of your heart drowning out the noise around you. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” you whispered back, barely able to meet his gaze.

Fred’s forehead lifted from yours, his brows knitting in confusion. “Why in Merlin’s name would you think that?”

The hurt in his tone sent a pang through your chest. You blinked, trying to piece together an answer that didn’t make you sound entirely ridiculous. “Because of what happened. Because of—”

Fred sighed, his hand dragging down his face before resting at his side. “You still don’t know, do you?” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. “It wasn’t what you thought.”

Your stomach twisted at the vulnerability in his words. “What wasn’t what I thought?” you asked, your voice rising slightly with confusion and frustration.

Fred hesitated, his jaw tightening as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes locked onto yours, soft but filled with the weight of months left unsaid. “That day… in the Great Hall.”

And just like that, the memory hit you, sharp and vivid, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment to resurface.

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual pre-class energy, the clatter of silverware and hum of voices blending into a comforting white noise. You sat a few seats down from Fred and George at the Gryffindor table, absently nibbling on a piece of toast as your fingers turned the pages of your notes.

But something felt off. A tension hung in the air, subtle but sharp enough to prickle at the edges of your awareness.

Then you heard it—Fred’s voice, low and edged with frustration.

“She’s been driving me mad lately,” he muttered to George, stabbing his scrambled eggs with unnecessary force.

Your hand stilled, hovering over the page. Was he talking about you?

You tilted your head slightly, trying not to look too obvious as you strained to catch the rest of the conversation. But the hall’s noise swallowed George’s reply. Heart thudding in your chest, you shifted closer, abandoning any pretense of focus on your notes.

Fred huffed, shoving his plate aside. “It’s not that simple, George. She’s… exhausting.”

The word slammed into you like a bludger to the chest.

George’s laugh broke through the din, light and teasing. “Oh, right. How dare she exist and make you fall for her.”

Fred didn’t respond immediately, but his ears turned a deep shade of red—a telltale sign of embarrassment.

You tried to tell yourself they couldn’t possibly be talking about you. There were plenty of other girls Fred might find annoying, weren’t there? But as the conversation carried on, doubt began to creep in, coiling tight around your chest.

“Honestly,” Fred muttered, his voice quieter now, “I don’t even know why I bother. It’s not worth it.” He ruffled his hair in agitation, his hand lingering in the mess of red strands.

Your stomach twisted painfully, the toast on your plate now tasting like ash. Your vision blurred, hot tears threatening to spill over.

Fred Weasley—funny, kind, and someone you had thought of as your closest friend, maybe even more than a friend—had never seemed so far away.

You swallowed hard, pushing back your chair with a scrape that cut through the noise of the hall. Heads turned, and Fred’s eyes shot up to meet yours. His expression shifted instantly, his lips parting as if to say something.

“Hey—” he began, his voice soft, almost pleading.

But the hurt had already taken root, and you weren’t about to let him see just how deeply it had cut.

“Don’t bother,” you said, your voice like ice, though it wavered slightly on the edges.

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and strode out of the Great Hall, each step feeling heavier than the last. You refused to look back, even as George’s voice echoed faintly behind you.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.”

Fred sighed, his hand still resting on your cheek, his touch warm and grounding despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. His thumb traced a soft, hesitant circle against your skin, like he was afraid you might pull away.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice quiet but earnest. “I was an idiot for letting you walk away without explaining.”

You crossed your arms, though the vulnerability in his eyes made it harder to keep your guard up. “So what did you mean, then?” you asked, your tone sharp but your voice softer than you intended.

Fred groaned, dragging a hand through his hair in that familiar, frustrated way that made it stick up in every direction. “I meant…” He hesitated, glancing away before forcing his gaze back to yours. “I meant you drive me mad because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because every time you walk into a room, it’s like my brain short-circuits, and I forget what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice rooting you to the spot.

“And yeah, you’re exhausting,” he continued, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips. “But only because I’m constantly trying to figure out how to get your attention without looking like a complete fool.”

The weight of his words sank in, every syllable dissolving the knot that had been twisting in your chest for weeks. You blinked, caught somewhere between disbelief and relief, unsure of how to respond.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Fred added, his voice dropping to a whisper. His hand fell from your cheek, but only to grasp your hand, his fingers lacing with yours like he couldn’t bear to let you go. “I was frustrated with myself, not you.”

You stared at him, his confession leaving you speechless. The boy who was always so quick with a joke, so effortlessly charming, was now baring his soul in front of you—and it was both overwhelming and disarming.

“You’re such an idiot,” you said finally, but your words lacked any bite, your voice laced with a quiet fondness instead.

Fred’s lips quirked into a crooked smile, his eyes lighting up with something dangerously close to hope. “Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, “but I’m your idiot.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, but you didn’t let him off the hook just yet. “You’re going to have to work on that apology,” you said, though your tone had softened.

Fred leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His voice was low and filled with an unspoken promise. “Don’t worry. I’ve got all year to make it up to you.”

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

begging anyone for Vi x reader x Ellie

ANYTHING.

PUH LUH EASE

WUH LUH WUH

i’ve got you bestie you just might wanna have that therapist on speed dial, okay? soz… 🫣

death doesn’t discriminate

Vi x reader x Ellie

Summary: you were never jackson’s best fighter, you never had to be. you were of course taught the basics of self defense, and if you ever were being attacked and it was between you or them it had to be you… every single time. you just never expected to ever have to put those skills to use… unfortunately though whenever patrol goes awry and you encountered a group of bandits you had to, making your very first kill. obviously after the event you’re left traumatized, and its up to your girlfriends to pull you from the aftermath.

Contains/TW: takes place in the tlou-verse with arcane crossover characters because obviously, innocent and super sheltered reader, i’ve seen the discourse but i AM making it to where ellie CAN pick the reader up (because fuck you that’s why! 💜), told in 1st person, polyamory, set in jackson post-joel death HOWEVER obviously ellie didn’t decide to hunt down ms. girl again. mentions of murder, blood, and just gore in general and HEAVY implications of suicidal ideation. ((this is not meant to romanticize suicide in any way, i’m writing from my own personal experiences. if you or someone you know is struggling please get help. you are loved 💜)) Heavily based off of the song listed below including its lyrics that are obviously not my own creation but def wish they were 💔

WC: 2.2k

You think at some point you would grow used to death, it was always leering. Either a subtle shadow hanging by the back door or growing to overtake the whole compound. In some cases it was merciful, swiftly ending your pain through broken pleas or just pure exhaustion. But in other cases, and the ones I found to be most common, it was known to be rather violent.

I was surprised I even remembered what to do whenever the time came. A dreaded audition it felt like as I slowly trailed Ellie’s gaze to the switchblade in my back pocket, the cold press of a gun against my temple. I don’t think I even processed what had happened until I was backing away, staring at the dead body before me and the still warm blood now coating my hands. My breathing came out in startled gasps, shrieking in traumatized fear the moment I felt her arms wrapping around me from behind.

“It’s me, baby, it’s just me.” She whispered, taking me into her soothing arms even though I tried like hell to fight her off at first leaving streaks of blood in the shape of my hands against her shirt. She only held my trembling body to her chest as I tried to hold back the sobs.

‘You made one kill. Everyone here has at least made one kill. It shouldn’t affect you this much. You’ve lived your whole life letting other people do the dirty work for you, you should be able to make one kill. One measly little kill of a man who would’ve killed you had you not acted so fast.’ I guess I was the only one left who didn’t think the world was that black and white though.

~

I felt catatonic as we made our way back to Jackson, Ellie’s arms holding most of my weight. I half wanted her to leave me there, leave me there to bleed and be ravaged by whatever found me first. She never would though, even if it did mean she’d have less deadweight.

Vi never was a fan of the two of us going out on patrol without her. She always considered herself our guard dog, even over Ellie who could no doubt hold her own at this point. Many nights we still spent dozing off against her while she whispered to us that we were ‘her girls.’

“Vi, emergency.” I heard Ellie speak, my head a dull weight against her chest as she carried me through the front door.

“This is the last time the two of you go on patrol without me, I mean it this time, Els.” I heard her seething as her heavy boots nearly shook the whole house. “Is she hurt? Are you hurt? What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine but she… she had to-” Ellie held the words back, not wanting to speak them in front of me as I felt my body being placed on one of the old ratty recliners. Dead eyes staring forward, like every ounce of light had been winked out a long time ago.

Vi’s own soft blue eyes drifted downwards to the dry blood coating my still shaking hands, the quickest moment of understanding filling her expression. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” She murmured, the sentiment enough to bring forth a cascade of tears that I had been holding back until we were safely concealed in the walls again. “You did good though, doll, I need you to know that. You did amazing. Remember what we said, if it’s them or you it has to be you every single damn time.”

I sniffled through the ugly sobs with a shake of my head, I disagreed though I suppose I would always disagree. “She should’ve left me out there.” I finally spoke again after I had what felt like the inability to.

Quickly and without hesitation I could feel Ellie’s hand wrapping around my chin, gentle but firm as she turned my head to face her. “No, you aren’t allowed to say things like that.”

