#but these are the books he’s a main character in

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: How to Ruin a Plot || Jade Leech

When you end up as the villainess in a story that's hellbent on making her suffer for no reason, you decide to make the main characters suffer just for catharsis. Good thing that your fiancé, Jade Leech seems to like chaos as much as you.

Series Masterlist

Dinner wasn’t much to write home about—a plate of lukewarm spaghetti that could generously be described as "functional," paired with a salad so sad it could star in its own soap opera. But you had something better: entertainment.

And by entertainment, you meant the literary dumpster fire currently sitting in your hands.

This book. This book.

The plot was so catastrophically terrible that it looped around to being hilarious. You chewed your subpar spaghetti and flipped a page, trying not to laugh too hard at the sheer absurdity of what you were reading.

The villainess, a talented duchess and renowned potion maker, was saddled with some of the worst clients in existence. The saintess—of course, she was a saintess, because originality was clearly out of the question—was engaged to the Duke of the North. Why? Who knows. It wasn’t like they seemed to like each other. In fact, she was also having a very public affair with the prince.

And not just any prince. A balding prince.

Because nothing screams “romantic rival” like the slow and tragic retreat of one’s hairline.

They were both the worst. The kind of people who would demand a 12-step skincare routine from their servants but would balk at paying them a living wage. When the villainess refused to make them more potions for ridiculous requests like “immunity to insults” (seriously?), they decided to frame her for crimes and have her executed.

The sheer audacity.

But it didn’t stop there. Oh no. The villainess had a fiancé—Jade Leech, poor guy—who tried his best to help her escape. And what did she do? Sacrificed herself so he wouldn’t get dragged into her mess. Noble, sure, but also infuriating because she died for them.

And then Jade, now heartbroken and understandably bitter, became the main antagonist. Only to be defeated by the same cartoonishly bland protagonists who caused the entire mess.

It was like someone handed a six-year-old a book contract and said, “Go wild, kid. Just make sure it has betrayal and love triangles, and throw in some magic potions or something.”

You forked another sad tangle of spaghetti into your mouth and tried not to choke from laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. The characters had all the depth of a kiddie pool, the plot holes were big enough to drive a carriage through, and the pacing? What pacing? This story had clearly decided pacing was for cowards.

You flipped to another page, nearly snorting when the saintess justified her affair by saying, “It’s what the goddess would want."

Sure, Jan.

And just as you were about to take another bite of dinner, it happened.

A mushroom. A mushroom.

You didn’t even realize it had slipped into your spaghetti until it was already lodged in your throat. Panic set in as you clawed at your neck, gasping for air while your brain helpfully supplied one last thought:

Can’t believe a mushroom took me out. Goddammit.

And then everything went dark.

The first thing you notice is the carpet: thick, plush, and entirely too luxurious for someone who had been laughing themselves to death over garbage-tier literature just moments ago. The second thing you notice is that you’re alive, which is great. Except you’re no longer in your cozy little living room.

No, you’re in a gothic mansion straight out of an interior decorator's fever dream. Dark wood, brooding paintings, and vials of suspicious liquids lined up neatly on shelves. For a second, you think you’ve wandered into a Dracula fan convention, but then it hits you.

The novel. The Poisoned Duchess and the Frozen Heart of the North.

You scramble to your feet, heart pounding. “No. No, no, no, no,” you mutter, sprinting to the nearest mirror. A familiar (and obnoxiously beautiful) face stares back at you. Elegant curls, piercing eyes, and an expression that could curdle milk. Yep. You’re the Duchess—the villainess who gets executed for daring to have standards.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan, gripping the edge of the vanity. “I was just making fun of this! How did I end up here? Is this karma? Did the mushroom do this?!”

You spend a good ten minutes pacing the room, muttering to yourself like a squirrel with a caffeine problem. “Okay, okay, think. The Saintess and the Prince are nuts, and they’re gonna come here demanding potions for their ridiculous nonsense like ‘immunity to sarcasm’ or whatever. Solution? Close the shop. Sell it. Let some other poor soul deal with their unhinged requests. Genius! But what next? What about the fiancé—oh god, Jade!”

Jade Leech. The fiancé you had casually dismissed in your tirade against the novel. The one who was supposed to be self-sacrificing, and eventually doomed. But now he’s your fiancé, and you’re not about to let him become collateral damage in this flaming dumpster fire of a plot.

“We’ll run away!” you declare, pointing dramatically at an imaginary horizon. “We’ll elope, move to some peaceful countryside, grow tomatoes, and live a happy, Saintess-free life. Screw the plot. Screw the Duke. Screw the Saintess and her balding fiancé—”

You’re mid-sentence when the sound of a door opening interrupts your theatrical monologue. You spin around and freeze.

Standing in the doorway is Jade Leech himself. And oh boy, the novel did not do him justice. His sharp features, soft teal hair, and piercing eyes make your brain short-circuit. The man looks like he walked out of an ethereal fairy tale and promptly decided to make everyone else look like peasants.

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and raises a brow. “Well, this is quite the scene to walk into.”

You blink. And then you blink again, because your brain is still stuck on handsome fiancé alert. “Uh…”

Jade smirks, clearly amused. “Is this a private performance, or can anyone join? Because I’m not sure who you’re planning to screw, but it sounds… ambitious.”

You want to die all over again. “I—uh, would you… like to join my plans?”

His eyes gleam with mischief. “Plans, you say? That depends. Do these plans involve anything more exciting than managing a potion shop?”

“Yes! So much more exciting!” you blurt out. “We close the shop, sell it, cause some chaos, run away, and live happily ever after far away from this stupid place! No Saintess. No Duke. Just… us. Tomatoes. Maybe a goat.”

Jade chuckles, the sound warm and entirely too pleasant for your frazzled state of mind. “You’ve certainly caught my interest. All right, I’m in. A little chaos sounds much better than… whatever normalcy is supposed to look like.”

He steps closer, and you swear your brain bluescreens again because wow, personal space doesn’t exist here, huh? Jade offers his hand, his smile sharp but oddly sincere. “So, where do we start, my prodigal Duchess?”

You take his hand, still half-dazed. “Step one: Screw the Saintess.”

He laughs again. “Now that’s the kind of plan I can get behind.”

Meeting Jade's brother was like getting hit by a rogue wave of chaos. You'd thought Jade was the wild card of the family, but then Floyd Leech burst into the room like a hurricane wearing a grin.

He looked at you with an intensity that made you feel like you were being appraised for your entertainment value, then immediately announced, "You wanna screw with the Saintess and the Duke? Oh, I’m in.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then at Jade, who gave you an apologetic shrug, clearly used to Floyd’s… energy. You decided, then and there, that you were extremely lucky to have been paired with the Leech brother who at least pretended to respect social norms.

Floyd, however, was a force of nature and, admittedly, a useful one. He seemed far too enthusiastic about the chaos you were planning, but hey, when life gives you a human typhoon, you use it to wreak havoc.

Then there was Azul Ashengrotto. Meeting him felt less like talking to a person and more like negotiating with an overly polite shark. “I can provide you protection,” he said smoothly, pushing a contract toward you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You glanced at the contract, then back at him. “And what does this… "protection" demand in return?”

“Oh, nothing too demanding,” Azul said, waving his hand as if it was all very casual. “Just a few favors in return. Small things, really.”

You stared at the fine print and felt your soul start to sweat. This wasn’t just protection—it was a fast track to selling your soul to the fish mafia.

“Tell you what,” you said, shoving the contract back toward him. “I’ll sell the potion shop to you for cheap if you help me with whatever plans I come up with.”

Azul tilted his head, intrigued. “And what’s in it for me?”

“You get to own the best potion shop in the kingdom without dealing with the Saintess and her entourage of entitlement.”

His eyes gleamed. “Done. But if you get arrested, you won’t mention my name.”

“Deal,” you said, shaking his hand. Internally, you made a note to burn the shop down if things went south. Better a pile of ash than Azul owning it and your dignity.

The next day, you decided to drop by a boutique to prepare for the Saintess’s tea party. Not because you cared about the event, but because you cared very deeply about ruining her day.

You knew exactly what she was planning to wear—some pastel monstrosity—and you were determined to outshine her. You’d wear an upgraded version of her outfit, but classier, sharper, and absolutely dripping with pettiness.

The boutique owner was taking your measurements when you told them to send the bill to your butler. That was when Jade, who had been quietly browsing nearby, strolled over. He casually slid his arm around your waist, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and said, “Send the bill to me.”

You whipped around, scandalized. “Excuse me?!”

He leaned in, his mismatched eyes sparkling with mischief. “I just want everyone to know you’re my fiancée,” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too close to your ear.

Your brain promptly blue-screened. He was too close, his scent too distracting, and his hand on your waist was doing things to your equilibrium. The boutique owner pretended not to notice your obvious malfunction, but Jade? Jade looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Fine,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you tried to collect the scattered pieces of your dignity.

“Good,” Jade said, his smirk widening.

He didn’t let go of you after that. Oh no, he kept his hand firmly on the small of your back as you left the boutique. Every step was an exercise in not collapsing from the sheer audacity of his touch.

Meanwhile, Jade looked perfectly at ease, as if his sole purpose in life was to see how long it would take you to spontaneously combust.

By the time you got back to the mansion, you were sure of one thing: Jade Leech was going to be the death of you, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The tea party was shaping up to be the highlight of your career as a petty agent of chaos. You arrived late, naturally—nothing screams “I’m better than you” quite like waltzing in when everyone’s already seated.

The moment you stepped into the pavilion, a collective gasp swept through the crowd. Your dress—custom-tailored, one-of-a-kind, and effortlessly overshadowing every other outfit there—practically glowed in the sunlight.

The Saintess, perched at the head of the table, turned to greet you, her expression instantly souring when she caught sight of your gown. Oh, you could practically hear the cogs in her head screeching to a halt as she realized you’d completely outdone her.

“Oh my,” you said, offering a demure smile as you made your way to your seat. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice as sweet as arsenic. “What a… bold choice of dress.”

“Oh, this?” You gestured casually, as though you weren’t wearing something that could stop traffic. “My fiancé picked it out for me. He has such excellent taste, don’t you think?”

You didn’t need to look directly at her to see the way her jaw clenched. You could feel her rage simmering from across the table. After all, her own fiancé, or even the Balding Prince, hadn’t bothered to buy her a dress, let alone one that could compete with yours. You almost felt bad for her. Almost.

From there, the afternoon devolved into a series of increasingly petty power plays.

When the Saintess poured herself a cup of tea, you made a point to remark on how “rustic” her teapot was.

When she complimented the garden’s flowers, you chimed in with, “Oh, are these the same ones you tried to grow last year? I remember hearing how they all died!”

Every little comment was a carefully aimed dart, and she was too polite—or perhaps too afraid of snapping in public—to retaliate. The guests, of course, were eating it up.

The pièce de résistance came when the Balding Prince himself approached you during the party.

“I need a potion,” he said, puffing himself up like a rooster trying to assert dominance. “For my, uh, hair.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. Of all the scenarios you’d envisioned, this was not one of them.

“Your hair?” you echoed, doing your best to keep a straight face. “What kind of potion are we talking about here? Growth? Volume? Shine?”

The Prince’s eye twitched. “That’s… none of your business,” he snapped.

Before you could respond, Jade—bless him—“accidentally” bumped into the Prince from behind, sending his ridiculous feathered hat tumbling to the ground.

The gasp that followed was deafening.

There it was, in all its glory: the shiny, blinding expanse of the Prince’s balding crown, gleaming like a beacon of despair in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, the pavilion was silent. Then someone coughed. Then someone else giggled. And before long, the entire tea party was a symphony of poorly stifled laughter.

“It’s, uh, a royal tradition!” the Prince stammered, clutching his hat and jamming it back onto his head. “A sign of wisdom and… and…”

He trailed off, clearly out of excuses, and fled the scene faster than you’d ever seen anyone run in formalwear.

The Saintess looked like she was about to implode. Unfortunately for her, the Third Male Lead (Yes, there were 3 of them) chose that exact moment to swoop in, all charm and wit as he began lavishing her with attention. You leaned back in your chair, sipping your tea and basking in the chaos like a cat who’d just knocked over an entire shelf of priceless antiques.

“Nice work,” you murmured to Jade, holding up your hand for a discreet high five.

Instead of obliging, he grabbed your hand and laced his fingers through yours, the smirk on his face practically criminal.

“You’re far more fun than I expected,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You stared at him, your brain immediately short-circuiting. Your default response to most situations was sarcasm or snark, but this? This was uncharted territory.

“Uh… thanks?” you managed, your voice coming out embarrassingly squeaky.

Jade chuckled, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as if to emphasize just how flustered you were.

“Come on,” he said, his tone far too casual for someone who’d just ruined you in front of an audience. “Let’s go cause more trouble.”

He kept his hand on the small of your back as you walked away from the pavilion, and you were pretty sure your soul left your body every time he leaned in to whisper some biting comment about the Saintess or her rapidly expanding collection of admirers.

One thing was certain: you were having the time of your life, and this was only the beginning.

The day begins innocently enough, which should have been your first warning.

You’re peacefully reading in the library, enjoying the silence, when Floyd barrels in like a hurricane. “Oi, c’mon, you gotta help me!” he hisses, grabbing your wrist before you can protest.

“Help you with what?” you manage to ask as you’re dragged down the corridor, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“It’s Jade,” Floyd says ominously. “He’s made mushrooms again.”

Ah, that explains it. You’ve heard rumors about Jade’s culinary experiments, but you’d yet to experience them firsthand.

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Floyd grins, the kind of grin that promises nothing good. “Well, I told him you love mushrooms.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “You what?”

Before you can bolt, Floyd shoves you through the greenhouse door and slams it shut behind you.

Inside, the room is warm and humid, filled with the earthy scent of soil and plants. At the far end, Jade is bent over a terrarium, meticulously arranging its contents with tweezers.

He looks up when he hears you enter, his expression brightening. “Ah, you’re here!”

Your heart sinks.

