#it really is just very important to me after all this time

[halsteadlover]

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @lelaartt: Hey girl, I just got an idea for Lando… 😍 how about a fic, where he is dating reader, but keeps her identity in secret, only posting pics on ig, where is only her tattoo visible. She is always careful about hiding it while attending a race weekend, but once something goes wrong in the race for Lando and she rushes to his side in the garage making sure he is okey clearly visible the tattoo and fans get that 1+1 together. Love your work so much and this just popped in my mind.♥️♥️

• Warnings: mention of a car crash, maybe few curse words.

• Word count: 2730.

• A/N: hope you like this one! Let me know what you think and like, comment and reblog to support me ❤️ Thank you so much for your support I love you all ❤️

Lando had always been very protective of you and your relationship, ever since the very beginning, when you got together more than two years ago.

He wasn’t ashamed or anything, it wasn’t like he didn’t want the world to know about you but Lando knew the media world very well, he practically grew up in it and just the thought of you going through what he sometimes went through, made his heart tighten, so he wanted to protect you from it. He knew how mean people could be sometimes and he would be damned if he let a single negative word be said about you.

He didn’t keep you a secret though, the entire planet knew that Lando Norris was head over heels and happily in love. He didn’t make a secret of it and his Instagram page was full of photos, videos of you and the two of you together, without your face being visible.

The only thing that was visible of you were some tattoos that fans were able to identify after a video Lando once posted on his Instagram story. The fans, of course, noticed. They noticed everything. There was speculation for a long time who was the tattooed girl who had captured Lando Norris’ heart.

The weekend races were especially hard. You were always careful not to show your tattoos, to wear jackets or shirts that could cover them. But that wasn’t the really difficult part.

What Lando really hated was not having you by his side, he hated knowing you were standing among all the spectators as if you were just another person, he hated not being able to hug you, not being able to let you calm him down when his anxiety was sky-high and his stomach twisted because of it, he hated he couldn’t hear you whisper how proud you were of him, regardless of the result. The texts of encouragement you sent him—as important as they were—weren’t enough.

He needed you.

But that day, something went different.

The race seemed to be going well. Lando was at the peak of his concentration, pushing the car to its limits in an attempt to secure second place.

But everything changed in an instant.

A loud crash.

A collision.

The screens were lit up and continued to play images of the car crashing into the wall. It was violent, so violent you could see pieces of the car flying away.

Your heart stopped beating for a second and everything around you seemed to have faded. You couldn’t understand what was happening, you couldn’t process the commentators’ words, engineers and technicians who kept calling Lando’s name over the radio over and over again.

Your Lando.

You didn’t even realize the tears rolling down your cheeks as you had both hands over your mouth in shock, your eyes glued to the screen.

When you saw him emerge from the wreck that was the car, you breathed a sigh of relief and, without even thinking, you ran. You needed to hug him, you needed to hold him, to see with your own eyes that he was really okay even though you had seen him walk away on his feet.

The adrenaline drowned out everything else, your careful routine, your usual subtlety, all forgotten while you rushed to his side.

Lando was sitting on the ground while a doctor examined him, his helmet forgotten among the pebbles, when you reached him, not caring about the thousand cameras pointed at you. When you saw him, talking, breathing, conscious, you felt like you had started to live again.

He saw you and immediately moved away from the doctor and tried to get up, in an attempt to come towards you.

You threw yourself into his arms, holding him close like you had never done before, so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. He immediately returned your hug, deeply inhaling your scent, your skin, your hair.

“I’m fine baby, I’m fine,” he whispered, caressing your hair, your back and leaving a kiss on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat at his voice and the tears flowed more and more incessantly. You wanted to talk, to say so many things, but you couldn’t.

You pulled away from Lando just to be able to look at him, while your trembling hands cupped his cheeks, your eyes scanned his face with meticulous attention in search of even the smallest scratch that surrounded his skin.

“Are you okay?” You whispered and Lando’s heart broke as he saw you in a valley of tears, your eyes red and shiny, your voice broken.

He smiled faintly, drying your tears with his thumbs. He pulled you to him again, leaving a sweat kiss on your forehead. “I’m fine baby, it takes much more than that to finish me off.”

“You sure? You have to go to the hospital, you have to have a CT scan or an MRI, you could have a concussion, an internal bleeding—oh my God…” you babbled frantically, panicked.

“Hey, hey, hey, shh…” Lando placed his hands on your cheeks, wiping away the tears that kept running and stopping your flow of words. “Look at me. I’m fine baby, I promise, I’ll get checked out but I’m really fine.”

You remained silent for a moment, as if trying to convince yourself of his words. “I love you so much, don’t ever do something like that again.”

He chuckled, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “I promise, I’ll try not to crash again.”

You stood up and helped Lando do the same before letting the doctors finish examining him. Once the fear was over, the adrenaline had subsided, you looked around and only then you realized how the cameras were pointed at you, that in that moment your face had ended up in every gossip magazine.

Social media had gone crazy, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, they were filled with pictures after pictures of you and Lando together, collages of tattoos between you and Lando’s mystery girl had been put together, confirming how you were all along Lando Norris’ girlfriend. Articles after articles came out in no time and in a few moments your phone was exploding with notifications of messages and new followers.

Your DMs were full like they had never been in your life, messages of encouragement, some compliments on how beautiful you were and Lando couldn’t have made a better choice, other texts were less nice, with insults and unpleasant words.

Back at the garage, Lando went to see a doctor but you never left his side at his insistence. He knew what it’d be like out therefrom now on and he didn’t want to leave you alone even for a second.

Luckily he was fine, the doctor had only recommended some rest for the next week.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to go to the hospital?” You asked for the millionth time when the doctor left you two alone, ignoring the way your phone kept ringing in your bag. You’d deal with that later, your priority at the moment was Lando.

“I’m fine baby,” he reassured you but you didn’t believe him. You continued to look at him, caressing his face and his hair, still in disbelief of what had just happened.

“I think you should get a CT scan or an MRI or something, just to be sure,” you continued, completely serious but he laughed, pulling you close and holding you until you were almost breathless.

“I swear I’m fine my love, I just got scared. The cars are like fortresses and plus I had my helmet on, I was well protected. If I wasn’t okay I would’ve told you, I hate worrying you so much you know.” He kissed the top of your head and you sighed and then finally nodded, resigned.

“But you heard the doctor, you need to rest, so now let’s go back to the hotel.”

Lando knew there was no point in arguing about this so he hummed in agreement. At the umpteenth sound of a new notification on your phone you sighed deeply and Lando pulled away from your embrace just enough to look at you.

“Are you okay?” He nodded to your bag.

“Yeah I’m fine, I guess the secret is out,” you chuckled nervously. “I definitely didn’t want our relationship to come out like that but I don’t care, I just wanted to make sure you were really okay.”

His heart tightened at those words and he knew the mediating storm that was looming over him but, more importantly, over you. He didn’t care about himself, he was used to the media by now, but he was worried sick about you, he knew you hated being the center of attention and he hated he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Hey,” he whispered, placing a hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb, “Everything’s going to be okay you hear me? I’m here, I’m not letting out of my sightand I won’t let anything happen to you, you trust me?”

“Of course I do baby, blindly. You know I trust you with my life,” you replied, smiling. “I love you so much.”

He kissed you. “I love you so much more.”

He had prepared you, he had warned you about all the reporters out there, how they’d be after you but the reality was totally opposite to what you had imagined.

Lando walked in front of you, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours as he led you as quickly as possible out of the paddock, your face covered by one of Lando’s hoodies even if it was all in vain—it was already plastered all over social media.

He told you to ignore them, not to answer any of their questions but it was hard when everyone was screaming your name and pushing you left and right hoping to get your attention.

“Lando here!”

“Y/n! That’s your name, right?”

“How long have you been together?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“He pays for everything for you, doesn’t he? Are you with him for the money?”

These were just some of the things the reporters were shouting and each word hurt more than the last. How could they think such a thing? How could they think you were with Lando just for money?

Suddenly your hand left Lando’s, due to the shoving of paparazzi and reporters. Panic took over you when you realized you were completely surrounded by screams, voices, blinding flashes.

Lando’s senses immediately went on alert when he no longer felt the warmth of your hand against his. He snapped his head back and a blinding rage hit him when he saw that scene: your terrified eyes as you tried to make your way through the crowd of people around you.

“Hey get out of the way!” He yelled, forcefully pushing the people in front of him to make room for himself. He didn’t care about hurting anyone or seeming rude, he just wanted to get to you. “Go away for fuck’s sake!”

A wave of relief washed over you when Lando’s familiar face returned to your peripheral vision. You threw yourself into his arms, his body shielding you, but you didn’t ignore the furious look on his face, an expression you’d rarely seen before in your life.

But when his gaze met yours, he softened, his anger almost overshadowed by worry. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I’m okay baby, please, let’s just get out of here.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes and he nodded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pushing the paparazzi away, who showed no signs of giving up.

Once you were near the car, he opened the passenger door and quickly let you in, placing a hand on your head to keep you from accidentally hitting it.

“Oh my god,” you breathed once you were both in the car and away from the paddock. Your heart was still pounding, so fast you could hear it in your ears, your breathing still shallow as if you had run a marathon.

He took out his phone and called the hotel where you were staying, asking to let you in from a side or back entrance, as long as it was isolated since—as expected—the paparazzi and reporters had already attacked the hotel.

But why the hell were they so interested in Lando? What was so important that they wanted to know? Why did they have to be so intrusive and not have the slightest bit of confidentiality? Damn, he was a human being just like them, why was it so weird he had a girlfriend? Why did it have to be the news of the century?

“Are you okay?” “Are you feeling okay?” You and Lando asked at the same time, once you reached your room, safe and sound.

You both chuckled and you hugged him, holding him close with a little more force than usual. That day had been nothing short of hellish, between the crash, the fright, the journalists and paparazzi as excited as hyenas, and you couldn’t even think about how this was routine for him, how this was an everyday thing.

