#i might be doing that myself but just looking at the text and themes of the game it seems to me that you’re supposed to feel bad for him

[lucky-clover-gazette]

tbh i think volo would have been significantly more normal and fine if he hadn’t been hiding so much of his true feelings and personality. like when you deny yourself genuine human connection to that degree you’re probably going to come off as a machiavellian monster who wants to make the world and the lives of others worse, but looking at his actual stated motivations and intentions it’s clear to me at least that the guy is deeply empathetic and idealistic and more than anything disappointed that the world can’t be better

[just-a-space-duck]

So About That Armor…

I regret to inform myself that I like it.

If you haven't seen it:

I'll give you time to take it in. This is a static, (hopefully) eternal text post, so take your time.

Ok so before I go further, you are allowed to have any and all opinions about the armor. Do not listen to me; I am a stranger on the internet who attaches himself to fictional murder cyborgs and treats them like kitty cats.

So first of all, it's weird. And I like it for that. Even if I found it to be the most infuriating piece of costume design ever, I still wouldn't be able to help but respect it for how strange it is.

When it comes to fanworks, adaptations, new installments in a franchise, or even just different takes on the same trope, I love it when creators take things in an unconventional or even seemingly unrelated direction that upon closer inspection still relates to the base or original concept. To get what I mean, think goth interpretations of Rarity or Cosmopoliturtle's Pokémon redesigns. The TV series armor sits alongside these for me, because this was the thought process of the designer, Tommy Arnold:

First of all, it is so funny that The Company would just brand their armor and by extension their secunits, their combat/security products, like Louis Vuitton bags. Also, the logo of The Company strikes a nice balance between being simple enough to be easily reproducible and recognizable, but complex enough to read as a logo and not just a simple shape or pattern. Plus, The Company logo being mostly just concentric Cs, clever there.

But there's also some worldbuilding and character expression in this design.

The Corporation Rim is just capitalism but more. A company slathering everything and everyone they create and own in mountains of logos, even when it's potentially impractical, showcases just how extensive corporatism is in this setting. Additionally, this design could be something of a status marker. Secunits are high end additions and/or alternatives to other security measures. Much like how logos on purses, tennis shoes, and cars serve to tell observers, "I have the fancy, expensive version of [insert category of thing here] ergo I am a very wealthy/powerful/cool person", a secunit covered in corporate logos communicates the high status and access of the client(s).

Now what was one of the first things we learned about Murderbot in the books? It disabled its governor module, the thing preventing it from defying orders and having any level of freedom, but instead of doing what it could to leave The Company, Murderbot just stayed with it and kept doing its intended function. For over four years. What else do we learn in the first book? That it feels most comfortable in the armor because this prevents humans from seeing its face, from treating it more like a person or human rather than a tool or bot. This makes the armor being composed of the logo of the group that both created and hurt Murderbot very symbolic.

Murderbot has internalized the message that it is a dangerous weapon and not a person deserving of care to the point that, at least at the beginning of the series, it shies away from anything that insists that it deserves the same kindness that humans do. It's only ever been taught what the company built it to do, so it doesn't know what to do next once it's obtained some semblance of freedom for itself by disabling its mental shock collar and so keeps doing what it's always done, even though it very much would rather not be in such a situation. Even by the most recent book, System Collapse, Murderbot is still wrestling with the idea that it matters beyond how it can assist others. Murderbot finding comfort hiding behind the very thing that will not let you forget the company that enslaves it, is just juicy theming.

Also, the helmet looking so weird works well with how many humans don't know what secunits look like, with some not even thinking they have human-like faces. If you had no context for this image, you might very well assume this is a fully robot character or even a statue.

I have my own gripes and worries and hopes concerning the upcoming show, but I just couldn’t get this fun bit of character design analysis out of my head. Shouldn’t have watched so much TB Skyen.

[kitkatscabinet]

BROTHERS BEST FRIEND

Pairings: Wally West, Roy Harper, Conner Kent, Clark Kent x fem reader. Platonic batfamily x sister reader.

Summary: Your brother finds out you’re dating his best friend. It goes about as well as you’d think.

A/N: Nsfw themes 18+, minors dni

WALLY WEST & DICK GRAYSON

"Can't wait to see you later baby <3"

Dick stares at the text from Wally, a frown on his face as he tries to recall if they'd made any plans. Though baby was definitely an odd new term of endearment from his best friend. After spending a few minutes wracking his mind and deciding he hadn't forgotten any important plans, he replies:

"What are we doing later?"

He sees the dots indicating Wally's typing

"Why would you assume that was for you?!"

Dick's frown deepened, if that wasn't for him, then who was monopolising his friend's time? More importantly, who was he calling baby?

“Who’s it for then? :((" He conveniently gets left on read.

"Wally!"

"WALLACE RUDOLPH WEST!!"

His messages turn green. That annoying little fuck! Did Wally just block him? Oh, this was so far from over.

If Wally thought Dick was going to just let this go then he was sorely mistaken.

Dick was a man on a mission, determined to catch Wally with his new partner. Only, the redhead suddenly seemed to be a master at avoiding him. It was driving him insane, but Dick was a dog with a bone and this was the one thing he was never going to let go.

He's so focused on his hunt for the perp, that he doesn't notice the clues right in front of his face. The way you seemed so amused whenever he whined or ranted to you or the way you reached for your phone to send Wally a heads-up text. Or the second toothbrush in your bathroom or the men's hoodie slung over the back of your desk chair.

You were starting to feel a little bad, and you'd finally convinced Wally to let Dick in on your secret when the beans get accidentally spilled, in the Titans group chat of all things.

You were texting Wally privately, looking away from your phone the exact second you accidentally clicked on the notification taking you to a different chat, not noticing until it was far too late.

TheSexiestBat: I love you, idiot. Even if you leave dirty dishes in the sink like a war criminal <3.

SpeedyGonzalez: and I love YOU even if you steal the blanket every night 😘

WingDing: BLANKET. EVERY. NIGHT?

LeanMeanGreenMachine: They sleep together. They sleep. Together. They’re sleeping. TOGETHER.

That'sSoRaven: It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. Except I live in the car and the driver is texting.

Pwincess: Shall we begin making couple name suggestions now?? WalliBat? BatAlly? SpeedWayne?

SpeedyGonzalez: SpeedWayne kinda goes hard not gonna lie

TheSexiestBat: oh god oh GOD wrong chat WRONG CHATTTTT

WingDing: WALLY.

SpeedyGonzalez: it was gonna be a soft launch 😭

LeanMeanGreenMachine: BRO WE JUST GOT HARD LAUNCHED INTO ORBIT

SpeedyGonzalez: So like are we officially telling everyone now? Should I change my bio to “taken by the most gorgeous woman on the planet?"

WingDing: BLOCKED REPORTED BANNED EXCOMMUNICATED FROM THE GROUP LEAVE THE TITANS AND THE PLANET

TheSexiestBat: I'm erasing myself from the narrative :D

TheSexiestBat has left the chat.

SpeedyGonzalez: in my defense your sister is hot and emotionally stable and laughs at my jokes. She's literally the perfect woman.

WingDing: Count ur days West.

That'sSoRaven: I call dibs on the funeral playlist I’m thinking something upbeat. “Dumb Ways to Die” maybe?

Dick screams so loud his neighbours call the cops, fearing he'd been murdered.

Meanwhile you and Wally decide it might be time to give up texting.

ROY HARPER & JASON TODD

It’s been a long night. He’s tired, cranky and covered in mud and blood. He also might be nursing a concussion. Whatever the case, he was ready to crash and Roy’s place was closer than any of his.

He stumbles through the window with a thud, uncaring of the noise he's making. Roy's always been a heavy sleeper. Still, it's a bit disconcerting when he doesn't come to investigate the noise.

Ok, that was a little concerning; what kind of vigilante slept through a potential break-in?

He's just checking his friend's not bleeding out or dead, is what Jason tells himself as he throws back the covers on Roy's bed. Flicking the lights on with an amused laugh that quickly turns into a horrified scream at the sight of his friend, naked, an arm wrapped around his chest from behind.

"Dude, what the fuck?” You croaked, lifting your face from Roy’s back to blink blearily at whoever had interrupted your sleep. Jason's scream turning into a stream of scandalised expletives at the sight of your face.

"Seriously?! MY SISTER, ROY? MY ACTUAL SISTER?!"

"Jason, I swear to god, you better—" you grumbled, still half asleep as you tried to hide your face against the back of your barely conscious boyfriend.

"I better what? Calm down? Don't you dare tell me to CALM DOWN. My SISTER! MY SISTER and my BEST FRIEND!" He shrieks, tugging at his hair as he paced restlessly. Suddenly, he whirled on Roy, grabbing the man's shoulders. "How could you do this to me?"

"You’re talking like I’m the one who got into her bed. She climbed in here herself, dude." Roy mumbled, still sleep-laden and beyond over the situation already.

"You—YOU—climbed into his bed?!"

"I mean yeah? This is Roy's apartment." You whined, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, ignoring his unintelligible stutters.

"Quit clutching your pearls Jay, we're both adults." The scandalised gasp he lets out, hand clutching his chest is one you'd remember forever.

You finally sit up, making him screech and cover his eyes, blindly trying to throw his jacket at you. "Cover them up, you slut!"

"I dunno, Roy likes when my tits are out. Don't you honey?" You mock, relishing in the way Jason's ears turn bright red behind his hand.

Roy hums in agreement before remembering exactly who was standing before him. Your very overprotective brother, who had some very real guns.

"You know, Jase, you’re acting like I’m a bad influence on your sister, but" he turns to look at you, making you melt a little "—who could resist? She’s a catch, man."

"Did you just flirt with my sister in front of me?!" He takes his hand away from his eyes only to nearly run into the doorframe when he realises you're still naked.

"Jason give it a rest." You snickered, finally pulling on the jacket he'd thrown at you, your brother turning around at the sound of the zipper. "Besides. I've known him for longer than you."

Jason sputtered, arms crossed over his chest in extreme offence. "Well, I know him better!"

You let out a screech of outrage, smacking Roy's chest. "Baby! Tell him he's wrong!"

Roy simply turned and buried his face in his pillow, wondering if it was too late to break up with both of you.