“Why not?” I shook my hand, eyes stinging and burning with tears as I watched her kneel in front of me with what looked like a wet washcloth.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” She didn’t answer me, carefully dabbing at my bloodied hands to wash all of the evidence away. Even though part of me wanted it to stay, tattoo the remnants of blood on my hands until I remembered who I was.

“Tell me why you shouldn’t have left me.” My voice shook as I repeated the question. Push until they finally said the truth. Push until they finally agreed to throw me to the wolves. Push and push and push… “I’ve been nothing but deadweight since I got here.”

“No.” Vi almost growled next, wrapping her own larger hand around my chin this time while I only stared back in defiance. “You are not deadweight, you are valuable and needed and- and we need you alive! I need you alive!”

“Darling, you don’t have to be a fighter to be important.” Ellie spoke next, much gentler than Vi had but still stern nonetheless.

It was hard to find a purpose to live in the apocalypse, I wasn’t sure where everyone found one. I knew Ellie had always had some terrible sense of self importance with the immunity. I guess over the years she had tried her hardest to transfer that to me. Some days it worked. Some days were good, amazing even. Gentle and soft days where I could dream about a world before the infection. A world I’m not sure I or Ellie ever remembered. Some days though, days like today, being reminded of that thought really changed things.

Vi had always been an ‘alive out of spite’ kind of person. Then one day Ellie and I rolled up into Jackson and turned her world upside down and shifted things for the better… that’s how she would tell it at least. She was slightly older, tougher, rough around the edges, but deep down I think she was secretly just lonely. She took us underneath her wing just as quickly as we arrived, all too happy to open her doors for us and things grew and built from there. But no amount of love or care I was given from the two was enough to cover up the fact, if I went outside of the walls something disastrous always managed to happen.

I was just simply deadweight. A bad luck charm if you will. These things never ended well.

“Baby, you’ve just had a bad day.” Vi shook her head as she took my own into her calloused hands. “That’s all it is, my love. We’re in the times of survival now, it’s kill or be killed and… I’m not losing either of you.”

I choked on another pathetic sob, hating myself more and more for every single one. Nevertheless though Vi pulled me into her, muffling the sounds of my cries into her shirt. Traumatized and shaking cries that I rarely actually allowed myself the luxury of, so whenever they came, they came all at once.

~

I fell asleep early that night. Vi running Ellie and I a bath to wash all of the dirt and grime from the disasterous patrol from our bodies. At some point I lost the strength to cry, but I felt like I had lost the strength to do most things. At some point over my sleeping body I had heard Ellie whispering to Vi though, to hide all of the guns, knives, switchblades, anything that could ever be used as a weapon. A mental patient in the middle of the apocalypse. Oh the irony.

“You think she would actually do something to herself?” Vi whispered in her hushed tone while Ellie gnawed anxiously at her already chipped nails.

“Yeah, I do.” She answered with a shuddering breath. “This is worse than Seattle and I- I already thought I was gonna lose her then- Vi, I’m not taking anymore chances.”

“Hey, listen, we’ll take care of her, okay? We’ve got her. We always do.”

“I hope so.” I could hear the rustling of clothes, no doubt an embrace she probably needed. An embrace they probably both needed. And I hated that I was the one who brought them there.

A moment passed and I had nearly managed to doze off again somehow in in the midst of it all just before I could feel the bed slightly dipping behind me. “Just me, you’re safe.” Ellie warned, waiting on my already exhausted muscles to relax before she slid her arms around me from behind. “I need to talk to you, okay?” She whispered against the back of my neck, my heavy eyelids fluttering open for a brief moment. “It’s okay, you can close your eyes. And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to just… just listen, okay?”

Her fingers gently stroked soothing lines along with arms, the sensation only making my eyelids want to droop even further. “I’ve always had a- a really strong urge to protect you, Vi and I both have. A-And I think you know that. So if you wouldn’t have killed that man I wouldn’t have hesitated. He doomed himself. The moment he laid a goddamn finger on you he doomed himself. And Vi would’ve done the same thing and I think you know that too. Hell, he wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to if Vi was there.” Her fingers slid through my own, a soft yet possessive grasp.

“I know you think I gave up looking for Abby because you were reckless a-and you got hurt and you ruined things. And you were reckless, and you did get hurt but… you didn’t ruin things. You- You just changed things, for the better.” Her lips brushed against my neck, an innocent gesture though had me tilting my head to grant her more access all the same. “You saved me, baby.” She muttered, burrowing her face right into the crook of my neck as she pulled my back in closer to her chest. “I- I could’ve spent my whole life hunting that girl down, because- T-Tommy did ask me to, you know?” Her voice cracked, the feeling of small tears dripping onto my skin, a very simple way to get them to spring up into my own eyes all over again. Just whenever I thought I had been all cried out.

“You- You actually told him no?” My bottom lip quivered as I slowly twisted around to face her, just to feel her own calloused hand against my face. “But I thought you- you promised-“

“It’s not going to bring him back, love.” She shook her head, glancing downwards as if in mild shame. “But whenever you went after me in Seattle and- you got hurt…” she brushed her fingers along the jagged scar slashed into my arm that she was more or less cradling. “I know you were knocked out and you don’t remember a lot of it but… i-it really scared the fuck out of me, y-you know? Like I could lose you. I-I could really honestly lose you and… nothing is worth that, baby. Not a single thing is worth that.”

Tears swam in my eyes as she pressed her lips to the wet streaks that stained them. “You’re an angel, my love. An angel on this absolute fucked up planet and I-I pity every single person that doesn’t get to know you like Vi and I do, you know?” She briefly disconnected her hand from my face to brush away her own tears only to let it snake through my hair as she tugged me back into her chest. “You’re innocent, and you’re kind and you didn’t let any of this take it away and- I hope you never do, honestly.” I felt her chest sinking as she took in a heavy breath and held me to her almost for dear life. Like she was afraid I’d slip away the moment I let go. “No amount of self-sought fury will bring that back… I’ve tried. S-So please, I know it’s hard to find a purpose in this life but… please baby, please stay with me. With us.”

I curled up to her side, resting a heavy head right against where I could feel her heart thumping so softly. The other side of the bed dipped and while I might have flashed back to that moment briefly Ellie’s arms wrapped around me so protectively were enough to pull me back down to earth. At least for a moment.

“My girls.” Vi’s voice followed next, her arm nearly long enough to stretch over the both of us as she brought us close to her with ease. I felt my back pressing against her muscular chest as she settled down next to us, taking her usual trusty spot closest to the door as always.

It was hard to promise survival during the end of the world, even safe within the walls of a community. But for that night I at least promised I wouldn’t do it on my own accord. Someday, somewhere, something would kill me, but it wouldn’t be at my own hand.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence.

Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

[neiptune]

santa, boy, you're the worst

cw: 3k wc, female reader, suggestive if you squint, oliver aiku is the most infuriating idiot you know and this holiday season you unfortunately discover he just so happens to also be maddeningly soft and generous at the community centre where he volunteers as santa for children in low-income families

“Here, this is where you can get changed”, Chiyo smiles kindly as she guides you into a small room filled with dusty boxes and christmas decorations, “thank you so much for doing this, we really needed some help this year”.

“Don’t mention it, I was really hoping you’d find a spot for me”, you take off your backpack and place it on an old table, “are you absolutely sure I’m going to be fine? Eiko said I just needed a costume but I’ve never-”

“Absolutely”, she vaguely gestures with one hand, “just follow Santa’s lead. He’s the one who’s good with kids”.

“I’ll just put this on, then”, you jut your bottom lip out, still not entirely convinced. She smiles again.

“I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be in the main hall!”.

They made a new elf costume just for you. Despite Eiko having a dreadful cold being a big bummer, you’re happy a few coincidences aligned to finally allow you to make something meaningful of the time you’d usually spend home, moping underneath a billion blankets.

There are no mirrors in the room, therefore you can only hope the costume looks good enough. You feel a bit ridiculous but, apparently, the hat is mandatory.

You leave your phone in your backpack and take out all the plastic bags filled with food instead: when you called her to inquire about what you could bring, Chiyo explained that they were all set with gifts but could’ve used some additions to the buffet. You brought all the alternatives for the kids whose gluten intolerance makes it hard to enjoy yummy snacks: carrot cake, peanut butter cookies, brownies, pizza, so many quiches. The previous day was spent cooking and baking but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The main hall is filled with colorful christmas decorations and a table so long, filled with so much food. Chiyo spots you right away and rushes to help you carry all the bags.

“I got this, you can go help Oliver”, she efficiently starts pulling out the containers and you’re flabbergasted for a second.

“Who?”

“Santa! They already started, go, go!”, she indicates the other end of the hall, where a guy in a Santa costume sits on a chair and all around him there’s a numerous group of children on the floor, fawning over him. A giant bag filled with what you can only guess are gifts, is placed at safe distance from pouty lips and grabby hands.

You make your way to them with a big smile, only slightly tense at the corners because you only know one guy with that name but what are the chances? He’s the most insufferable person you’ve ever met. A constant flirt with anything that moves, way too confident for his own good, so unfairly attractive and quick witted. What would he even be doing here, so close to the holidays? No, it must be another Oliver.

The way Santa spots you and instantly opens his arms, warm and welcoming, tells you otherwise. Fuck. You’re now close enough to recognize eyes no one in their right mind would be able to ever forget.