Floyd’s words echo in your mind—you love mushrooms. If only he knew. Mushrooms were the reason you got isekai’d in the first place, and the trauma of choking on one is still fresh in your memory. But now, faced with Jade’s expectant gaze and a plate of what looks like sautéed mushrooms on the table, you realize you’re trapped.

“Floyd said you were eager to try these,” Jade says, his tone polite but unmistakably pleased.

You glance at the mushrooms, then back at Jade. He looks so hopeful, like someone who’s spent hours perfecting a recipe and is finally sharing it with someone who’ll appreciate it. You swallow hard.

“Of course!” you say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “I love mushrooms.”

You sit down at the table, and Jade places the plate in front of you. The mushrooms actually smell... good. Earthy and buttery, with a hint of garlic and herbs.

“Bon appétit,” he says, watching you intently.

You pick up a fork, your hands trembling slightly, and stab a piece. You can do this, you tell yourself. It’s not the mushroom’s fault you died. It’s just food.

With one final breath, you pop the piece into your mouth.

...It’s delicious.

The flavor is rich and savory, perfectly balanced, and the texture is tender without being mushy. You blink in surprise, then take another bite.

“Good?” Jade asks, and there’s a slight smugness in his tone.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, unable to stop yourself from eating more.

Jade’s smile widens, and something in his expression softens.

After finishing the plate, you linger in the greenhouse as Jade continues tending to his terrariums. You watch him work, his hands deft and precise as he rearranges moss, misting the plants with care.

“Need help with anything?” you ask, feeling unexpectedly at ease.

He glances at you, then gestures to a nearby shelf. “If you don’t mind organizing the vials, that would be helpful.”

You nod and get to work, sorting the various bottles of nutrients and spores while Jade hums softly under his breath. The atmosphere is peaceful, the kind of quiet that feels alive rather than stifling.

Once the terrariums are in perfect order, Jade brews a pot of tea, and you both sit at a small table nestled among the plants. The tea is fragrant, its warmth soothing as you take a sip.

Jade sits across from you, one hand resting lightly on the table. Absentmindedly, you reach out and place your hand over his.

He freezes for a moment, his eyes flicking to your joined hands. His usual calm demeanor falters, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “You’re quite bold,” he murmurs, though there’s a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You suppress a grin, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before turning your attention back to your tea. “And you’re holding my hand,” you point out casually.

“I suppose I am,” he says, his voice steady again, though his ears are noticeably red.

The two of you sit there for a while longer, sipping tea and enjoying the greenhouse’s serenity. Jade, ever the polite menace, pretends to be unfazed, but you catch him glancing at your joined hands more than once.

You smile into your cup, the taste of mushrooms and tea lingering on your tongue.

You wake up to the sound of maniacal laughter, the kind that belongs to either an evil overlord or someone who just discovered how to unlock infinite in-game currency. For one groggy moment, you wonder if the devil himself has come to collect you for your sins. But as your eyes flutter open, reality (and dread) sets in.

It’s not the devil. It’s Floyd.

“Why?” you croak, sitting up in your chair and rubbing your eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Jade, ever the epitome of composed chaos, is sitting calmly across from you, sipping tea and looking highly amused. “Ah, you’re awake,” he says with a smile that suggests nothing good is about to happen.

“I had the best idea!” Floyd exclaims, still cackling. “It’s gonna be hilarious!”

Jade gives you a knowing look, the kind that says, This is going to be a disaster, but I want to watch it unfold.

You should probably shut this down. You should. But instead, you wave a hand and mumble, “Sure, go wild.”

It turns out “wild” was underselling it.

Floyd’s “brilliant” idea? Convince the Saintess to organize a grand sword-fighting competition under the premise that the Balding Prince would absolutely win. To no one’s surprise (except maybe the Saintess), she fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“She’s been gushing about how he’s ‘a natural-born warrior,’” Floyd reports gleefully during the planning phase. “She’s even betting on him!”

You glance at Jade, who is practically glowing with smug anticipation. That should have been your first clue to intervene. Instead, you shrug and think, Eh, it’ll be fine.

It was, in fact, not fine.

When the announcement of the tournament goes public, the Balding Prince—bless his fragile ego—realizes he has a slight problem. Namely, the fact that he’s never held a sword in his life, let alone used one. Naturally, he comes crawling to you.

“I need a potion,” he demands, his tone somewhere between entitled and desperate. “To, uh, enhance my… swordsmanship.”

You lean back in your chair, trying to look unimpressed. “Oh, I don’t sell potions anymore,” you say airily.

The Prince glares at you, his bald spot gleaming under the room’s chandelier. “I’ll pay you.”

“You can’t afford me.”

“How about enough gold to fund your entire territory for the next twenty years?”

You sit up straight. “You drive a hard bargain, Your Highness.”

The potion you make for him is top-notch—for two hours. After that, well, let’s just say it’s going to be a long day for the Balding Prince.

The tournament goes about as chaotically as you expect. Jade, a genuinely skilled swordsman, carves his way through every round with ease. The Prince, meanwhile, is barely holding on, relying entirely on the potion to scrape by. Somehow, by sheer luck and Floyd’s endless meddling, the Prince manages to make it to the final round.

By this point, the Saintess is practically glowing with excitement, convinced her fiancé is about to cement his status as a legendary warrior. “He’s going to win for sure!” she squeals, clapping her hands.

You sip your tea, barely suppressing your smirk. Oh, sweet summer child.

The final round begins with Jade and the Prince stepping into the arena. The crowd roars with anticipation. The Saintess is preening in the stands, while the Empress looks vaguely mortified, as though she knows what’s about to happen but can’t stop it.

And then, right on cue, the potion wears off.

The Prince’s stance falters immediately, his grip on the sword going from “warrior” to “child holding a bat for the first time.” Jade doesn’t even have to try. One expertly placed strike sends the Prince’s weapon flying across the arena, and the match ends with the Prince sprawled on the ground, dazed and defeated.

The crowd erupts into laughter, and you’re pretty sure you see the Emperor facepalm.

To add insult to injury, the Emperor himself has to present the winner’s diadem to Jade. But instead of wearing it himself, Jade turns to you with a wicked grin.

“For you, my dear,” he says, placing the diadem on your head with a flourish.

The crowd loses it.

The Empress looks like she’s contemplating disowning her son on the spot. The Saintess bursts into tears and flees the arena, with the Prince stumbling after her, trying to explain his humiliating defeat.

You, meanwhile, stand in the center of the chaos, smiling peacefully.

“This,” you murmur, “is the best day of my life.”

The market was lively, the kind of lively that felt one loose cart wheel away from utter chaos. You’d gone there to buy something mundane—perhaps herbs, maybe a decorative pot, who even remembered anymore? What you did remember was spotting Azul, impeccably dressed as usual, standing at a stall that sold ornamental quills.

“Azul!” you called out, dragging Jade with you as you made your way over.

Azul turned, one brow arching as he spotted the two of you. “Ah, the duchess and her ever-present shadow. What brings you here?”

“Just window shopping,” you said vaguely, though Jade’s sudden fascination with terrarium accessories suggested otherwise.

One thing led to another, and before you knew it, the three of you were headed to a charming little café. It had the kind of ambiance that said, I’m wildly overpriced, but look at our aesthetic! Jade held the door open for you, and you stepped inside, marveling at the array of desserts in the display case.

You barely had time to settle into your seat when the atmosphere shifted.

There she was.

The Saintess.

You tried to ignore her, truly, but her obnoxious aura was as subtle as a bull in a porcelain shop. She was seated nearby, flanked by her entourage of lackeys. They whispered, they giggled, and they kept looking at you. You rolled your eyes and leaned closer to Jade and Azul, focusing on your conversation.

But peace, as usual, was not in the cards.

One of the lackeys—a girl who had the smug look of someone who thought her two brain cells were revolutionary—approached your table. In her hands was a steaming cup of tea, and the moment you saw it, a sense of foreboding settled over you.

And then, with all the subtlety of a villain in a children’s cartoon, she “tripped.”

The tea flew through the air in slow motion, a graceful arc of impending disaster. You braced for impact, but Jade moved faster. He stepped in front of you, shielding you from the scalding liquid. Most of it missed him, but a splash landed on his hand.

“Jade!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm to inspect the burn.

Meanwhile, the lackey straightened herself up, not even bothering to fake remorse. “Oops,” she said, her tone so insincere it could’ve curdled milk. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You carried a boiling cup of tea across the room, aimed it at our table, and ‘accidentally’ threw it at us?”

She shrugged, her smirk widening. “My dad will pay for any damages. And you’re overreacting. It’s just tea.”

Overreacting? Oh, you were about to react, all right.

Azul, meanwhile, was unusually quiet. His tie had been stained in the splash zone, and his tight-lipped smile was beginning to look like it could crack glass.

The lackey continued, oblivious to the metaphorical storm clouds gathering over Azul. “Anyway, if you keep making a scene, it’ll just look bad for you. My dad’s pretty important, you know.”

“Oh?” Azul said suddenly, his voice as smooth as silk but with an edge sharp enough to cut steel. “And who might your father be?”

The lackey puffed up with pride. “He’s the finance manager for the duchess’s estate!”

There was a beat of silence. You exchanged a glance with Azul, and then your lips curled into a predatory smile.

“Azul,” you said sweetly, “guess whose daddy is about to lose his job?”

The ride back to your estate was tense—for you, at least. Jade sat calmly beside you, his hand resting on his knee, but you couldn’t stop fussing over his burn.

“Stop squirming,” you said, dabbing at his hand with a damp cloth.

“I’m fine,” Jade insisted, though his amused tone suggested he was enjoying your concern far too much.

“You’re not fine,” you retorted. “What if it scars? What if it gets infected?”

“Then I’ll have a mark to remember your attention by,” he said, his lips twitching into a half-smile.

You glared at him, but your fussing didn’t stop. By the time you reached the estate, you were practically vibrating with righteous fury.

The finance manager stood in your office, visibly confused.

“You’re fired,” you said bluntly.

His jaw dropped. “What? Why?”

You crossed your arms, your smile as sharp as a blade. “Ask your daughter.”

“What does she have to do with this?” he demanded, his face turning red.

“Everything,” you replied. “Guards, escort him out.”

He sputtered and protested, but you didn’t care. Justice had been served.

Later, after the physician had checked Jade’s hand and declared him fine, you collapsed onto the nearest couch, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. Without thinking, you ended up sprawled across Jade’s lap.

He stiffened, his hands hovering awkwardly before he cautiously placed one on your back to keep you from sliding off.

“Comfortable?” he asked dryly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

You hummed in response, already half-asleep. Within moments, your breathing evened out, and you nodded off.

Jade, for his part, was thoroughly smitten. His usual composure cracked as he replayed the day’s events—your fiery anger on his behalf, the way you’d fretted over his injury, and now, the way you looked so peaceful resting against him.

His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, and he allowed himself a rare, genuine smile.

“Quite the enigma,” he murmured to himself, already planning how to keep you close.

The ballroom was a spectacle of opulence. Chandeliers glittered overhead, casting soft golden light on the polished floors and the parade of nobles in their finest silks and velvets.

This was supposed to be a night of grand announcements, of declarations of love, and of the start of some “epic romance” that would undoubtedly be inscribed into the annals of history—or, at least, that's what the original novel promised.

But as you stood to the side with Jade and Floyd, it was evident that this version of events was hurtling off the rails.

Enter: the Duke of the North.

The poor man barely stepped into the ballroom before his eyes landed on the prince and the saintess. You could physically see the will to live drain out of him as his shoulders slumped, his gaze unfocused like he was calculating the fastest way to fake his own death and disappear into the wilderness.

It was almost pitiful. Almost.

The prince, meanwhile, had puffed up his chest and was grinning like he hadn’t recently been humiliated in front of half the kingdom. And the saintess—oh, she was trying, bless her delusional heart.

Smiling demurely, batting her lashes, and putting on a performance that might have worked if her reputation hadn’t already been stomped into the dirt by your carefully orchestrated chaos.

You leaned toward Jade and whispered, “I think the Duke’s trying to plot his own escape.”

Jade’s lips twitched in amusement, but he kept his usual calm demeanor. Floyd, however, cackled loudly enough to draw a few stares.

Then, the moment arrived: the prince stepped forward, his cape swishing dramatically as he raised his goblet. “Tonight, I announce my bride-to-be, the one chosen by the heavens themselves—the saintess!”

There was a smattering of applause, mostly out of obligation, but you were too busy watching the Duke. The man visibly sagged with relief, his shoulders dropping like he’d just been unshackled from a lifetime of servitude. You could practically hear the mental thank the gods echoing in his head.

And then, as if shedding the weight of the world, he turned on his heel and made a beeline—toward you.

You blinked, momentarily stunned as the Duke of the North, the supposed male lead, bowed deeply and extended a hand toward you. “Would you honor me with the first dance, my lady?”

You opened your mouth to decline, because this wasn’t in any script you remembered, but before you could utter a word, Jade smoothly stepped in.

“Apologies, Duke,” he said with his signature polite menace, “but she already promised this dance to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Jade’s hand found the small of your back, and he gently yet firmly guided you to the dance floor. The Duke was left standing there, his hand still outstretched, looking mildly bewildered.

“Don’t worry!” Floyd piped up, appearing out of nowhere. “I’ll dance with you!”

Before the Duke could protest, Floyd latched onto his arm and practically dragged him into a lively—and utterly chaotic—dance that looked like a mix of a waltz and a sparring match. The Duke’s expression alternated between horror and resignation, while Floyd grinned like he was having the time of his life.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as you watched the scene.

Jade glanced down at you, his expression softening as he took in your laughter. His usual cool demeanor melted for just a moment, replaced by something so tender it made your heart stutter.

The realization hit you like a lightning bolt.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

You were in love with him.

And not the “oh, he’s handsome and I tolerate his presence” kind of love. This was the “I want to spend my life laughing and dancing and plotting petty revenge schemes with you” kind of love.

The thought was overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, you buried your face in Jade’s chest.

He stilled for a moment, surprised, but then his arms encircled you, holding you close as he continued to sway to the rhythm of the music.

He didn’t question it, didn’t tease you, didn’t even comment. Instead, he rested his chin lightly on top of your head, his voice low as he murmured, “Are you all right?”