CONNER KENT & TIM DRAKE

It wasn't exactly out of the norm for Tim to call you down to the Batcave, he often did so when he was having trouble with a case. But there was something different about the text he'd sent you. It was short and sharp, with perfect grammar and spelling, and most telling, no emojis. Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

The sight of your very much still secret boyfriend standing behind Tim with his arms crossed is enough for your stomach to sink. Luckily, years of exposure to your family's bullshit had let you perfect the art of the poker face.

"Kon? What are you doing here?" You try to remain calm; Kon visits Tim all the time; they're best friends. Yet you can't shake the sinking suspicion that starts to settle in your gut. Just as your boyfriend's about to answer, Tim swivels in the large chair facing the bat computer like a cliche supervillain.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin."

You almost don't want to ask, "begin what?"

Tim's fingers are interlaced in front of his stone-cold expression as the monitor whirs to life, showcasing a PowerPoint slide titled 'Evidence'.

"Evidence of what?" You sigh.

"Of you two dating."

"Tim," you sigh in exasperation, "you're being ridiculous."

Conner, however, is as convincing in his denial as a little girl with lipstick all over her face, swearing she didn't touch Mum's makeup.

"So we're doing this the hard way. Are you ready?"

"Tim, we really don't need - "

"Yes." You throw an incredulous look Conner's way.

"What?" He shrugs, "Kind of seems like he put a lot of effort into this."

"I did." Tim confirms.

"Oh for fuck's sake, fine, Kon and I are dating." You exclaim, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

"Thank you for your honesty, we can skip ahead a few slides." Tim nods serenely, flicking through an absurd amount of slides until he stops on.

"What this means & the consequences"

“Breakup = emotional devastation = forced to choose = loss of sibling"

“They work out = I have to hear them be gross for eternity???”

“Bruce finds out = He kills Kon = I lose my best friend.

"Hold on, you'd choose Conner over me if we broke up?" You squawk in offence.

"Obviously. No offence, babe, but we are best friends." Conner grins and you turn your mutinous glare on him.

"You're sleeping on the couch for a week." You hiss, watching in satisfaction as his grin evaporates.

"Wait, you're sleeping together?!" Tim shrieks, reaching for a suspicious batarang.

"On second thought I'm on your side!" Conner laughs nervously.

"No offence, babe, but you made your choice." You smile unnervingly widely before turning and leaving him to deal with Tim's meltdown.

CLARK KENT & BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce had given a lot of thought to how he'd die over the years, how couldn't he with the life he led? Of all the possibilities he'd imagined, choking on the tea Alfred had prepared him from the image plastered across his morning newspaper.

The picture. The picture of you. His beloved sister. You and Clark Kent. His best friend. Kissing. That picture.

"Wayne Princess spotted with new beau?" The newspaper he holds in his hands stares up at him mockingly until he accidentally rips the offending paper in half.

Plans for the day-long forgotten, Bruce hunkers down at his computer, obsessively scrolling through gossip columns, collecting information. The headlines were nearly endless: “Wayne Royalty Meets Smallville Simplicity", “Billionaire Bloodline and the Boy Next Door?", He Stole Her From Us! Gotham Mourns as Beloved Socialite Taken Off the Market.”

“BREAKING: Gotham’s IT Girl is Dating… WHO???”

The Wayne Princess: You know her, you love her, women want to be her, everyone wants to be with her — was spotted yesterday cosying up to a mystery man. It turns out, that man is Clark Kent, a journalist at the Daily Planet. Yes, a journalist. With GLASSES. Not a billionaire, not a pop star, not even an actor. Just... Clark. Look, we’re not here to judge true love or whatever, but Gotham is reeling. Our queen, our light, our socialite supreme… has chosen a man who probably thinks khakis and cardigans are acceptable date attire. The internet is in mourning. Group chats are in shambles. Thirst edits are being watched through mournful tears. Meanwhile, Clark Kent? Unbothered. Thriving. Possibly winning the “man most likely to be assassinated by bitter Gothamites" award.

All the while, he's sending countless texts and voicemails to his currently wayward sister. You'd always answered him immediately, even when you were busy; yeah he smelled a conspiracy.

Guess it was time to pull out the big guns, his kids, you never could ignore them. He calls Tim and Damian into his office, trying not to feel a little unnerved when the oldest announces that you're in Metropolis with no prompting.

"I figured you'd seen the news." The teen shrugged, answering the silent question in Bruce's eyes.

"What news?" Damian scowls, looking between his father and brother in suspicion. The kid was a Wayne alright.

"Auntie's dating Superman." Tim yawns.

"Father, I require some Kryptonite... for completely unrelated reasons," Damian says so unconvincingly that any other day Bruce might have been amused. Now though, he considered it for a few seconds.

"Ooookay, I'm going to take this one to school now." Tim chuckles awkwardly, grabbing Damian by the shoulders and hauling him out of Bruce's office before the two could plan to murder one of the greatest heroes on Earth.

(Though not before he drops your exact location for his adoptive father, he wasn't that magnanimous.)

Bruce strikes when you're in the shower, waiting until he hears the water start to run before he steps out of the shadows.

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

"Jesus Christ! Bruce!" Clark practically screamed, pulling the sheets up to cover his chest like a blushing maiden.

"Answer the question, Clark." He reiterates.

"Bruce, seriously," Clark tries to placate, only to pause at the deadly look on his friend's face. "I love her."

The earnest sincerity in Clark's gaze knocks the wind right out of his sails.

"Listen to me, Bruce, I love her, I'd protect her with my life. You have to know that." The dopey, lovesick grin that grows on his face is disgustingly sweet. "I'd marry her if she let me."

"Really?" Your breathless voice cuts in. Bruce's eyes narrowed; you tended to take long showers; there was no way you'd finished already. Unless, you intended to set him up.

Unwilling to stay and witness the inevitable sap fest, Bruce turns to you for confirmation.

"Is he good to you?" You nod and something in him softens just a little. "Then I trust you. Both of you." He pauses, barriers going back up when he notices the way you relax into Clark's welcoming embrace. "But if he breaks your heart, I will break his kneecaps"

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[formulakracing]

leap of faith — t.w.

pairing -> student intern!reader x toto wolff

word count -> 1.4k

warnings -> slow burn, cursing, mentions of marijuana/drug use, power imbalance, boss x employee dynamic, smut, alcohol use, mentions of alcohol use, yearning (big time), overall mature themes

a/n -> here we are. chapter two. i apologize if this is nothing like the internship at mercedes. my bad if this chapter drags a little! i hope you guys enjoy! <3

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

december 1st, 2024

"oh my god."

"what?"

"i-i just checked my inbox. i got an email from mercedes."

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your best friend, iris, arches a brow, leaning forward, "what did they say? did you get in? have you opened it yet? i wanna see—"

shaking your head, you scoot over in the booth, waving a hand, "not yet. come over here and we can read it together."

with no hesitation, iris springs to her feet, eagerly sliding in beside you, "fuck, my heart is racing. open it, open it, open it!"

"okay, okay," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, fingers gliding across the touchpad, "i'm pulling it up now."

clicking on the mail tab, your inbox loads, a plethora of emails appearing. since the email you used for the application was your university email, you had to dig through your spam folder to locate the message. moving the email to your inbox, you inhale a sharp breath.

"here goes nothing."

tapping on the message, you heart races, blood roaring in your ears.

you barely make it through the text before your jaw goes slack.

it is with great pleasure that we offer you an apprenticeship with our filming and editing team!

please respond to this email by december 15th, 2024, if you accept our offer.

welcome to the merecedes amg petronas family! we hope to hear from you soon!

letting out a squeal, iris wraps you in her embrace, pulling you in close, "congratulations! i am so fucking proud of you! you made it! you got in!"

"h-how?" you sputter, the shock dissolving by the second, "h-how did i make it in? surely it has to be some sort of—"

iris rolls her eyes, tutting as she puts a finger to your lips, "ah ah, none of that! you made it in, and that's that. from this moment on, there will be no second guessing or self-doubt."

"w-what am i going to tell my parents?"

her brow furrows, head tilting ever so slightly, "um — that you're going to be moving away to pursue your dream career? it's not rocket science babe."

at that, you can't help but laugh, "iris, you of all people know that's not going to fly. the first thing they're going to do is ask a thousand questions. then they're going to plant every seed of self-doubt into my mind so that i second guess myself and decline the offer."

"hmmm," she hums, drumming her fingers on the table, "what if you just didn't tell them until the day of your flight? what they don't know won't hurt them."

"iris," your eyes widen, lips parting, "i can't just hide this from my parents! this is way too big of a secret to be kept between the two of us—"

"but look at it this way," she interjects, "if you call them the second you get back home, they're going to shut it down. you'll end up declining the internship, just so that they'll be happy.

sure, they'll have you around for the holidays. your boyfriend will like having you at home during break. however, you won't be happy. i know you. you're going to mope around for the rest of your life, wishing you would have accepted that offer.

i just want my best friend to be happy. i want you to do what makes you feel alive. i want to see you smile again. if going halfway across the world and filming fast cars is what makes you happy, i support it one thousand percent. and who knows? you might meet a hot european man while you're there and end up marrying him."

i want you to do what makes you feel alive.

and formula one was just that. it's what kept that spark ablaze deep within your soul.

the torrent that swept through you during race day was indescribable. it was a high that you were constantly chasing. and in your heart, you knew that watching from a screen would never be enough. the hours poured into edits and compilations would never satisfy that hunger. the views, likes, and reposts would not fill that void.

the only way you would ever be satisfied is if you were at a grand prix, camera in hand, filming every exhilarating second.

fuck, was iris right.

the one time you put yourself first, you managed to secure the internship of a lifetime. you weren't sure how, but you made it, and that's all that mattered.

your happiness is what mattered. fuck what your parents thought. fuck what your boyfriend had to say. fuck all of things they would say in order to hold you back. that's all they were going to do anyway.

everyone and everything in this town was going to only hold you back.

well, not quite everyone. there was one exception.

"iris, if i accepted this offer, would you come with me?"

december 15th, 2024

"please, natalia, i'm having a shit day. if it's anything to do with the—"

"it's about little lamb, sir."

"come in."

dipping her head, the assistant strides in, folder in hand. placing it on his desk, she crosses over to the door, pulling it closed, "should i lock it, sir?"

"no need," he tuts, "does lewis know?"

"not yet, sir. we just received word that she accepted the offer."