“If it isn’t my favorite helper!”, his tone is jovial and deep, a perfect representation of a jolly Santa. Suddenly, so many little heads whip around to look at you.

“Hello!”, you excitedly wave, “nice to meet you, everyone!”.

“She’s not the elf from last year”, as you position yourself right behind Oliver’s chair and next to the gifts you’ll later help him distribute, a little boy furrows his brows with a slight pout. Before you can come up with something to say, Santa ho-ho-hos his way into the conversation.

“That’s exactly right, Kenji. She’s my side piece”.

You choke on your own spit. A little girl politely raises her hand and Oliver grants her permission to ask her question.

“What’s a side piece, Oli?”.

Oh, god. This is so much worse than what you could’ve anticipated.

Once more, he doesn’t allow you to reply and the grin underneath his fake beard is nothing short of infuriating.

“It’s an elf who helps when my other helpers are too busy”.

“So she’s your side elf? Is she as nice as the other?”.

He shifts in his seat and you quietly sigh, still smiling awkwardly to the children curiously checking you out, prepared for another jab.

“She’s the best”, Oliver turns to look at you with a small wink, drinking in the surprise written all over your features, “why don’t you introduce yourself, side elf? My kids are great, they’re gonna love you”.

There’s really no time to ponder over the words, how sweet they sounded. He’s only been with them for what, a few hours, and is already so protective of them? If he’s faking it, he really is one hell of an actor.

You attention soon shifts to the little, curious faces staring back at you and the thought of Oliver is pushed to the back of your mind. You’re there to make the afternoon special for those kids and you’ll give it your all, whatever it takes.

He ends up being right, they are great. So intelligent, affectionate and welcoming. You introduce yourself and it only takes a few minutes for them to accept your presence completely. There’s an odd sense of familiarity in the way they climb onto Oliver’s lap one by one, sometimes wrap their arms around his neck. They play with his silver beard as they answer questions about what they asked for christmas and he leans down to whisper secrets to their ear from time to time, to either make them laugh or put them at ease.

Some of the younger children grow restless after a while and you patiently placate small quarrels, pick up kid after kid while they wait for their turn and jokingly twirl until they’re giggling against your shoulder, the fabric of your costume squeezed by little fingers.

“Does Oli really work for Santa?”, Riko asks. She’s been in your arms for a while now and you balance her better against your chest with one arm, your other hand wrapped around Kenji’s.

“He does. We’re both in direct contact with him”, you smile.

“Do you ever go to his workshop?”.

“Sometimes we have to, yeah. Santa always gives us so many cookies and big glasses filled with milk”.

Riko hums, enraptured.

“Will I smell as good as you if I eat so many cookies and drink big glasses of milk?”.

Surprised, you fail to come up with an answer for a moment. Then you melt into a chuckle.

“But you already smell sooo good, Riko! I could eat you!”, she squeals with a laugh when you take a fake bite out of her cheek and Oliver turns to look at you both as he helps another little girl down from his knees.

“Trying to eat my kids, are you?”, he grins.

“Just this one for now”, you jokingly wink and Riko giggles once more. Kenji reclaims your attention by pulling at your hand.

“You have to do the thing”.

Lips still curled into a smile, you tilt your head to the side.

“The thing?”.

He nods, solemn.

“Oh, right”, Oliver snaps his fingers, “the thing. Let my elf go, Riko, we have to perform”.

“We have to do what now?”, as you carefully let the little girl down, Kenji slips his hand from yours.

“Santa baby”, Oliver pats his knees and, horrified, you realize it’s an invitation for you, “it’s their favorite song. We did it last year too”.

You let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m not a great performer-”

“C’mon, side elf! You gotta do it!”, Riko’s palms press to the small of your back and, as she pushes you towards an awaiting lap, you don’t have the heart to ask her to stop calling you that.

Oliver welcomes you onto his knees like you belong there, one arm instantly wrapping around your waist and the other on your thighs. He’s warm, solid underneath you. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him and you hate that you’re suddenly tempted to pull him even closer.

“No one told me about this”, you murmur between gritted teeth, tense smile causing a low chuckle to vibrate in his chest.   

“You’ll be fine”, the hand resting on your hip gives it a light, playful squeeze, “it’s acapella, by the way. Give it your all”.

You’re still smiling but fail to entirely conceal the glare as you try to position yourself better against him. Whether he does it istinctively or not, Oliver tightens his hold around your waist.

All chatter stops and, between hushed but still excited whispers coming from the group sitting at your feet, you start humming the familiar tune.

“Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl”, you briefly turn to the kids and give them an exaggerated wink that makes them laugh, “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!”, you twirl part of Oliver’s fake beard around your pointer finger and when you meet his gaze, it’s surprising how serious it is. Time to get up, for your own sanity.

While he is supposed to keep up the act and match both your goofy tone and exaggerated motions to make the song playful and appropriate for children, he just keeps looking back at you with something unreadable in those dangerous eyes of his.

“Think of all the fun I missed!”, you dramatically drop to your knees and grab his arm, “think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed!”, he finally seems to be shaken from his weird stupor and gasps loudly, looking back and forth between you and the giggling audience.

“Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my christmas list?”, you pout as Oliver shakes his head no, feigning disappointment. A few kids whine in fake sadness.

“I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot… right?”, you beg for their approval and it makes you chuckle that they erupt in agreeing cheers right away, “been an angel all year!”.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight”, with a deep sigh, you desperately squeeze his hand for a moment before getting up once more and continuing your performance around the audience with a skip in your step, hands behind your back as you sway and twirl around them.

“Please help me ask him, everyone!”, you implore, “so hurry down the chimney tonight”. They do join you in your plea, to which Oliver audibly slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Hurry down the chimney tonight”, you slowly approach his chair once more and the playfulness in his stare seems to vanish once more, fingers twitching on knees you don’t sit on, “hurry, tonight”, with a small smile, you twirl one last time and then bow deeply as the audience immediately starts clapping at the end of your performance.

“Oli, I want a yacht”, Riko pouts and her sister next to her giggles.

“I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart”, he smiles, then looks at you once more, “wanna help me give out this year’s gifts? Maybe we’ll find a yacht somewhere”.

He doesn’t even get to finish the question: in a matter of seconds, you’re both surrounded by exuberant little kids who are way too excited to find out what Santa’s helpers have in store for them this holiday season. The youngest of the group, six year old Tsumugi, raises her little arms and Oliver bends down to pick her up, balancing her on his leg.

You didn’t think the community centre would be able to put together enough funds to get… all those presents. There are so much. Enough for each child to get three or four. Clothes, audio book players, lego sets, tablets, dolls, water marbling kits, headphones, books. An entire, separate bag is filled with signed soccer uniforms. You discreetly glance at Oliver, busy helping Hiro unwrap his third present.

You remember very few details about the blue lock project, from which some of the current top players of the globe suddenly came out years ago. You know he was part of it at some point and of course you remember his past as captain of the former U-20 team. Oliver is still one of the best known soccer players in Japan and clearly he is friends with those guys. But the fact that he went out of his way to make sure he had all those uniforms for these kids, stirs something in your chest.

As you hand out the shirts, little squeals make you smile.

“Riko, this one’s from Nagi”, the little girl practically snatches it from your hand, “wait, don’t push, there’s one for each of you! Who asked for the Kaiser one?”.

“Oli, will you keep your promise next year?”, Tsumugi, still in his lap, rests her head on his shoulder as she hugs a new teddy bear to her chest. He hums, one hand rising to boop her nose.

“You have my word, sweet girl. I told Yoichi you wanted to meet him and he was so sad he couldn’t make it today. He promised he’ll come next time”.

“Look what he sent you”, with a grin, you hand her the shirt Isagi signed for her. The way her eyes light up makes you wish for Eiko to be sick once more, the following year.

It’s the evening when parents slowly start arriving to collect their kids and thank everyone for the organization. You and Chiyo welcome them by the door and offer warm cups of tea. Those who are not in a rush are more than welcome to eat something despite the buffet having been more or less devoured by now.

As soon as you’re alone with Chiyo once more, the last remaining parents shaking hands with Oliver as they say goodbye, you deflate in a chair. Your legs hurt, you didn’t eat anything and you feel so tired but also immensely rewarded.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?”, with a smile, Chiyo pushes a water bottle towards you.

“So fun. You were right, he’s good with kids. Remembered all their names and everything”.

She chuckles.

“Well, I’d hope so. He comes every year”.

You stare back.

“Every year?”.

“Yeah, since forever. And he always gets so many extra presents for them, never accepted a single yen back”.

You sip on your water, unable to come up with something to say. Oliver Aiku, the same unbearably smug idiot who’d pissed you off endlessly each time you had the unfortunate chance of meeting him thanks to your cousin Shuto, seemed so different today. Patient, caring, attentive, fun. So generous.

You watch as parents bow to him and he bows back, ruffles their kid’s hair, laughs when Tsugumi hugs his legs. This is not good, not good at all, judging by the way your heart fumbles in your chest as he meets your gaze from across the room.