You nodded into his chest, your cheeks burning as you clung to him like a lifeline.

As the music swelled around you, you felt his hand tighten slightly on your waist. When you finally peeked up at him, his gaze met yours, and there it was again—that look of unguarded adoration that made your knees weak.

It was, without a doubt, the best dance of your life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ballroom, the Duke of the North was being spun around like a rag doll by Floyd, who was cackling loud enough to echo off the walls.

You caught sight of the saintess in the corner, her smile strained and her fingers clutching her goblet so tightly it looked like it might shatter.

All was well in the world.

The ballroom was buzzing with conversation, the glittering chandeliers casting light on a gathering of nobles too caught up in their own intrigues to notice the storm brewing in one corner. That is, until a sharp, shrill voice cut through the air.

“You think you can just ruin my family and get away with it?” It was the girl whose arrogance had gotten her father fired. Her finger pointed straight at you, her expression a mix of fury and desperation.

The ballroom stilled as the girl pointed her trembling finger at you, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass. "You think you can destroy my family and just walk away? You're nothing but a tyrant with too much power and zero empathy!"

Her father, standing nearby, was frantically gesturing for her to stop. “D-Dear, perhaps we should—”

“Shut it, Father! I’m handling this!” she snapped, tossing her poorly styled curls over her shoulder. She turned back to you, eyes blazing. “Everyone should know what kind of monster you are. Workplace harassment! That’s right—I said it!”

Before you could even process the absolute absurdity of the accusation, the Duke of the North stepped forward like some knight in an overwrought romance novel.

“You will not speak of her in such a way,” he declared, his voice booming with righteous indignation. “The duchess is a paragon of nobility and grace!”

The crowd collectively oohed, but before you could roll your eyes hard enough to dislocate something, the Saintess shot to her feet, looking utterly scandalized.

“This man,” she hissed, gesturing wildly at the Duke, “didn’t even fight for me, his divinely chosen match, but now he defends her? A woman who flaunts her defiance of heaven’s will? Blasphemy!”

“Blasphemy?” you muttered under your breath. “Blasphe-you, lady…”

Unfortunately, the Balding Prince chose this moment to stumble into the fray. “Uh… Are we…arguing?” He puffed up his chest, desperately trying to seem relevant. “As prince, I demand order!”

You took one look at him, with his shiny scalp gleaming under the chandeliers, and decided he wasn’t even worth the effort.

Meanwhile, Jade, ever the picture of composed menace, sidled up to your side. His eyes locked onto the Duke’s hand, which was still resting on yours. With a polite but firm gesture, Jade brushed the Duke’s hand away as though it carried the plague.

The Duke looked affronted. Jade just smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile. It was the kind of smile that promised future inconvenience.

You, however, had officially hit your limit. You stepped forward, raising your voice over the din. “Enough!”

The room froze. All eyes turned to you as you launched into your tirade, starting with the Saintess.

“You!” You pointed directly at her, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed with outrage. “Do you honestly think the universe revolves around you just because you’ve got a shiny necklace and a tragic backstory? Newsflash: It doesn’t. The only divine will I’ve seen is everyone’s will to avoid your self-righteous sermons. Go back to your prayer circle and spare us your dramatics.”

Her mouth opened in shock, but you were already turning to the Balding Prince.

“And you! Stop sending letters to my estate asking for potions to grow hair or stretch your bones. I’m a duchess, not a miracle worker, and no amount of magic can make you interesting. Get a personality—or at least a hat.”

The prince turned beet red, his hands twitching as though debating whether to flee or argue. You didn’t care.

You swung your gaze to the girl whose father you’d fired. “And as for you, congratulations. You’ve just confirmed that stupidity really is hereditary. Your dad didn’t lose his job because of me. He lost it because he was stealing more money than the royal treasury had left after your little shopping sprees. You’re lucky I didn’t throw both of you in jail.”

Her father, now sweating through his cravat, looked like he might faint on the spot.

Finally, you turned to the Duke. “And you. I appreciate the effort, really. It’s sweet that you think I need defending. But I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need saving. And, oh—” You reached out, grabbing Jade by the arm. “I happen to have a fiancé whom I adore. So maybe put your chivalry elsewhere.”

Jade, for his part, looked smug as he allowed himself to be pulled along, his composure completely unshaken.

The ballroom fell into stunned silence as you swept toward the exit. Then—

Floyd’s laughter broke through like a cannon blast. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as tears streamed down his face. “Oh my god—that was amazing—! Balding prince—hat—”

Azul smirked, hiding his amusement behind a gloved hand. “Well, that was certainly… enlightening.”

You didn’t even look back as you pushed open the grand doors. “Idiots, the lot of them,” you muttered.

As you exited the ballroom, you couldn’t help but glance up at Jade. He looked unusually pleased, his lips curling into a faint, satisfied smile.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” he said smoothly, though the twinkle in his eye said otherwise. “I simply find your methods... inspiring.”

The two of you made it past the grand doors before the realization hit you like a carriage with no brakes.

You had just declared, in front of everyone, that you loved Jade.

And he knew it. Oh, did he know it.

He walked beside you, his usual calm and collected demeanor now infused with an insufferable smugness. His smile was the kind that could sell snake oil to a herpetologist.

“Darling,” he said, his voice laced with honeyed amusement, “you’re unusually quiet. Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps you’re shy after your… heartfelt proclamation?”

You refused to meet his gaze. “Shut up,” you muttered, staring resolutely at the carpeted hallway like it held the secrets to the universe.

“Now, now,” he crooned, leaning closer. “Why won’t you look at me? Surely you wouldn’t deny me the honor of basking in the gaze of my beloved?”

Your face burned hotter than the ballroom chandeliers. You covered it with your hands. “Leave me here,” you said dramatically. “Leave me here to rot in peace.”

Jade chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that sent shivers down your spine—warm, teasing, and entirely too pleased. “Why on earth would I do that?” he asked, his tone deceptively innocent. “Especially when my beloved looks so… endearing in their embarrassment.”

You peeked through your fingers, ready to deliver some biting retort, but the words died in your throat.

Jade’s expression had shifted. He wasn’t just amused anymore—he was smitten. The way his mismatched eyes softened as they looked at you, the faint smile that carried more affection than smugness, the subtle tilt of his head like you were the most fascinating thing in the world—it was all too much.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you grumbled, your voice weak.

“Like what?” he asked, feigning ignorance as he gently reached for your hands.

You tried to resist, but he was insistent, pulling them away from your face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t just a teasing peck to rile you up—it was slow, deliberate, and completely disarming. You melted against him, any thoughts of resistance dissolving as you instinctively pulled him closer.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and slightly dazed, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this book wasn’t the irredeemable mess you’d always thought it was.

After all, it had given you him.

The decision to expedite the wedding wasn’t exactly born of romance. It was born of the Duke’s increasingly deranged letters, the last of which included a poem so long and melodramatic it might as well have been a novel in verse.

Jade, to his credit, only raised a single brow at your muttered curses as you ripped the latest letter into confetti. “Darling,” he said mildly, “perhaps this is a sign to finalize our own arrangements before our dear Duke decides to recite his poetry at your doorstep.”

You had agreed, of course, which led to your current predicament: drowning in swatches, floral arrangements, and pamphlets for curtains—curtains, of all things.

“This one feels too garish,” you muttered, holding up a deep crimson drape. “But this one’s too boring,” you added, pointing at a pale beige option. You groaned and flopped back in your chair, glaring at the wedding planner. “Why is there no middle ground? What am I paying you for?”

The poor planner looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and never come out. Before you could unleash more frustration, Jade plucked the pamphlets from your hands with infuriating ease.

“Enough,” he said, his tone firm but fond. “You’ll give yourself gray hairs fretting over curtains. We can always elope, you know.”

You gaped at him. “Elope?”

His smile turned mischievous. “Yes. A quiet ceremony in the woods, perhaps, with only the birds as witnesses. Far from meddling Dukes and curtain debates.”

For a moment, you almost entertained the idea. But then you shook your head, laughing softly. “I suppose I’m being a bit dramatic.”

“A bit,” Jade echoed, though his teasing lilt softened as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “You don’t have to do this alone, my love. Delegate.”

The wedding planner, who had been cowering behind a stack of color charts, practically lit up. “Oh, yes! Delegate! Please, delegate!”

You sighed, leaning into Jade’s touch. “Fine. You’re in charge now.”

The planner looked as though he might fall to his knees and kiss Jade’s shoes in gratitude. Jade, ever the picture of elegance, merely chuckled.

“Excellent choice,” he said smoothly, guiding you away from the table of chaos. “Now, let’s find something far more enjoyable to argue about—like the wedding cake flavors.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily Jade managed to turn your stress into something almost enjoyable. Perhaps rushing the wedding wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The room was an over-the-top vision of wealth: chandeliers the size of small planets, flowers flown in from who-knows-where, and a cake so tall you were half-convinced Floyd could climb it and look smug doing it. Every noble in the kingdom was here, decked out in silks and sequins, pretending they weren’t secretly gossiping about you and your eel fiancé.

You barely noticed. Jade was standing in front of you, looking so unfairly ethereal you wondered if the universe had been playing favorites. His mismatched eyes were locked on yours, and his smile was small but so genuine you almost forgot your carefully planned vows.

Then, of course, chaos. Because how could anything in your life go smoothly?

From the back of the ballroom came a loud, wet, obnoxious wail.

“Oh, for the love of God,” you muttered under your breath, and Jade’s lips quirked in amusement.

“I LOVED HER FIRST!” the Duke sobbed dramatically, his voice shaking with the intensity of his grief.

“Shut your mouth before I shut it permanently,” Floyd snapped, his voice cutting through the crowd like a knife.

And if that wasn’t enough, you could faintly hear Azul’s oily, persuasive tone somewhere off to the side. “Yes, Lord Evermore, just a tiny signature on this insignificant little contract. You’re not using your soul for much, anyway, are you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, biting back a laugh. This wasn’t just a wedding—it was your wedding. Of course it was going to be chaotic.

But when you looked up, there was Jade, his gaze steady and full of a quiet devotion that made the rest of the madness blur into the background. His vows were perfect, as expected, and when it came your turn, you stumbled over the words a little, because how were you supposed to focus when he was looking at you like that?

Then came the kiss.

Jade dipped you in one smooth motion, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that sent the room spinning. Applause erupted, and you swore you heard someone sniffling behind you.

“Is the Duke crying again?” you murmured against Jade’s lips.

“I believe Floyd threatened him,” Jade replied, far too amused.

“And Azul’s... oh no, is he signing contracts?”

Jade only smirked, kissing you again. “Should I be worried that you’re more interested in their antics than your new husband?”

“I’m not—wait, husband?” You blinked at him, the word sinking in, and for the first time in ages, you felt completely, blissfully happy.

As you stood there with your chaotic, ridiculous found family around you, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, your life had taken a turn for the absurd, but if it brought you to this moment, maybe that cursed mushroom wasn’t so bad after all.

“Remind me to thank that mushroom,” you said with a grin.

Jade’s laughter was soft, warm, and entirely yours. “If it brought us together, I might build it a shrine.”

You laughed, pulling him closer. You’d faced chaos and conspiracies, chaos and hilarity, but in this moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Trash Novel Masterlist

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[sailorrhansol]

i'm a ho ho ho..... cheol/chan/reader.... bonus if chan is in a "learning" role and cheol is in charge of the whole thing :) :) :) my brain is a basic bitch i can't do anything with her

❀ Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

❀ Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

❀ Word Count: 5,632

❀ Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

❀ Type:  Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. Nickname use: baby for reader, Channie for Chan and one (1) Cheolie for Seungcheol

❀ A/N: Mojo Jojo Siwa I love you so much. Happy belated birthday but also happy it-took-me-three-weeks-to-fill-your-request. I BELIEVE IN BOYS KISSING BOYS DURING THREESOMES SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT SHIT GO AWAY. ALL SIDES OF THE TRIANGLE TOUCH IN MY WORLD BECAUSE BISEXUAL SUPREMACY. Anyway - here is this absolute filth and dream that Jo convinced me to write - I cannot be held accountable for how many times hands and mouth and spit are mentioned thank you 🫡

❀ A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

-

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Holly Jolly Charade | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Turns out, bringing a fake boyfriend to a family dinner worked out just fine.

Prompt: fake dating becomes too real

Part 2 : The Christmas Shift

Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Have you ever had one of those mornings that just feel perfect? The kind where everything aligns so effortlessly it feels like the universe is on your side?

No traffic, no line at the coffee shop, and all your usual rush-hour chaos smoothed out like butter on warm toast. Especially now, with Christmas looming, when there’s so much to get done, a morning like that feels like a miracle.

But just when you think the day’s off to a perfect start, something always has to disrupt the flow. This time, it’s your phone buzzing with a text message.

Mom:

"I’ve sent our ride to pick you up. No more excuses!"

You groaned audibly and rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt. The text left an invisible weight pressing on your chest. It wasn’t like you hated your family, but the thought of attending their Christmas dinner was… exhausting. Ever since you moved out, you’d been dodging these gatherings like a pro.

In the first couple of years, they were understanding. Your excuse? A new job, fresh out of college, with long hours and no time for travel. They’d bought it. Then, a few years later, you said you were busy building your business, and that worked too.

But now? Now your business was thriving, and worse, everyone knew it. Thanks to that damn magazine article, your entire extended family knew about your company’s success. Including how much profit it was making. You should’ve refused the interview. You should’ve told your friends to leave you out of it.

Now there were no excuses left. Your family saw right through them.

You tossed your phone onto your desk with a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to come up with a last-minute plan. The thought of sitting at that table, sharing space with your aunt of all people, made your stomach twist.

She was the epitome of judgmental nosiness, prying into every corner of your private life, not because she cared but because she wanted to compare. She loved knowing someone was doing worse than she was—it was like her secret Christmas joy.

You groaned again, typing furiously on your phone. “How to get away from Christmas family dinner” was the search query, but every suggestion seemed ridiculous or impractical. You sighed, slumping back in your chair.

A sudden knock at the door startled you.