He hugged you back while you were lying in bed, kissing the top of your head. He lingered a little more than usual, breathing in deeply the scent of your hair. “I’m so sorry, it was my fault. Maybe—”

At those words you sat up abruptly, pointing a finger at him. “Listen to me carefully Lando Norris because I’m going to say it now and I’ll never say it again. It’s not your fault okay? I know what you’re thinking right now and if you even try to say a word about breaking up I’ll kill you,” he chuckle even though it didn’t reach his eyes, “I knew what I was getting into when we got together, I knew what to expect and I don’t regret a single second of it because you’re the love of my life and because being with you is worth it,” you blurted out, trying to keep a tough face even though it was hard when he looked at you with that shy and sweet smile that made your heart explode.

“I know you think all of this scared me and I am to be honest, I’m scared, but I don’t care, this won’t make me distance myself. It’s just a matter of time, you know how the media is, soon enough they’ll find another chicken to pluck and our relationship will be just a memory,” you continued to speak, “I can’t imagine how you can live this every single day and I want to be with you, I want to be by your side and support you as best I can.”

“But I chose it because of the job I do, you have nothing to do with it,” he muttered, that little smile gone and making way for a sad expression. He grabbed your hand, playing with your fingers, stroking your skin with his thumb. “Just because I live it every day I don’t want this to happen to you. Baby I love you more than anyone else in the world, I live and breathe for you only and I always promised myself I’d protect you from all this and now I feel—” he sighed, “I feel like I’ve failed.”

“I don’t care,” you repeated, “hell I’m even relieved. I was getting tired of all the hiding and secrets. I want us to openly love each other, I want to hug you, kiss you, touch you, hold your hand whenever I want and if I have a few paparazzi following me so be it. I live a pretty boring life anyway, they’ll get tired soon.”

He let out a laugh and pulled you back in, holding you tightly to his chest.

“I love you,” you grabbed his face and kissed him, “so fucking much,” you kissed him again and again and again, making him finally full smile.

“I love you so much more baby, so much I don’t even know how to deal with it sometimes,” he whispered against your lips. “So, you don’t want to leave me?”

“No,” you kissed him for the millionth time, “you’re stuck with me darling.”

He smiled in a way that took the breath away from your lungs. “Now I can finally show the world all those beautiful pictures I have of you.”

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[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 17

˗ˏˋ reconnecting ˎˊ˗

"Fridays are not always the best day of the week, you can vouch for this one at least. It's Emma's birthday party and you're not sure you two still vibe together or not after all this time. And coming home... you don't expect Jungkook to be awake, especially not with your cold war going on. But he is."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 9,6k

content: begrudgingly gift-shopping, hidden treasures, old vs new friendships, reconnecting, pretty girls and the inability to discern whether it's flirting or polite talk, AM talks, actually listening (thank god, progress!), and vanilla kink striking again because jungkook in this fic has free will and i cannot control him

✧ author's note ✧

WASSSSSUPPPP my peoplessss!!

Okay so here’s Chapter 17—aka the chapter where all of you start collectively projecting your unresolved issues with your high school best friend, your fuckboy roommate, and your local pastel/goth lesbian duo. I say that with love.

Now LISTEN. I keep raising the bar for this story like but honestly?? That’s on YOU. You absolute feral gremlins with your “when’s the next update” comments like I’m a vending machine that dispenses emotional damage. (It’s fine. I thrive under fear and pressure. You’re welcome.)

About this chapter!! So my initial plan was for Nix to buy Jungkook an actual vinyl player… until I did the research and realized those bitches go for 150-300 bucks even secondhand. Be fr. They are NOT in a relationship. This man is her hot emotional disaster roommate who’s been beefing with her for three days and literally slammed a door at her. I would not spend a single euro on that man beyond what is legally required. Fifteen dollars for a John Mayer record? That’s the sweet spot. It says “I hate you but I know what music you like and I think about you when you’re not around and that makes me want to bite drywall.”

Also: if you know that Inside Wants Out is an early acoustic EP that’s kinda slept on but has a few gut-wrenching tracks about vulnerability and romantic ambivalence… well. Have fun.

Now shut up because I love writing female friendships and this chapter is my offering to the goddesses of sapphic chaos. Yeji and Irya being absolute queens??? We love. But also EMMA. Emma and that awkward tension of do we still fit? Did we ever really know each other or was it just proximity and hormones and being stuck in the same suburban hellscape? That shit is SO REAL. Reuniting with old friends is like a spiritual liminal space and I needed to capture that gnawing weirdness.

AND JIMIN. The eyeliner scene??? I almost CRIED writing it. I had to pause. That man is so soft it makes me want to shove him into a pillow fort and protect him from the world. He’s so good. He sees her, without wanting anything in return. You better analyze it or I’ll strangle every single one of you.

Now. Regarding the very tense bathroom cologne scene. I was actually going to drag the cold war out longer, truly. I had plans. But Jungkook opened his slutty little mouth and said, “No, actually, I’m feral and I’ve been suffering in silence and she smells like sex and nostalgia and I must act.” And what was I supposed to do? Argue? Please. I have 0 narrative agency here. That much is clear.

Also his birthday is coming. So like. I didn’t want to enter that subplot with them still fake-ignoring each other like divorced parents. You’re welcome.

ANYWAY. The next few chapters are slower paced but VERY important. It’s all those little moments where the characters start changing without realizing it. The kind of growth you only see in hindsight. The slow part of the slow burn. But I swear to god I’m obsessed with how it’s turning out and I just want to share it with you and roll around in the angst like a dog in grass.

Okay that’s all. I love you. Go scream in the comments or eat drywall. Or both! <3 Mwah.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Fridays aren't supposed to sneak up on you like a debt collector with something to prove.

Usually, you spend the whole week crawling toward Friday like it's an oasis in the desert of your existence. Monday is hell. Tuesday is hell's waiting room. Wednesday offers a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, the week won't actually kill you. Thursday is its own special brand of torture—so close to freedom you can taste it, but still trapped in the purgatory of obligation.

And then: Friday. 

Glorious, beautiful Friday.

Except this one. This one materialized out of nowhere, ambushing you with its presence and the sudden, horrifying realization that you have exactly zero hours to prepare for what's coming.

So here you are, somehow already standing in a flea market that smells like mothballs and questionable life choices, watching Yeji hold up a fishnet... something against her body while Irya coos over crystals that probably came from the dollar store.

"What do you think?" Yeji asks, draping the fishnet monstrosity over her shoulders. "Is it giving 'fashion-forward' or 'I found this in a dumpster'?"

"Definitely dumpster," you mutter, eyes scanning the crowded stalls without really seeing them. 

Because your mind? Your mind is elsewhere—specifically on the fact that you still need to find a birthday gift for your insufferable roommate.

Jungkook. 

Just thinking his name makes your jaw clench. 

It's been three days since your argument, and the apartment has been a cold war zone of pointed silences and aggressive door closing. 

He wants to be petty? Fine. You can be petty right back. Twice as petty, even. So you’re not talking to him either.

"Hello?” Yeji waves a hand in front of your face. "You've been staring at that old guy selling taxidermy squirrels for like, two minutes straight. Should I be concerned?"

You blink, refocusing. "What? No. I'm just... looking."

"For what exactly?" Irya appears at your side, a small purple crystal clutched in her palm. "You said you already got Emma's birthday present."

"Just browsing," you lie smoothly. "Flea markets are full of... treasures."

Yeji snorts. "Since when do you care about 'treasures'? Last time I dragged you to a vintage store, you said it smelled like 'dead people's closets.'"

“No I didn’t.”

"Right." Yeji doesn't look convinced, but she's already distracted by a display of chunky silver rings. "I'm gonna check these out. Meet you at the food trucks in twenty?"

You nod, grateful for the chance to browse alone. Not that you have any fucking clue what to get Jungkook. What do you buy for someone whose entire personality seems to be "brooding film student with inexplicably good taste in coffee"?

It is like an abandoned warehouse, this flea market—stalls crammed together in haphazard rows, hipsters and bargain hunters elbowing past each other, haggling over everything from antique doorknobs to hand-knitted beanies that look like they were made by someone's cat…

You wander aimlessly, passing stalls selling vintage cameras (too expensive), artisanal coffee beans (too obvious), and leather-bound journals (too pretentious, even for him). 

Nothing feels right. 

Not that it matters—it's just a stupid obligation gift. You shouldn't care this much.

But you do. And that's annoying as fuck.

Then, a rickety table stacked with milk crates catches your eye—or rather, the handwritten sign that reads "RECORDS $5-20" in faded Sharpie. 

The elderly man behind the table looks like he's been selling vinyl since before your parents were born, his weathered hands carefully flipping through a box as a customer asks about some obscure band.

You wait until they leave, then approach, trying to look like someone who actually knows something about records. The crates are dusty, disorganized, with no apparent system. Just hundreds of albums crammed together like sardines.

"Looking for anything specific?" the old man asks, voice gravelly from what you assume are decades of cigarettes.

"Just browsing," you say, already flipping through the nearest crate.

Most of the covers are faded, corners bent, some with water damage or mysterious stains you'd rather not identify. You recognize maybe one in ten artists—a lot of jazz, classic rock, some folk singers your dad probably listened to in college.

This is stupid. You don't know what you're looking for. Jungkook collects vinyl but doesn't even own a record player. What kind of pretentious bullshit is that? It's like buying books just to display them on a shelf without reading them.

You're about to give up when your fingers pause on a familiar name.

John Mayer.

The album cover is slightly worn at the edges, but otherwise in decent condition. 

"Inside Wants Out," it says in simple white letters against the picture of a dude (you guess it’s John) in the background. 

You don’t recognize it at all.

But Jungkook listens to him. His vynil collection is basically a shrine to him. 

So you ask "how much?", holding up the record.

The old man squints. "Fifteen."

Fifteen bucks. Okay, that’s... actually reasonable. Not so expensive that it seems like you care, but not so cheap that it looks like an afterthought. 

Just a casual, "hey, saw this and thought of your weird vinyl collection" kind of gift.

Perfect.

"I'll take it," you say, already digging in your bag for your wallet.

The man slides the record into a paper sleeve, takes your money, and hands you your change with a nod. 

Transaction complete. Gift acquired. Problem solved.