The elf costume is shoved into your backpack but the drawings and notes some of the kids made for you are placed on the table right next to it as you put on your coat. You’ll keep them in your hand, against your chest and underneath the warm fabric if you must, in case it’s still snowing outside. You’d hate for anything to happen to such precious cargo.

“You know, Riko has a point”, the gravelly voice so close to your ear makes you jump, “you really do smell good”.

“Try taking a shower”, your intention is to turn around with a scowl but the second you do, your back is pressed to the table as he leans forward and rests his palms on the rough surface. The sharp inhale you take makes him smile.

“Nah, I think it’s really just you”.

You stare back for a moment, then clear your throat, trying your best to not appear intimidated.

“Who knew you were so good with kids. They love you”.

Oliver pulls back, leaving you enough space to put a safe distance between your bodies.

“Well, who knew you were such a great cook. How long did it take to make all that food?”.

Much to your irritation, a smile threatens to appear on your lips. He deflects when complimented? Fuck. Off.

Your mind traces back to how protective he was of them. My kids. It’s sickening, really.

“You didn’t eat anything all day”, the softer tone catches him off guard for just a second, “take some leftovers”.

Oliver hums, something flashing across his features so quickly you may have imagined it. Then, he starts unbuttoning the red velvet jacket he’s still in.

“Don’t be so thoughtful, it’ll make me hard”.

Astonished, you look at him.

“What are you doing?”

He discards the jacket with a grin, hat and fake beard already discarded before entering the changing room.

“You didn’t think I’d leave in this, right?”.

“You could’ve waited until I left the room”.

Oliver rubs his chin in exasperating, fake pensiveness.

“Yeah, I could’ve”, his signature smirk makes you want to punch him in his handsome face, “but there’s this girl I like. Maybe if I impress her, she’ll finally give me a chance”.

You chalk the heat rising to your cheeks up to the thermostat temperature being too high. When you murmur a confused, hasty goodbye and attempt to make your leave, drawings safely tucked underneath one arm, Oliver gently wraps a hand around your wrist.

“It’s snowing. Let me give you a ride”, the way his thumb tentatively grazes the sliver of skin underneath your sleeve makes you shudder. He does it again, intentional, serious eyes boring into yours to make sure he's not crossing a boundary. Your mouth feels dry.

“Wait for me?”, Oliver offers, gentle. There’s no trace of his previous teasing and you’re painfully aware of how long the silence is stretching for, a weird vibration to the moment laced in your aching hesitation.

Another beat passes before you relax under his touch.

“I’ll be outside”.

[mooncello]

2024 in review

Alright, there's a handful of hours left in 2024. So many of you have tagged me which is lovely. Hi. So much brilliant and amazing work has been created and shared this year. As well as countless kind comments and fic recs and supportive messages and general community.

My roundup will be a little different. I'm not gonna focus on numbers or word counts. Instead, I thought I'd focus on the most unexpected and delightful surprise that happened this year: Dev and Niall.

I never dreamed that these two would show up in a Snowbaz fic (lost boys) and I'd become so enamored with them that I'd no longer want to write anyone else in the fandom. Ok, this is a slight exaggeration but only just.

So, here is my 2024 by way of Niall and Dev:

(under the cut because I can't write short things, even tumblr posts)

I started the year with the posting of lost boys. A weird, dark merging of Snowbaz and Neverland. I hope to finish this fic in 2025.

Here's how Niall showed up in lost boys (Baz POV):

I look up to see a boy. He has an absolute mess of shaggy brown hair, his eyes are kind, and there’s paint on his fingertips. “You seem to be the most sane person here,” the boy says, and lowers himself into the seat across from me in the school canteen. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Looks can be deceiving. Maybe I’m completely mad.” He laughs at this. A soft, gentle sound. “Most artists are. I’m Niall.”

And Dev:

There’s the solid thump of a hand against my shoulder and the dramatic collapse of tall, muscular limbs into the seat beside me. “My favourite nerd. How’s it going, cuz?” Dev flashes his white, perfect teeth at me before snatching my remaining bourbon biscuit. His fingernails are painted turquoise today, his dark hair is swept away from his face, and he’s wearing eyeliner. The bastard looks amazing. Despite being cousins, we never really hung out as kids. Always kept to different social circles. Which is to say Dev constantly had a roving pack of friends, and I had nobody (save for the lost boys in my dreams). But when I got outed this past spring, Dev decided to take a more active presence in my life. He even convinced me to join the football team with him. He’s charismatic and popular in his own way, and so unabashedly and loudly himself that even the nastiest bullies don’t bother him. It's been nice, having Dev in my life. Even though it means I now deal with his chaotic, abrasive personality all the goddamn time.

Around this time, I was also drafting my COBB tripping over stars, a celebrity AU with skateboarder Simon and model/influencer Baz Pitch. (I have no idea if I'll finish this one. I want to; we'll see.) Niall and Dev showed up again in very different roles. This time Niall was a competent asf talent manager, and Dev his in-the-background supportive partner. I love this Niall so much. He's so feisty.

There's the clicking of smart brogues across the wood floor, and Niall appears in my line of vision, his gold-brown eyes blazing at something behind me ... As both my talent manager and personal friend, Niall is a goddamn force. And people think I’m the ruthless one. (Maybe on the runway. No, definitely on the runway. But everywhere else it's Niall Niall Niall.) “Sweetie, what’s the problem?” I ask Niall. I’m still slouched in the ancient chair, my arse so numb I’ll need an extra-long bath tonight, and I feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. “I’m fixing it,” Niall returns crisply, and I swear his eyebrow quirk is now superior to mine. The traitor. His breath is minty which means he’s been chewing wintergreen Altoids nonstop. Which means he’s either very stressed or trying very hard not to smoke. Probably both.

And here's a fun lil something from the unpublished, unfinished chapter 3:

“Shit. Fuck.” Niall’s fingers are flying across his phone. “Okay, okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Dev’s going to take you home. Wash up. Stay off your phone. Do not post a single goddamn thing. Do not engage with any post, any comment. Do not answer phone calls or emails. I’m going to stay here and get more information.” There’s the muffled clacking of dress loafers on porcelain tile, and my head snaps up to see Dev running down the long hallway towards us. He takes one look at me, and his eyes light up in a kind of horrified-transfixed combination. “Hell’s teeth, Basil. You look like the first murder victim in a horror movie.” He smirks. “Or a really sloppy vampire.” “Can you not,” I growl. My skin starts to burn and itch. I need to get this foul shit off me now. “Take him home.” Niall tosses his car keys to Dev without looking up from his phone. I can hear the soft rumble of guests in the grand foyer through the wall. Niall suddenly glances up, skin pinched between his eyebrows. “No, wait, pap will show up there. Take him to mine. Discreetly.” “You got it, babe,” Dev drawls. Niall returns his attention to his phone, and says in a tight voice, “Dev, darling, this is serious.” Dev rolls his eyes. “I know.” Then he loops his fingers around my non-splattered arm. “C’mon Nosferatu, we can sneak out the rear exit.”

I got majorly blocked on both of these fics during the spring. I had no clue where to take either. I blew up my original outlines because they didn't feel right. Like ... I was way more interested in how Niall and Dev met in the celebrity AU and began daydreaming their story more than Simon and Baz. 🤔

Around this time I saw a carry on prompt on tumblr for a Dev and Niall fic in which they play matchmaker to Simon and Baz. And the seed was planted for more than a footnote.

more than a footnote started as a lark. It was supposed to be six chapters, 12k max, silly, fluffy, ridiculous, not serious. A palate cleanser if you will, until I got clarity on my other two wips. HA. This fic has captured my entire heart, and it is my absolute favorite thing I've ever written. Niall and Dev get to be center stage, and it's been such fun to flesh these characters out.

From Niall's POV:

Dev has always been comfortable in his body. He’s open and confident in a way that makes my chest ache. I wish I were more like that, but I’m sinew and bone whereas Dev is polish and muscle. Half the time I feel like something the cat drags in, and Dev, well … Dev’s the cat.

And:

The truth is: Dev is stunningly beautiful. He’s got one of those faces you want to stare at. Dark, liquid eyes and sharp angles. Expressive mouth. Then you add his piercings and eyeliner and nail polish and … overall Dev-ness and— Like, yeah, I get his appeal. But his looks are only a sliver of who he is. People don’t actually know him, and I kinda hate how much everyone talks about his abs and his cock, and not about him as, you know, an actual person. Because he’s really cool, with wicked intuition and an absolutely mad sense of humour. Underneath all his swagger, he’s deeply good.

And from Dev's POV:

What was I supposed to say anyway? That I’m looking at him, always? That I want him? I’ve had months to think about it, and my list just keeps growing longer. Of what I wish I had the balls to say that night. You should never spell your irises blue because your big brown eyes are enough to make me commit forbidden magic, if you asked. Your hair keeps getting darker each year. So the ginger kid I met at the Crucible now has brown hair threaded with copper, and when the sunlight catches it, I kinda want time to stop because it’s one of the prettiest fucking things I’ve ever seen. Your smile could power the sun. It sure as fuck controls my breathing. You’re real and honest without even trying. And you have the weirdest sense of humour. You make me laugh. You always have. You’re my favourite person. Ever.

Yeah. I love these guys.