“Come in,” you said, not bothering to glance up from your phone.

The door creaked open, and your vice president, Bucky Barnes, stepped in. He held a stack of papers in one hand, his other shoved casually into his pocket. His loose, long hair, still a work in progress, framed his annoyingly handsome face. He was wearing a crisp blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and the faintest smirk on his lips.

“Here’s the report,” he said, stepping closer and placing it on your desk. “Just need your signature, and the team can have an early paycheck.”

You glanced up briefly, pen already in hand. "Why didn't the finance guy give this to me?"

"Because they're afraid of you." He leaned against the desk, folding his arms, his smirk growing into something more mischievous.

“You look like someone Googling excuses to avoid their ex,” he teased, tilting his head toward your phone. “Or did your mom finally pin you down for the family Christmas dinner?”

You shot him a withering glare, tapping the pen against the report in irritation. “Mind your business, Barnes.”

“Hard not to,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve been muttering under your breath about aunts for the past five minutes. Also, your face? It’s doing that scrunchy thing again. Looks like someone ate a lemon.”

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms, staring daggers at him. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who’s been begging me for months to let him quit.”

“Begging?” He scoffed, a mock look of offense crossing his face. “I just said I wanted to try something new. But nooo, you’re like, ‘Stay here, Bucky. You’re the best VP ever.’” He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, earning an eye roll from you.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, snatching the pen and signing the document with more force than necessary.

“Aw, is that your way of saying you’d miss me?” He grinned, grabbing the papers and straightening them with a satisfied nod.

“No. It’s my way of saying you’d never survive on your own.”

He laughed, heading for the door. “Well, good luck with Christmas dinner. Don’t forget—misery loves company. Or in your case, a nosy aunt and smug cousins.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you continued scrolling through your phone. Your search results were less than helpful, but then one suggestion caught your eye: “Tell them you’re traveling with your boyfriend.”

The idea wasn’t entirely ridiculous. Your mom had been nagging you about finding someone and settling down for ages. Without thinking it through, you began typing a message.

“I can’t. I already have a trip planned with my boyfriend. Didn’t you want me to get married?”

Satisfied with the excuse, you hit send and placed your phone on the desk.

Not even two seconds later, the screen lit up with an incoming video call. It was your mom.

“Crap!” you yelped, fumbling for the phone. In your panic, you almost dropped it, but Bucky, quick as ever, snatched it mid-air. Unfortunately, his finger brushed the screen, accidentally accepting the call.

Your mother’s delighted face filled the screen. “Oh my goodness, you didn’t lie! You have a boyfriend. And a handsome one at that!”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Uh… I… wait—”

Your mom wasn’t listening. She leaned closer to her phone camera, grinning ear to ear. “It’s so nice to meet you! Both of you are still at the office, I see. Perfect. Cancel your plans and bring him to the family dinner!” With that, she hung up before you could say a word.

You stared at the blank screen, your hand still frozen mid-air. “What the heck just happened?”

Bucky turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “I think I just got adopted as your boyfriend.”

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. “This is a disaster. I texted her saying I had plans with my boyfriend so I wouldn’t have to go to dinner.”

“Do you even have a boyfriend?”

“No!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “And now my mom thinks we’re together!”

Before Bucky could respond, your assistant knocked on the door. “Ma’am, the driver is waiting downstairs for you.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to grab your coat.

Bucky leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with an amused expression. “I could play along, you know.”

“You? Helping me?” You scoffed, slipping your arms into the coat.

He shrugged, grabbing his own jacket. “I didn’t say I’d do it for free.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“I want to resign. And a generous bonus while we’re at it.”

You gaped at him, incredulous. “Seriously? Why do you want to quit so badly? You’ve got great benefits here.”

He followed you out of the office, adjusting his jacket as he walked. “I want to explore more. I’ve learned a lot here, but it’s time for something new.”

You glanced at him, half-annoyed, half-impressed by his confidence. “Unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he said with a mischievous grin. “How hard can pretending to be your boyfriend really be? I’ll even charm your aunt.”

“Oh, this is going to be a nightmare,” you muttered as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“Maybe,” Bucky said with a smirk, “but at least it won’t be boring.”

As you stepped into the lobby, your eyes immediately landed on the sleek black Maybach parked by the curb. The driver stood beside it, wearing a formal suit and gloves, ready to escort you to the inevitable Christmas dinner. Of course, it was your mom’s car—a glaring reminder that she always got her way.

You stood frozen for a moment, torn between irritation and resignation. The reality of the situation hit you like a weight: there was no escape this time. You chewed the inside of your cheek, contemplating running back upstairs and locking yourself in your office.

Before you could make a move, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you found Bucky standing there, casually slipping on his coat.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll fire you.”

His lips quirked into a triumphant grin. “Finally.”

“But,” you added sharply, pointing a finger at him, “if you want to leave on good terms, you’d better play your part well. Convince my family—especially my aunt—that we’re a couple.”

Bucky gave you a mock salute, his grin widening. “Got it. I’ll play my part like I’m gunning for an Oscar.”

You nearly laughed at his response, a small chuckle escaping despite yourself. “Let’s go.”

Once inside the car, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through pictures of your family. Handing it to Bucky, you said, “Don’t worry about my cousins—they’re pretty cool and don’t ask too many questions. The real trouble is my aunt.” You pointed at a specific photo.

“That one,” you said, gesturing to a woman in her sixties, decked out in pearls, bright red lipstick, and chunky jade bracelets on both wrists. “She’s the one you need to watch out for.”

Bucky studied the picture, raising an eyebrow. “She looks… interesting. Definitely has a lot of character.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to put it. She’s the type who compares everything—lives, careers, relationships. If she starts asking questions, keep your answers vague. She’ll latch onto anything you say.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious. “Got it. What about your parents?”

“They’ll be relieved the moment they see me walking in with a boyfriend,” you said dryly.

He nodded again, absorbing the information like he was preparing for a mission. “Then I’ll make sure to play my part well.”

����🎄🎄🎄

Inside, the house was bursting with holiday cheer. Laughter echoed through the halls, mingling with the warm hum of Christmas music. The living room was a festive wonderland, filled with garlands, twinkling lights, and an enormous tree decorated to perfection.

The moment you stepped through the door, a woman in an elegant dress swept toward you, her arms outstretched.

“Finally!” your mom, Robin, exclaimed, pulling you into a side hug. Her perfume was a comforting mix of cinnamon and vanilla, and her excitement was almost infectious.

Then her eyes landed on Bucky, and her expression shifted into one of pure delight. “My prayers have been answered,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Come here!”

Before Bucky could react, she pulled him into a warm hug. He blinked, caught off guard but recovering quickly, wrapping an arm around her lightly.

“I’m sorry for the late introduction, ma’am,” Bucky said smoothly, stepping back with a polite smile. “I’m Bucky.”

You stepped in before your mom could ask questions. “We just became official recently.”

Robin’s face lit up even more, her eyes darting between the two of you. “Good! Welcome, Bucky.”

“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow, his tone respectful but calm.

As you stood with your mom and Bucky in the foyer, a woman approached, her presence unmistakable. She wore pearls as if they were a permanent part of her body, bright red lipstick that seemed freshly applied, and her signature jade bracelets jangled with every step. Her hair was big—almost comically so—and styled to perfection. It was your aunt Teresa, the one you had warned Bucky about.

“Well, well, well,” Teresa said, her eyes scanning Bucky like he was a prize. “Is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?”

You stiffened, forcing a tight smile. “Yes.”

Bucky, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a friendly grin. “Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, call me Teresa,” she purred, giving him an appraising look. “You’re quite the charmer. And so handsome! No wonder she finally brought someone home.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, struggling to maintain your composure.

“So,” Teresa continued, her tone dripping with faux curiosity, “how long have you two been together?”

“Not too long,” you said curtly, trying to end the conversation.

“A little over three months,” Bucky added smoothly, his tone warm and engaging.

“Three months?” Teresa said, arching a perfectly shaped brow. “Well, you’d better lock him up, dear,” she said, turning to you. “We’ll be planning another wedding soon!”

“Teresa,” Robin interjected gently, noticing your discomfort. “Why don’t we give them a moment to settle in?”

You took the opportunity to grab Bucky’s arm and drag him away, your jaw clenched.

As soon as you were out of earshot, you muttered, “That’s just the beginning. Wait until she finishes her fifth glass of wine.”

Bucky chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She’s... entertaining.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”

Later, Bucky met your cousins in the den, and as you predicted, they were laid-back and easy to talk to. They exchanged jokes and stories, asking Bucky only a few lighthearted questions about his work. You watched from the sidelines, thankful that at least some of your family wasn’t exhausting.

At dinner, everyone gathered around the massive dining table, the centerpiece adorned with candles and holiday-themed decorations. The atmosphere was warm and festive, but the moment Teresa began talking, you felt the familiar weight of dread settle in.

“So,” Teresa began, her voice carrying over the clinking of cutlery, “my son just secured a new oil permit. Big deal, you know. And my daughter-in-law? She got promoted to partner at her firm. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You nodded politely, forcing a neutral expression. “That’s great, Aunt Teresa.”

“And what about you?” Teresa asked, her tone dripping with condescension. “I hear your little business is doing well. But it must be so stressful, hmm? All that work with no one to share it with.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on your plate instead.

Bucky leaned toward you and whispered, “This is boring.”

“Yup,” you murmured in agreement, spearing a piece of food with your fork. “She always does this. She’s the one who insists on family dinners.”

The two of you exchanged quiet remarks, completely ignoring Teresa’s continued self-praise. Finally, she noticed and turned her attention to both of you.

“Are you two even listening?” Teresa snapped, her bracelets clinking as she gestured dramatically. “And tell me, when are you two getting married?”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Well, Teresa, we want to make sure we don’t rush it. After all, we wouldn’t want to overshadow the amazing achievements of your son and daughter-in-law.”

The room went silent for a moment before your cousins stifled laughter, and Teresa pursed her lips, clearly caught off guard.

After dinner, you helped your mom arrange desserts on the table in the kitchen. The aroma of freshly baked pies and cinnamon filled the air. Robin looked pleased, humming softly as she arranged plates.

From the dining room, Teresa’s voice drifted in as she tried to corner Bucky for more questions.

“So, Bucky,” Teresa began, her tone overly sweet. “Tell me, what’s it like working with her? She must be such a perfectionist.”

Bucky didn’t falter. “Actually, she’s brilliant. One of the smartest and most hardworking people I’ve ever met.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly fishing for more. “But she must be difficult sometimes. Don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled, his tone calm but firm. “No more difficult than anyone else who’s successful. If anything, she makes work more enjoyable.”

You overheard the exchange and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude. For all his teasing, Bucky had your back.

Later, when the two of you were finally alone in the den, you let out a long breath and slumped onto the couch. Bucky poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar cart and sank into the armchair across from you.

“You’re fired, Bucky,” you said, though there was no heat in your voice.

He chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Thanks, boss.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Seriously, thanks. I’m glad you came.”

“Anytime,” he replied, sipping his whiskey. “Just don’t make me sit next to Teresa again.”

You both laughed, the tension of the evening finally starting to fade.

You leaned back on the couch, your fingers tapping the glass of wine in your hand. The room had gone quiet after the bustling chaos of the family dinner, and Bucky was nursing his whiskey with a far-off look in his eyes.

“I still don’t get it,” you said, breaking the silence. “Why do you keep wanting to quit?”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable at first. Then, he set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Because I want to be on the same level as you,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made you pause.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“I want to start my own business,” he explained, his eyes meeting yours. “Be my own boss. I’ve learned so much working with you, but I need to prove to myself that I can do it too.”

You studied him, trying to piece together the sudden intensity in his words. “That’s it? You’ve got some big plans, huh?”

Bucky exhaled a soft chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something unspoken. “Yeah, big plans,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ve always admired you, you know. Not just for what you’ve built, but for who you are.”

You tilted your head, still not fully grasping the weight of his words. “You admire me?”

He looked at you, his blue eyes holding yours longer than usual. “Yeah. For a long time now.”

The air between you shifted, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. You thought back to all the years you’d worked together, the arguments, the jokes, and the moments where he always seemed to have your back.

But you dismissed the thought, brushing off the flicker of something deeper. “Well,” you said, forcing a grin, “I’m glad you’re ambitious. Just don’t expect me to give you glowing references when you leave.”

Bucky laughed, leaning back into the armchair. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

That year marked the first time you’d asked Bucky to pretend to be your boyfriend, a favor born out of desperation. He played the part so convincingly that even your family believed it.

The second year came, and to your surprise, you asked him again. By then, it had become a strange tradition—your fake boyfriend who seamlessly charmed your family while sparing you the agony of invasive questions.

By the third year, something had shifted. The lines between pretending and reality blurred, and you couldn’t shake the growing warmth you felt whenever he was near. It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something deeper.

When the fourth year rolled around, you made a decision. No more pretending. You told him you wanted to stop the charade, but instead of ending things, you found yourselves starting something real.

And in the fifth year, you stood side by side at the altar, promising forever to the man who had been beside you all along.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

A/N : There will be part 2. I'll use the prompt from @the-slumberparty

[numberonetacostan]

ONE HEADCANON FOR EVERY II CHARACTER!

Hello everyone!!!!!^^ For a little holiday season special, I’ve typed out a little headcanon for every character!!! By character I mean contestants + host + assistants!!!!! Sorry to all the Nick Le fans out there, he is not included. Since everyone is here, there are characters I may not know as well as my main roster, so if I get anything like, objectively wrong, feel free to let me know!!!^^ Please enjoy!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Apple- Her favorite song is Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. She doesn’t really understand the lyrics but she really likes ponies!!!! I also think she’d start misspelling her name as “Appell” pretty often after she finds the song. 

Balloon- The first thing Suitcase does with her prize money is buy him a poetry book. He is so very moved by this and writes her dozens of poems with various styles he sees in the book within a few days. He’d read from the book and his own works to Suitcase every night before they go to bed. Some others could join in for a nice bedtime story :). 