"good," swiping a tongue along his lower lip, his eyes scan over the first page, "when is she expected to start, natalia?"

"little lamb has orientation on january sixth, like the rest of the apprentices. she flies in on a thursday, i believe. it might be the second or third. i'm not entirely sure, sir."

toto wolff, team principal of mercedes amg petronas hums, flipping through the pristine pile of papers before him, "how long is orientation?"

natalia clicks her tongue, firing a rapid response, "orientation is approximately a two week process. the first week is about the basics of the apprenticeship. the second week is a lot of coursework. the apprentices attend a series of classes that are more specific to their program. the soonest we could pull her out is january twentieth. would you like for me to send an email to her orientation leaders?"

"we will wait until we have confirmation she's made it brackley. thank you for the update, natalia. i appreciate your hard work."

at that, his assistant beams, straightening in her seat, "of course, sir. is there anything you would like for me to do in the meantime?"

"do you have her social media accounts?"

"they're already in her file. i highlighted them for you."

"atta girl," the team principal shoots natalia a wink, "i will let you know when it is time to hunt down our little lamb. have a good evening, natalia. thank you again."

"of course, sir."

dipping her head, natalia rises to her feet, promptly exiting the room. the moment he hears that click, he reaches for his phone, his thumbs a flurry as he types in her username.

you see, toto wolff was fixated on this particular apprentice.

was it a little insane? yeah.

did it violate a few ethical principles? sure. would it raise a few eyebrows? of course it would. would there be a few human resource violations? maybe.

nothing that he couldn't handle.

besides, the girl knew how to reel you in.

the storytelling throughout her media was compelling. she captured the essence of motorsports in a way that toto had never seen before. with over thousands upon thousands of followers across three acounts, she was gaining some notoriety among the formula one community. she even had a couple of sponsorship deals. drivers would like her posts, some even going as far to repost the clips.

in fact, lewis was the one who introduced her to toto.

one rainy morning in brazil, toto peered over lewis' shoulder to see that he was deeply invested in his phone, scrolling every so often. from what toto could see, lewis was looking at someone's instagram. or was it tik tok? toto couldn't keep up.

"what are you looking at?"

"nosy are we?" a smooth chuckle flowed from the british driver's lips, "to answer your query, i'm just taking a look at this girl's account. she makes edits. at least, i think that's what they're called. don't quote me on that."

"and what does she post edits of?"

"formula one."

"what is so special about her 'edits'?"

however, the british driver did not answer. instead, he placed the phone into toto's hands, giving him a slight nod. almost as if he was prompting him to take a peek.

"what's so special about them? take a look and see for yourself. then you'll know."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

taglist -> @the-secret-formulaone @gmfj6 @ssarqhxo @ravyn94

thanks for reading! if you would like to be tagged, just comment down below! <3

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Recommendations - Pinned Post

Thought it might be helpful to save links to my weekly fan fic recommendations. Organized by theme, each post gives you the rating and enough information to give you an idea of whether it's a good choice for you to read. And you'll find more great suggestions in the comments and reblogs. Just one more option for a fan fic reference desk. Scroll down for links--oldest first. Recommended WIPs at the bottom.

2024

11/8/24 - Fics that Made Me LOL - These are the funniest fics; the ones that actually had me laughing out loud. I'll definitely need to revisit this theme. So many to add to the list.

11/15/24 - Current Best of the Best - Snapshot of my absolute favorite fics at this moment in time. Fics I loved and can't imagine ever forgetting.

11/22/24 - Human AUs - These are the fics that finally convinced me to read our ineffable pair depicted as humans. And I've never looked back.

11/28/24 - Banter - Who doesn't love saucy banter? Here are my fave stories with witty dialogue.

12/6/24 - Illustrated Stories - It's in the name. These include comics and traditional fics with illustrations.

12/13/24 - Smooth Criminals - Fics that involve criminal undertakings.

12/20/24 - Christmas - I limit myself to one, very special Christmas fic. Hard to imagine any story better than this one.

12/27/24 - Through the Ages - Do you really need an explanation? My fave fics that show our ineffable pair in different time periods.

2025

1/3/25 - The Bentley - Fics in which our favorite sentient car gets her due.

1/10/25 - "Mixed" AUs - Stories in which one of the ineffable pair is mortal and the other is supernatural.

1/17/25 - Animal Shenanigans, pt 1 - Fics in which animals play an important role.

1/24/25 - Animal Shenanigans, pt 2 - One week was not enough to contain so many charming, animal-centric fics.

1/31/25 - Resistance - My favorite fics centered around resistance against powerful forces and nasty people.

2/7/25 - Read the Footnotes, pt 1 - I highlight two writers who write particularly clever and fascinating footnotes for their fics, in the style of Terry Pratchett. More to come in a future post.

2/14/25 - Be My Valentine - Recommending 3 Valentine's Day fics and 3 more that are about wooing, but not necessarily in February.

2/21/25 - Read the Footnotes, pt 2 - I share more favorite fics with clever footnotes.

2/28/25 - Alt Season 3 Speculations - These are my favorite post-season 2 fics that aren't what you might expect.

3/7/25 - Timey-Wimey - Some of the best fics that deal with time being weird. The first on the list is a unique treat.

3/14/2025 - Magic in the Air - My favorite fics featuring Fell the Marvelous (and yes, Crowley too) as magicians.

3/21/2025 - Ineffable Reality TV - Our ineffable pair end up on reality tv. Amazingly, three of them are not human AUs. Does not include any dating/marriage shows.

3/28/2025 - Spies in Disguise - Fics in which spying is a major part of the story. Lots of fun.

4/4/25 - Epistolary - Stories in which hand written letters are the centerpiece. Does not include texts, diaries, or emails.

4/11/25 - Top-Rated One-Shots - These are the single chapter works that get my highest ratings. Some will make you laugh. Some will make you cry. But they're all terrific.

4/18/25 - Texting - These fics center on texts. They range from the silly to the spicy with a sweet, tender love story in between.

4/25/25 - Sexy (but not explicit) - Focusing on moments in fics that are sexy but not explicit. Note: some of the fics themselves are explicit, even if the moment I highlight is not.

5/2/25 - Demon Summoning - These fics, both sweet and funny, center on Crowley being summoned by humans. See reblogs for even more recs.

❖❖❖

And finally, I've started recommending WIPs. Listing them here and marking them complete as they finish.

2/2/25 - Cayuga Blush (M) by asparkofgoodness/@thetunewillcome - Human AU with amazing link to canon in which Crowley and Aziraphale operate competing vineyards.

2/5/25 - Pages About You; Pages About Me (T) by D_Cocca/@dcocca - Aziraphale the bookstore owner and Crowley the comic shop owner become close while recommending reading material for each other.

2/19/25 - You Can Have It (E) by @voluptatiscausa - Aziraphale gets unwanted flowers from an ex. An empathetic delivery person helps him realize he's worth more than he's settled for in the past.

2/26/25 - Moonstruck (E) by @foolishlovers - Crowley is a single dad struggling with his responsibilities when the angelic bartender at his monthly stop shows him he deserves to take care of himself as well. COMPLETE

3/5/25 - Bonded (E) by AppleSeeds - Aziraphale travels to his grandfather's quarry to suggest how things can improve. He's entranced by the worker, Crowley, who has a mysterious secret. COMPLETE

3/12/25 - Chef's Kiss (E) by @joyandotherstories - Aziraphale is a positive, YouTube chef who appears on Crowley's food network show famous for nasty treatment of the guests. Human AU but well integrated into Good Omens canon.

3/19/25 - where the nodding violet grows (M) by @omens-for-ophelia- Crowley suspects there's a fairy living in his garden. But the fae creature only appears once Crowley offers a gift suitable for his standards. Lovely story and art.

3/26/25 - Dead Right (E) by @anatomic-girl. A cut above even the best fake marriage trope with loads of characters as charming as our ineffable pair (including two adorable cats).

4/2/25 - shoutout to @raxacoricofallapatoriusrulez, a prolific writer with several fics in progress.

4/9/25 - In Night Blooms by @gaiaseyes451, Aziraphale is drawn to a familiar but neglected garden where he picks some blooms to brew into a tea. Soon he starts having mysterious dreams.

4/16/25 - Wavelengths & Frequencies by @shadesofecclescakes and imposterssyndrome/@maaikeatthefullmoon is a hilarious romp through the friends to enemies to friends to (?) journeys of DJs Crowley and Aziraphale. LOL funny!

4/23/25 - Parliamentary Procedure. A rare, themed WIP rec of Honourable Members (E) COMPLETE by @groovynightstrawberry and Crossing the Floor (M) by AlwaysTuesday.

4/30/25 - A Smell Can't Be Ineffable (M) by @thinkinginscripts, in which Aziraphale tries to help Crowley recover his sense of smell and taste after Covid. But Crowley responds differently to the therapy than expected. COMPLETE

If you're seeing this as a reblog, you can find the original (most-up-to-date) version here.

And if my tastes match yours, check out my AO3 bookmarks highlighting the top 10% of all fics I've read.

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Consequences - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary: 

"I barely make it down the stairs without panic Woah, I won't let it set me off"

Alternatively, 

You are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Extreme angst. I repeat EXTREME angst. One very triggering concept (I'm not mentioning what since it might spoil stuff) but I have tried to keep it as implied as possible.

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: This might break your heart because this is the angstiest chapter yet.

Read the next chapter

“Are you sure you don’t want to add anyone?” Hoseok asks for what feels like a thousand times. Everytime he asks this question, you get a sharp reminder of how you have no one to add as your emergency contact, how you are completely deserted from the rest of the world and how it’s no one’s fault but yours. 

You nod your head in affirmation. To dim the helplessness in your eyes, you smile a little. 

But Hoseok is not convinced as it seems, he only sighs harder. The pen in his hand fall on the patient chart as he intertwines his fingers and looks at you as if he is trying to read your troubles out aloud.

You don’t like it. You don’t like the way he understands you are nowhere near being mentally healthy for motherhood.

“Y/N?” he calls you firmly. The lack of any formal suffix or prefix shocks you momentarily. “You really don’t want to let the father know?” 

You suck in a deep breath. You want to let Yoongi know. You of course do. You want him to be happy, you want him to say “let’s do this together”, you want him to love you back more and more and more and more. 

But you know, this is hardly possible even in your wildest of dreams. 