You tuck the record under your arm, feeling oddly satisfied despite yourself. It's just a record. Just a stupid birthday gift for your annoying roommate who thinks he knows everything about everyone, including your taste in men.

But as you weave through the crowd toward the food trucks, you can't help but wonder if he'll like it. If his face will do that thing—that brief, unguarded thing where his eyes light up before he remembers he's supposed to be all cool and detached.

Not that you care. You're just fulfilling a social obligation. That's all.

That's absolutely all.

"Did you actually buy something?" Yeji asks when you reach her, eyeing the record under your arm. "Since when are you into vinyl?"

"Just decoration. For the vinyl wall.”

Irya peers at it. "John Mayer? Isn't he like, your dad's music?"

"He's not that old," you find yourself saying, then immediately wonder why you're defending John fucking Mayer of all people. "And anyway, it was cheap."

"Whatever you say." Yeji shrugs, then holds up a small paper bag. "I got those earrings we saw last week. The ones that look like little daggers."

"Nice," you nod, grateful for the subject change. "I'm starving. Can we get food now?"

As you follow them toward the food trucks, you resist the urge to check the record again, to make sure it's not too scratched or damaged. It doesn't matter. It's just a record. Just a gift.

Just something to cross off your to-do list before Emma's birthday tonight and Jungkook's surprise dinner tomorrow.

Nearing the trucks, suddenly everything smells good. Too good. The kind of good that makes decision-making a fucking nightmare.

You slow your steps, scanning the options.

One truck’s got sizzling skewers of grilled meat, charred at the edges, dripping onto soft pita. Another is doing fresh arepas, the scent of melted cheese thick and indulgent in the air. A few feet away, some guy with tattooed knuckles and an unreasonably aggressive beanie is ladling out steaming bowls of Vietnamese pho.

And then there’s the birria taco stand—because of course there is—and the line is criminally long, people clutching Styrofoam trays of consommé like their lives depend on it.

Your stomach rumbles.

By the time you settle on something—one of those ridiculous but beautiful smash burgers, glossy brioche bun soaking up all that greasy, caramelized goodness—you barely get your wallet out before Yeji hip-checks you out of the way.

“I pay, I pay, I pay,” she announces, tapping her phone against the card reader with swift finality.

You blink. “Okay, what?”

Yeji grins, entirely too pleased with herself. “Well, I’m obviously paying for my beautiful girlfriend, and I kinda figured I’d put you in the package deal.”

You snort, giving her a shove. “Fine. But beers later on me.”

“Deal,” she says easily, tossing the receipt onto the counter like a Wall Street exec closing a million-dollar deal.

Irya latches onto your arm, steering you out of the way so Yeji can continue flirting with the guy behind the counter—some blue-haired, too-many-rings kind of guy who’s already leaning into it, smirking as Yeji compliments his “artistry” with the grill.

“She’s ridiculous,” you mutter.

Irya hums, but there’s amusement in her eyes as she grabs your food, balancing her own order on top of yours. “Just my type of ridiculous.”

You shake your head, leading the way toward a set of old picnic tables at the edge of the food truck lot. The wood is worn, graffiti-scratched and dented from years of use, but it’s clean enough. You drop into a seat, setting your tray down, and Irya follows, sliding in across from you.

She sets her elbow on the table, chin resting lightly in her palm, and smiles. A lock of blonde hair falls loose, catching the light, and she tucks it back behind her ear absently.

“So, Emma’s birthday tonight?”

You unwrap your burger, glancing up at her. “Yeah.”

She studies you for a second, eyes warm. “Excited?”

You hesitate. 

“Yeah,” you say again, but it comes out different this time. Not untrue, exactly, but not as sure as it should be.

Irya notices. Tilts her head slightly, patient, the corners of her mouth tugging into something knowing. 

“You don’t have to be.”

A breath of something close to laughter slips out of you.

 “I mean, I am excited,” you say, because you are. “It’s just—it’s been a while. We used to be really close in high school, but then, you know… life.”

Irya nods, thumb idly tracing the grain of the table. “She’s in Columbia, right?”

“Yeah. I stayed in-state for a bit before moving here. Different cities, different schools, different everything.” You shrug, picking at the edge of the wax paper lining your tray. “We tried to keep in touch, but it’s not the same when you’re not living through the same things anymore. And then you just… don’t talk as much. And then that becomes normal.”

“And now?”

“Now she’s in the city, and I guess we’re both trying to reconnect.”

“That’s good,” Irya says, and she means it. “It’s nice when people want to find their way back to each other.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, glancing down at your food, pushing a fry through the puddle of ketchup on your tray. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Irya watches you, quiet for a second. Then—

“She’s inviting a lot of people, right?”

You nod, grateful for the slight shift in direction. “Yeah. Told me to bring people, too, so I figured you and Yeji. Maybe Jimin.”

“Jimin would love that.” Irya grins. “He’s been in study-group hell all week. He deserves some fun.”

“You think?” You manage to say whilst chewing on the potato. “I thought I wouldn’t be doing him any favors. Like, he’s the type of person to say yes just out of obligation. And I didn’t want to pressure him into anything.”

Irya makes a soft sound of amusement, propping her chin in her palm. “Nah. If Jimin really didn’t want to go, he’d find a way to say no without actually saying no.”

You pause mid-chew. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’d do that thing where he apologizes like, three different ways in the same sentence, but somehow, you still walk away not totally sure if he said yes or no.”

You snort, swallowing. “Okay, yeah. That sounds about right.”

Irya grins, poking at her fries. “And anyway, he actually likes going out. He just overthinks it first.”

“You say that like you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” she says breezily. “I have classes with him. I watch it happen in real time.”

“Real time?”

“Oh, yeah. Like, someone invites him somewhere, and you can see him start to spiral. Like, ‘Okay, but what if I go and I regret it? But what if I don’t go and I regret that instead? But what if I go, but it’s not fun? But what if I don’t go, and it was fun, and now I’m missing out?’” She mimics his voice, exaggerated and tragic, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but that is a valid crisis.”

“It is,” Irya agrees, laughing too. “But the point is, once he actually gets there, he has a good time.” She levels you with a look, half teasing, half expectant. “So invite him.”

You sigh, reaching for another fry. “Fine.”

And then—

“I got us free dumplings.”

Yeji appears out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to Irya and dropping a white takeout box onto the table like she’s just secured a goddamn business deal.

You blink. “How?”

She shrugs, already reaching for a dumpling. “Wouldn’t take my money.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Irya hums, all faux-innocent. “Didn’t happen to have anything to do with that very long, very intimate conversation you were having with the guy behind the counter, did it?”

Yeji smirks around a bite of dumpling. “I dunno. Did it?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Men and their non-existent gaydars.”

“Right? Kinda sucks when she grabs all their attention,” Irya smiles, reaching for a dumpling of her own.

“Not my fault he was easy to entertain,” Yeji says, looking entirely unbothered. “Anyway, eat. They’re fresh.”

You don’t argue. The dumplings are good—warm, crisp at the edges, the filling rich with just the right balance of spice.

Yeji watches you for a second, chewing thoughtfully. “So what were we talking about?”

“Jimin,” Irya supplies.

Yeji groans. “Ugh. Tragic little academic. Is he still alive?”

Irya nods, popping a dumpling into her mouth. “Barely. But we’re dragging him to Emma’s party tonight, so he might actually remember what fun feels like.”

Yeji quirks an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “Emma?” She flicks a glance at you. “Your other friend? Birthday girl?”

You take a sip of your drink. “Mmhm.”

Yeji hums, tapping her chopsticks against the takeout box. “Bestie competition, then.”

You nearly choke. “Oh my god.”

Irya grins, delighted. “It is kind of serious. High school bestie versus new college besties.”

Yeji tilts her head, considering. “I don’t know, man. Legacy friends have an unfair advantage. History. Nostalgia.”

“Yeah,” Irya sighs, fake mournful. “How can we ever compete with the memories?”

You level them both with a flat look. “You’ve known me for a month.”

Yeji leans back. “It’s been a whole month already? Woah.”

“We’re joking. I’m sure we’ll get along.” Irya adds.

You snort, shaking your head.

Yeji watches you for a second, still smirking, but then the expression shifts—just a little. 

“Are you excited?”

The question catches you off guard. Not because it’s unexpected, but because it’s… genuine.

You pause, setting down your cup. 

“Yeah,” you say, slower this time. “I mean, I haven’t seen her in a while, so it’ll be—nice. A little weird, maybe. But nice.”

Yeji nods. “You gonna introduce us?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah?”

Irya arches her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

You groan. “Oh my god, what is that supposed to mean?”

Yeji shrugs, reaching for another dumpling. “I mean, if she’s bestie material, we gotta vet her.”

“Shouldn’t she be the one vetting you two? She’s known me since I had braces and a regrettable side bang phase. Feels like she’s got seniority here.”

Yeji gasps. “Wow. So you’re saying we have no authority in this situation?”

“We really don’t.” Irya muses, almost singsonging.

“I don’t know,” Yeji muses, tapping a finger against her chin. “I feel like we bring some very important qualifications to the table. For example, we met Y/N when she was already in her fully realized, evolved form. We didn’t just settle for her because we grew up in the same town.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus.”

Yeji nods, completely serious. “Yeah, we got to make an informed choice. Handpicked, if you will.”

“Wow, lucky me.”

Irya grins. “So lucky.”

You shake your head, reaching for another fry. “Just… behave.”

“I always behave,” Yeji says, smirking. “You’re just afraid we’ll be better besties than Emma.”

You scoff. “That’s not even remotely the issue.”

“Then what is the issue?” Irya prompts, head tilting to the side.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud feels like giving it weight. Giving it power.

You exhale. “It’s just—there’s a difference between keeping in touch and actually knowing someone after years apart. And I guess I don’t know if we still… fit the way we used to.”

That quiets them for a beat.

Yeji tilts her head, watching you with something unreadable in her gaze. Irya rests her chin in her palm again, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

“That’s fair,” Irya says, voice softer this time. “It’s weird when people grow in different directions. Sometimes you come back together. Sometimes you don’t.”

You nod, not entirely trusting yourself to speak.