Baseball- Once, while the hotel was under construction, Baseball fell down the stairs. And then kept rolling. And rolling. And bouncing. And rolling some more. Overall it set construction back two weeks and Paintbrush broke their leg trying to help stop him. Baseball was banned from the hotel until the elevators were finished. 

Bomb- He can’t eat spicy food. As in he’s banned from eating spicy food. If he gets too hot, he can accidentally set himself off, so despite his claim that he has a great spice tolerance, he is not allowed anywhere near the hot sauce. He doesn’t complain about the ban anymore post-canon, too risky, yeah? 

Bow- She watches so very many makeup tutorials, but being a ghost, can’t practice any of it on herself. That is, unless she possesses someone, like Marsh who would be very easy to put makeup on relative to other objects!!! She’d probably get pretty good at it, after some time, and Marsh would have some lovely new eyeshadow looks every day! 

Knife- He has a longer ghost tail than Dough and Bow do, so I propose him wrapping said tail around people and things he likes!!! Wraps around Pickle when they’re standing next to each other, wraps around Suitcase’s handle when they’re together, etc.!!! He’d get rather flustered if anyone called him out on it. 

Lightbulb- Gives incredible hugs. Incredible. How does an object made of glass and metal give such cuddly, warm hugs? Nobody knows. Sometimes she’ll turn herself on during the hug to make it extra warm!! As long as the person she’s hugging closes their eyes, it really elevates the already sacred experience of a Lightbulb hug. Luckily for everyone else, she is always happy to give one!^^

Marshmallow- She’s still pyrophobic after having been burnt all those years ago. As a very flammable marshmallow, fire would be scary to her anyways, but after having been roasted it’s a whole other story. She’d rather freeze than get close to a fire, but that’s not a problem since there’s a certain fruit always willing to warm her up with a hug <3!!

Nickel- He became very, very, very nervous to give his apology to Suitcase after she blew up Cobs and ate his corpse. He was planning to apologize either way, but clearly Suitcase could absolutely obliterate him if she wanted to do so, which means this apology has to be quite good or else. He has a serious amount of respect for her now. An upgrade, I’d say. 

OJ- His favorite Pokémon is Charizard. It’s orange, it’s very popular, OJ loves it. I know Justin has made a list of the contestant’s favorite Pokemon, but I have not read it in a while so Charizard it is!!!

Paintbrush- Experiments a lot with their image after season 3, mostly by dyeing their bristles with paint!!! Lightbulb helps :3!!! And by helps I mean makes it silly and very fun. Maybe she puts a little dot between Painty’s eyes to give them a “nose”. I think they’d try a solid color first, then maybe a fade, and eventually dye the nonbinary flag into their hair!!! They slay it of course. 

Paper- Pickle once wrote “Property of OJ” on Paper’s back and he didn’t notice for three days. No one told him it was there. When he asked everyone why in the world they would not inform him they said it was because they all thought OJ had written it and he was keeping it because he liked it. OJ did not know why Paper avoided eye contact with him for a week that one time but he did not like it. 

Pepper- Hotel OJ head chef. Yeah you heard me. Let me cook by letting her cook!! Salt wouldn’t like cooking, too much work, so this is something Pepper could enjoy on her own!! And it would be the sole reason that OJ has not yet kicked Salt out of the hotel- if he does than Pepper might be too sad to cook, and with the depressingly low amount of hotel residents that can make food, and the even smaller amount who are willing to make enough food for everyone, they need her. And, if Payjay help out, they can spend more time with her and get to know and enjoy her presence without Salt ruining it!

Pickle- With some help from Tea Kettle and Pepper, he makes Knife a new Dora doll post-finale, since it vanished with the rest of the stuff made by MeLife. He lets Knife possess him if he wants to hug the doll, but it also gets possessed by Knife so he can hug Pickle. Ah shit sorry my Knickle got all over the headcanon dang it. 

Salt- I headcanon her as the only cisgender, straight, alloromantic (I think that’s the right term?) member of the cast. Basically the only one who isn’t queer at all. But uh an actual headcanon for the ~60 or so Salt fans out there, both she and Pepper sleep with those little hair bonnets on to keep their salt and pepper from falling out of their heads in their sleep. 

Taco- This one is fitting for the winter season!! Taco is afraid of snow. Like, straight up terrified. I think she would grab a bunch of blankets and hide in the vents of the mansion whenever it snows, so she can be inside of the inside, as far and safe from the snow as she can be!! Having been homeless for years, she’s had some miserable experiences with hypothermia after it snows, and now that she has a home to live in, she’ll be staying inside until all the snow has melted. 

Mephone- I think he should have a pet bug post-canon. A little beetle or something that just chills on his head and feasts on the many crumbs he gets on himself while he eats. An intelligent one, like Baxter!!! Since we know Mephone will be stepping up into the more ‘big brother’ sort of role for 3GS, I think the bug would be a good outlet for Mephone to talk about his more intense feelings, specifically revolving around Mepad and the contestants. I also think, following his very creative naming of the contestants, the bug would be named Buggy. 

Box- I think she would be an insomniac. After years and years of living in an empty, timeless void-space thing, she’d have a lot of trouble getting to sleep!! She’d definitely need the whole works, warm milk, cheese, lullabies, etc., etc., just to get to sleep, and even then she probably wouldn’t sleep for very long. A lot of nightmares on this one, yeah? 

Cheesy- I think he’d actually quite enjoy eating cheese, as long as it’s not a chunk like he is. He’ll eat nachos, pizza, mozzarella sticks, grilled cheese, etc., etc., but he will not eat cheese cubes. He’d make approximately 5 cannibal jokes every time he does this, and this average goes up to 8 if Pickle is around. 

Cherries- They give Toilet their old Mepad mask post-canon, to try and make him feel better. Toilet might hang out with them a bit more after this- they can do some drawing together!! The more prank-buddies, the merrier, yeah? 

Dough- He eventually did get the recording of Bow saying that he was her brother!! Was it a cut-off version of her denying it yet again (though this time more playfully than anything)? Yes. Does that make him any less happy about having it? No. 

Fan- Out of everyone, he’s the most upset about II ending, and wants to find a new special interest!! He’d try a whole bunch of things, games, music, movies, TV shows, art, and I think it would be funny if he settled on the ii-universe equivalent of Survivor, since it was such a big inspiration for II!! He’d also occupy himself with being very interested in whatever Test Tube is doing and cheering her on!!! Also being a good Dad to Bot!!^^

Microphone- Has, on occasion, accidentally had her volume button pressed in her sleep and woke not only herself but everyone in the vicinity up with her snoring. The first time it happens post-canon it takes her a half-hour to get a very startled and scared but very sleepy and confused Taco to come out from her hiding spot under the bed. 

Soap- Her soap is french vanilla and rose scented!!! She’d find her own scent rather pleasant, yeah? I think being empty for her would have a similar effect on her as it does on objects like OJ and Test Tube, though if she’s in a real pinch she will use her own soap to get clean!! Letting someone use her soap would be a sweet gesture of love/appreciation from her!!!

Suitcase- Balloon would write her a lot of poems once they’re back together post-canon, and she’d keep them all inside of her!! She’d keep a lot of special little gifts from important people inside of her. The stone that Knife set beside her the first time they spoke on the docks, a dried flower bracelet from Box, whatever suits her fancy! (Get it? Ge- ‘cause she’s a suitcase? okay ill leave).

Test Tube- I think she would make phones for everyone post-canon!!!^^ It’s a big island, yeah? And they really need to be able to contact each other in case of emergency, with them being able to truly die now. She could make a functioning rocket out of a vending machine, I fully believe she could make however-many functioning phones out of what she can find on the island. (Or even better, Mepple HQ. I think they all should loot it.)

Tissues- He likes coding :) I personally hate coding, because I sucked at it in school and never want to look at one of those evil “easy kids coding” websites ever again. HOWEVER coding is something he could still do while he’s feeling sick, most of the time!! And we have quite a few gamers living in the hotel, so it would be a great way for him to connect with others!!!

Trophy- He always enjoyed photography as a hobby, but very much threw himself into it after being freed from the elimination closet. After months of seeing nothing but the snotty closet walls, he had a lot more appreciation for scenic and natural photographs. He’d hang a lot of them on the wall of his room to look at as he sleeps, since the rooms don’t have windows. 

Yin-Yang- This one is from my partner @galacticrain!! Because I consider them my resident yin-yang expert^^ Yang isn’t actually gluten free, like he says in season 2 episode 5, he just knew that Yin would confess to the eating of Dough if he put any ounce of pressure on him to tell the truth. 

Mepad- Another cold weather hc! As a Mepple device, he doesn’t really get cold! However, during their first winter together, Toilet worries that Mepad has no winter clothing!!! He buys Mepad one of those super fluffy, pink cases. Mepad does not take it off for months, until his systems start to overheat because of it. 

Toilet- I think he would be rather curious about what having limbs is like. He wouldn’t be particularly upset about his own lack of limbs, just curious!^^ He would ask Mepad about his legs, (try to) ask Mephone about his arms, and maybe make a little doodle of himself with a lot of limbs. A biblically accurate Toilet, if you will.

Blueberry- I like to think his white eyes glow a bit. He functions best in pitch-black darkness, yeah? So imagine you’re walking in the dark and two white eyes are staring at you from the depths. He would love scaring people with it, I think. 

Bot- Hanging out with everyone post-season 3 finale and even more so post-canon, they discover that they really do love videogames, similar to what they told Cabby!! They would absolutely dominate in fighting games, and would main R.O.B. in Super Smash Bros.!!! A fellow robot with a 3 letter name? Sign them UP. 

Cabby- She is endlessly fascinated by how Taco’s arms work. They just…go back in? How? Could she pull them out backwards? Both on the same side? Could she reverse them? Taco does not know either, and the two of them spend a full day together just trying to figure out how they work. Cabby gets a lot of new info about them, and Taco in general, after that :). I’m projecting but I think Cabby would be curious too.^^

Candle- Her meditation training post-canon is what keeps like half the cast from losing their minds after everything that happens. She is very very much needed after… all that. Meditation would help her too, of course, in the way that it usually does, but being so helpful would probably make her feel better than that. 

Clover- She was once blown across the entire island because someone dropped a penny on the ground. It was a particularly shiny penny, though, and the year was one her many, many lucky numbers!!

Goo- My little fella!!! Uh obviously he and Bot would make comics together. They like to draw, he likes to write, it’s perfect!!!! They could help him condense his writing down into a comic format as well!!! They could also make fanart and fanfics together!!! Goo would be a shipper I think he already ships Silver and Painty if you sit that little guy down in front of Steven Universe he will explode. 

Lifering- With everyone losing their immortality post-canon, he quickly becomes one of the most popular among the contestants. Twisted your ankle? Go see Lifering. Migraine? Go see Lifering. Ate the mushrooms that Taco very clearly told you were poisonous? Hurry to Lifering!! He’s happy to be of so much help, but gives some long and rather informative lectures on proper safety checks. 

Silver Spoon- Fills his room with candles. Particularly purple ones. And ones scented with lavender and chamomile. He’ll go on and on about how much he loves candles. Particularly purple ones scented with lavender and chamomile. No one can tell if Candle is trying to politely turn him down or really hasn’t noticed. He progressively gets more and more obvious with his candle collection and nearly sets a building on fire. 

Tea Kettle- #1 Nickloon shipper. I’m serious. Whether they get together or not, she ships it. I don’t think she’d be pushy about it, insistent that they get together if they’re interested in other people, but… we know silly Nickel, always chasing a Balloon. And if he needs a little help catching it, TK will be there in a flash!!!! She’d make them a little romantic picnic complete with hors d’oeuvres! 

The Floor- My guy The Floor still visits Mephone almost daily post-canon. I really don’t see the guy being super upset or holding a grudge over Mephone having made him. He’s pretty cool, if he does say so himself!!^^ And they’re buddies, anyways, so Floory would want to check in on him after his abusive father killed everyone and then was exploded!!!! He might even befriend 3GS while he’s at it :).

[sadhornydemons]

You gotta wonder..What are the events that lead to Via and Blitz having each other as contacts on their phones?

Blitz had Stolas in his phone as early as the first episode, probably out of Stolas' persistence in the aftermath of stealing his book. One might assume, maybe one day Stolas grabbed his phone; "Blitzy, let me add my daughter to your contacts!" which could be slightly odd, but not completely ooc in his mannerisms.

Having it labled: "Via (Stolas Bird Daughter)"..(how many different species of daughters do you think Stolas has, Blitz?!) seems like Blitz added it, or at least edited it later.

I could see, during the events of Seeing Stars, Blitz would have a good reason to add her as a contact. (assuming Stolas was already trying to call Via's phone prior to everyone trying to find her. I'm assuming a lot of stuff that isn't shown just so everything will make sense) By why Via?

And circling back to Seeing Stars, how or why does Via know where the IMP office is, or that her dad's book is there?

Obviously Stolas knows the location, he shows up at the office next. Did he have to explain to her one day, "Oh no, I don't have the book...uh, you remember our Loo Loo Land bodyguard? Well, he's borrowing it for his business..Oh say, why don't we pay him a surprise visit?"

Back to the original phone issue at hand, I can't see Stolas grabbing Via's phone to add anything (Stolas: "Oh, there's a message on your phone saying to click this link for a 'Mal-icious surprise!" Via: "Dad, no."). Going back to headcanon land, even if Blitz attempted to call her during the events of Seeing Stars and she answered, I'd see her blocking the number after finding out who it was instead of saving.

And Via already had the contact labeled "Dad (Calling From Shitty Bodyfriend's Phone)," (note the use of parentheses in both cases) complete with picture of Stolas in his This-Is-As-Dressed-I'm-Getting-Robe. If she hadn't blocked Blitz's number before, maybe she did find the number and edited it after her father was banished, knowing he didn't have access to his phone and that would be the only way he could contact her.

That's probably the most likely option I can find. Unless Stolas did manage to call her from Blitz's phone one day (prior to the events of Ozzie's). Again, I'm struggling to find a reason for that. "Via, it's daddy! Did you remember to take the reading materials for that history assignment to your mothers?", Via: "Where are you calling from?!" Stolas: "Oh, I just had to borrow Blitzy's phone while mine is...unavailable." Blitz: "I really didn't think it would fit up there."