And can I just say that DeNiall stans are the best? So many of you have left the most amazing comments on mtaf, and I've enjoyed chatting with you as each chapter's gone up. @rimeswithpurple made gorgeous fanart from chapter 3 and the cutest, most colorful DeNiall friendship bracelet I wear all the time. And @monbons MADE DEV AND NIALL DOLLS. Which I still can't get over. Just last night I saw my snowflake exchange gift from @iamamythologicalcreature who illustrated fanart from chapter 1. I am speechless; it is so very beautiful.

And finally, to get ridiculously sentimental on main: I've loved this fic more than I thought possible, in large part, because I got to know @valeffelees through the writing of it. Words are gonna fail me, dude, so I'm just gonna say that your friendship is one of the best things from this year. HOW'S THAT FOR PUBLIC AFFECTION. Are we puking yet?

a few stray thoughts:

while I love collabs and fests (I had a lot of fun collaborating with @iamamythologicalcreature on lost boys and @shemakesmeforget on tripping over stars), I've definitely (unfortunately) learned that time-constrained fests are not my friends. I want to participate in them, but my brain is very unpredictable and I end up stressed and worried about disappointing people, like my collaborators and mods. As I write this, I'm painfully aware of how very late my exchange gift is gonna be. But I've given my recipient a heads up and I swear the wait will be worth it. 🩵

I feel like I'm a slow writer. Perhaps speed is subjective. I do know that I have so many ideas bursting at the seams of my brain, and I often wonder what my creative output would be like if I didn't have my mental health shit to contend with. I spent entire weeks frozen this year, deep in my cave, unable to touch my writing projects. For someone for whom creativity is essential in feeling fully human, it sucks to have that part of myself unreachable. Urgency is a construct of capitalism so I'm trying to resist that wretched sense that I'm losing time, falling behind, etc, while I still have so much that only exists in my mind, desperate to be shared w others. Fics, original novels, screenplays, on and on. A filmmaker friend of mine gave me the advice: Don't plot it out. Trust the process. And nature reminds me all the time to allow things the time they need. You can't force it. Fuck, it's easier to say all that than actually let it settle into my bones. But I'm trying.

A spot of brightness: All of you. This community. As others have already mentioned in their roundups, truly the best part of the past year has been the relationships. I cannot list everyone but you know who you are. I didn't know I could be known and cared for in this way. I've been writing on my own for a very long time, and it feels deliriously good to write in community. To have friends and betas and cheerleaders, and to be these in return. Like, what the fuck. I'm never gonna write in isolation again.

Ngl I'm heading into the new year with large amounts of trepidation. It's gonna get even scarier than it already is for several vulnerable populations here in the US, including my trans community. But I also have a rooted focus and clarity. I'm gonna keep writing queer love stories. I'm going to nurture queer and trans community in my town. I'm gonna keep hanging out with all of you. Y'all make the world better and brighter, more honest and brilliant. Love ya. 🩵

thank you for the tags: @run-for-chamo-miles, @drowninginships, @artsyunderstudy, @emeryhall, @monbons

@rimeswithpurple, @ileadacharmedlife, @alexalexinii, @best--dress, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@imagineacoolusername, @skeedelvee

tagging: @valeffelees @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @youarenevertooold @shrekgogurt

@hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @cutestkilla @iamamythologicalcreature,

@bookish-bogwitch @thewholelemon @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @larkral @messofthejess

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Johnny cade for the "give me a character" thingy cuz I love him :3

How I feel about this character

  I love Johnny, man. Very simple feelings ‘bout him, but yk, I love him. I don’t often…spin him ‘round in my brain like I do with some of the others, but I have a lot of strong opinions abt him and I love him lol

All the people I ship romantically with this character

  I occasionally ship him with Dally, but only occasionally. Idk they’ve got something goin on but idk what lol. I definitely don’t see them as an older brother and little brother, although I get where people are coming from- idk though, that’s like the least interesting take on their whole…deal for me I guess? I (personally) don’t think Dally and Johnny are brotherly/parental at all, and reducing them to that means losing out on the much more interesting (I think) dynamic that they do have- like Dally can’t be vulnerable with anyone BUT Johnny, and Johnny is at his most confident with Dally. And he has power over Dally that no one else does. It could be romantic or platonic for me, but the important thing is that they’re equals imo. I mean c’mon, only one of them’s canonically stabbed a guy to death, and it ain’t Dally. They’re tied together somehow idk man

  I sorta like the idea of Johnny and Sylvia being something tho. I don't think abt it much, but it adds something morally bad to a character that’s supposed to be purely good that I find fascinating. Not the sorta ship I ship per se, but one I like toying with sometimes because there’s so much to unpack there ig. I don’t usually see it as canon but I sometimes like it.

  Finally, I read this GUT WRENCHING fic one time where Johnny was who Sandy cheated on Soda with. I…really liked that fic. The ship hits a lotta the same notes as Johnny/Sylvia but explores Johnny and Soda…idk man again not the sorta thing I usually see as canon but holy shit the fic kinda blew my mind lol. It’s here if y’all wanna check it out- mind the tags and all. It’s a rarepair but it KILLS me man. It ain’t…canon to me, but I think abt it sometimes (the ship and the fic) and just feel things idk. (Part of that is probably b/c I love Soda, but yk)

My non-romantic OTP for this character

  Uhh Dally also honestly

  I mean Johnny and Pony are close too, but I really don’t see them as BEST friends. Ik a lotta people do which is perfectly valid, but in my head they’re…not? I dunno. They’re definitely friends, but TO ME it’s in the way that I’m friends with kids who I’ve grown up with who are like cousins to me now- we’re close, and I know they have my back, and I could tell them anything if I really wanted to, but I probably won’t unless we’re alone together in a church for a week. (@veggiesforpresident just talked abt them earlier today here, and she put it into words a helluva lot better than I am rn- definitely check that out)

My unpopular opinion about this character

He’s tough. I mean everyone knows that, but I’m not massively fond of fics/art that portray him as small and soft. Like sure, Pony sees him that way, but to the rest of the world Johnny is a hood. He may be small, but he can fight. He loves drag races, man!

  Idk, Ralph Macchio put it best in this behind the scenes book I own: 

  “Johnny was always described as the runt of the greaser litter- the one they all protected. However, as the story unfolded he became the most level-headed and clear-minded in the face of adversity. I always recognized that in him even from the first reading of the book at age twelve. I am biased, but he is one of the richest and fully drawn characters in the ensemble.”

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

  I’m biased b/c I love Soda but I woulda loved to see him hanging with Soda. Really the rest of the gang in general (not that there was time for that lol), but it’s canon to me that Johnny was friends with Soda first. Eventually they diverged and became close to Dally and Steve respectively, but in elementary school it was Johnny and Soda. 

  (On the other side of the coin, I like the idea of Dally and Steve having had a bit of a fling that they don’t talk about as a way of repressing their romantic feelings for Soda and Johnny respectively. But that’s not always canon to me lol.)

[lumilasi]

A scene from TVE I decided I really wanted to try drawing, which proved tricky because I wasn't sure how the floor of the Spire would actually look? I decided the pool room has sort of sand on it, although I don't mention it in the actual scene. I'm still slowly getting a hang of how to draw these 2. (scene sneak peek below):

"Jayce.”

He cracks his eyes open, looking up at Viktor who was still staring at his feet, a small frown still marring his features.

"What is it?”

"…..Can you tell me exactly, why we are here?”

"Aww, can’t we wait till after the bath? It’s so nice.”

Viktor huffs out a sigh and finally dares to look up, Jayce not missing the way his face gained some color, though one could claim it was the steam from the hot spring. Gods he was gorgeous, and Jayce wanted nothing more but to cross the distance between them just to rest his head on his lap again, so he could look up at his pretty eyes.

"….Jayce. You….do realize that since I have a piece of your soul within me, I can tell when you are being needlessly saccharine.”

Viktor comments dryly all of a sudden, and Jayce hides his face in embarrassment, letting out a sheepish laugh as his face flashes red. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty or bad about it, he was just being honest. For a moment, the golden eyes stare at him from across the pond unimpressed, before Viktor let’s out a huffing sigh, shaking his head with a fond smile.

"You are hopeless sometimes, Jayce Talis.”

"Only sometimes?”

"Most of the time. I’m trying to be nice here.”

"It doesn’t suit you, being too nice.”

"You’re right; please stop giving me cavities, your thoughts probably put the sickly sweetest romance novellas to shame. I already have back and leg problems, I don’t need to add constant toothache atop of it all.”

Jayce let’s out another laugh, before moving to swim across the lake, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s frame in a moment of boldness, Viktor’s entire body freezing for a second before he prods his forehead with a finger, face flushed even more now.

"I’m not your bathtoy.”

"I’m just making sure you don’t get too cold, sitting up there. The water’s much warmer.”

"Warm steam is rising from this magical hot spring, I’m fine sitting right here.”

Jayce let’s out another laugh, before sighing slowly and resting his head on Viktor’s lap now, feeling the weight of what he had to tell him start to settle on his shoulders again. Perhaps Viktor could sense it through his soul piece, as after a moment hesitant fingers start carding his hair, with Viktor no longer trying to get him to move away. Jayce remains silent for a long moment, stalling a little, perhaps, but he knew he had to tell Viktor, he deserved to know.