“He’s happy with the person he loves. I- I don’t want this baby to look like an excuse to come between them. Also…” Marrying, having kids - all these, freaks me out. Yoongi’s words ring in your head like a loud alarm, threatening you to go deaf at any given moment.

“Also?” Hoseok urges you to continue. 

“Nothing.” you give him another weak smile. 

He sighs again. Probably he, too, is done with you and your nonchalant stubbornness. 

“In that case, I am enlisting myself as your emergency contact.” He takes his pen in his fingers again and starts putting down his number in your chart. 

Your eyes go wide, “but will that be okay? I mean-” 

“This is okay. Don’t worry. We usually do this in exceptional cases.” Hoseok gives you an assuring smile. 

“Thank you.” you mumble, embarrassment eats you away. 

“That’s alright, Y/N. don’t forget to take your meds and eat a lot of fruits. Okay?” 

“Okay.”

“And also, just so you know, excessive mental stress is harmful in earlier stages of pregnancy.” 

Your chest tightens. 

“Okay.”  

You usually keep your personal cell silent. Because there is simply no reason not to. 

No one is going to call you and mull over why you aren’t picking up your calls and if anything bad has happened to you or not. 

Not even your mother. She has far more important responsibilities than you have ever managed to be. 

You have a few contacts and a group chat with your high school friends, which you check occasionally. 

That is why your heart threatens to beat out of your chest when you see unread notifications on the surface of your personal phone, that too, from Yoongi. 

He had only messaged you a few times before in this number and all of those were barely a sentence. 

But today he had sent you not one or two but a total set of five different texts, which read: 

Yoongi (15:30): “I heard you are out with an emergency again?”  Yoongi (15:36): “What is it, Y/N? Is something seriously wrong?”  Yoongi (15:38): “Please, let’s talk.”  Yoongi (15:50): “Will you please stop ignoring me?”  Yoongi (16:05): “I will be waiting for you at the terrace. If you can, come before 5.” 

Your eyes close as you leave a loud exhale out of your mouth. For a moment you question your decision of coming back to the company and make up for the time you were out. You could have just taken a sick leave. Or maybe if you checked your phone half an hour ago, you would have avoided this whole ordeal. 

But right now you are in the parking lot of the building and you will have to go inside. 

And you know very well, once you are inside, the invisible threads of your body that are connected to Min Yoongi will start pulling you towards the terrace. 

It’s 4:24 now.. So he is still supposedly waiting at the terrace. 

Maybe Yoongi is right. You should talk to him. What will you say, though, you don’t know. 

Or maybe you should just listen to him, as always, let him do the talking and see how his speeches have changed since the last time, since the time when both of you were alone. 

It’s only you, who is alone now, who is troubled. 

You have always loved Yoongi’s side profile, the soft slope of his nose, the half crescent of his lips, but then again, there’s hardly anything about Yoongi you have not not loved. 

However, right now as you watch him in the glow of the setting sun, with a half-burnt cigarette in between his lips, you wish you wouldn’t have loved him so much. 

Because, now, you are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time. 

But can you though? Your life is not only yours anymore. Your life is now intertwined with another living mechanism and you are far too lost in your head to be prepared for it. 

Do you really want the baby? Or do you just want to keep a trace of a fleeting thing that Yoongi had for you? 

If it’s the second then isn’t it unfair for the unborn life? 

Will you be able to love it when you can’t even love yourself? When you can’t associate anyone else with the word ‘love’ other than Yoongi himself? 

“Hey. you came..” Yoongi’s voice pierce through the dark clouds of your thoughts. His words are laced with doubts, there is a frown in between his brows and now that he is facing you completely, you can see bags under his eyes. 

You don’t even want to think about what's keeping him up at night. 

“You wanted to talk.” you finally start walking towards him with legs so heavy that it feels as if your body will fall over their weight. 

Yoongi crushes his cigarette under his shoes, like you have let him crush your hearts in those pretty hands of his. 

Once there is no smoke lingering in the air, you step near his vicinity. 

“Yeah. but the way you have been ignoring me, I didn’t think you would come.” there is a hint of hurt in his voice. 

You don’t reply anything, rather you let your eyes get lost in the maze of concrete ahead, tall buildings aspiring to touch the sky but failing regardless. 

From your peripheral vision you can see Yoongi stepping closer to you, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again. He probably shuts his eyes for a brief second then opens it with determination burning in them. 

“Y/N, what's wrong? I heard you have been taking leaves for regular checkups at the hospital? Are you… are you hurting?” Yoongi speaks with one of those soft tones that he hardly uses for anyone. 

It’s not the first time he is using it for you, but it sways you a little anyway. 

“I am fine, Yoongi. But I don’t understand what is up with you? Why are you suddenly so worried about me? Why are you suddenly caring as if… as if I mean something to you?” you ask him calmly, waiting for a valid answer. 

“I have always cared about you.” 

“But that was when we were- we were sleeping, right? Now you don’t have any obligations towards me. So please. Please stop confusing me. Please stop making me a fool.” you let a lone tear escape from your eye. This time doing nothing to stop it. 

“How is this even confusing, Y/N? Friends care for each other. Don’t they?” Yoongi’s voice weaves and you don’t know why. 

You chuckle dryly, “sadly enough, you are not just my friend. I am in love with you and you know that too.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen. He takes a tentative step away from you as if staying near you will turn him into a stone; and that breaks your already broken heart even more. 

“Y/N- I-”

“I know. I know you don’t- You don’t have to. I just- I am a fool. I am sorry.” Now you are sobbing uncontrollably. Your eyes give out after holding onto your tears for a year. 

Yoongi takes a step towards you, holds you by your shoulders but now his touches burn. Your body burns under his fingers and you want to run away - run away as far as possible. 

“Y/N” his voice trembles yet again.

You hastily wipe your tears with your sleeves and run away in the opposite direction towards the flight of stairs. 

He calls your name to stop you but doesn’t come running behind you. You note that. 

Yoongi will never chase you. You are not Gyuri after all. 

Once you are half down the stairs, you sit down, try to control your breathing, convince yourself that it’s not good for the baby. 

The baby. The baby. The baby. 

Should you not tell Yoongi about the baby? At least inform him? And then he can decide if he wants to accept it with you or leave it behind too? Just like you? 

But this is not yours alone. He came to you that night and left a life inside you as an aftermath.

You stand up, deciding to take a shot, not for you but for the unborn life, which deserves the equal part of attention from its other parent too. 

If there are consequences. You will face it all. 

Climbing up the stairs, as you take a few steps towards where you left Yoongi behind. 

You see him again. 

But this time, he is not alone. He is with Gyrui, who is holding on to his body so tightly as if her life depends on it.  

Their lips are molded with each other. 

Her fingers are lost in his dark locks, his hands are placed on her side as if he is not sure what he is doing. 

You stand there. 

You stand there watching them numbly. And when you decide to turn and leave, you have nothing left inside of you. 

Your body is now a shell of something that looks like you. 

You decide to take the stairs all the way down until your legs give out. 

Your back slides down the wooden door of your bedroom. 

You let out a thunderous scream and that is closely followed by wailing. 

You cry. You cry for all the times you have loved Yoongi. You cry for all the times he didn’t even look at you. You cry for the time when Gyuri came back. You cry for the time when Yoongi left that night. You cry for today when he clearly chose Gyuri over you even when you knew this was your destiny. 

You cry because Yoongi can’t be yours and today finally ends a lot of things. 

You don’t know for how long you cry. But all the tears have left you feeling weary. 

You climb on your bed and drift off to a slumber. 

And you dream. 

You dream of yourself, and Yoongi and a baby hand that’s holding his fingers. Yoongi is smiling, he is happy. 

Then you dream of a big wave, drowning you - Yoongi and the hand of the baby have disappeared. 

When you wake up, your body is drenched in sweat, so much so that even the back of your thighs feel wet. 

The pain in your body is piercing.

But when you manage to sit up - you see a pool of blood soaked in your clothes and sheets. 

The last trace of Yoongi that you were trying hard to preserve, is gone too now.  

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[thisisntmyrightera]

Our Glory - Jeon Jae Joon x Fem Reader pt2

Plot: Jae Joon leave South Korea to avoid being part of a violence scandal and arrives in America to start his life again, finding the love of his life who makes him feel human for the first time. Despite the distance, no matter how much he avoids his reality, the ghost of his past will reach him wherever he is endangering everything he has achieved.

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Violence, Angst, Drama Warning: Themes of school violence, abuse of power, minors being harassed, harsh language.

A/N: The story is inspired by The Glory, however, some time periods have changed as well as situations where the protagonist will be part of changing some original scenes.

I appreciate you reading and being part of this new story, as always I hope to please your readers' hearts.

I'll be back soon.

Jae Joon seemed to lose his personality every time you came and your oxygen mixed with his, your simple presence was a sign of salvation for his employees because they knew that he would stop his rude and violent attitude.

It wasn't that he pretended to be nice, he was just so stupidly in love that he even forgot who he was.

You're a son of a bitch, you're useless, do I have to do everything myself? Huh? - Jae Joon pushed his guard making him crash into a wall while the man just looked down in shame

Babe? - your voice made his jaw relax as he turned around hastily worried that you might have seen that scene

Baby, what are you doing here? - his smile formed wide as he hugged you by the waist lifting you a little in the air - how is my favorite girl doing?

I passed by here and came to visit you - you smiled hugging him by the neck kissing his lips leaving a light trace of your lip gloss on them

You arrived just in time, I was starting to miss you - he smiled carefully lowering you adjusting your blouse - are you staying to eat with me?

I don't think so, I have an appointment with the florist and then I'll go pick out the veil for my wedding dress - you smiled at him wiping the lipstick off his lips

You'll be the most beautiful bride of all - he kissed your cheek making you laugh like a teenager in love, both feeling for a moment that nothing around you existed

Both of you seemed to have no notion of time and wanted to rush everything, by then a huge ring adorned your left hand, it was beautiful and exotic very different from the generic rings that your friends boasted.

It shine with every ray of sunlight that hit the perfect shaped stone, always being the topic of conversation at the meetings where now you no longer accompanied your parents as part of the Y/L/N family but instead you presented yourself on Jae Joon's arm as the future Mrs. Jeon, causing annoyance to the dozens of people who once approached your family hoping to create a bond and you rejected their annoying sons.