“But hey,” Yeji cuts in, voice as casual as ever, “if she sucks, at least you’ll have us.”

You huff a laugh. “So generous of you.”

She winks. “I know.”

And just like that, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter.

You stare at your reflection, one eye perfectly winged, the other a smudged disaster—like your life, really: half put together, half absolute chaos.

You lean closer to the mirror, squinting at your uneven eyeliner with the kind of intense focus that FBI agents would reserve for defusing bombs or something. You've been at this for twenty minutes now, and your right eye is starting to look like it's been drawn by a five-year-old with a crayon during an earthquake.

"Fuck," you mutter, reaching for a cotton swab. 

Third time's the charm, right? 

Or maybe fifth. 

You've lost count.

From the living room, Griffin's thunderous purr competes with Yeji's animated voice. She's been trying to convince Yoongi to produce some track for her for the past fifteen minutes, her persistence almost admirable if it weren't so clearly futile. Yoongi's monotone responses barely register over the distance, but you can picture his expression—bored, unbothered, probably wanting to kill himself before engaging.

"Orange cats are literally the basic bitches of the cat world," Yeji declares loudly enough for you to hear. "Black cats have personality. They have depth. They're mysterious."

"Tell that to Griffin," Irya responds, her voice warm and amused. "He seems pretty content being basic on your lap right now."

"That's cats for you," Yeji sighs dramatically. "The least person who wants them is the one who gets them."

You smile despite your eyeliner frustration. Because it’s ironic—Yeji, who swears black cats are superior, is now trapped under Griffin's substantial orange weight. 

That's karma, feline edition.

You’re wearing a dress to the gathering—the same one from that night in January. You've worn it exactly once since buying it, and now it's making its second appearance. 

It's not like you planned it this way. It just happened to be the perfect outfit for Emma's birthday dinner. 

(At least that's what you tell yourself as you deliberately avoid examining your motives too closely.)

Emma. Your high school friend. Your only real connection to your life before college. 

Before this apartment. 

Before Jungkook. 

You haven't seen her in months (since that night in January), and there's a strange anxiety bubbling in your stomach that has nothing to do with your makeup struggles. 

You did vibe back then. But… was it a ‘we vibe because we are going out’ situation; or was it because you two actually connected?

People change. You've changed. The question hanging in the air is whether you've changed in compatible ways.

At least you won't be alone tonight. Emma said you could bring friends, so naturally, you are bringing them along.

You dab at your eyeliner again, smudging it further. Great. Now you look like you've been punched. Or crying. Or both.

A soft knock on the door interrupts your silent self-criticism.

"Come in," you call, not bothering to hide your frustration. It's not like anyone in this apartment hasn't seen you in various states of disaster before.

The door creaks open, and Jimin's face appears in the gap, his expression shifting from curious to sympathetic as he takes in your makeup situation.

"Having trouble?" he asks, stepping into the small bathroom. 

The space immediately feels warmer with him in it. Jimin has that effect—like a human comfort blanket.

"What gave it away?" you deadpan, gesturing to your face. "The fact that I look like I let a toddler do my makeup, or the fact that I've been in here for half an hour?"

He laughs softly, the sound gentle and reassuring. "It's not that bad."

"Liar."

"Okay, it's a little uneven," he admits, moving closer to examine your handiwork. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face with unexpected intensity. "Let me."

Before you can respond, he's taking the eyeliner from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a brief moment of warmth.

"You know how to do this?" you ask, surprised.

"I have sisters," he says simply, which doesn't really answer your question, but you don't push it. "Close your eye," he instructs, his voice soft but confident.

You comply, feeling the gentle pressure of his hand steadying your face. His touch is light, precise—and you can’t help but feel this is some sort of significant moment. 

"Stay still," he murmurs, and you can sense the smile forming on his lips.

The eyeliner glides across your lid with surprising smoothness. One stroke, then another. No hesitation in his movement. You're impressed and a little confused by his skill, but mostly grateful.

"Where did you learn to—"

"Shh," he interrupts. "No talking or I'll mess up."

You fall silent, letting him work. There's something about Jimin that's always made you curious. He's like a book with half the pages glued together—what you can read is beautiful, but you sense there's more to the story.

"Done," he announces after a moment, stepping back to admire his work. "Take a look."

You turn to the mirror and blink in surprise. The wing is perfect—sharp enough to kill a man, as Yeji herself would say. It matches the other eye exactly, creating a symmetry you couldn't achieve on your own.

"Jimin, this is..." you trail off, turning to face him. "How are you so good at this?"

He shrugs, a small, almost shy grin playing at his lips. "I just have a steady hand, I guess."

There's more to it than that—you can tell by the way he avoids your eyes, the slight flush creeping up his neck. But something tells you not to press further. 

Everyone has their secrets.

Private pieces they're not ready to share. 

You, of all people, know that.

"Well, whatever the reason, thank you," you say sincerely. "You just saved me from looking like a hot mess at Emma's birthday."

"Happy to help," he replies, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "You look beautiful."

The compliment is simple, genuine, without the weight of expectation or desire that usually accompanies such words from men. 

It's refreshing. Because you feel like Jimin sees you—really sees you—without wanting anything in return.

"We should probably get going soon," he says, glancing at his watch. "Yeji's been threatening to leave without us for the past ten minutes."

"As if she would," you scoff, reaching for your lipstick. "She's too excited about meeting Emma and judging her worthiness."

Jimin laughs. "True. Though I think she's more excited about the free food."

"Priorities," you agree with a smile.

You apply your lipstick—a muted berry shade that complements your eyeshadow without being too dramatic. The final touch to your appearance. Not too casual, not too glamorous. Perfect for a birthday dinner.

You've always loved makeup, the ritual of it, the transformation. 

Not because you're trying to hide or become someone else, but because it's an extension of yourself—another form of expression. 

You're so tired of those cliché "not like other girls" characters in movies and books who supposedly wear nothing but mascara yet somehow have flawless skin and perfect brows. 

As if enjoying makeup somehow makes you shallow or less authentic.

The truth is, most girls you know love makeup to some degree. Some for the artistry, some for the confidence boost, some just because it's fun. And you're no different. 

That doesn't make you basic or vain—it makes you human. 

A human who happens to enjoy the satisfying swipe of a good lipstick.

"Ready?" Jimin asks, holding the door open for you.

You take one last look at your reflection. The girl staring back looks put together, confident. 

Whether she actually feels that way is another story entirely, but hey—fake it till you make it, right?

"Ready," you confirm.

You're halfway out the door when you pause. 

Something's missing. The final touch.

"Oh, wait. Cologne."

Jimin nods understandingly, already retreating toward the living room. "Don't take too long or Yeji might actually follow through on her threats this time."

You turn back to the bathroom counter, sliding open the narrow drawer where your collection lives. Four different bottles stare back at you, each with its own personality, its own statement. Your fingers hover over them, indecisive, until they land on one particular bottle.

Amber, its color.

The golden liquid catches the bathroom light, glowing like trapped sunlight inside the crystal bottle. 

You haven't used it since... well, since that night in January. You've been saving it for special occasions, though what constitutes "special" has remained conveniently undefined.

You lift the bottle, turning it in your hand. You apply it to your wrists, your neck, your ears. And before you can overthink it, you bring it to your nose, inhaling lightly.

Memories unfurl instantly, blooming in your mind like clouds puffing up in a winter sky. They tumble through your consciousness, overwhelming and vivid, making it hard to breathe—though you're not entirely sure you want to.

His hands on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with just enough pressure to leave phantom marks that lingered for days afterward. 

His slicked chin when he smiled up at you from between your thighs, all smug and proud for making you cum with his tongue. 

His infuriating, satisfied smirk that somehow annoyed you, but also turned you on.

Rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, soft eyes in the aftermath. 

You distinctly remember that was the first time you had thought Jungkook looked cute. Not just hot or sexy, but genuinely cute in a way that had caught you off guard.

And you didn't even know his name then.

The door swings open without warning.

You nearly drop the bottle, fumbling to catch it before it shatters against the tile floor. Your heart leaps into your throat as you look up, startled.

Jungkook peers inside, and you both freeze, staring at each other like you don’t know which one of you should stay and which one of you should leave. His eyes flick from your face to the bottle in your hand, recognition dawning in his expression.

A long pause.

Your eyes drift down his torso, inevitably.

He's wearing a black t-shirt that hugs his frame in all the right places, hair rumpled and messy. His rainy-like scent envelops the cramped space, mingling with the lingering notes of vanilla on your wrist like they’ve always belonged together. 

His eyes drift too. Drop lower, taking in the dress hugging your curves, fingers tightening on the doorframe, knuckles whitening with the pressure. 

You watch the subtle movement, the physical manifestation of restraint, and feel an answering tightness in your chest.

You haven't spoken since Tuesday. Since the fight about Jason. Since he suddenly starting talking about vibes like he’s the type of guy to trust his gut.

And maybe he is. 

And maybe you aren’t.

"Sorry," he says finally, breaking the silence. "Didn't know you were in here."

He avoids your gaze.

You don’t know if that makes you angry or anxious. It’s hard to determine what’s crippling your chest.

"It's fine. I was just leaving."

Neither of you moves.

His eyes drift to the cologne bottle again. Recognition, desire, frustration. 

Then, he masks it. 

But you caught it. 

He remembers the fragrance.

And how could he not? When he constantly praised it that night, how it rested on your skin, how good it made you smell, how fucking good you tasted.

"Going somewhere?" he asks then, interrupting your conflicting thoughts.

"Emma's birthday dinner," you reply, voice tight.

He nods slowly, gaze returning to the dress. The dress from that night. The dress he peeled off you with those same hands now gripping the doorframe like it's the only thing keeping him anchored.

You should move. You should cap the cologne, put it away, walk past him and join your friends who are waiting. You should maintain the cold war you've established since your fight.

Instead, you find yourself asking, "Did you need something?"

He purses his lips. "Just needed to pee.”

"Right," you say. "I'll get out of your way."

You cap the cologne, and you just know his eyes are tracking your every motion. Because that’s Jungkook for you—when he’s focused on something, it’s obvious.