There just seems to be a lot of character development or events unseen. Which makes sense, the show doesn't have time to show every stinkin' detail, while focusing on all the main cast. But some of these missing pieces might give more reason to why Blitz already feels bonded to Via, in addition to his relationship with her father, but despite them only sharing scenes in two prior episodes.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

YOUR L*ONISMS IN THE MALLEUS POST BYE 😭😭 I tend to try to avoid talking about him precisely bc I fear I'll sound like Leona too lmao. or bc I'm scared ppl will say "ah you only dislike him bc you like Leona"- when that's not the case at all (although I also share some of his views about the lizard) Similarly to you, I just don't get the hype- basically everything you say. my feelings for him fluctuate from "🙄 ok." to "you're okay? I guess?"

which is weird, bc I really like dragons and non-human characters learning about humans. but that's what makes it worse for me bc man all the talk about him made me want to rlly like him and then I saw him in canon and I was like uh... okay? kind of disappointed + a bit annoyed at some stuff. I do like how he talks about gargoyles or things he finds interesting tho— I'll praise you that much, Draconia.

[Referencing this post!]

***PLEASE NOTE: Everything I express in this post is my own opinion and is in no way meant to disparage Malleus enjoyers.***

Leona and Rollo is right about Malleus and he should speak his truth 😔

To reflect a little on my own character arc with Malleus, I felt very neutral about him from the prologue to about book 2ish. This was simply because I hadn't interacted with the guy yet so I held off on judging him prematurely. The brief encounter we actually had with Malleus in book 2 wasn't meaty enough for me to get a sense for his character, so I brushed him off.

I thought it was interesting that book 2's narrative invites comparisons between Leona and Malleus, with Leona being a parallel to Scar, Malleus being a parallel to Mufasa, and the world holding Malleus up as the "superior" king. Lilia states as much in 2-26: "Would that the lion king of the savanna could witness this absolute farce. No, if you ask me, the collar suits you far better than a crown ever could. You may bemoan the fact that you're not higher in line to be king. But with that sensitive ego of yours? That so quickly directs all your petty anger at your retainers... Well, the idea of you ever contending with a REAL king like our Malleus—is absolutely laughable. Even if you COULD defeat Malleus, so long as that's how you choose to conduct yourself? You would never be fit to rule!"

And at the time, yeah, Lilia's right because Leona is very much losing his grip on his emotions and acts irrationally in an attempt to triumph over Malleus. HOWEVER... The longer the main story went on, the more I found myself disagreeing with Lilia's judgment of Malleus and his character. Now, that doesn't mean that I think Leona was in the right for the actions he took in book 2 (they are still and always will be wrong). Rather, I think Lilia gave a somewhat biased take on Malleus and his preparedness for the throne. Many of the things Lilia accuses Leona of also ended up being very true of his own liege. Malleus has a sensitive ego (he has attempted to strike down peers and faceless, magicless NPCs on more than one occasion; ie Halloween events). Malleus has directed his anger at his retainers (as a child, he froze many servants; in book 7, he attacks Sebek and Silver for attempting to wake up their peers and tries to return Lilia to sleep against his wishes). Malleus has scarcely led anyone in anything. Leona and Malleus are far more similar to one another than either of them would like to admit, but Lilia is just assuming that Malleus will be a great leader anyway because of... what? Because of birthright and lineage? Yeah, no wonder why Leona is pissed and has a bone to pick with the lizard (attempt to harm Malleus aside).

Book 3 and onwards is what I started to develop my current dislike for Malleus. (And to be clear, he has good points too! I'm not saying that he has nothing going for him at all; however, this post is focusing on my own critiques of his character so that is what I will be speaking about.) I started to notice things that annoyed me on a personal level: how he lacks consideration of others' perspectives and actively violates their autonomy, how he never gets any repercussions for his actions, how he's aware of his power and status and yet fails to avoid lording it over others, how he has been given so many opportunities to learn and change as a person but refuses those opportunities, etc. And yes, I understand that he acts in these ways for particular reasons. I'm not saying that his behaviors don't make sense, I am only stating that these are behaviors that I personally don't find appealing. (For more extensive explanations of why I don't like Malleus, please see the FAQ section in my pinned post.) All of this in spite of how little of him we actually get to see and interact with, especially in the main story. It baffled me that he was undoubtably the most popular character in EN circles. There's so much chatter about Malleus Draconia, you can't really get away from it. People are legitimately shocked when you tell them you actively dislike Malleus or when they learn that he's not even a top contender for best boy in the JP fandom. The default is assuming that you do like Malleus, which ironically happens to be the same thing that Draconians (Malleus stans in-universe) do. It feels like there's sometimes an unspoken pressure to like the guy. I also started to notice peculiar behaviors (?) which, in a vacuum, aren't necessarily bad--I would just like to comment on them because I find it interesting. With Malleus being as popular of a character as he is, there's of course going to be a lot of online discussion about him, especially from his fans. Now, I don't know if it's only me noticing this, but I've frequently observed Malleus fans going out of their way to "wring as much content" out of the least Malleus-related content possible. For example, there may be a screenshot of some other character posted and then a fan would come in and make a comment like, "I wonder how Malleus would feel about this". A more concrete example would be from the more recent JP Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event; in it, the event character takes the back of all the characters' hands and kisses them (including Yuu). Automatically posts that showed this kissing were inundated with comments about how "Malleus would be so angry about this", even though Malleus himself shows no such reaction. Similar comments dropped when Yuu is kidnapped in the event even though, again, Malleus shows no such anger about the incident. Halloween events such as this contain half the main NRC cast, yet I saw no fans of the other 10 characters claiming those characters reacting jealously. This occurs VERY often in regards to Malleus; even in events or scenes where he doesn't react or doesn't even appear, zealous fans will insert him into the situation or make the situation suddenly about him, whether it's in someone's own posts or on other people's posts.

I wonder if this is a result of Malleus being kept so mysterious for two full years...? Without much of his character to go off of, it left a huge negative space for fans to headcanon, project, and hyperfixate on what he is like or what he could be. And maybe now those behaviors persist in an effort to fill in that void because honestly Malleus isn't getting much screen time within book 7 either 💀

I believe this has contributed to the discrepancy (that this asker brought up) between how the English-speaking Twst fandom speaks about Malleus versus what Malleus is actually like and how he is portrayed in game. The fandom version of him is pretty much always hyped up or sensationalized (sometimes simply for his mere existence), similar to how his own fans in-universe might put him on a pedestal. But then you play the game for yourself and you're exposed to so little of him and what little you do see of him is much more... reserved, somber, and sometimes even petulant, depending on the situation.

Anyway, my point is that anyone that dislikes Malleus (or any other character) should be allowed to dislike him, regardless of what anyone else says or if you feel pressured into silence🤷‍♀️

[happypeachsludgeflower]

SVSSS BRAINWAVE JUST HIT! I HAD A THOUGHT ™

An average modern person transmitigates into SVSSS. Mind you, I specifically mean SVSSS and not PIDW. That’s right, our protagonist awakens to find themselves as a NPC in the world of Scum Villain Self Saving System. And they think to themselves upon waking up, “Oh, I’m an NPC in a xianxia novel with a happy ending! Cool!!” and goes about their life being a background nerd geeking out about plants, and monsters, and cultivation in general, and neat flying swords.

But this is a world of sex pollen and wife plots and unfortunately the cure for a lot of diseases is duel cultivation with a heavenly demon, and we all know who that demon is going to end up marrying, so it’s best to mess around with meta cultivation knowledge and prep for the worst case scenario, and honestly, they may as well solve some of the minor issues in the plot while their at it, so they invent some new cultivation techniques from some of those nifty svsss fanfictions they read while alive (I’m specifically thinking of this fic’s explanation of duel cultivation and cauldrons, but other weird cultivation methods could be used from other fanfics and xianxia books), so they can tidy up some things.

For instance, is it really necessary for Zhuzhi-lang to be stuck as a weird snake creature for nearly twenty years? Is it really needed for Yue Qingyuan to have crippled cultivation due to his sword?? Does Tianlang Jun have to be stuck under a mountain and then escape only to slowly die in a decomposing body??

They know they can’t change everything without the system interfering, but small nudges should help right? After all, they’re just a background NPC and Shen Yuan will show up eventually and everyone will fall in love with him and no one will even notice the NPC’s existence even if they had noticed something was up during their miraculous healing and salvation spree.

So they go about fixing those things. They catch Zhuzhi-lang unawares and feed him a sun and dew mushroom seed while he’s confused and do some funky cultivation shenanigans and pat him on the head cause he’s really such a cute weird snake creature and give him some vague warning about not trusting in laws and then fucks off to somewhere else.

I’m still caught up on Metagaming’s concept of duel cultivation transactions where you give and take—like taking something from someone’s cultivation, not just power, and returning something else—and keep getting stuck in a brainrot loop of the NPC taking some bloodmite powers from Zhuzhi-lang when they gave him a fully humanoid form that’s not reliant on Tianlang Jun. So my main idea for how the NPC plots to hold Yue Qingyuan in place is feeding him lesser bloodmites (not full ones because they only took a minor ability and can only hold someone for a few minutes before the bloodmites die), while they hold Yue Qingyuan still long enough to draw some ritual to heal his soul and separate it from Xuan Su. But honestly, I’m sure other ideas could apply here too. My Metagaming brainrot is just too strong right now to think of any.

And Tianlang Jun? Simple. Zhuzhi-lang’s got a humanoid form and can easily get the sun and dew mountain flowers for himself. They can’t stop the man from being imprisoned entirely. The system says no since Luo Binghe needs a dramatic entrance. So while they can’t stop the tragedy, they can put some pieces into play for an early escape, maybe a new plan to get him a better body once’s he’s back, and be a ferry for Su Xiyan’s body to revive her at some point as well.

It’s nice being an unnoticeable NPC, isn’t it? You can do whatever you want and no one’s going to know!!

Except. Someone does notice (as we all could have seen coming). And Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as fuck of this obnoxious Shidi because he notices everyone due to paranoid, and he’s even MORE suspicious of the mysterious character that healed Yue Qingyuan’s soul (and wasn’t that a doozy of a realization to have when Yue Qingyuan burst into his bamboo house one day freaking out because some disguised, powerful cultivator somehow did the impossible after ambushing him and holding him down as they healed his soul, and Shen Qingqiu is still reeling from learning that Yue Qingyuan’s SOUL was damaged trying to save Xiao Jiu and the stubborn asshole never told him because he apparently assumed Xiao Jiu knew there wasn’t a single universe where Qi ge didn’t try to come for him). And so yea, Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as all hell and starts snooping and plotting to catch the mysterious cultivator by combing through Cang Qiong because whoever it is has to have an in at the sect somewhere to know about Yue Qingyuan’s soul.

And that’s not even mentioning how suspicious Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang Jun are now. They might not have realized what that strange cultivator did when they did it, or understood the cryptic in law mention, but they certainly have some suspicions now that Tianlang Jun was as imprisoned by in law like people, and Zhuzhi-lang kept his humanoid form just fine without Tianlang Jun, and now the hunt is ON for the mysterious benefactor, so they can repay the kindness and find out what the fuck is going on.

The NPC is, of course, oblivious to all of this going on and goes about their merry way thinking they’re being the Best ™ at being lowkey. They are SO good at being inconspicuous!! They deserve an award really!!

And then. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t qi deviate.

Shen Yuan doesn’t show up.

Oh shit, the NPC thinks to themselves as they begin to panic. They even check Shen Qingqiu out themselves to see if it’s Shen Yuan just being really good at acting. Maybe he was a better actor in the book than he gave himself credit for or something?? But no. That’s Shen Qingqiu all right. Shen Yuan is missing in action, and someone has to fix the plot of Cang Qiong is doomed.

Thus begins the NPC’s journey to try and unobtrusively fix PIDW’s child abuse problems (that they’re unaware are already fixed), save Liu Qingge from his qi deviation in Ling Xi Caves, make sure Luo Binghe doesn’t raze the sect to the ground someday and hopefully find him some sort of husband replacement to keep him under control when he does return, possibly dispose of the Huan Hua Palace Master at some point because he’s vile trash, and did I mention there are multiple man hunts for this poor oblivious dude currently on going??

And the most important question for them to solve? Where the fuck did Shen Yuan go??

Hmm I wonder where that man could have gone.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

By and large, the response to DJenks' little Christmas story over on bluesky has been a lot of fun. But it's also reminded how some portions of this fandom will villify Ed for every. tiny. thing.

Ed and Stede, in this story, are running a successful inn. They are happy and in love and are in a stable relationship of two years. They are currently booked solid for a Christmas wedding party, and Stede is feeling stressed and swamped by attending to bookings while Ed is doing front-end work like setting tables beautifully and entertaining guests. We leave off with them starting to have what is very obviously a small domestic squabble about division of labor.

I cannot stress enough that this is a normal argument that literally every couple has from time to time. I watched my (happily married for 30+ years) parents have a similar one just yesterday as we rushed around getting things ready for Hanukkah. This is beyond normal, especially in high-stress situations like Stede's dealing with in the story. Stede is allowed to ask for help and be annoyed if Ed doesn't respond the way he'd needed him to, but Ed is still doing important and necessary work by making sure their inn is beautiful and entertaining guests. These are still necessary chores and it makes sense that Ed would bristle when asked to step away from them, especially if he's already under the assumption that they've "talked about this" and are clear on their duties.

Again. This is SO extremely normal and the kind of spat that healthy couples will have sometimes.

But ever since this dropped a very loud minority of the fandom have been using this as evidence that Ed and Stede's relationship will fall apart, that Ed isn't pulling his weight, that Ed's just a leech who needs to get over himself, that Stede deserves better - even that it's so sad that Stede is being forced to "take Izzy's role as Ed's nanny," as if Ed is just some large stupid toddler and the solution here is Stede suddenly turning into Izzy and berating and yelling at him until Ed feels one inch tall again and is easy to control.