Life was perfect, while you chose the ideal flowers for the wedding and tried the desserts that would be served at the reception you forgot that you ever doubted that this moment would come, everything was happiness.

Maybe we can take some of the fabric from here and adjust it - you looked at the dressmaker through the mirror while you touched your waist detailing the last adjustments of your wedding dress

I understand, how do you like the train of the dress? - she smiled at you placing a couple of pins in the leftover fabric - would you like it to be a little longer?

No, I think it's fine, I wouldn't want to trip walking down the aisle - you laughed looking at the back of your dress

You'll be a beautiful bride, your fiance must be very lucky to have you - she smiled at you adjusting the veil looking at you with adoration

I think so - you smiled looking at her feeling your phone vibrate, lately Jae Joon had become very insistent in his messages, sending you loving texts and images of every movement he made

I'll go get the other veil for you to try on - the dressmaker smiled leaving giving you your space while you unlocked your phone looking at the message from an unknown phone

''Will you be a very happy bride?''

With this message, it would be the third one you received in the last month, all coming from an unknown phone, always different and with a foreign area code

Miss, is everything okay? - The young girl looked at you worriedly, bringing you out of your thoughts, smiling at her as you locked your phone again to go with her to the center of the room.

Yes, excuse me - you sighed nervously, looking at her, trying to make it seem like everything was okay - please show me the other veil.

Of course, this one will be for the reception, it's shorter and has a more subtle fall - the girl explained to you while your head spun, thinking a thousand things at once.

Trying to remember if you had done something to bother someone to receive that kind of subtly annoying messages that worried you.

That night you felt like you wanted to tell Jae Joon everything, it wasn't like everything you told him wasn't enough already, but sometimes you decided to keep certain things to yourself to avoid him getting upset, not exactly with you but with others and causing an annoying situation.

Like the time you told him that the Peterson's son kept sending you messages to go out with him again (even though you had made it clear to him almost a year ago that you wasn't interested) and he didn't take long to show up at his company offices making a fuss so he would stop bothering you, a split lip was the least you think he could give him.

After dinner and making sure that the people who helped him at home went to rest (something you implemented since you came to live in his apartment) you both agreed that it was a good idea to rest in the Jacuzzi, something you had taken as a habit to relax and talk about their day.

Sometimes you didn't even say a single word, you just relaxed with each other's presence, but he wasn't stupid, he noticed every change in you and he could tell that you weren't completely calm

Is something wrong? - he murmured, arranging your hair to the side of your neck, feeling your bare back better against his chest

Yes, just… I'm a little tired - you sighed without opening your eyes, making yourself better comfortable near him

How about I skip work tomorrow and go with you to see the wedding pending? - he smiled when he saw you barely nod - anyway, I wanted to ask you to go with me to see the last details of our house, I would like the new decoration to be how you like it and I need your opinion

Yes, that's okay - you smiled barely, snuggling into his chest with a thousand ideas running through your head - Can I… tell you something?

Whatever you want… -

But do you promise not to get mad? - you looked at him barely blinking at something he found adorable

How could I be mad at you? Don't ever think that love, look at me - his arms took your waist moving you like a weightless piece on his legs making you look at him head on - don't ever think that something about you bothers me, it doesn't matter that I'll always listen to you, do you understand?

Yes it is… I just don't want you to be upset you know with… someone else..- you looked at him shyly sighing nervously

Someone else? - his gaze darkened tensing his jaw- who did something to you?

No… it's not something like… someone did something to me… it's just that..- you sighed again looking at your hands between the bubbles in the bathtub- for… a couple of weeks I've been receiving messages…

messages?… are they from that bastard Peterson? -

No…no it's not him…I don't really know who it is actually…it's just that they are strange messages, like…I don't know, like asking me things, I haven't even answered, in fact I blocked the first number and then I received another one and…that's what it's been happening..-

Show me those messages - he sighed deeply massaging the bridge of his nose while you took your phone and showed him the series of messages

''You are the light in his darkness, it would be a shame if he was blinded and forgot his reality''

''Are you funny? It will help when you see him cry''

''Will you be a happy bride?''

These sons of bitches - he sighed again holding all the air in his lungs in a scream of frustration throwing your phone against the wall making it break into a thousand pieces, realizing his mistake when he saw you jump scared looking at him with fear - I'm sorry babe - he hugged you quickly making you feel confused - you don't have to worry, I'll change your phone number and we'll only give it to the really important people okay? No one else, I don't want these bastards to keep bothering you

A thousand names ran through his head, maybe one of your ex dates, Yeo-Jin even the starving Hye-Jeon, whoever it was he wasn't going to let them ruin his perfect life by your side.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong and if it did, he would fix it for you.

His eyes kept moving around the place where the reception was going to take place, an exclusive and elegant garden with a view of the city as you both liked, he could listen to you talk and talk without letting go of your hand.

I would like there to be hundreds of gardenias on the tables, for the whole place to smell like flowers - you smiled looking at the options to decorate the guests' tables making the organizer look at you smiling somewhat distrustful of your choice

Gardenias are a bit expensive, could I recommend some other flower or style to decorate the tables - he smiled confident of his comments writing in his notebook

Hey.. - Jae joon looked at him without missing a detail with his predatory eyes - if my wife wants hundreds of flowers you will get them, do you understand?

Yes, it's just an opinion…

We don't need your opinion, you're going to do what she wants and that's it - he looked him up and down smiling mockingly rolling his eyes annoyed by nosy people

Sometimes, even though you didn't share his dominant character, seeing him have that kind of reaction made you feel good, his possessive and jealous attitude was most of the time a compliment for you even though you felt bad about it afterwards but ''That's how men are'' your mother always repeated to you when you told her how Jae Joon acted on certain occasions.

After all, that's love, isn't it?

That's what you always told yourself to make yourself feel better after every outburst of anger your husband had, never against you, always against those who contradicted you or questioned your ideas or his, a bad habit that you normalized over time.

On your wedding day, it was like a fairy tale written in reality, your mother helped you put on your expensive designer dress, your long veil for the altar and your hands adorned with your expensive engagement ring.

On the way to the altar you could notice familiar faces and others not so familiar, Sara was one of them, smiling like crazy (drugged) watching your pretty dress float down the aisle.

Yeo-Jin couldn't control her jealousy and envy as she watched how you broke all her expectations, being a beautiful and elegant bride making her feel insecure and tiny comparing you to her on her wedding day, how was that bastard's wife going to beat her? It was unforgivable for her.

Hye-Jeong hated you, just that, she hated you, you had stolen Jae Joon's heart without putting in the effort she had tried for years, she felt inferior and humiliated in the dress Sara had give to her to attend your wedding, feeling nauseous every time you and Jae Joon smiled at each other wishing she was the one in your place.

You are the most beautiful daughter I could win Y/N - Mr. Jeon, now your father-in-law smiled at you hugging you just after finishing the ceremony - you did a great job Jae Joon, you have a beautiful woman, now please do not take long to give me grandchildren

Dad..shut up - Jae Joon looked at him disgusted feeling a little embarrassed while you smiled blushing a little

Congratulations Joon - Yeo-Jin smiled holding her cigarette followed by the two girls with mixed emotions- it was a beautiful wedding

Love, this is Yeo-Jin an old friend, Hye-Jeong and Sara, you already know her - Jae Joon looked at them a little defiantly knowing how to interpret the attitudes of each one with his years of experience knowing them

A pleasure - you smiled a little cleverly looking at them, receiving a hypocritical smile from Yeo-Jin and a pale and emotionless face from Hye-Jeong - Jae Joon has told me a little about You

Really? What an honor, I hope it's just new things - Yeo-Jin laughed smoking a little more making you feel strange for his sarcastic answers

If you don't mind - Your now husband noticed it, holding your hand smiling kindly - we have to go

This time, you smile (hypocritical) as you passed by her made two of the three girls look at you with hatred while Sara said goodbye waving her hand excitedly out of this planet

Wow, she's so cute, like a princess - Sara smiled lost in your dress receiving a blow from Yeo-Jin making her react annoyed while rubbing her arm - what's wrong with you bitch?

Shut your mouth you damn drug addict - Hye-Jeong looked at her annoyed

The rest of the night none of the three girls could believe what they saw when they saw how Jae Joon behaved next to you, it seemed like he was another person, his loving attitude and dedication to make you happy in the least had them surprised.

Look at him - Hye-Jeong sighed leaning on her hand watching how you took a piece of cake with a fork and brought it to Jae Joon's mouth making him eat while both laughed in love - if any of us had done that, he would have taken that fork and stuck it in our eye, he's a bastard

He's a bastard because you're jealous - Sara laughed drinking from her glass - accept it you poor, starving girl, he would never have noticed you, you're poor, ugly and have no sense of fashion, look at her, she's a foreigner with nice tits and the most expensive bags you can imagine, she's a lucky bitch.

You can shut your mouths - Yeo-Jin looked at them annoyed rolling her eyes- she's just a bitch, if she knew everything that son of a bitch did and why he fled the country in such a hurry I assure you that she wouldn't even have noticed him, she's too pure for that problematic bastard

Well there's nothing we can do now, is he already a tied man or not Hye-Jeon? - Sara laughed mockingly smoking making the short-haired woman look at her annoyed crossing her arms

We'll see how long their love story lasts, when she knows who Jeon Jae Joon really is she'll send him to hell..-

[darkwicks]

Pretty in White

Jin can be good at surprises.

PAIRING.⠀Jin Kamurai x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | crushes, flirting (kinda...), fluff, they have a wedding-themed photo shoot | ~0,5k words

A/N.⠀I.....he......I saw this card for the first time just now and it launched me into the orbit WTF!!!!!!!!!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

“You know, I didn’t expect you to actually agree to this,” you speak up nervously, smoothing down the ruffles of your gown. “I thought you’d say it was a stupid assignment or something.”

“It is a stupid assignment,” Jin replies easily as he adjusts the tie around his neck. “What class is this for anyway?”

“It’s for a photography competition. I, um, owe someone in Hotarubi a favour, remember?” It feels awkward, standing so close to him that your hands are brushing against each other. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, heat rising to the tips of your ears as you try to keep your composure, though your stiffness says so otherwise. “Thanks again for doing this, by the way. Sorry to bother you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m—”

He shoots you a glare.

“Okay. My bad. Nuh uh, don’t give me that look—I said my bad!”