You move toward the door—toward him—and it’s like suddenly, the small bathroom feels impossibly smaller. Like there’s not enough space for both of you and all the unspoken words crowding the air.

You'll have to squeeze past him. There's no way to avoid it.

His grip on the doorframe tightens further, as if he's holding himself back. From what, you're not entirely sure. Touching you? Yelling at you? Both seem equally possible.

"Excuse me," you murmur.

He steps back marginally, not enough to clear the path completely. 

Like he’s hesitating. 

Like he doesn’t know whether he wants to move for real, or stay rooted in place.

“Jungkook,” you say, and his name feels strange on your tongue after days of not speaking it. “Move.”

“You smell like that night,” he settles for staying instead of moving, voice dropping lower, annoyed. “You know that, right? You’re going to smell exactly like you did when I had you against that wall.”

Your breath catches. Heat blooms across your chest, up your neck.

“That’s not—” you start, but the lie dies on your lips. 

Because it is. Of course it is. You knew exactly what you were doing when you reached for that bottle.

You see his jaw work. His tongue peek against the inside of his cheek. His eyes lock into yours like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. 

“Have fun at your dinner,” is all he comes up with, stepping aside. 

The movement feels like it costs him something.

You move past him. Take a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Jungkook aside. 

Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about Emma, about reconnecting with a part of your life that existed before this apartment, before him.

But as you step into the living room, you can still feel the weight of his gaze on your back, can still smell the amber scent on your skin, can still hear his voice in your ear.

You know that, right? You’re going to smell exactly like you did when I had you against that wall.

And the worst part is, you don’t know why or how—but maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.

The restaurant is too loud, too crowded, too New York—but Emma’s hug is warm, and that makes up for it.

“Finally.” She squeezes you tight, like she’s trying to merge your atoms together. “You took forever.”

Yeji, behind you, snorts. “Blame her eyeliner existential crisis.”

Emma pulls back, eyebrows raised. “Oh? We still doing that?”

“We are always doing that,” you deadpan.

She laughs—her laugh. It’s the same as it was in high school, loud and full, like she actually enjoys things instead of just tolerating them. That hasn’t changed. Neither has the way she looks at you, eyes scanning your face, taking you in like she’s checking if you’re still the same person too.

The answer? You don’t know.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you guys,” she says, looping an arm through yours.

You let yourself be pulled in—into the restaurant, into her world, into the crowd of fifteen fucking people all squeezed around a too-small table in the back corner. She moves through the chaos easily, hand on your wrist, steering you like she used to when you were seventeen and invincible.

“This is Yeji, Irya, and Jimin,” you say as you go, pointing them out like exhibits in a museum.

Emma grins at them, all effortless charm. “Your uni friends. I’ve heard so much.”

Jimin, ever polite, smiles back. “All good things, I hope.”

Emma does not confirm or deny, which says enough.

There’s a blur of names you won’t remember—Emma’s friends, classmates, people who probably have their lives together in a way you do not. Someone pulls her into another conversation, and you hover awkwardly at the edge of the group, watching her slip back into a world that isn’t yours.

It’s strange.

You used to know everything about her. Every inside joke, every dream, every late-night insecurity whispered over FaceTime. 

But now—now you’re an observer. 

A guest.

Still, when she sits, she grabs your wrist again and tugs you down next to her.

“So,” she starts, picking up her glass—red wine, something deep and rich. “Are you finally admitting that I was right, or are we still in the denial phase?”

You blink, thrown. “About what?”

She gives you a look. “Do I have to spell it out?”

Your stomach knots.

Jungkook. She means Jungkook.

You exhale through your nose, reaching for your water instead. “We are so not doing this here.”

Emma grins, but she lets it go—for now.

Instead, she leans back. “God, I forgot how exhausting socializing is. I swear, law school is turning me into one of those people who can only function in coffee shops and libraries.”

You snort. “You were already that person in high school.”

“True,” she concedes, tilting her glass toward you. “But now it’s worse. Now I actually enjoy tax law. Like, genuinely. It’s fascinating.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Swear on my life,” she says, amused. “You should see me in my internship. I get excited about deductions. I have a favorite tax loophole.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Emma just grins. “Give it time. One day, you’ll come to me, desperate for tax advice, and I’ll be your only hope. And I will lord it over you.”

“You wish.”

“Oh, I know.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your lips twitch. It’s easy, falling into conversation with Emma. Easier than you thought it would be, considering how much has changed since high school.

“So, what’s the plan then?” you ask, nudging your knee against hers under the table. “You still set on Seattle after graduation?”

Emma hesitates. Not in a bad way—more like she’s holding onto something, waiting for the right moment.

“Actually,” she says, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about Europe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Europe?”

“Yeah.” She leans forward slightly, eyes lighting up. “I did a summer program there—France, Italy, Greece, Spain. It was insane. I loved it. I don’t know, I just—” She exhales, shaking her head like she can’t quite put it into words. “Seattle was always the safe plan, you know? The practical one. But now? I keep thinking about the Mediterranean coast. The markets, the people. It feels like people there work to live, not live to work like they do here in America.”

You watch her carefully. Emma has always been a planner, a strategist. She doesn’t make decisions lightly.

And yet—she looks alive talking about this.

“So, what?” you ask. “You’re gonna become a tax attorney in Greece? Help rich expats avoid paying their fair share?”

Emma snorts. “God, no. If I go, I’d probably work with international firms, corporate law, maybe even consulting. It’s different over there, you know? Taxes, policies, loopholes—everything shifts depending on the country, the treaties in place.”

“You realize you sound even worse now, right?”

“Shut up,” she laughs. “At least I’m passionate about something.”

You hum, thoughtful. “So, Europe.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Nothing’s set in stone yet.”

But you can tell, just from the way she says it, that it’s more than a maybe.

It’s funny. The last time you saw her, she was talking about Seattle like it was inevitable. Now she’s talking about the Mediterranean coast with the kind of quiet certainty that makes you think she’s already half there.

People change.

You’ve changed.

And yet, it feels like nothing between you two has changed at all. 

Emma eyes you for a long moment, then smirks. 

“Your turn.”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve barely told me anything about your life,” she says. “How’s English? Still planning on breaking the hearts of young, impressionable students as a professor?”

“First of all, no. That is not the plan. And second—”

“You can’t tell me you don’t look the part,” she teases. “The eyeliner? The whole vibe? You’d have students falling in love with you instantly.”

“I hate you.”

She grins. “I missed you too.”

You feel it, then—the warmth of familiarity, of friendship. It settles in your chest, light and unburdened, and for the first time in a while, you think:

This is nice.

Even with the changes, even with the time apart, even with the half-truths lingering at the back of your throat—this is still Emma.

“Come on,” Emma nudges your arm, eyes gleaming. “Let me introduce you to my favorite tax nerds.”

You groan, but let her pull you toward the other end of the table. “If I die of boredom, I’m haunting you.”

“They’re fun,” she insists, dodging between chairs and half-full wine glasses. “For tax people, anyway.”

The group is mid-conversation when you arrive—something about offshore accounts, corporate loopholes, and why the ultra-wealthy pay less in taxes than you probably spend on coffee each year. (Fascinating.) Chris and Max, two guys who both look like they were born wearing pressed button-ups, are deep in debate, hands gesturing, voices overlapping.

But the girl sitting across from you—Nina—just listens, quiet, observant.

She clocks you the moment you sit down. And you clock her right back.

Dark brown skin, black curls tucked behind one ear, a delicate gold necklace resting just above the collar of an oversized sweater. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal slender wrists, and she has the kind of presence that doesn’t need to fill space to be felt. 

There’s something measured about her. Something thoughtful. Like she only speaks when there’s something worth saying.

She’s pretty.

Really pretty.

But it’s more than that. She’s composed in a way that makes you hyperaware of yourself—your posture, the way you’re holding your drink, the way she looks at you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

“Hi,” she says, voice smooth, accent lilting ever so slightly.

It’s just that—simple. Friendly. Maybe.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

Emma gestures between you. “Nina, this is my friend from high school—the one I told you about?”

Nina hums like she remembers, tilting her head. “The one who thinks tax law is boring?”

You blink. “Emma told you that?”

“She warned me in advance,” Nina says, lips twitching. “Said you might try to stage an intervention.”

You shoot Emma a look, but she’s already sipping her wine, unbothered. 

“Well,” you say, turning back to Nina, “I was going to be polite about it, but now I feel like I have a responsibility.”

That gets a small smile out of her. Just a slight curve of the lips, like she’s amused but won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much.

You don’t know why that makes you want to push, just a little.

“So,” you continue, tilting your head, “what is it, then? The thing about tax law that actually doesn’t put you to sleep?”

Nina considers this. Takes a slow sip of her drink. And when she speaks, it’s not rushed—it’s careful.

“It’s not about the numbers,” she says, setting her glass down. “Not really. It’s about human nature. About how people behave when they think no one is watching. Governments set up incentives, and people react accordingly. It’s a game of strategy. A reflection of what a society actually values, not just what it claims to.”

You weren’t expecting that answer.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass. “So, what—you think taxes are, like, a moral compass?”

Nina shrugs. “Not a moral compass. But they show you what people are willing to bend the rules for. What they think is worth cheating for. And that’s… interesting, I think.”

You watch her, trying to get a read on her. She’s got this almost effortless kind of intrigue—the kind of person who could make anything sound poetic if she wanted to.

Emma groans. “Oh god, don’t encourage her. She’ll start talking about capital gains tax next.”

Nina lifts a brow. “It’s actually fascinating, if you—”

“Absolutely not,” Emma interrupts. “Nope. I refuse.”

You smirk. “I don’t know, Em. I kind of want to hear her out.”

Emma glares at you. “Do not encourage the tax philosophy.”

But Nina is looking at you again. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a way that screams I’m interested. But in a way that’s… present. Attentive. Like she actually finds this conversation worth having.

And maybe that means nothing.

Or maybe it does.

You’re not sure.

Which—God, why is this always harder with girls?

With guys, it’s obvious. But with girls—well. You think she’s enjoying this. But is she just enjoying it, or is there something else there? Is this just conversation, or is it something that, in hindsight, will feel like a moment?