And that's just...exhausting. The thread is very clear that their inn is extremely successful, that Ed and Stede are very happy and deeply in love. Why automatically assume Ed's work has no value or that he's just dicking around (as if presentation and entertainment aren't also very important to the inn's success)? Why automatically look at this tiny domestic spat and assume it means that Ed needs to be hurt and bullied to make him behave? Just...man. I wish the people who take every excuse to shout about how much they hate this show and the main characters would just leave the fandom already if they hate one of the main characters so much.

[connor-123-idk]

Can you talk more about the concept behind RSA!Rook?

I wanted to post chapter 2 today, but I have another family meeting, so I shall just yap

What's up with this guy, and what is his concept

So, it was not easy to came out with this idea in the first place. Snow White itself doesn't have many of characters, especially when it comes to bad characters. The fact that i made RSA!Vil a Snow White should say that a lot, because for him I had to switch between Neige and Vil (lazyyyyy)

I was trying to came out with alternative of sort for Rook, but then I thought the other way. Instead of important character I should do something else important

The concept of ,,beauty" is one of important concepts in Snow White and Seven Dwarfs, but so is ,,revenge" and ,,death"

When you take a look at source, Evil Queen was trying to kill Snow White 3 times, one of them was with the corset OR a ribbon, depends which version we read. That's why RSA!Rook has a very tight corset, that looks like he's almost suffocating

The other way was poisoned comb, which on the other hand I gave to RSA!Vil design

(Its there, you just gotta look closer)

And the last was poisoned apple, which can be seen on Rook's hairpins

Thats why Rook has 3 pins on one side but what about other pin?

Its death of Evil Queen. Where in original she died dancing in hot shoes and lost a lot of blood in process

I made the design mostly thinking about Doctor Plague, but also such characters like Nanno from ,,The Girl From Nowhere", and the black hands are inspired by Arlecchino from ,,Genshin Impact".

Due to RSA!Rook being based on the concept I had a lot of artistic freedom with him. Some fans even influenced his design and character. His first version didn't have a make up back then, until one of fans commented that he would look better in it. I made some research about goth make ups, and put it on Rook, which looks way better in my opinion

Also some fans compared him to Wednesday, which gave me a good reason to why he doesn't wear dorm uniform (cough cough color allergy)

What role will he play in the Main Story? I honestly dont know myself since I planned only Book 1 - Book 3, so I wont say much in that matter

Anyway. I think I yapped enough 🥲

[apoptoses]

ajhfahf you're too kind, really!! I've so missed having deep meta discussions here on tumblr and I think there's so much in these books that hasn't been dissected. They're packed with so many details that a lot of little stuff just gets overlooked, or the significance is totally missed without background info on Anne herself or Anne's thoughts about her own work.

And honestly people don't need her private diaries for a lot of these facts- just 'Conversations with Anne Rice', ' 'Anne Rice: The Interviews', and 'Called out of Darkness' hold so, so much info about how she grew up and her own meta about her work. There's some really great info in conversations that's related to this topic, on how when she was writing TVL and pitching the idea she had to push back very hard against the linguistic stereotype that anyone 'old timey' has to sound like Shakespeare. She had to educate her own publishers on how a man of the 18th century would sound very, very much like a man of the modern day in most ways.

(Also, to diverge myself- there's three types of thinker. People who think in images, people who think in literal words, and people who blend both. Anne reveals that she's the type that thinks purely in image, picturing things related to the word or topic. If asked to think of say, Shakespeare, she wouldn't think of literally his name but images of things related to him. And I think in some way that also informs her work and the way vampires think, but I haven't quite put my finger on how)

Ultimately I think all of this is why these books are so successful and the main characters feel so real- there's a real love of the spoken word not just by the author, but by the characters themselves. And that translates to conversations and thoughts that feel unique to each character, and that are relatable despite the fantastical situations they're all in. The reader can really picture all these things being said out loud, not just as words on a page.

I think you're really onto something with the lyrics being soliloquy more than music. They're closer to the lyrics of the chorus of the ancient Greek play or of the opera (which really evolved out of the Greek musical plays), where the character is declaiming the story for the audience. And Lestat would have known the opera from his time in Paris too.

So I think you're right in that they're Lestat's return to stage as an actor. He was never invested in music like Nicki, but the 80s were a time in which the stage actor wasn't revered- the rock singer was. So Lestat really ends up with one foot in each world, continuing the ancient Greek tradition of singing a true story at the audience via the modern vehicle of rock music.

No matter how much of a modern man he becomes he'll never fully hide the fact that he is a being outside mortality and of a different time.

And now my head is full of thoughts on linguistics, the way language informs our personality, but that's a different post entirely 😂

Armand, Haussmann, and Paris:

The thing about Paris that's not really discussed in the VC books themselves is the Haussmann project.

In 1853 Napoleon III commissioned Haussman to completely renovate Paris. The plan was to tear down all of the old structures and rebuild the city; reorganizing the streets and reshaping them to accommodate more green spaces, and replacing smaller buildings with taller apartment blocks in more uniform style.

The Paris Armand knew when he arrived as the coven master and which he came to know as the theater leader would have looked something like this:

Dark, winding streets leading off wide boulevards and short, leaning buildings.

The Haussman project would see all of these places systematically torn down, occupants removed to other areas of the city while new buildings were put in their place. In some areas workers were destroying and rebuilding things 24 hours a day.

At this time Armand would have been living at the theater on the boulevard du Temple, Paris's street of theaters:

This dagguerotype shows the boulevard in 1838. This painting, in 1862, looks much the same:

But by 1863 all but one theater on the street had been destroyed, and that was only because that theater was on the opposite side of the street shown in the painting. How and why it wasn't pulled down, I don't know- no information on it seems to exist, just like no explanation for the very small handful of other old structures that were left untouched.

That theater, the Théâtre Déjazet, still exists today. But it was established in 1770 by Comte de Artois, so while it could have been Anne's inspiration for Armand's theater it's not the 'rickety wooden rat trap' that seats 300 that Lestat describes in TVL.

Anyways, knowing all of this, I think it makes even more sense why Armand so quickly grabbed onto Louis and was ready to run away with him at any cost.

Armand, who'd been kidnapped from the monks, who'd had his palazzo torn out from under him, who'd established something of an existence under Les Innocents and was then ripped out of that world when the cemetery was destroyed. Who was watching the city he'd finally come to know get systematically torn apart. Everything that was familiar to him was being taken again.

So why not let Louis burn the theater? He arrived in Paris in 1870, just as Haussman was dismissed. But the work of destroying and rebuilding Paris was set to carry on. Chances were the Theatre de Vampires would be next, and if that were the case there's no way the crypts beneath the place would remain safe and undiscovered.

And if he'd stayed where would they go during the renovation? What would they do? What would the point be in continuing trying to run a coven he was bored of and a life he didn't care for in a new location?

Armand was going to have to begin again somewhere- better that be with Louis, out in the world, than roaming a now unfamiliar Paris. And even though he didn't burn the theater himself, allowing/instigating Louis to do it still gave him more control than letting a stranger come in at some unpredictable moment to demolish things all over again.

(And what of Lestat, what does he feel about these changes? He never could have shown Louis the Paris he knew and loved, which existed when Louis was still mortal- that Paris was largely gone)

Chances were Anne might not have known most of this at the time she wrote interview or even TVL. But I think it still makes a lot of sense and brings up a point about Armand and immortality that I don't see brought up much- that not only do vampires lose every mortal they've ever known, but with time they also see the destruction of every place they've ever known or loved.

(ps: I'm not an expert on this topic or anything, so if anyone does know why some buildings were unchanged or has any interesting historical info to add by all means please, reblog and add it on!)

[tagsecretsanta]

From @thundergirl007

From @thundergirl007 to @arwensarboretum

John and EOS

All 5 brothers spending quality time together (With John on Earth??).

I'm glad we're in this together" - said by any of the brothers.

Preferences: No shipping please. Rating: General Favourite character: John.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

It’s strange, the way the heartbeat of Thunderbird Five almost blends into the nothingness when the space monitor is here constantly. A tranquillity that very few people will ever get to experience in the huge, wide universe.

The pulsing of the life support system, the humming of the radio, the hissing of the lights when the motion sensors activate as he moves around the space station.

Loud in its own right, completely silent in the best way.

And yet, from all the way up here - the vastness and emptiness of orbit - he can still hear the sound of what he believes to be Gordon blaring out Christmas songs around the Tracy Island villa.

“GORDON!”

The voice shouted down the radio grills, catching him off guard somewhat. Presumably to try and find the mischievous redhead through every available IR channel on our communications network.

“Scott sounds in considerable distress, John.”

“That he does, EOS.”

Weightlessly floating his way to the central control room, where the main communication centre is, EOS has already pulled up what appears to be Scott's irritated figure on the hologram.

The image was a bit hard to make out specifically what it was, but it looked like Scott was covered in dust. A fine white dust that caked him, like he'd walked into the worlds oldest building and fell right into a pile of old rubble.

A strange image for someone currently on Tracy Island.

"Everything ok down there, Scott?" John asked, doing his very best to suppress the laugh, as juvenile as that would be. He looked ridiculous.

"Can you find me our blond haired mischief maker from up there, John? I've got a bone to pick with him." He ruffled his hair and the dust flew off him in all directions.

"Scott appears to be covered in some kind of fine substance. For what purpose is unclear."

EOS' summary of the situation was apt, and he hoped that Scott hadn't heard her, although it would have been funny if he had.

"Why, what has he done now?" he asked, watching Scott's communicator signal move around the villa from Thunderbird 1's hangar to the lounge.

"Do you want to take a wild guess, brother?"

"Re-enacted the bathroom escapade from when he was 7?"

"Close, but not quite."

Scott's hologram then disappeared from the monitor, but John could practically hear him storming around on the island looking for the brother in question. Whether Scott knew he was in the lounge, "innocently" reading a book, is debatable. Either way, he was making his way there with a ruthless determination that he did not want to miss a single moment of. Gordon was certainly going to be in some serious brotherly trouble.

Now would be a seriously bad time for a distress call.

"Oh Scott!" said brother - sat on the lounge with his feet up - all smiles, was holding a comic book in front of him, "to what do I owe the pleasure this time?"

"Don't you act like you don't know!" Scott roared from the stairs.

"I swear, I didn't do anything -!"

"You made me look like the Ghost of Christmas Past, you stupid -!"

"Is this a situation that popcorn would be for, John?"

"Oh, yes it is EOS."

Virgil Tracy was just passing through Thunderbird 2's hangar to get to the lounge when he heard the sound of the space elevator docking in its place and decided to take a minor detour to greet the arrival.

As expected, John was still in his IR gear, with only a small bag of belongings brought down with him, and Virgil would bet money that they were books and underwear.

"Welcome home, John!" he greeted, opening his arms out for an embrace that John welcomed.

"Good to see you too, Virg. How was the journey back from Colorado?"

Virgil patted a hand on his stomach lightly. "Long, I'm definitely ready for some lunch. Running around a power plant really did a number on my appetite."

The pair made their way up the stairs and into the villa proper. The heat hit Virgil like a train as they entered the lounge on their way to the kitchen. It was something all of them had to get used to when they moved out onto the other hemisphere from where they were born and raised in Kansas. The scorching heat in the December months was something he just about managed to get used to in recent years, mainly because it was something of a family tradition to watch Home Alone and the Chicago snowfall was such a nostalgic sight that for just those moments, they forget that snow here in the South Pacific isn't possible.

Even if snow isn't a part of recent Tracy family holiday festivities, the lounge was still warmly decorated with tinsel and a tree up by the piano that everyone had helped decorate. Even MAX had helped put up the tinsel with Brains (although the less said about the methods, the better). Gold and red and blue trimmed the balcony and handrails, little bells hung from the lampshades on the wall, and a little singing robin statuette was situated with pride of place on the little table in the centre of the room. The poor little thing was their mother's, it was old and battered, the little "branch" it perched on has been broken and fixed, and Brains had tinkered with its mechanics to make it sing sweetly again, not the distorted noise it used to make years ago.

And lastly, perfectly placed on the tree, hanging from a middle branch, was the last family photo taken at Christmastime that featured their mother.

It's been put on that tree every year since she died, and that tradition will never change. The seven of them, smiling at the camera with a snowman in the middle of the frame. Little Alan barely as tall as the thing they had made, holding onto his hat and giving a wide, toothy smile. He probably doesn't remember that Christmas.

“Where is everyone? The kitchen’s just as empty as the rest of the house.” Virgil mused, noting that it didn’t even look like the automated kitchen module had been switched on to make anything for lunch.

John just shrugged.

“Oh well. I’ll put something on, we need to have a good catch up now you’re back with us.”

Lunch wouldn’t take long to prepare, especially given that all Virgil really wanted was a sandwich, and John probably didn’t want much more than that either. He simply took his spot at the dinner table, the one he always used down here, with a more careful than usual descent into the seat. Virgil made the pair the same thing. Ham and cheddar sandwiches, which they were both eager to dig into once Virgil brought the plates over.

It was nice, just the two of them. Aside from rescues and the occasional private conversation through their comms channel, Virgil didn’t often have one-on-one chats with John. Mainly because they were birds of a feather, very much enjoying their own company before anything else. John listening for distress calls, reading, studying the stars. Virgil playing the piano or painting in the lounge.

“Do you know if my packages arrived?” John asked.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t see anything yesterday, and today I’ve been in Colorado.”

“That’s a shame. No one is getting presents this year then.”

“I think we can live with that just this once John, it’s just good to have you earthside for a few days.”

“We’ll see if I feel the same way after 24 hours in gravity with both Gordon and Alan.”

“You mean you won’t even stay for Grandma’s Christmas disaster – I mean, dinner?”

“I think I can hear a distress call from 24 hours in the future, Virgil get to Thunderbird 2 –“

The pair laughed, and almost on cue, the sound of distant voices, running footsteps, and a crash from somewhere upstairs. Getting closer and closer with every passing second, the voices soon distinguished themselves to be Alan, Gordon and Scott.

“Come here! I will have my vengeance!”

“Gotta catch up first, slowpoke!”

The trio pounded down the stairs. Scott, then Alan and Gordon.