He’s dressed in a pristine tuxedo, free from any dust or wrinkles. He looks handsome and regal dressed in all white, fitting for his title as the King of Frostheim. His presence seems to make your friends and their classmates tense as well, the scowl on his face a far from welcoming sight. It felt like a miracle seeing the little ‘read’ show up next to your text when you sent him a message, even more so when he replied with a simple where. A photoshoot seems like the very last thing he’d want to do, much less one themed after a wedding.

It was an impulsive decision. Your crush on Jin is relatively well-hidden (or at least that’s what you’d like to think) and though you spend most of your time fantasising, there was an urge to call for him this morning. Without thinking much, you did, and here you are now. Dressed in wedding attire with the man who stole your heart without warning. The worst part is that he doesn’t seem to have a single clue how much this is affecting you.

Why did I do this to myself?!

“Okay, so just face each other. Stand a little closer, please,” comes the voice of your friend as she readies the camera, lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Lights, please.”

“Jin?” you whisper. He responds with a grunt. “What made you agree to this?”

His arms loosely wrap around your waist and pull you closer, nonchalantly resting his hands on your hips as you stare into his eyes with flushed cheeks. Shyness creeps into your system and you want to look away but you can’t, entranced by his stone-cold gaze.

“You know why?”

“…Why?”

He leans in dangerously close, lips barely an inch away from yours. “Maybe I just wanted to see you in a wedding dress myself.”

The shutter goes off.

“Perfect! Good job, everyone. Thank you all!”

Even as the camera crew are packing up, Jin never lets go, peering down at you with the ghost of an amused smile on his face. You’re frozen in place, lips parted in shock as every possible word you know slips out of your mind, completely gobsmacked by him.

You laugh sheepishly. “D-Don’t say things like that, Captain. It might give people the wrong idea.”

“Sounds right to me.” He pulls back a little, allowing you some space to breathe. “Come see me after you’re finished. You haven’t come over in a while.”

Is this man trying to kill you?!

“Y-Yeah. Okay, sure,” you agree meekly. “I’ll come over.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

God, he is trying to kill you!

[booksandmemes]

Till, texting: Ivan, will you please go to sleep? Ivan, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up? Till, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO TO SLEEP! --- Mizi: Sua, we're hungry! Till: Sua! What's for dinner? Ivan: We're hungry, Sua! Sua, frying a bottle of ketchup over the stove: *screams* --- Till: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Mizi: Strong. Hyuna: Weak. Luka: An idiot, is what your are. --- Hyuna: I would do anything for money. *later* Hyuna, covered in blood: THE STATEMENT STILL STANDS! --- Luka: My goal is not to be the best, but to inspire someone enough to one day surpass me. Mizi: YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT EVERY TIME YOU BEAT ME TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS DYING! --- Till: I met this person on tinder and asked for his last name. He sent it to me and went “Doing a little background check? You might find out I’m a stalker, just ignore that” with a kissy wink emoji. I thought alright so good sense of humor. Till: I looked him up, he was a stalker. --- Mizi: I’m in love with you. Sua: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Mizi: I know. Sua: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool- --- Hyuna: You call it 'bad at darts'. I call it 'freestyle'. Bartender: I'll have to ask you to leave. --- Mizi: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one of those. Luka: Break their 'undying trust' and test if it's really that immortal. --- Till: The food is too hot. I can't eat it. Ivan: You're pretty hot but I'd eat you anytime. Till: Ivan: Sua: Just ONE DINNER- --- Luka: I feel awful about killing you. Sua: *dead* Luka: Even though technically I never even did it, so I don’t know what everyone's bitching about. --- Luka: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late. Hyuna: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone's hopes up like that and then showing up again. --- Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread* Till: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife. Ivan: It would instantly cauterize the wound, the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful. Hyuna: if you want information it is Mizi: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST? --- Mizi: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Luka: It isn’t smirking at anyone, you’re all just imagining it. Sua: Three of us saw it, Luka. How do you explain that? Luka: *points at Till* Sleep deprivation. *points at Sua* Paranoia. *points at Ivan* Delusional personality disorder. --- Sua: If I fall… Mizi: I’ll be there to catch you. Till: *looks at Ivan* What if I fall? Ivan: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Luka: *watches these two interactions* Luka, to Hyuna: And if I fall? Hyuna: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

[destinationtoast]

Toastystats: Halloween fanworks!

So the thing is, I get to Blaze one post per month by virtue of having Tumblr Premium. And (while I have enjoyed Blazing pictures of my cats in the past) I thought perhaps this month people might enjoy some Halloween fandom stats + fic lists? So I threw something together. First, the stats:

Less that 1% of AO3 fanworks use the "Halloween" tag (or a subtag like "Happy Halloween" -- only 0.32%, in fact. But I found some big fandoms (10K+ works) that use a substantially higher-than-average rate of Halloweenery. (I couldn't look through every fandom on AO3, but I did look through all the fandoms with 10K+ fanworks as of January 2024. Note that some fandoms may write about Halloween a bunch without tagging it, and those aren't be captured here.)

Fall Out Boy leads the pack among these big fandoms, with nearly 1% of its fanworks using the "Halloween" tag or a subtag (0.93%). (I'd be curious to hear theories about why!) Some of the other fandoms shown above have a natural element of spookiness or horror (e.g., IT, Stranger Things), but many do not. The longer list is here. (These stats are based on pretty small numbers, btw, so please don't take these rankings too seriously. This is just a bit of fun.)

I also thought people might want to read some Halloween-themed fics from each of the above top 25 fandoms, so I highlighted works from each fandom that were complete and highly kudosed. If you're curious, the list includes this sort of info:

And I thought people might also appreciate Halloween-themed fics for different relationship categories (F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, xReader). Here's a screenshot of some of the fics in the relationship category list, if you're curious:

More information about how I created these lists below the cut.

Before we get there, could I interest you in taking a quick poll, since I am Blazing this post and curious about the audience Blaze reaches? Thanks -- and happy Halloween season! :)

The construction of these lists was definitely not an exact science. For each fandom or relationship category, I filtered to only show works with the "Halloween" tag. I then looked for complete fics in each fandom that appeared to actually be about Halloween or a spooky topic (based on their summary and/or a quick text search), and had a lot of kudos. (I didn't actually read these fanworks myself, though.) I also tried to diversify and make sure that each category included a variety of ships/fandoms. I ruled out collections of one-shots and things that appeared to be part of a long series such that they couldn't be read as a standalone. I also ruled out things that looked like incredible bummers, and honestly a few things that had major grammatical errors in the summaries.

But I linked to more in each case, so you don't have to visit the example fics I highlighted -- you can explore more on your own!

Also -- I did a lot of copy/pasting, and there may be errors in here. Feel free to let me know if you find any. Thanks, and enjoy!

[j-richmond]

Why aren't comics more common in TTRPGs?

(This is about game design and presentation) In school one of the things I discovered is that I have trouble absorbing info from a big text book. And most TTRPGs are presented as text books. Once I understand the basic information in the book (chemistry textbook or RPG sourcebook or whatever) I can deal with the book on my own terms. I can dive into individual parts and learn, and slowly absorb the book as a whole. But I need help to get there. I need an access port. Sometimes this comes in the form of someone explaining the book to me. Explaining the rules of the game or the outline of an essay. This is great, and gives me a way in so I can absorb and master the book myself. But I don't always have someone in my life who can do that. Interestingly, I don't have this problem with novels at all. Narrative feels easier to access, at least for me.

In school I also discovered Scot McCloud's Understanding Comics. This is a pretty fantastic book which I'd recommend to everyone. It helped me understand how I process information. More importantly, it helped me understand the different people process information in different ways. I hadn't realized that at age 16, although I was starting to suspect it. Before I started making comics or games I used to be a teacher. As a teacher I could see that some of my kids were struggling with the information I was giving them, in the same way I had struggled in school. I started using comics in class to help reach these students. I'd draw little comics on my handouts or on the whiteboard to explain what we were learning. The goal wasn't to provide an entire lesson in comics form. I'm not Scott McCloud! Instead, I was trying to find an access point for my students. An on ramp. A port of entry to the ideas and material we were covering so they could engage and eventually absorb the information. It worked so well. It worked like magic. Why don't we do this more in TTRPGs? I used comics in my early games, Panty Explosion Perfect and Ocean. These were narrative comics, not rules comics, but the goal was to provide both an example of what play looked like (from a narrative standpoint) and a point of access for players who weren't sure what the game was or how to engage with it. My thought was that if you understood what the game was supposed to look like it would be easier to approach the rules. (A short comic from Ocean. The book has a bunch of these)

When my brother Nick and I started working on The Magical Land of Yeld I knew I wanted to use comics more directly as a teaching tool. Especially because part of our target audience was new and younger players who might look at a big text book (Yeld is a giant 400 page hardcover) and just bounce right off it. Like I did in school and like I often do with big games. So I needed to teach with examples and illustrations, and especially comics.

The first comics you'll encounter in the Yeld book are narrative, and designed to get you into the ideas and themes of the game. But in the first few pages we also start sprinkling in rules comics. These are presented along side the rules text. They don't replace that text, which is important. The text explains the rules in greater detail, and includes information that just couldn't be added in a single page comic. Instead, the comic is intended to be a point of access to the rules text. A player can read the comic, understand the basic concept, and feel comfortable engaging with the text. That's the goal, to make players comfortable and to make the rules text accessible.

We use comics to teach basic game mechanics, but we also use them to explain specific player facing systems. Sometimes these are things that really do need a comic to explain them, but sometimes we use comics as lures to draw player attention to mechanics that we're afraid they might otherwise not engage with. For example, in playtesting we found that when characters died during a fight the player would just sit there for the rest of the fight and not engage. It turned out, since you don't do anything in D&D once you die (except slowly die more), most players assume that's how all games work! So they hadn't even noticed that in Yeld you become a Ghost and get to ghost around and do fun Ghost stuff! I decided to create a comic that not just explained this but drew attention to it and showed why it was a fun (and important) part of the game!

Structure of play isn't always obvious to players, especially if they're new to TTRPGs or have only played D&D. You pick up habits from the games you play the most, and since most gamers play nothing but D&D there is a tendency to assume EVERYTHING works like D&D. Yeld doesn't, so we decided to take nothing for granted and make comics that very specifically show what a session of play looks like. In this example, it may not look a lot different from D&D, but the adventure is specifically divided into 5 parts. The comic illustrates these parts in a way that is easy to understand. The accompanying game text explains each part in more detail and illustrates how they are important to play. The comic serves as a ramp that gets players to the info they need.