"…..I…..we….something went wrong.”

"What?”

"The…we didn’t manage to eradicate it all. Something got left behind. The two gods of this realm, their job is to monitor things like this. They noticed.”

He could tell Viktor was stunned speechless, the hand in his hair stopping, the entire body he was clinging to going stiff with shock. Jayce bites his lip, briefly pressing his face against the pale skin of Viktor’s thigh peeking out from beneath the robes to breathe in, gathering himself.

He proceeds to describe what Janus had told him weeks ago, about the leftover timelines, the unstable state they had been left in, and how effects from those verses were bleeding into other ones. He couldn’t bring himself to mention, that the reason this happened was likely because of Viktor’s own subconscious doubts, but he likely didn’t need to. Viktor releases a shaky breath, the hand briefly leaving him as he could tell his partner was now burying his face in his hands, trembling lightly against him. Jayce squeezes him gently, his fingers subtly stroking his lower back through the canvas of his robe.

"….Of course. Of course.”

That was all Viktor could say, frustration and self-loathing bitterness evident in his voice. Jayce just remains resting there, waiting silently for Viktor to process it all, hopefully finding comfort in the warm weight against him.

[rayaswrittings]

Fuel to the fire

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Sisters bsf!Character

Synopsis: Lennon Thornton grew up on figure eight, her family well known and business partners with the Cameron’s. She spent most of her life around the golden family, hating the kook lifestyle she lived, hating what her best friends family became. But what happens when one night, Rafe is tasked by her parents to ‘babysit’ her because they were away for the weekend? Tannyhill was empty—and it certainly wasn’t planned.

PSA: This is a snippet of my fanfic I’m writing on wattpad right now of JJ Maybank… I know, ironic :/ that being said, this is in her pov, butttt it’s been awhile since I wrote so I wanted to publish a snippet to see if anyone actually liked it haha

Warning(s): 18+ only! Minors DNI, Mean!Rafe, unprotected p in v, creampie, etc. Mature themes, Language, the whole nine. Also very long! Apologies for mistakes :/

ᨦㅤ۫ㅤ୧‿︵‿ㅤ𑁍ㅤ‿︵‿୨ㅤ۪ㅤദㅤㅤׂ

"Rafe," I breathed, the need for him nearly choking me. I wanted to say something else, but the words felt stuck in my throat. I couldn't form sentences. My whole body was attuned to him now, every fiber of my being aware of the way he was manipulating me, the way he was pulling me into a place I wasn't sure I could leave.

"Shh," he said, his lips brushing against the back of my neck, making me shiver. "I’ve got you."

I barely registered the movement before he was inside me again, filling me up completely. My body arched into the counter as he thrust forward, making me gasp at the suddenness, the force of it.

The stretch was almost too much, but then the pace settled, and the rhythm was brutal, just the way I needed it.

His hands stayed firm on my hips, guiding me, making sure I felt every inch of him as he moved deeper, harder, faster. "God, you're perfect like this," he murmured, his voice a raspy growl. "Just what I needed. Who knew my sisters best friend was such a slut?"

I couldn't form a reply, but I didn't need to.

My body was telling him everything he wanted to know. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the kitchen, only adding to the heat between us. It was raw.

It was desperate. And all I could think about was him, the feeling of him inside me, moving with such purpose that I couldn't focus on anything else.

"Don't hold back," he growled in my ear, his voice thick with desire. "Let go again. I want to hear you, baby. Wanna hear how I’m fucking you."

Rafe's pace never slows. Each thrust feels like a direct hit, deep and powerful, making the counter press hard against my body. I try to hold on, my fingers gripping the edge of it as if it could ground me. But the way he moves, relentless and demanding, leaves me breathless and wanting more.

I can feel him everywhere, and it's almost like I can't escape the pull of him-how he's taking me, using me, and yet I still want to test him. I bite my lip, feeling the way my body reacts, but I refuse to let him think he's got me all figured out.

"C'mon," I tease, trying to keep it light, but my voice comes out breathy. I push my hips back against him, feeling the weight of him as he buries deeper. “Is this all you've got, Rafe?"

He groans behind me, his hands tightening on my hips, digging into my skin as he jerks me harder against him.

"You don't want me to show you everything I've got, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice strained, but there's no stopping him. "Quit being a brat."

I try to keep my balance, keeping up with his rhythm even as it pushes me closer to the edge, but I can't help it. I want to get under his skin, just like I always do. "Yeah, but I thought you liked when I made it harder for you," I taunt, my voice teasing and laced with challenge.

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he grabs my wrist, pulling it behind my back with a sudden force that makes me gasp. It's almost too much, but I can't help but push back again, meeting him thrust for thrust, feeling the friction between us in a way that drives me crazy.

But Rafe's patience is worn thin. Without warning, he covers my mouth with his hand, the warmth of his palm suffocating me in the best way. My eyes widen, my pulse spiking, but it only heightens the sensation.

"Shut up," he growls, his voice low and commanding in my ear, a sound I don't think I'll ever get tired of. "You're gonna keep quiet now, understood? Don't wanna hear a fucking word from you. You've been talking enough."

I try to fight it, but it's like he knows me too well. His hand keeps my mouth sealed as he continues to drive into me, making it impossible to even think straight. The only thing I can focus on is the sensation, how he feels inside me, how relentless he is, and the ache of not being able to tease him back the way I want to.

I let out a muffled moan, frustration building, my mind buzzing with every thrust. I want to challenge him again, to push him to snap, but instead, I feel my body surrendering to the rhythm, helpless against it. The fact that I can't speak only makes it worse, more intense.

Rate's breathing is erratic now, the sound of skin on skin filling the space around us.

He slows for a second, like he's letting me breathe, but only long enough to make sure I feel the desperation in his movements. "You like this, huh?" he mutters, like he already knows the answer. “Like when I fuck you rough like this? Like the slut you secretly are?”

I try to nod, but his hand doesn't move, so l just whimper against it. My body is responding to him whether I want it to or not, and there's no escaping the heat building between us. He pulls me back into him, his grip tightening as he takes what he wants, making sure I'm completely at his mercy.

"Such a dirty girl…" he continues, his voice growing rougher with every word. "You think I don't notice how you're shaking? How desperate you are? I can feel it."

I'm dizzy, spinning with the intensity of it all, my entire body alive and buzzing with want. I try to fight it, but I can't. He's right, he knows exactly what he's doing, and my body can't do anything but respond.

He doesn't let up. He doesn't stop. And at this point, I don't even want him to. It's like everything in me is screaming to let go, but all I can do is take it, be at the mercy of his control, while he works me into a frenzy.

The heat between us was relentless, and each movement only seemed to build that burning tension. His hands were firm on my waist, guiding me as he pressed his body closer to mine. The sounds, the weight of him, everything felt overwhelming in the best way.

My breath hitched with every push, every movement, and I couldn't stop myself from reacting. I had tried so hard to keep quiet, but the pleasure was too much, and the sounds I was making were impossible to control.

"God, you're so loud," Rafe teased, his voice low, sending a thrill down my spine. He loved it—could feel how desperate I was to stay quiet, to keep my composure.

But he wasn't going to let me. He made sure I knew that, pulling me back against his chest, his body pressed flush against mine. His breath fanned against my shoulder, and I felt a chill run through me despite the heat.

His hands moved up to my neck, just enough to hold me steady, but it felt like he was grounding me in a way that made everything sharper, more intense. I reached back, my fingers digging into his neck as I tried to steady myself. My body was trembling with the pressure, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop him.

"Don't fight it," he murmured into my ear, his voice rough as he continued his relentless rhythm. "You're not gonna keep it together much longer, are you?"

His words sent a surge of heat through me, and I shook my head, too lost in the moment to speak. I couldn't deny how much it felt like a release, like a punishment, but one that was just what l needed. The way he had me trembling, my body clinging to his, it was like everything we'd been holding back was coming to the surface. Years of tension, years of pushing and pulling-finally unraveled, all in one.

I could feel the tension building, every second feeling like an eternity. Rafe's rhythm hadn't slowed, and with each thrust, it felt like he was pulling me further into the chaos of it all. He was relentless, and I could feel myself on the edge.

I was too lost in him.

"Rafe..." My voice trembled as I said his name, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

His breath caught, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he chuckled darkly. "Damn right," he growled, tightening his hold on me. "Keep saying my name. Feels so good when you do that."

The sound of his voice made my stomach twist, and the heat between us only intensified. He wasn't letting up, pushing me further, testing my limits. It felt like a punishment-but in the best way. The years of tension, of wanting, of teasing and avoiding, all seemed to collapse into this one moment.

His pace never faltered, and as I felt myself getting closer, I knew he wasn't going to give me the chance to escape it. I wasn't sure if he wanted to see me unravel as much as I needed to fall apart in his arms.

I didn't even hesitate this time. "Rafe," | gasped, feeling my body shake from the pressure. "I’m—“

"Yeah," he interrupted, almost smug. "I know. You want it, don't you? You need it, just like I do. You've been waiting for this as much as I have."