Scott looked like he had barely enough time to turn the corner from the stairs before the Terrible Two were on his tail. Not nearly as covered in whatever-it-was-powder as he was before, presumably all the running had dusted him off somewhat.

Right behind him were said terrible two, and they seemed to have suffered a similar fate as the eldest brother. From the smell of them as they ran past, whatever it was, was sickly sweet. Powdered sugar, perhaps? Either way they left a trail of sugar in their wake.

Scott had run around the kitchen island, and Gordon and Alan waited for him at either side, pinning him to his spot with an almost military efficiency that even Scott should have seen coming.

Did Brains invent a de-aging machine or something, what is going on with Scott?  He’s not acted like this since those boys were tiny terrors.

“Hi John!” Alan turned around and cheerily waved, before giving his attention back to the eldest brother.

“Good to see you Alan,” John chuckled, “and you Gordon. Scott”

“Not now, it’s payback time.”

“You started this, Gordon! Don’t dish it if you can’t take it!”

Virgil should not have been surprised that Gordon took advantage of his and Scott’s absence from the island to play a practical joke with Scott for him to find on his return. What was surprising is that Scott somehow fell for it regardless.

Finishing up the last of his sandwich, John stood up, ignoring the war games going on elsewhere in the kitchen. “Well, this has been fun. I’ll go get changed, can’t be looking like this all day, I’ll melt.”

“I’ll wash up then,” Virgil started to get up too, picking up both John’s and his own plate. “John.”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad we could all be here together for the holidays. Even if it seems that the house will be dusted with sugar for days.”

Virgil side eyed the footprints and trails of sugar from the kitchen floor to the stairs and dreaded to think what it was like upstairs in the living quarters.

“Glad to be here. Just like old times.”

Gordon was the one to break the stalemate over there, and he positively lunged for the eldest brother. Alan was quick to join him, and the three were all on the kitchen floor in a tangled mess of a pile.

Just like old times indeed.

[cbsghostsmetasandtrevor]

Been thinking about Pete, Carol and her death:

First, I think they really needed a season that had more episodes if they were going to do an arc like this because it needs more time and attention to fully work through.

Second, if they always wanted to kill her, there's a few things they should have had on a "what needs to be addressed if you kill the living wife of one of your main ghosts" list.

On said list:

1. Address talking a new ghost through their death and what the ghosts know about ghost living.

2. Have Carol seek Pete out and talk to him about the last 40 years since he died.

3. Have Carol figure out that Sam's weirdness with the scout book and the wedding was due to seeing Pete.

4. Deal with Laura thinking the BnB is likely cursed for her family (I mean seriously BOTH parents died there???)

5. Have Carol realize what her death means for Jerry, Laura and little Pete, have her talk to Pete about how he dealt with knowing his family moved on while he was stuck there.

6. Have a confrontation with Pete and Carol about the cheating - maybe have (and I don't believe this is real but I saw it on HIMYF and I think some people out there might agree even if I don't) a discussion on "good cheating". Have Carol be faithful to Jerry and Pete be upset because "why wasnt I enough for you?"

7. There should be a storm out, so when they come back together to talk it out, Carol and Pete talk about how their marriage was one of their bad decisions. They did love each other once but they got married because she got pregnant with Laura and it was the right thing to do (pure HC for me). This is resolved by them both admitting that divorce wasn't something Pete would have ever followed through on and that at least they both found happiness in different ways. Pete and his Troup and Carol/Jerry.

8. Carol acknowledges that cheating was the biggest regret of her life. She meant her apology a couple of years before and she means it now. Loving Jerry for 40 years meant it was a good thing even if it wasn't fair.

9. Either a) Pete tells her that he needs time and would like some space - which explains why she ends up in the shed or basement - or b) Carol forgives herself for what happened and gets sucked off.

10. If it's A) Pete goes through a bit of self reflection and works out the situation allowing them to become friends again, if it's B) Pete figures out that maybe forgiveness is the answer and works out what he needs to forgive to move on himself. (B takes a whole because hes a Main Character in the series. Perhaps his power leads him to push it off so he can explore.

Related to that, he and Carol can be disappointed that he hadn't figured it out sooner so he could have been there all that time.

Thoughts?

[cripplecharacters]

If I wanted to write an inter-abled relationship with a character who is intellectually disabled and blind and one who is not, is there anything that I should avoid? Also are there any tips that you might have on writing a character with an intellectual disability in both a respectful and well-rounded way? Also the character I'm writing was not born blind and he was into comic books before he became blind. Is there any way I can write the other character making a nice gesture/gift connected to his love of comics without seeming savior-y?

Hello!

The main thing you should avoid in this scenario is making the abled character into some sort of hero for dating a disabled person. Basically, just make them into two people who happen to be dating because they like each other as you would with any other one.

You don't want them to be like those "inspirational stories" about the cheerleader who asked the guy with Down syndrome to go to prom or whatever. They should be dating because they enjoy each other's company, not because the abled one feels pity or wants to feel better about themself.

For tips, you can check out our ID tag. This short post could be helpful, while this one is longer and goes a bit more in depth. Try to develop your ID character just as much as the abled one - they should both be complex, have their own likes and dislikes, pet peeves, quirks, and all that.

I don't have any advice on the character being blind, you can try reaching out to @/blindbeta for a more helpful answer.

mod Sasza

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Christmas Shift | Bucky 🎄

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Prompt : We're doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event. 

Part 1 : Holly Jolly Charade

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It’s two days before Christmas, and you decided to go back home.

Your hand moved slowly to close the apartment door. It felt like you were forgetting something. Last year, he would always double-check the door before locking it.

This Christmas could be the last one, you thought, sighing.

You were headed to your parent's home for Christmas this time—mainly because your annoying aunt Teresa wouldn’t be there. On the ride, it was usually just you and Bucky, who started as a fake couple but ended up in a real marriage.

But it seemed like the honeymoon phase was over. You and Bucky had just had a big argument, which led him to stay at a hotel for a few days. That’s why you were here alone.

Your mom, Robin, greeted you with a hug. “Did the company lock you up?” she asked with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here before the storm.” She helped you take off your coat. “Bucky’s already here.”

You widened your eyes in surprise. He’s here?

“He’s got a much more relaxed schedule than you,” she added casually.

After Bucky resigned from the company, he invested in drone cameras and outdoor equipment. Since his hobby was photography, it seemed like the perfect fit. He made a good decision and gained a lot of profit. His work was successful, but his schedule was much more laid-back than yours.

As you walked into the living room, you saw Bucky talking to your dad and your cousins. He noticed you and made his way over to you, offering a side hug.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d rather be here than with my dad, who’s with his third wife, and my mom, who’s with her new boyfriend,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead.

You and Bucky were in the room, sitting on opposite sides of the bed. The distance between you both felt greater than it ever had before. The usual closeness you shared during Christmas wasn’t there. Both of you acted like everything was fine, but your parents noticed.

Robin, sensing the tension, quietly led you to the master bedroom. “What’s going on? It feels like there’s a wall between you two.”

You sighed, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “It’s…,” you hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “We…” You usually had the confidence to speak up at the company, but talking about your relationship with Bucky made your stomach knot.

On the other side of the house, your father was talking to Bucky in the living room. “Did you make a mistake with my daughter?”

Bucky looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Son, I’ve been married for 35 years. I would know. So, you did something,” your father said firmly, though not unkindly.

Bucky sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “She wants a baby. I’m not ready.”

Your father’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

Bucky’s voice softened, and his eyes looked distant. “Because I’m afraid. I don’t think I’ll be a good father. Look at my parents. You saw them at the wedding.”

Your father nodded, understanding the depth of his concerns. “Well… it’s complicated. But you’re you, not your father.” He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You're a good man for acknowledging your doubts. It's not a shame, son. Everyone feels nervous about being a parent.”

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Robin sat across from you, her hand resting gently on yours. “Listen, I know things aren’t easy right now, but you and Bucky can make it. There will be challenges ahead, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. You’ve built something real together, and that counts for a lot.”

You looked at her, searching for the reassurance you needed. Robin gave you a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve both come this far. You’ll find a way through this too. Just remember, love isn’t perfect—it’s about sticking together, even when it’s hard.”

Later that evening, you finally found the courage to talk to Bucky. He was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. You walked up to him, and without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I’m ready,” Bucky whispered into your hair, his voice low but steady. “I’m in it. If you’re in it.”

You held him tighter, your heart feeling lighter. “We’re doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event.” You chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Yeah, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And the next Christmas, both of you came home—this time, with a beautiful, giggling baby girl in your arms. Bucky and you became the best parents this baby girl ever had.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

[maxdibert]

i respect your take on snape, although he’s still not really a character i love, but i feel like a huge difference between snape and regulus/james/etc. for people who write fan fics or create stuff for the mauraderers fandom in general is the fact that people have the liberty to create their futures (since they all died very young, regulus is essentially entirely a fanon character, as is pandora, and many others), while with snape like canonically we know how he turns out, how he has mistreated children as a teacher, etc., and that’s just not something everyone can forgive, and yes there are intersectional factors in his upbringing that influence his actions but his actions are still his own, and at that point in the books he is a literal adult with like a lot of power, being a teacher, integral to dumbledor, and important to the DEs, his cruelty just seems quite unnecessary and i don’t think it’s wrong for it to not be everyone’s cup of tea. also to say the whole fandom is classist is honestly a reach, remus, lily, mary, etc. are also not rich pure bloods and they are generally beloved characters.

i get the premise of the point that it would be hypocritical to dislike snape and love characters like regulus, remus, james, etc, but again one of the main draws to these characters is the fact that there is like so little to work with from cannon, but each character has enough about them in cannon to create really interesting character dynamics (and there are just so many characters to work with, like pandora, mary, lily, etc. and the gen x characters are from like three families essentially, there’s just less to work with). with these baseline characteristics and early tragic deaths it’s easy to grasp onto these characters, and write stories where their futures could be better, and they could change for the better while with snape that story is entirely written and his actions just don’t appeal to everyone. snapes arc is quite fleshed out by jkr, in a way the majority of the characters in the mauraderers fandom isn’t, which is also why people might prefer other characters and still not like snape

That would make sense if one of the fan favorites weren’t Barty Crouch Jr, whose future we all know, and it’s much worse than Severus’s. It would also make sense if the only Slytherin they fangirl over were Regulus, but there’s also Evan Rosier, who was one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters. They even let Peter slide on many things, even though he was the main traitor of the Potters and a lifelong bootlicker of Voldemort. Honestly, the issue with Severus doesn’t seem to have anything to do with how he ends up as an adult. I think that’s just a cheap excuse people use to justify their classism and beauty privilege and also to avoid confronting the reality that what bothers them most about Severus as a character is that, indeed, he’s the marginalized victim who doesn’t fit in economically, socially, or physically, who gets mocked for not conforming to beauty standards and for having a non-hegemonic appearance. And that’s literally what those same haters try to impose in their distorted, wannabe version of the Marauders. But Severus doesn’t work for them as a projection because he’s not the cool, popular guy, and they need to project themselves onto characters who were cool and popular to sublimate their unresolved fantasies of school popularity.

[grumfield]

Since you’ve read like…all the books why do you think that Anakin is such a polarizing character? Beyond the oblivious. I feel like there’s strongly opposing viewpoints which feels wild. But you’re pretty impartial when necessary and also well read in this world so I’m curious what you think!

wow I love it when y'all give me asks that let me flex a bit more of my top-down muscles like this. super fun, thank you!

I think it, first of all, this is a very "fandom" conversation. Popular cultural conversation is generally no more than "Vader was sympathetic but bad, Jedi cool." so these more intense debates kind of predicate on the idea of peoples' personal investment in the charactesr beyond the movies. Even though the movies do provide context--and have a very overt George Lucas messaging of "Jedi wrong, love is what saves"--the average person doesn't really think more on it or try to reconcile beyond what the movie itself shows. So TLDR this is sort of presuming the people having this discussion have delved into other works.

I think it comes down to how much and what media beyond the movies people engage and prefer with because there are so many prequels projects, all of them written by different people with different perspectives (at least in legends...i'll get to the disney POV soon), which is the beauty of multimedia works.

Legends projects in general tend to be more critical of the Jedi, majorly, I think, because George Lucas had control. Lucas was, obviously, critical of the Jedi, and his projects reflect that. Most of them are takedowns, and don't really show the Jedi in a particularly favorable light.

Disney, on the other hand, definitely skews more in favor of the Jedi. I don't think this is actually a Disney perspective, I think that this is a popular perspective that was ingratiated into their framework. IMO many people think of the Disney era as against the Jedi, but to me it's definitely "pro" in the sense that they are effortlessly cool + flashy, there's very little bureaucracy, and the characters at fault are not at fault for systemic reasons, but rather personal failure (which I feel like is seen in the Acolyte).

In Disney narratives, Jedi structures are not the issue, flawed people are. Whereas in Lucas narratives, flawed people are not the issue, Jedi structures are.

For example, I've noticed a lot of Legends books portray Anakin's relationship with Padmé as the thing that saved him, which is a very Lucas perspective to hold, since his entire thesis of Star Wars is that love is what redeems. In opposition, though, a lot of Disney books pose their relationship as what caused his downfall, because if he'd never been in a relationship with her he wouldn't have fallen because she wasn't there. Similarly I think that Jedi Quest is a very unsympathetic look at Obi-Wan that holds him responsible for Anakin's downfall, whereas Deborah Chow's Obi-Wan show is more sympathetic and frames him as generally without fault to what happened. Different strokes for different folks.

Given that Anakin is space JesusJudasSatan, makes him the ideological battleground for these perspectives, which creates a character whose various story plots and circumstances, depending on the writer/creator, is at least always a little bit in contradiction even if his actions are the same. Because he simultaneously is so many different types of things at once, and I think it just comes down to which works they're exposed to/are most drawn to.

But, building off of that: I think the main culprit, in broad strokes, comes down to which piece of media a person views as their canon: Lucas's movies, or Filoni's Clone Wars. Which, IMO, ultimately follow two completely different characters both named Anakin Skywalker, but this post is getting too long so I'll get salty about that some other time.