Not all of our comics are player facing. Yeld has a rotating GM (which is awesome, btw), and this means every player gets a chance in the Game Master roll. Which means every player needs to understand how this roll works. Comics like this one, which explain how to build monsters to use in your game, help make the process easy to understand. Again, its about building a point of entry for players. A player might say "I don't want to GM, it sounds to complicated!" But its not. You just need to make it easy for them. Make the mechanics and responsibilities easy to understand. Show why they're fun! In Yeld, its important that each player takes on the GM role from time to time, since we're building a story together. Making it look fun is important! Comics help with that. What's more fun than comics?

Narrative comics are important too. At least for Yeld. I don't think every game benefits from them (although I always love seeing them). Narrative comics show players what the game is supposed to look like. What the characters do and say. What environments they visit. Narrative comics set a tone. Narrative comics let new players understand what a game is about immediately! We can hand a Yeld book to a new player or customer and they know what's up in seconds, just by reading a short single page comic. That's a powerful tool. So why don't more games use comics? Part of it is that game creators are usually not comic creators. There's not a lot of crossover. That always surprises me, but both disciplines take a lot of work. Who has time for both? Even when you have game designers that are comic creators, they often don't include comics in the games (Lancer???). I don't think this means game designers don't recognize the value of comics. I've had this conversation with so many game designers, and they usually agree that comics are useful tools. But if you don't know how to make comics, making comics for your game can be daunting. What rules should you focus on? How do you present that information in comic form? How many comics should you make? How do you hire someone to make comics, anyway? Hiring artists is expansive, btw. You know that, of course. Hiring an artist to make a set of comics for your game could cost you thousands of dollars (or more), depending on what you want. Of course, you can try to make your own comics. And you should! Really! A poorly drawn comic is not necessarily a bad comic. The point is to get your information across to your reader. to provide a point of access. You don't need great art for that (although great art can help attract people to your game). Stick figure work just fine. Here's an example, the layout for the Tea Dragon card game. Another artist took this layout and redrew it in their own style. But my goal here was to be simple and concise with my explanation of the rules. To make the game accessible.

There's a few more pages of this, but you get the idea. The purpose is to explain, and make the player comfortable with learning more. The art matters to the extent that it serves this goal. In fact, flashy or complicated art can get in the way! You'll notice in that most of the Yeld rules comics I posted above the art is pretty simple, with solid color backgrounds. You want to make your comics as easy to read as possible, and that includes avoiding clutter, overpacked word balloons and messy layout. Readers are easily distracted. It doesn't take much for them to set down a book at all. A complicated phrase or hard to read font can often be enough. And once they set a book down they may not every pick it up again. That's more true for a big text book than it is for a comics, but its still true for a comic. So our goal is to make our comic the easiest, smoothest point of access it can possibly be. So easy and smooth that the reader can slide right into the rules text without noticing! Here's my general process for creating a rules comic. This is from my friend Brian's game Scofflaws. I start by taking the basic mechanics that need to be illustrated and breaking them down into panels. The goal is to make each panel readable and not overwhelm the player. At this point I'm just doing a rough sketch. It may not eve=n be readable, but that's fine!

Next, I refine the text and art. I decide on the exact language I'll use, and I finalize where characters and other elements will be placed. As you can see, the actual layout didn't change much here. Sometimes it changes a lot!

Finally, I create the finished art. Honestly, the previous step was just fine. It explanans the rules I wanted to explain. But this last step allows me to add in some narrative flavor. The first panel contains a complicated background in order to present the game's setting. The characters look like the kind of characters you'll play in the game. This isn't nessacary for presenting rules, but it helps present the game as a whole. You want players to engage with every part of your game. The last thing you want them doing is picking up your dungeon crawling game and going "Oh, this would be great for playing Star Wars!"

(I probably shouldn't have chose than shade of red for the background. It makes the text a bit hard to read!) So again, why aren't we seeing more comics in games? Its not as if they don't exist at all, and I'm personally always excited to see them. I recently opened the Final Fantasy RPG box set and was so happy to find the rules were accompanied by cute comics. And there's lot of other examples (maybe you can post some in the comments). But I think comics are a clearly underused tool in game design and presentation. And as a comic person, let me tell you that you're leaving a valuable tool on the table if you're not considering using comics. Are they right for every game? Maaaybe not? But I think MANY MANY MANY games could benefit form them. Are they expensive? They can be. Are they hard to make? They can be. Are there people you can go to for advice? Hey, my door is open.

[visenyaism]

Kind of related to your literacy post

Do you know of any resources to help improve literacy as an adult?

I like reading, and I read a lot, and I'm fine with basic comprehension, I understand the story being told. But I struggle with the more in-depth stuff. Themes and symbolism, that kind of thing.

I understand what they are, and in school, I usually understood how a certain theme or symbol was relevant to a story after it was explained, but I've never understood how to find those things for myself.

Okay so this is not my field of expertise, so anyone feel to correct me. I did notice kind of the same thing with myself after undergrad where I wasn’t reading as much, and I realized I actually had to work at it to stay at the level I was. Based on that here’s my best shot at advice:

The number one thing that helps me keep those skills sharp is just like regular and consistent practice. I am super busy and not always great at this, but i still try really hard to pick a book to read for fun and read a few times a week. Great before bed i sleep so much better.

I also think consistently writing about what you read can be SO helpful. I love to annotate! Just like questions, comments, lines I think are cool, motifs I keep noticing, whatever I see that I want to remember and think about more. Sometimes I’ll also do a quick paragraph in a notebook or on here or on my notes app that’s just like “I noticed X thing a lot and I think it’s really interesting. Why is it important or interesting to me?”

Talking about what you’re reading can also be super fun, book clubs are cool. Local libraries are awesome for building communities like that.

Shaking up what kinds of things you read can also be really fun! If you’re having some trouble picking out all the things in analyzing what’s happening in a novel, try a movie, or a play, or a short story, or something nonfiction, or something at a YA/HS level. Practice is practice!

Analysis isn’t a scavenger hunt. There’s not like one secret correct answer about what the theme is or what the symbols are and do hidden in the text for you to find. You have to give yourself grace and avoid feeling embarrassed if it’s hard. It feels like making stuff up a lot. That doesn’t mean you’re bad at it. A lot of the time, starting out looks like asking yourself “What did I notice happening? What seemed important? What might this be about?” And then you make up answers to the questions using the text as a guide.

Really prioritize having fun with it and being willing to try stuff out and write stuff down even if it never sees the light of day.

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day twenty one

prompt: bulletproof pairing: lando/oscar word count: 700w

“Well, I told him it was a bad idea,” Logan says, through the tinny speaker of Oscar’s phone, that’s propped up onto the kitchen island, against Oscar’s fruit bowl.

Bulletproof, nothing to loose

“But he did it anyway, because I don’t think he ever actually listens to anything I tell him,” Logan continues.

Fire away, fire away

“So he vaults off the Yacht, catches his foot on the railing, nearly brains himself on the hull, and then goes hurtling into the water.”

BULLETPROOF

“I dive in after, thinking he might be unconscious, I’m like, worried as shit and he just emerges, laughing his fucking ass off like nothing’s wrong.”

NOTHING TO LOOSE

“I mean, something was wrong, because like, he has this massive gash in his foot now, had to get a bunch of stitches, it was a whole deal, but the- Oscar? Are you even listening to me?”

FIRE AWAY, FIRE AWAAAAAAY

“Hm?” Oscar says.

“Oh, great,” Logan says. “Have I just been talking to myself for the past five minutes?”

“No,” Oscar says, putting his focus back on the phone, scooting closer so his own face fills the little screen at the bottom. “No, I’m listening.”

“Sure,” Logan says. “So what have I been telling you about?” Oscar pulls a face. Logan raises an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry,” Oscar says. “It’s just, my soulmate…”

Logan winces in sympathy. “Another song?”

Oscar sighs. “Same two lines. Over and over.”

“Yikes,” Logan says. “At least mine sings the entire song when they’ve got something stuck in their head.”

“Lucky you,” Oscar deadpans. “Alright, I gotta go. See you later, yeah?”

“Later!” Logan yells, and then hangs up.

FIRE AWAY, FIRE AWAYYYYY, his soulmates blares happily. Oscar tunks his head down on the counter.

--

“Oscar,” Lando says, three hours later.

Oscar, who has been listening to the same two lines of Titanium for like three hours now, looks up, happy for the distraction. “Yeah?”

“Listen this is, this might sound strange, but I have this song stuck in my head, and it’s starting to drive me nuts, so I can imagine my soulmate isn’t faring much better and I just. I read somewhere, that it helps if you listen to the whole song, except I can’t remember what it is?”

Oscar snorts. Apparently having annoying songs stuck in your head is just a running theme today. “Yeah, sure, what is it?”

“Oh, it’s like-“ Lando says, and then the most earie thing that’s ever happened to Oscar starts happening.

Lando starts singing the opening lines of the chorus of Titanium, in perfect tandem with the little voice in Oscar’s head that’s been singing the song over and over all day.

“Well?” Lando says. “Do you know it?”

Oscar stares at him. For a really long time. Wonders if this is really happening. Wonders if maybe Logan told Alex who told George who told Lando and now they’re making fun of him. Wonders what he would do, if. If.

“Are you joking?” He asks, genuinely.

“What?” Lando asks, frowns. “No? They played it in the airport earlier today but I forgot how the rest of the song goes and it’s been driving me nuts.”

It did start somewhere slightly after when Lando landed. Oscar knows, because Lando texted him. “Holy shit,” he says, and then again, for good measure, “holy shit.”

“What? What’s wrong, is this song like, weird? It’s not weird, right? It was like a massive hit, why are you-“ Lando never gets a chance to finish the rest of his sentence, because Oscar chooses that exact moment to kiss him full on the mouth.

“Sorry,” Oscar says, when he pulls away. Lando is just staring at him with big eyes, clearly confused. “Sorry, I just. Uh. Remember when you said it must be driving your soulmate pretty nuts?”

Lando nods.

“Well, it has been. Driving me pretty nuts. All day. Also the song is Titanium by David Guetta and Sia, if you were. Wondering.”