You have no fucking idea.

The conversation shifts after that—Emma talks about her summer in Europe, Chris and Max start debating New York’s best pizza, someone brings up an upcoming bar crawl.

And then, at some point, Nina glances at her phone before looking at you again.

“You mind if I get your number?” she asks.

Casual. Easy. Nothing in her tone suggests it’s anything more than that.

“Emma talks about you a lot,” she adds, mouth twitching slightly. “I feel like I should probably fact-check at least half of it.”

Emma swats at her, but you barely register it, already pulling your phone out.

You’re not reading into it. You’re not.

But also—

You kind of are.

Still, you hand your phone over, watch as Nina types in her number, then passes it back. Just a name in your contacts now. Simple. Unassuming.

You have no idea if you just made a new friend or if this is something else.

And honestly?

You kind of like not knowing.

“Well, well, well,” Yeji drawls, sliding into the conversation without invitation. “Are we allowed to sit, or is this a tax-exclusive gathering?”

You exhale. “Jesus, Yeji.”

“What? We were getting bored.” She drops into the seat beside you, tossing an arm over Irya’s chair. “Jimin’s been overanalyzing the condensation on his glass for the past fifteen minutes, and Irya’s just been smiling at people like a lost pageant contestant.”

“I was being friendly,” Irya corrects, unfazed.

“You were being too friendly.”

“Networking,” Irya insists, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I love people.”

“You do,” Emma says, delighted. “It’s terrifying.”

Irya beams, pleased. Yeji just sighs like she’s accepted her fate.

Nina watches all of this unfold with quiet amusement, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You two are together?”

Yeji tilts her head. “That a problem?”

Nina meets her gaze evenly. “No. It’s nice.”

It’s a simple statement, but it rings genuine, like she’s not just saying it to be polite. Yeji studies her for a second longer before nodding, satisfied, and pulling Irya in to kiss her temple.

Emma turns to you, grinning. “Your friends are so much more fun than my law ones.”

You smirk. “That’s because they have souls.”

Chris, still lingering in the tax-law-heavy end of the table, lifts a hand in protest. “Hey.”

Yeji ignores him completely, waving to Nina instead. “So, you’re a tax philosopher?”

Nina looks faintly amused but nods. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Cool, cool,” Yeji muses, reaching for Irya’s wine and taking a sip before Irya can protest. “And do you also believe that money isn’t real?”

Nina tilts her head slightly, considering. “I think it’s real in the sense that it determines the way the world functions. But I also think it’s one of the biggest shared delusions humanity has ever committed to.”

Yeji brightens. “See? This is the tax conversation I want to be having.”

You roll your eyes, but Nina takes it in stride. She’s good at this, you notice—letting conversations unfold naturally, never forcing her presence but never fading into the background either.

Across from you, Jimin has settled into his usual quiet observation, sipping his drink slowly. He’s not uncomfortable, just taking it all in. He catches your eye at one point, a small look that says ‘you good?’

You nod, barely perceptible.

He doesn’t push. Just gives a small nod back and turns his attention back to the conversation. Just listening in.

Emma leans in slightly, nudging your arm. “I like them,” she murmurs.

You glance at her, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

She hums. “They make you lighter.”

It’s such an Emma thing to say—blunt in a way that doesn’t feel invasive, just observant. 

You don’t respond right away, but you don’t need to. 

She’s already grinning like she knows the answer.

The apartment is quiet when you finally get home, the only light coming from the TV screen where some game is paused. 

Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, controller resting loosely in his hands, looking like he's been there for hours. He glances up when the door closes behind you, expression neutral.

"It's late," he says, not quite a question.

You drop your keys in the bowl by the door. "Yeah."

"Had fun?" He unpauses the game, thumbs moving lazily over the controller buttons. His character on screen walks aimlessly into a wall.

"Yeah," you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh of relief. "Emma's friends are cool. We ended up at this bar in Brooklyn after dinner."

He makes a noncommittal sound, still not looking at you.

"Jason wasn't there, though, so don't worry," you add, unable to help yourself.

That gets his attention. His thumbs still, and he scoffs, a short, sharp sound in the quiet apartment. 

“You know I don't give a fuck about that guy, right?"

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow, heading to the kitchen for water. "Because you seemed to have very strong opinions about him on Tuesday."

The controller drops onto the couch as he turns to face you fully. 

“Look," he says, voice tight with frustration. "I don't give a fuck who you fuck or who you date. Seriously. Not my business."

"Yup. Three rules," you start, unscrewing the cap on your water bottle.

"One, no one knows," he recites, cutting you off.

"Two, if somebody asks, we're just roommates," you continue.

"And three," he interrupts again, more forcefully, "no feelings. I know the fucking rules, Phoenix. I helped make them."

You take a long drink of water, studying him over the bottle. His hair is messy in a stupid endearing way, and there are shadows under his eyes. 

"So what was Tuesday about, then?" you ask finally.

He exhales slowly, jaw working. "I told you. The guy gives me bad vibes."

"Bad vibes," you repeat flatly.

"Yeah. Bad fucking vibes." He rubs a hand over his face. "Look, I know how it sounded, okay? But it's not—" He stops, frustrated. "It's not about you. Or us. Or whatever the fuck we're doing."

You consider him for a moment, then set your water bottle down and cross to the couch, sitting on the opposite end. 

"Explain."

"What?"

"Explain these 'bad vibes.' Because from where I was sitting, it sounded irrational."

"It's not—" He stops again, shaking his head. "You know what? Forget it. Not my problem."

"Jungkook."

He looks at you, surprised by the use of his actual name.

"I'm trying to understand," you say, softer than you intended. "So explain it to me."

He studies you for a long moment, like he's trying to decide if you're serious. 

Finally, he sighs. "He's fake."

"Fake how?"

"The way he talks. The way he looks at you when you're not watching. The way he touched your arm in the car." His words come faster now. "The way he asked about your schedule, your classes. The way he positioned himself between us. It's all... calculated."

You frown. "That's a lot to read into a few interactions."

"I know what I saw," he insists. "Guys like that... they start small. Compliments. Attention. Making you feel special. Then it's suggestions about what you should wear. Who you should hang out with. What classes you should take."

His tone is raw, really raw, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard him talk like this. 

Like it’s personal.

“You're saying he's controlling."

"I'm saying he could be." He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "Look, I've seen it before, okay? People who seem perfect on the surface but underneath they're just... manipulative. They make you think everything's your idea when really they're pulling all the strings."

You're quiet for a moment, processing. 

"This isn't just about Jason, is it?"

His eyes flick to yours, then away. 

"I told you. It's not about you or us."

"But it is about someone."

He doesn't answer, but his silence is confirmation enough.

"Mia?" you ask softly.

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Okay," you say, respecting the boundary even as curiosity burns through you. "But that's why you're worried about Jason? Because he reminds you of her?"

"Not of her specifically," he says after a pause. "Just... the type. The signs."

You pull your legs up onto the couch, turning to face him fully. "What signs?"

He looks at you for a long moment, like he's deciding how much to share. 

"The perfect act," he says finally. "The way everything seems rehearsed. The charm that never quite reaches their eyes." His voice drops lower. "The way they make you feel like you're the only person in the room, but it's not because they care about you. It's because they want something from you."

"And you think that's Jason?"

"I don't know," he admits. "Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there. But my gut says something's off with him."

You consider this. "Your gut's been wrong before."

A bitter smile twists his lips. "Yeah. More than once."

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. It’s like you’re both still processing the words exchanged.

"I'm still going on the date," you say finally.

He nods, looking away. "I know."

"But I'll... keep what you said in mind. Watch for the signs."

He glances back at you, surprise flickering across his face. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You shrug, trying to keep it casual. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't actually enjoy being manipulated."

"Could've fooled me," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it.

You kick his thigh lightly with your foot. "Asshole."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "Brat."

Silence again. His forearms are resting on his knees, hands crossed together as his gaze remains unfocused.

"So," he says eventually, "how was the birthday girl?"

You're surprised by the question, by his apparent interest in your life outside this apartment. 

"Good," you say. "Different, but good. She's in Economics. Has a serious boyfriend. Wears a lot of beige."

"Sounds thrilling."

You laugh despite yourself. "It was actually nice. Weird, but nice. Like visiting a place you used to live but don't anymore."

He nods, understanding in his eyes. "Did your new friends play nice with your old friend?"

"Yeji, Irya and Jimin?" You smile at the memory. "They were on their best behavior. Well, Yeji's version of best behavior, which means she only made three inappropriate jokes and only drank half the table's wine."

He snorts. "Sounds about right."

"Emma liked them, though. I think." You pause, considering. "It's strange, bringing different parts of your life together."

"I bet it is," he agrees quietly.

You look at him, really look at him, sitting there in the dim light of the TV. For once, there's no smirk on his face, no challenge in his eyes. Just Jungkook, tired and rumpled and unexpectedly honest.

"Why were you still up?" you ask suddenly.

The question catches him off guard. "What?"

"It's 3 AM. Why are you still awake?"

He shrugs, defensive again. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd play for a bit."

You glance at the TV screen where his character has been standing in the same spot for the past ten minutes. 

"Right."

"What?" he demands.

"Nothing," you say, but you can't help the small smile that forms. "Just... nothing."

He narrows his eyes at you, but doesn't press.

"I should get to bed," you say, standing up. "It's late."

He nods, picking up the controller again. "Yeah."

You're halfway to your room when his voice stops you.

"Phoenix?"

You turn back. "Yeah?"

He’s staring at you, but it’s not the usual smirk. No. 

His eyes flick downward. To the floor, like he’s seriously considering his next words—or rather, if he should vocalize them at all. 

But then he looks up at you again, seemingly decided.

"You..." he starts, licking his lips like he’s trying to pull himself together. But he’s failing. "You know you smell fucking delicious, right? Like, it’s so fucking unfair."

Your pulse stutters. "Excuse me?"

"The cologne," he says, standing up. "You’ve been driving me insane the whole night. The whole apartment smells like you.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and something hotter, heavier. "I didn’t wear it for you."