I could barely breathe, the sensation of him inside me, the way he moved, was overwhelming. I was so close now, and I could feel the wave building. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before-this connection, the rawness of it all.

His words were sharp, teasing, and they made me shiver. He was right in a way— couldn't deny the way he had me twisted up, how he made me feel things I hadn't even known I was capable of. But the way he said it, like it was all some kind of sick victory, only drove me mad.

Rafe's pace picked up again, quicker and harder, and the friction was becoming almost too much to handle. I could feel myself getting lost in it, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I gripped his shoulders tighter, needing something to hold on to as everything around me seemed to blur.

"Can't keep quiet now, can you?" he murmured, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. I could hear the smirk in his words, and it drove me mad.

My body felt like it was on fire, the pressure building with each thrust. I couldn't help it—l kept moaning, calling his name, unable to keep the words in. I was past the point of no return.

"Good girl," he growled, his hands firm on my waist as he pushed me further into the motion. "Keep talking. I want to hear it all."

I felt a pulse of heat rush through me at his praise, and I couldn't stop the words that spilled out. "Rafe, I-" My voice caught in my throat as I gasped again. "I can't... I need-"

"You need what?" he teased, voice still rough, but with that edge of control. He was still relentless, pushing me closer, but never giving me that release I so badly craved.

"I need you," I managed to get out, almost choking on the words. "Please, Rafe..."

A satisfied chuckle rumbled through him, and I could feel the way his chest pressed against my back as he leaned into me, just enough to send a new wave of pleasure coursing through me. "That's right," he murmured in my ear. "You need me, and I'm giving it to you. You want to fall apart, don't you? Want me to make you come undone?"

I couldn't form words anymore; it was just sounds-little whimpers and gasps that slipped from my lips with each relentless thrust. He was pushing me closer, bringing us both to the edge, and the only thing ! could focus on was the way my body was reacting, how he was making me feel in a way I didn't even know I could.

The world felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think—only feel. His hands were everywhere, pulling me closer, guiding me, pushing me further. The rhythm of his movements was steady, but it was starting to break apart the walls l'd built around myself. I felt like I was on the edge of something dangerous, something I couldn't stop.

His voice came low and steady, a command, a tease, a promise. "Beg for it," he said, his breath hot against my skin. "I want to hear you."

I could barely form words, my body already trembling with the anticipation. The need was all-consuming, and it felt like everything inside me was winding tighter, closer to something I couldn't control. His hands tightened around me as if he was keeping me from falling apart. And maybe I was-falling, unraveling-into something that was too much, but not enough.

"Please," I gasped, my voice shaky, the word slipping from my lips before I could stop it. "I'm so close," I whispered, barely able to speak over the pounding in my chest. "I need you. Please, don't stop now."

And then he pushed harder, faster, and I couldn't think anymore. All that existed was him, this, the feeling of him in me, moving me closer and closer to the edge. I couldn't hold back anymore. My hands grabbed onto him, pulling him to me as I begged for it-his name, his touch, everything.

"I'm gonna make you come with me," he murmured, his voice rough as he spoke in between breaths. "Be a good girl and let me hear you, baby”

I felt myself nearing that point again, that overwhelming rush, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. "Rafe, I-" I gasped, unable to finish my sentence. But he didn't need me to.

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed, and then, as if to prove his point, he surged against me, pushing us both over the edge. The world went white, and the sound of our breath, our skin meeting, filled the air. I clung to him as the waves hit, my body trembling in his arms.

The sound of us-our breaths, the movement, the subtle creaks of the floor beneath us-filled the space. Everything else faded. There was only him, and only me, and it felt like everything was about to come crashing down in the best possible way.

"Don't stop, please don't stop..." My words were broken, gasps slipping between them, but the need was undeniable. “I’m coming, I—“

His voice was a low rasp as he spoke again, urging me closer. "Right behind you—fuck, Len. Come on, baby. Come for me”

It was the final push, the last words that did it. My entire body tensed, and the rush of everything came at once. The sound of my breath, so loud against the quiet, filled my ears. We both fell apart in each others embrace, his cock buried so deep inside me. His hands held me close, pulling me in, and the world around me seemed to dissolve. There was just him, his presence, and the way we collided.

In those moments, I could feel everything.

Possession. Release. Tension that had built up for longer than either of us could comprehend. I didn't know if I would ever be able to describe it.

He held me firmly against him, and I could feel his heartbeat, steady but frantic, just like mine. His head dropped to my shoulder, and I could hear him breathe my name like it meant something. The space between us felt like nothing, like we were connected in ways I didn't have words for.

We stayed there for a while, just holding each other, breathing, trying to calm ourselves. But the electric buzz of everything we had just shared lingered in the air between us.

I was still pressed against him, my body heavy with exhaustion. Every breath I took was like an effort, but the tension in my chest wasn't gone-not yet. It wasn't the sweet kind of relief that left me feeling soft or content. No, it was just a damn good release, and we both knew that.

Rafe's hand slid down my neck, his fingers brushing over my skin before he gripped me, pulling me back just enough to look at me. His gaze was steady-no sweetness, no warmth-just that cocky, familiar smirk.

"Not bad for a girl who talks all that shit," he said, his voice rough, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, like he had won some game we hadn't even agreed to play. His thumb brushed against my throat before he let go and kissed me, rough and unapologetic, pulling away just as quickly. “I figured you'd be quiet for once, but... guess not."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I was too tired to argue, too tired to even care about his words. But he didn't let it go. He kept talking, his fingers still trailing lightly along my neck, his grip surprisingly gentle for someone like him.

"You're lucky l'm not just gonna toss you off me," he muttered, a laugh catching in his throat. "You know, I could've left you there. Let you get all embarrassed and-"

"Shut up," | whispered, my voice barely audible. The words felt thick and tired, but I couldn't stop myself from saying them. I didn't want to hear any more of his teasing, not when I was still trying to keep it together, not when every part of me just wanted to sleep.

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the silence between us. The exhaustion felt like a heavy blanket, pressing down on my body, but it didn't stop the thoughts from swirling in my mind. It didn't stop the sting of what had just happened, or the bitter taste of his words that still echoed in my head. Rafe Cameron was an asshole-always had been, always would be. He wasn't some knight in shining armor, no matter how much he liked to pretend.

But still, here we were. Wrapped up in a mess of frustration and tension, and now... this. The quiet aftermath.

I wasn't sure how I felt. Confused, tired, maybe even a little broken. But one thing was clear: this was a one-time thing. It didn't change anything. It couldn't. I'd never had feelings for Rafe-—never would— and I was fine with that. It was good sex, and that's all it was. A relief. Nothing more.

I let my head fall back against his chest, letting out a deep breath. The sound of his heartbeat beneath me was steady, and for a moment, l allowed myself to just focus on that. It was quiet, almost peaceful, in its own fucked-up way. But I knew better than to let myself slip into that false sense of comfort. Rafe wasn't someone you let get too close, even if his presence still lingered after everything.

"I guess we're done here," I muttered, keeping my voice steady, even though I wasn't sure if I believed it. "No need to tell anyone about this."

Rafe's hand gently caressed the back of my neck, his fingers light but still assertive.

His voice, when it came, was almost too calm. "You don't have to worry about that, Lennon. I don't kiss and tell. But let's be clear-you keep your distance, and I'll do the same. This was... just a way to get the shit out of our systems. Got it?"

I didn't answer right away. I didn't need to.

We both knew the deal.

"Yeah, got it," I finally muttered, my voice low, my body sinking deeper into the tiredness that pulled me. Rafe shifted slightly, his breath warm against my ear as he spoke one last time.

"Good. Don't think for a second this changes anything. You're still a pain in my ass, and I'm still the asshole you've always known." He paused, his lips brushing against my ear. "But I'll make sure you get home safe. Don't get any ideas, though. This was a one-time thing."

I scoffed, but there was no fight left in me.

"Yeah, don't worry, Rafe. I'm not looking for a repeat performance," I said, finally pulling away and trying to collect myself.

[lostsyren]

The problem I have with people disliking Sofia:

(ok maybe this is biased since I love her but I’ll try to speak from an objective perspective)

Most of the reasons I see for people not liking her (ignoring the people who feel jealousy over rafe/ownership over him because I can’t reason with that [he’s a fictional character touch grass I beggg/hj]) is either because she’s boring or annoying. (Or they simply just ignore her completely).

After season 3 I semi-understood those sentiments. She had like 10 minutes of screen time, a couple lines of vague dialogue, and to a casual watcher of the show, she was pretty forgettable. She was kinda boring, compared to everything else happening in the show, and it could be argued that she was annoying– overly flirty, intensely optimistic etc…(though that word irks me a bit, especially when talking about female characters). I personally didn’t think any of that, I loved her!! But it didn’t irrate me, (as much as it does now), when people didn’t like her.

Moving on to season 4 coming out and I was pleased with her screen time and her development. Which is why I don’t get the “Sofia is so boring” comments?

Her character is cemented as a direct comparison to Rafe. She’s good, kind, moral, sweet. And I’m not just saying that. We see her ire in s4x04 at the beach, she’s repulsed at the idea of “going behind her boyfriends back”, she helps Rafe unselfishly (giving him advice, prompting him to talk to Sarah, consoling him after Ward’s passing) and she loves her family. We see her character become fleshed out. Her arc is interesting, as she transitions from being a good, devout girlfriend, to betraying Rafe, then dealing with the clear guilt and departure from her morals.