“Holy shit,” Lando says, and then again, for good measure. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, and then Lando leaps forward and kisses him again.

[battingmyeyelashes]

‪‪❤︎‬ HELLO TO THE WEIRD BILL DICKEY ENJOYERS WHO LIKE WHEN HE IS MEAN. this ones for you. youre gonna wanna see this post. Maybe. or maybe not. idk. I need to chat about him right now. specifically like, grown adult & epilogue bill. there may be uhmm..mildly suggestive themes in this post Lol okay. buckle up, its a little long. some people might hate what i have to say. oops! ‪‪if you only like nice subby little bill dickey, this may not be the post for u. ❤︎‬

So, you may have seen my previous post complaining abt people turning bill into a whiny baby, hi, its me again.

I want everyone to look at this picture and understand something.

this is an entire grown man. pathetic as he is in his own special way, have you guys ever been around a grown man?? like, okay, i dont know where YOU guys are, but as an about 5'2" 105-ish pound girl, they are scary. and have you ever seen that one trend on tiktok where these girls ask their boyfriends (who are usually like older teenagers or maybe early 20's idk) to not hold back and tackle/wrestle them or grab them or something?? they do not have to be muscular or particularly athletic. the girls always end up saying something like "okay i didnt realize they were that strong. this trend is freaking me out now." i have also done this myself, yes it is real. it is a sobering experience ._.

men and teenage boys are for some reason gifted this weird natural strength just for having XY chromosomes. there have been actual studies done on this where they put unathletic guys up against very athletic women, and the guys are still able to overpower them. i do not know why, thats just the way we are built. please dont present me with any weird outliers, i will throw up, im just generally speaking.

that being said, i need us to get back into bills personality. i know people like leaning into his patheticness and making him subby and whiny, and as much as i find it kinda "funny heehee" to see on occasion, im trying to ground all of this stuff in reality more. how ironic of me. i know. he is actually a sociopath. with severe anger issues. he is very impulsive and mean. as i said in my previous post, i know jerry beat him up. but

1.) bill was not expecting jerry to start attacking him.

2.) jerry is also a grown man, not a woman.

3.) he ended up getting ganged up on by 3 grown men at the end of it all, i think at that point he has a right to be kinda freaked out lol.

i mean like LOOK AT THIS

i. wanna. see. people. making. him. insane. as. a. grown. man.

he would most definitely use his misogynist grown man strength against a woman for his own gain, lol. i do not recall ever seeing bill being a stuttering blushing shy mess around any girls? correct me if im wrong. i mean, he is a human being, he is bound to have shy or flustered moments, but evan himself has said that if he were confronted by a girl who liked him or something along those lines, he would be hostile, right? i think he would redirect his shy embarrassment into saying something mean. i guess kinda tsundere-ish? i dont know. i think if he even liked the girl back, he would occasionally be hurtful to her as a means to keep her at arms length and protect himself from feeling super vulnerable, and he'd likely enjoy holding things over her head as a way to control her and get her to do whatever he wants (like pervy pics he sneaks of her or like...screenshots of sexting thru email or text and threatening to blackmail her with them LOL idk) i think he CAN be nice sometimes, but i think that needs to be emphasized less.

he likes being in a position of power. we can see that in his little dream sequence thingy, and the way that he gets this kind of megalomania when he is put in charge of the shop.

I dont know if bill KNOWS that he is stronger and capable of overpowering a woman, im guessing he probably does know? i mean he seems to view women as "less than" in every other sense, so.

he has just never had the chance to test the theory out, but can you imagine how it would be if he DID??

imagine him finally getting into a relationship with her, and when she tries to leave him, he grabs her. and it clicks for the both of them.

it wasnt that difficult for him to grab her by the arm and pull her back to him. its not that hard for him to back her into a corner as shes shoving against his chest and hes not moving. i mean like, i think all the guys except for jerry put on some of that extra "nerd manchild" weight so that does not help either (omygosh whatever come punch my lights out for saying that i dont care).

imagine the power trip that would start for him LOL. imagine the possibilities...

does ANYONE see my vision at all?

hes such a mean little rat man wbvehshehsh i wish someone would understand this. and for anyone who thinks this is cringe or wants to ask me if this is a joke, no it is not a joke, i am not allergic to taking myself too seriously. i think this stuff is so much fun ‪‪❤︎‬ i just wanna find my likeminded individuals so we can all have fun & talk about this together ‪‪❤︎‬

EDIT:

i was also just reminded of THIS.

we arent going to sit here and forget about him being buried underneath like huge heavy boxes and being able to get all of them off idk, i guess you could say "muHh maybe they werent heavy" idk if youve ever lifted a box that's densely packed full of something but theyre VERY heavy. maybe just take my word for it lol. just pretty please with a cherry on top go read the replies to the post, u will understand lol ‪‪❤︎‬ 🍒

xoxo. bye bye. end post. reply with thoughts. or dont. whatevaa~

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 12 — THE AFTERTASTE OF ALMOST

wc — 1.1k+

prev — masterlist — next

You didn’t sleep that night.

Not even a little.

Your mind was a looping reel, Jay’s gentle dismissal, Sunghoon’s intensity, the weight of everything you’d never meant to say hanging heavy on your chest. The rooftop wind still felt like it clung to your skin, tangled in your hair, echoing in your ears every time you closed your eyes.

“You didn’t let it go.” You hadn’t. Not really.

You tossed and turned under your blankets, the sheets twisted like the thoughts in your head. And when you finally gave up trying to rest, you found yourself staring at your phone again.

Jake hadn’t texted.

He was the only one who hadn’t reached out.

You kept telling yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t care. That his silence was probably a blessing in disguise, because after the way he’d looked at you outside the cafe, like he didn’t know who you were anymore, you weren’t sure you could take whatever he might have to say.

But it still stung. It stung in a way you didn’t want to admit.

By morning, you looked like a ghost of yourself.

Lia winced when she saw you stumble into the kitchen. “Damn. You good?”

You shrugged, reaching for a coffee mug.

“Jake still hasn’t said anything?” she asked gently. You shook your head. “Well,” she muttered, “that’s rich. He should’ve been the first to understand, considering he’s the king of burying his feelings and pretending everything’s fine.” You gave a weak smile. “Maybe he’s just busy.” Lia snorted. “Yeah. Busy ignoring his emotional responsibilities.”

She didn’t say more, but you could tell she was worried. Her eyes lingered on you longer than usual, like she was trying to piece together the damage and figure out where to start patching you up. But how do you fix something when you’re not even sure what’s broken?

You didn’t plan to see Jake.

You really didn’t.

You just needed fresh air, something to shake the anxiety off your skin, so you headed toward the student center. It was quiet, mostly empty, everyone was either in class or still sleeping off the midterm burnout.

You were halfway down the path when you saw him.

Jake.

Sitting alone on a bench under the cherry blossom trees, hunched over a notebook. He looked tired too. His hair was messy, and he was wearing the hoodie you’d once borrowed during a movie night last semester, back when everything was easy and stupid and safe.

Your feet stopped before your brain could decide if that was a good idea. You could turn around. Walk away. Pretend you never saw him.

But then he looked up.

And your heart sank

Because he didn’t smile.

Didn’t even flinch.

He just closed his notebook slowly and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans like this was just another casual run in, not the aftermath of your entire friendship unraveling.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey.”

Silence.

It was starting to feel like a theme with you and the boys lately. Everything you didn’t know how to say swallowed up by awkward gaps and shallow breaths.

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “I was gonna text.” “You didn’t.” “I know.”

You waited.

He finally sighed. “I didn’t know what to say.” You folded your arms. “You could’ve said anything. Even just ‘hey, that was weird.’” Jake looked at you, eyes softer than you remembered. “I didn’t want to make it worse.” “You being silent made it worse.”

He flinched slightly at that, and some part of you felt guilty. But the rest of you, the hurt part, the part that had stayed up all night trying to figure out what you meant to him, didn’t let go.

“I didn’t send them,” you added, quieter now. “I know,” he said. “I figured that out eventually." “Eventually?”

Jake sighed again. “I was just… thrown off. I didn’t expect to read those words. I didn’t expect to see myself like that, through your eyes.” You swallowed. “I didn’t expect you to see them either.”

He nodded slowly.

“I kept thinking,” he continued, “if you’d never written it, maybe I wouldn’t be questioning everything right now.” You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated. “I didn’t realize how much I depended on you until I read that letter. How much I… liked being the person you saw me as. And now I don’t know if I was ever really that person to you. Or if I just liked the idea of it.”

That stung more than it should’ve.

“I wasn’t making things up, Jake.” “I know.” You stepped closer. “So what now?” Jake’s expression tightened. “I don’t know.” You hated that answer. But maybe you also understood it. Because you didn’t know either. “I think I need some space,” he finally said. “Just for a bit. To think.”

You nodded.

Even though your throat felt tight. “Okay.” Jake gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. “I’ll still be around.” “Yeah,” you whispered. “Me too.” And just like that, he left too.

One by one, they all left you standing alone in the wreckage of your own words.

The rest of the week passed in a haze. You floated through classes, avoided eye contact with anyone who might ask about the drama, and kept your phone on Do Not Disturb more often than not.

Lia tried to cheer you up, dragged you to movie nights, made you brownies, even offered to help you burn all your old journals as a cathartic ritual, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing really was.

You tried not to think about the fact that all three boys were still talking to each other. That Jay had posted a story from the café again. That Sunghoon had tagged Jake in a reel the night before.

They were moving on.

You weren’t.

Not really.

One evening, you found yourself sitting on your bedroom floor, staring at the now empty box where you used to keep all your letters.

It was weird, the way something that once felt private, intimate, was now a catalyst for chaos. For change.

You picked up the last remaining scrap of a torn envelope. And you wondered, not for the first time:

If the letters hadn’t been sent... Would anything have changed at all?

The next morning, there was another message waiting for you. But this time, it wasn’t from any of them. It was from Stella.

[STELLA]: Hey! You still coming to the party Friday? Mia’s been asking about you. Come hang out with us! No pressure though <3

You stared at it for a long time. And then, for the first time in days, you felt something shift.

Not a grand epiphany. Not a miracle. Just a small flicker of something different. Something new. Maybe this mess wasn’t just about endings. Maybe it was also about beginnings you hadn’t even seen coming yet.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.