"No?” His lips twitch, almost a smile but not quite—like he knows exactly how full of shit you are. "The cologne from that night. The dress from that night. And I’m supposed to believe that’s just a coincidence?"

"It is," you snap back, defensive even as your pulse betrays you by speeding up.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing—or maybe just like he can’t believe you.

“Fuck, Phoenix," he mutters, voice dropping into something rougher, more dangerous. "Do you have any idea how good you smell? How much I’ve been thinking about getting my mouth on you again?"

Your breath catches somewhere in your throat—an audible hitch that makes his eyes darken further.

"We’re fighting," you remind him weakly.

"Are we?" He steps closer, until there’s barely a whisper of space between you. "Because right now all I can think about is how wet you were for me the first time I smelled that shit on your skin."

You retreat physically; even though mentally you’re honestly already naked for him.

"Four days," he muses, tone dripping with frustration, almost needy. "Four days of smelling your shampoo in the bathroom, that stupid body lotion, and now—now you pull this shit. That’s fucking cruel, Nix.”

"You could’ve apologized," you point out dryly.

"For what?" He scoffs like the idea itself is offensive. "For telling the truth? For saying Jason gives me bad vibes?"

"There it is again," you say, crossing your arms over your chest like it’ll protect you from whatever energy he’s radiating right now. 

It doesn’t.

He exhales softly, eyes flicking to your lips before moving back up. 

“I’m being for real, Phoenix. Your vanilla shit drives me nuts,” he confesses bluntly.

Then llicks his lips, considering what he’s about to say 

But says it anyways. 

“I jerked off after you left.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.

"Couldn’t help it," he continues. “The smell of your cologne... seeing you in that dress again... I couldn’t get the image out of my head."

"What image?"

"The first time," he says slowly, like he wants every word to sink into your skin and stay there forever. "In that room. The way you tasted... the sounds you made when I had my tongue inside you."

Your legs threaten mutiny.

"And now?" You force yourself to ask because silence feels dangerous—like it might give him permission to keep going without restraint.

"Now?" He repeats, almost hushed. "Now, I’m… really craving vanilla.”

You should walk away—should turn around and retreat into your room where things are safe and quiet and not vibrating with tension so thick it feels alive—but instead?

Instead, your feet betray you by staying planted firmly in place: "Eat some cookies.”

“I want to eat something else.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

He purses his lips. Tongue drops to lick the lower one. Gaze flickers to your mouth again before they come back to your pupils.

“You don’t?”

And the way he exhales it, like the mere idea of you saying no pains him—it melts through you. 

Especially when his hand finally finds its way to your waist (warm and solid and grounding despite everything else about this moment feeling anything but grounded).

All thoughts of resistance evaporate faster than they came.

"I do," you hear yourself reply. 

And when his lips brush against the sensitive skin just below your jawline?

You realize two things simultaneously:

One: You were never going to walk away from this moment no matter how much logic tried to intervene earlier.

Two: Logic doesn’t stand a chance against lust when Jungkook looks at you like this.

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[yumeka-sxf]

Was not expecting a Yuri/Yor chapter, but it was a pleasant surprise! First thing I want to mention is the fact that Yor is not wearing her usual Thorn Princess earrings, but instead has rose earrings similar to the button on her red blouse.

I could be wrong, but I believe this is the first time we've seen her with different earrings. Perhaps it's an indication that she's feeling more "at ease" as far as her relationship with her Thorn Princess identity, since we know that her usual earrings function as weapons if needed. Maybe she doesn't feel as much of a need to be "on guard" all the time as she used to be.

As for the bulk of this chapter, it featured great character development for the Briar siblings. What stood out to me the most is how hard it is for Yuri to understand that Yor's happiness truly does come from the happiness of others, plus the fact that she has very few desires for herself, especially materialistic ones that can be bought at a store. It's hard for him to grasp because he spent his whole life watching her selflessly sacrifice her own childhood to take care of the both of them, so he feels he has to overcompensate. But again, because he can't fathom that she actually enjoys taking care of others, the only explanation he can come up with for her lack of wanting things for herself is that the Forgers are "controlling" her somehow (also due to his own bias, lol).

It was amusing how Yuri's attempts to frame Loid and Anya as "brainwashing" Yor failed miserably...it only served to highlight how much she cares about them, especially Anya. I loved the below panel ❤️ She's such a mom.

By the way, this next panel cracked me up the most 🤣 I was curious what the "go at it" part was in the Japanese version, and it turns out to be the verb 絡む ("karamu"). It has several meanings, but mainly it means "to be entangled with" either with physical things like vines or wires, but also to be entangled with a person in a problematic way, such as by quarreling. I can only imagine how Yuri interpreted this 😂

In the latter part of the chapter, Yor finally made it clear to Yuri that he doesn't need to keep pitying her. She states that she enjoyed the time she spent taking care of him, and whatever negative feelings she had after he left her are in the past, so he doesn't have to keep trying to compensate for it.

For a brief moment, Yuri daydreams about the two of them going back to their hometown to live peaceful lives before ultimately realizing that they have responsibilities in the city that they can't just abandon. The emphasis on their respective "real" jobs that they can't reveal to each other, plus the later scene of Yuri lamenting that he feels distant from Yor because he can't show her who he's really become, definitely gave me a feeling of foreboding. Plus the fact that the chapter ends with him possibly being assigned a new job.

Even though the rest of the Forgers didn't appear in this chapter, we did get this precious little panel when Yuri was musing about why he feels so lonely. So thank you for this Yuri and your rolodex wheel of anxious thoughts 😂

I think it's still too soon for any kind of big, story-shattering reveal, but I feel like Yuri's next assignment could be something akin to the mole hunt arc, where something big almost happens...the fandom focuses a lot on a Twilight/Thorn Princess reveal, but a Briar sibling reveal would be just as major in my opinion, which is the vibe I got from this chapter. Since Yuri already had an encounter with Twilight, what if he had some kind of run-in with Garden next? 👀

...or maybe this was just a standalone chapter and we'll never find out what Yuri's next assignment is because it's not important and the next chapter will move on to something else 😅 I'd say it's 50/50 at this point, lol.

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Okay this person asked me why I found their comment rude, I explained that I have had multiple people who like to hate on the show in favor of the books respond to other posts telling people to watch the show with the same schtick about how the show is a disappointment compared to the books, and they blocked me, which is fair enough. Please do not go bother them about this, I am making this post about the idea they expressed and not the person who expressed it. As I’m working on this video project I’m thinking a lot about the ways that other people experience the show that differ from mine, and so I want to take a look at this criticism more closely

This is one of the most common criticisms I hear about the show, which is that if you compare the books and the show you won’t enjoy the show and i want to expand on something I said in reply.

This show, as I was talking about elsewhere last night, is very clearly being presented as the turn of the wheel following the turning of the books. I think this reading is supported by the text given that scene we get in the first episode of season two which states that as each age comes again, their souls are reborn retaining a little something of what they learned before, able to try to do a little better this time around.And also it’s the opening of every single one of the books. Ages come and pass leaving memory, myth, etc. the important part there is that the age comes again. And the idea of souls being reborn on successive turnings able to do better than they did before is also a theme that gets worked into the books late in the story.

If you watch the show expecting it to be a one to one translation to screen of the events of the books, you’re setting yourself up for a bad time. They are clearly not doing that. A lot of things are changed, all of the character arcs start from slightly different places and follow slightly altered trajectories. It is not the third age of the books, it is the third age come again anew. It’s post canon fanfiction, if you will.

And I said this in tags last night but I’ll expand it here, but I think the show is improved by being read as a conversation with the books. The choices they make to slightly change character arcs are clearly based on lessons the characters learned in the books. Mat ‘no bloody hero’ cauthon became a hunter tied to the Horn of Valere after his death in the books. Nynaeve’s character arc is really digging deeper into her grief from living a life and losing a child after leaving the rings, and the approach to her block is different than the books, a little slowed down (as others have posted about elsewhere this also means she’s less of an easy deus ex machina for the early conflict). This also means I think though that for some new viewers who don’t have the book context some of the choices in the show may not make as much sense. One of my friends who hadn’t read the books recently pointed out that by slowing down Nynaeve’s ability to bypass her block the show is kind of repeatedly telling the audience how powerful she is while only showing it the one time in season 1 episode 4, before she almost burned out at tarwin’s gap and went through the arches and got paraded around the tower and had experiences that are keenly her more firmly blocking herself from the power defensively than she was in the books. And this choice makes sense to me, because it’s clearly in conversation with her arc in the book which kind of just lets her breeze right past those things and that’s why the show is taking the chance to slow it down and explore it more. (Though I do think that part of her character arc will get some heavy movement in the new episode this week.)

But without book context, some of that nuance gets lost.

So I really think the show and books are best experienced in concert. I think starting with the show and its faster pacing and faster inclusion of the long term narrative components is a great introduction to the world and I think you’ll enjoy the books more after watching it first, especially given some of the Problems with emphasized gender essentialism that make wot a tough sell for many, which the show has improved on.

And I also think the details in the show, the choices they make with characters, take on elevated meaning when you understand the material they’re responding to from the books. So even though I do think they improve a lot of stuff from the books for a more accessible experience, some things in the show are further improved with the knowledge of the context of the books.

All this to say you should watch the wheel of time, then read the books (try Rosamund pike’s audiobooks), then watch the show again, and then the books, over and over.

Which is the best way to experience wot I think.

People who insist they need to read the books before watching the wheel of time, I am holding your hand. Listen to me. That’s the dark one speaking.

Pleaaaaaaase just watch the show first Trust Me you will likely have a much better time, you can read the books later when you’re really invested and you’ll get more out of them when you can pick up on the early foreshadowing.

I adore these books, but the show is a much better and more accessible point of entry for most people new to the story. Even if just for ease of watching 8 episode seasons instead of reading 800 page bricks. Also the show’s gayer and has more early focus on and development of the main female characters.

also also, and this is key, I need more people to watch the show as soon as possible so it gets renewed for the five more planned seasons k thx bye

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 3] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, friends to lovers (maybe?), some wine, mentioning ex-boyfriend,

A/N: my head has been having bad days lately. it took me a long time to start this chapter and I had moments of doubt whether it makes sense at all. but here it is and although it's not perfect I'm giving it to you. I hope that at least a few people will like it. thank you for reading my scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

Harry Castillo: Is everything okay between us?