Remember interesting doesn’t always equal loud, brash, combative. It’s disheartening to see people equate boringness to someone who is quiet, gentle, meditative. And even then, she isn’t a pushover. She still has strength. She doesn’t shy away from showing her disdain in s4x04 (I so wish we had the deleted scene), and when she feels attacked, she doesn’t just take it– she retaliates.

She’s smart too. More so than Rafe. She smelled Hollis’ scam a mile away. She’s astute– eavesdropping on the club goers conversation whilst she works to get the dirt on Groff and Hollis. She’s business savvy– there’s a reason why Rafe always goes to her for advice (and listens to it!!)

Her big heart is what leads to her downfall. She loves Rafe, despite all the rumours tied to his name. She sees him for what he shows her, choosing to believe him and have faith in him instead of listening to her rationale and staying away from ‘bad Rafe Cameron’. And I think that’s so beautiful.

You can like it or dislike it, but I don’t understand how it’s boring?

And then people calling her annoying– how?

‘Idk she just is I don’t like her’ – don’t want to be screaming misogyny like the boy who cries wolf, but sometimes you gotta call it out for what it is🤷🏽‍♀️Like Rafe is objectively more annoying.

And if you think she’d be more interesting if she was more ‘badass’ and ‘strong’ and ‘cooler’, like no offence (truly no offence) but it’s giving “2010s heroine, not like other girls, I can fight, I can sometimes be a bitch, I’m not a sweet bubbly girl– that’s disgusting” typa energy. Or if you wanted her to be more sexier, or have a maneater quality– that just seems really reductive and archetypal imo.

Like just because she wasn’t what you wanted/expected, doesn’t mean she was a bad character. Like yes could’ve been developed more, but she’s literally a side character in an ensemble cast– she got a lot more than all the other side characters.

Like people can create cool and in depth headcanons/lore/development for Barry (who I love! This is not an attack on him) but can’t for Sofia? And he’s only seen with Rafe. There’s not a lot of canon information about his life. Like he’s a drug dealer, he lives on the cut, he used to be in the army and now he catches fish on a boat. There’s no real arc for him, he supports Rafe’s story. Which Sofia also does, but she gets a family backstory, she’s seen interacting with characters outside of Rafe, she has an individual arc that affects only her and not Rafe– yet she doesn’t get that same fanon treatment. Instead she’s denigrated for being too boring, being too annoying, being too meek. Like female characters being held to a different standard to male ones makes me so upset.

(Idk this was a whole rant, if you disagree with me I’d love to hear you out. But I tried to be objective about this. Like yes it makes it easier for me to like her because I’m in love with Fiona Palomo, but in such a big and active fandom, it’s strange to me how little love she gets? Does the pre eminence of x reader fics contribute to this? Probably. Ugh idk I just felt like complaining tbh😓)

Like look at herrrr she’s a cutieeee

[kookidough]

i’m sorry but every time i see someone on tiktok making a theory about how robin’s alive in tbp2 i burst out laughing because THAT BOY IS DEAD AND NEVER COMING BACK YALL

like. i love being delusional! so much! but this is one delusion i cannot get behind! gonna debunk every possible chance of this theory being true and also get into why it wouldnt make sense from a plot perspective either. if this theory genuinely comes true and robin comes back to life in the second movie i will genuinely get a tattoo of something from tbp and i will reblog this post with a photo of it. thats how certain i am that this will not happen

first of all the most basic argument i see is that robin must be alive because miguel is coming back for tbp 2. but... flashbacks exist? robin coming back still as a ghost exists? i see people say he survived somehow and fucking clawed his way out of his grave and escaped or something but im so sorry that is NOTTT happening LMFAO if robin was alive then his ghost wouldnt be calling finney in the basement, end of story, the grabber is smart he wouldn't leave robin half fucking dead before burying him

when the detectives are giving their press conference they literally state they found 5 bodies BELIEVED TO BE THE MISSING CHILDREN. robin included! finney also can't just be hallucinating because gwen saw the ghosts with her own eyes, INCLUDING ROBIN, and the grabber heard all the ghosts (minus billy for whatever reason) on the call at the end of the movie, again including robin

and for the most peak proof of all... robin himself literally said he was dead! he says he doesn't want to have died for nothing and he wants to have at least died for a friend! HE SAID HIMSELF HES NOT COMING HOME!!! he is COOKED (thanks @staggersz for a lot of these points)

also back to the story in general, bringing robin back to life would be such a disservice to finney's development as well because robin's phone call is that final push finney needs to get himself together and face the grabber. sure that phone call could've come from any of the other ghosts but it's established that robin and finney are friends so hearing advice and the harsh truth from him helps finney get the courage to attack albert, like finneys not just doing this for himself and the other ghosts, he's doing it for his best friend who he lost when he shouldn't have, so that robin didnt die for nothing

bringing him back would also make the story messy in general. it makes the grabber WAY less threatening because if you can supernaturally bring robin back then who's to say you can't bring his other victims back..? it also just makes the in-universe 'laws' around the ghosts and the supernatural very messy and confusing like why would he be able to come back? what purpose would it serve? it just doesnt make sense from a storytelling point of view

i am very intrigued to see what role he plays in the second movie, im thinking flashbacks or finney will continue to be haunted by him but if its something different im excited to see it ^_^ unless they bring him back to life. if theyre doing that they better let me see vance too if hes not in tbp 2 im rioting okay bye

[kittylover776]

I’ve also seen that fic, I believe, and while it’s unfinished, I’m looking forward to see what happens next! 😁

I have my own head-cannon about her, actually. I posted about it a while ago (it could use some updating, TBH), I want to explain it here.

Basically, Karen was essentially a free-spirit. She loved to travel, and was very spontaneous and fun, which was what drew Kevin to her. The two met in college, and they hit it off right away. Stacy, however, was very skeptical of her, believing she wasn’t gonna stick around very long, nor did she seem to stay in one place (a.k.a, she’s been with plenty of other men in the past 😓). Kevin tried reassuring Stacy that he can handle her, and she seemed opted to change her ways.

Later on (during junior year), Karen wanted to drop out of collage and explore the world, believing collage wasn’t getting her anywhere, and only went because of her parents. She tried convincing Kevin to go along with her, but he wanted to stay and finish his degree, to fulfill his dream to open up a bakery with Stacy. Hurt by his rejection, Karen left, leaving Stacy to help pick up the pieces of what Karen left behind.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Karen became pregnant with Kevin’s baby, and returned months later in hopes to make amends, and to tell Kevin he was going to be a father. Kevin was both surprised and thrilled, but also was a bit cautious, worried she would up and leave him again after their child was born. Karen didn’t make a promise, but assured him she would stay as long as she needed to, and the two got married.

After Olivia was born, things were fine at first. Kevin and Stacy graduated, opened up the bakery, and was able to make a life for themselves, while Karen tried to be as supportive as she could. After a few years, Karen got that itch to travel again, and made this to Kevin known. She wasn’t the most involved mother, leaving Olivia with Kev and going out, trying to feel alive again. She loved Olivia, she did, but her priorities unfortunately didn’t put her first.

Finally, Kevin put his foot down, telling Karen to prioritize her family, or leave to do what she wanted. Unsurprisingly, she chose the second option, filing for divorce and leaving for good.

Stacy did her best to try and fill the shoes Karen left behind. She made sure to look after Liv when she could, but also had a business to run, so it wasn’t easy. They eventually got a sitter until Olivia was at a reasonable age, but even still it was never the same.

Olivia doesn’t remember much about her mother, but would occasionally get gifts for her birthday or other occasions sent her way, along with a note that told her she still loved her very much. Kevin didn’t want to talk badly about Karen in front of Liv, so he made an effort to keep his mouth shut about it. At least she wasn’t a total deadbeat, sending their daughter trinkets from her travels, but it still wasn’t enough.

Eventually, the gifts stopped coming, and to this day Kevin wondered what happened to her…

Sometimes I like to wonder what went on between Kevin and Margaret after they spontaneously got married at the airport. Like, what happened that night when they all got back to the palace? Did they ever talk about what happened, or did they sleep in one room right after? Did they ever think about holding the usual traditional wedding ceremony, or anything along those lines? There’s just sooooo much to cover XD.

[frozenartscapes]

Edelgard still lives rent free in my head and I had a random headcanon about her Fallen version in Heroes. (Because I personally think it’s more interesting if each Edelgard had slightly different personalities and quirks that reflect the lives they lived before being summoned. For example, I see Brave!Edelgard as being the defacto “mom” of the group because she’s technically the oldest.)

But Hegie!Edelgard specifically is the most intriguing to me so here’s my headcanon: she’s the tallest. I like to think that she’s got some semblance of control over her Hegemon form, and has figured out that she can stretch her body just a tiny bit when in her non-beast form that puts her a few inches taller than the other Edelgards. Nothing crazy - she’s not trying to compete with Dimitri or Hubert.

But those few inches are more than enough to make the “normal” Edelgards jealous and Hegie is infuriatingly smug about it