You: Sure! Don't worry.

He stared at those three words with childish hope, even though his insides were full of fears and worries. You were his assistant, his friend, and he really cared about you. The situation that had arisen that evening was a bit awkward, and Harry was even ready to apologize to you for it. But maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it at all?

He breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened at the appointed time and you stepped out. The dress you were wearing beautifully accentuated your figure, which moved gracefully as you walked to the car.

“Stay.” Harry said quickly to the driver and got out of the car, then went to open the door for you. “Hi. You look stunning.”

A shy smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you. You don't look too bad either." You replied.

A few seconds later, you were both sitting on the leather couch in the back of a limo as the driver drove you through the crowded city. The silence between you wasn't unbearable, but it certainly wasn't natural. You could feel Harry's quick glances at you, but it took you a few minutes to decide to say something.

"Mrs. Kruger-Waltz should be here after the weekend. I got an email this morning."

Speaking of work, a safe topic. Harry cleared his throat. “Good. Sorry you had to deal with that today, you probably had a lot of work to prepare for.”

"Not really. I just put on what was hanging somewhere in the back of my closet. You should be glad it's not my prom dress."

You both chuckled and the tense atmosphere seemed to ease a little.

"I wanted to apologize." This time, Harry spoke up. "I made you feel awkward yesterday. That could have been very uncomfortable for you." 

“It’s fine, really.” You replied, looking at him as if you were waiting for him to finally end this conversation. “We know perfectly well that nothing will happen. You and I, we only work together.”

"Right. But either way... I'm sorry."

You instinctively reached out and lightly squeezed his forearm. "It's fine."

You exchanged uncertain smiles. In reality, you had all night to think about everything that had happened. The conclusion was simple - you had both succumbed to the moment, but luckily your brain reacted at the last moment before it became a disaster. It was comforting, because you really liked Harry and you didn't want something like this - stupid? irrelevant? pointless? - to ruin a really great relationship. Besides, Castillo was your boss, and no normal person kisses their boss, even if he looked like...

You quickly glanced at Harry sitting next to you. He looked really good in that suit that was tailored to his order. No matter if you saw him in a formal or casual version, the man always looked good, even though he put in minimal effort. How on earth had no woman ever kept him around for longer? It was a mystery to you.

"Get ready." He said as the car pulled up in front of the building. Brown eyes looked at you and after a moment he added. "If you want to leave, just say so. There's nothing keeping us here."

You nodded, feeling your stomach twist into knots.

Even though you and Harry had been to a few of these types of parties, you hadn't learned to behave yourself around the distinguished guests alone. Suddenly, the dress you were wearing looked cheap and boring, and you certainly weren't as pretty as most of the women there.

But Harry was always there, making sure you didn't get lost among the people and every now and then throwing in some funny remarks that relieved some of the stress.

“You have to come visit us sometime, Harry. L.A. will give you everything you want.” Mr. Murphy, the older man Castillo was talking to, patted him on the shoulder paternally. “And bring your lovely companion. Have you ever been to the City of Angels, young lady?”

You smiled at him over your glass of champagne. “I haven’t had the chance.” Harry shot you a quick, furtive glance. “But I trust your word, it’s certainly stunning.”

"Not like you, not like you!" Murphy laughed "I have to apologize now. I see Mr. Donovan is heading our way, and I need to talk to him."

You said your goodbyes and were alone again for a while. The party really wasn't that bad, except for a few boring speeches and weak toasts. Harry was often approached by guests, and you politely stepped aside, trying not to bother them. However, when another businessman approached him, you quickly signaled to him that you were going to the toilet and disappeared among the crowd.

The clock in the lobby showed that it was slowly approaching 11pm as you passed more and more people. You enjoyed watching them. Perfect looking, dressed in expensive clothes, adorned with jewelry straight from the best jewelers, smelling of the most exclusive perfumes. It was Harry Castillo who gave you the opportunity to see this part of the world, and you still felt like a tourist there.

"We've been running into each other a lot lately, don't you think?"

You turned around and spotted him immediately. Daniel was smiling as he walked over to you. The knot you had in your stomach the entire party tightened even more.

"Daniel!" you plastered a smile on your face, "It's nice to see you again."

The man looked around, then leaned in slightly towards you. "You're not alone here, are you?"

"No. I'm here with Ca... With Harry." At the last moment, you bit your tongue, and warmth crept up to your chest. You didn't want to continue with this lie, but the situation demanded it. "And you? Is Beth here too?"

He shook his head. "She wasn't feeling well today. It would have been better to stay home."

"Right."

You looked at each other for a moment until Daniel finally offered to walk you to the hall where the guests were gathered and where you had left Harry. You were going through all the possible sentences you could say to get rid of Daniel when someone gently took your arm.

You turned to see Mr. Murphy, who was smiling politely at you. “Sweetheart, please tell Mr. Castillo I’ll call him next week. Of course, my offer still stands—I think your boss should take you to Los Angeles with him. We’d love to have you over for dinner.”

"Of course, Mr. Murphy. I'll tell him everything. Are you leaving now?"

"Yeah, yeah. I've got an early flight and I'd like to catch a nap. These parties..." he looked around the room and laughed, "they're all for the young. Take care of yourself, darling."

He bowed once more and quickly walked away towards the exit. Only when he disappeared from your sight did you realize that Daniel had been listening to you the whole time, and now he was watching you closely.

"Are you Castillo's assistant?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am. We work together." you replied, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Daniel shook his head and smiled uncertainly. "I just thought that you and him... I thought that you..."

"Oh! I finally found you."

You felt a familiar scent and a strong arm wrap around your waist. Harry. You didn't know he had been watching you since you entered the room, and Daniel's presence next to you intrigued him a little. He decided to appear next to you the moment he noticed your figure becoming more tense. He knew your body language very well.

"Mr. Castillo." Daniel nodded, greeting the man. "Again, I met your lovely companion first."

"Careful, I'm starting to suspect you want to steal her from me." Harry joked, his fingers lightly squeezing your side to signal 'I'm here with you'.

Daniel smiled again, his eyes darting between you as if he wanted to catch any little gesture or grimace that might tell him something more. “Don’t worry, I already have my own assistant. Although I assure you, yours is just as good.”

“She's the best, right, honey?”

You were so surprised by what Daniel had said that it took a split second for you to realize Harry had leaned down and brushed his lips against your temple. It was barely noticeable, but it achieved its purpose because something in Daniel's gaze changed. You could almost see his brain working overtime.

You didn't know what to do, how to escape this place. But Harry was by your side, which was a small relief. You weren't alone. The lie continued.

“Forgive us, Daniel.” Castillo spoke again. “We wanted to go home. It’s been a long day.”

"Of course. It was very nice to see you again, Mr. Castillo."

They nodded at each other, and then you felt Harry steer you toward the exit. Your legs struggled to carry you down the hallway. The knot in your stomach was so bad you were sure you were going to throw up. If bad things came in pairs, that was likely.

"He's watching."

Harry's quiet voice echoed by your ear. You turned your head slightly and looked at him in surprise. "Who?"

"Daniel." Harry replied. "He's watching us. I think he's starting to suspect something."

You blinked quickly, taking a deep breath. “Does it still matter? Murphy told him I was your assistant.”

"That doesn't have to change anything."

You stopped at the door to let a larger group of guests pass. You didn't dare look at Daniel, you couldn't. But you saw Harry's face and there was something indescribable in it. A mixture of concern, support for you, kindness.

"Do you want him to think you're just an assistant?" he asked. "Of course, you're more than that, but he doesn't know that."

"He thinks we're together." you mumbled, looking down. "Just take me home, Harry. I feel bad enough for tonight."

When he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, you didn't even flinch. Harry gently tilted your face up to look at him, it seemed so natural that you didn't know what to say or how to react.

"You don't owe him anything." he said, his voice quiet and warm, soothing. "And you can definitely give him something to think about."

"You think so?" your voice was close to a whisper.

"Yes. That's a brilliant idea."

Harry leaned in, your lips inches apart, until you finally felt his warm breath. You didn't resist, you didn't run away. It was so intoxicating that you even waited for it. When your lips touched, you felt something incredible happen. A soft and tender kiss, just a brush of lips. Nothing that would make you uncomfortable, but it was hard not to sink into it completely.

When Harry pulled away a quiet sigh escaped your chest.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

You didn't know why you cared that Daniel Stevens, your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart, thought you and your boss, Harry Castillo, were together. It didn't make any sense at all. But lately, fate really hadn't been on your side, and every time you'd met up, you felt like you were sinking deeper into a senseless lie.

God! It wasn't even a lie at first. Just an understatement. Now everything was changing faster and faster. You were losing control of everything.

That kiss, it shouldn't have happened at all. Harry was your boss and you really liked him, but it wasn't right. But when you got in the car, neither of you said a word. The emotions and thoughts were so intense inside you that you preferred to keep your mouth shut before something you might regret later slipped out.

The car drove you home, Castillo opened the door for you again, and you said goodbye. No more words, no sign that he was thinking the same thing. Lying in bed, you almost envied him—your head felt like an amusement park in the height of the season, and he was probably already asleep.

"Please, hold the elevator!"

At the last moment, a hand held the door open, allowing you to slip inside. You gasped, “Thank you,” leaning against the cold metal wall as someone next to you shifted, then said your name.

“If I didn’t know you worked for Castillo, I’d think you were stalking me.” Daniel stood next to you, smiling nonchalantly as if this meeting was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” You replied, embarrassed, straightening up. “At this hour, I’m a bit…”

"Yeah, I know." He finished for you.

The elevator slowly began to rise, and you were silent for a few more floors. Finally, you spoke up. Maybe too nervously, but you had to ask. “I’ve never seen you in this building before. Do you have a meeting here?”

"Yes!" Daniel smiled and lifted his briefcase. "My client is already here."

"Oh. That's good."

But when the elevator stopped on your floor and you got off, you realized that Daniel was next to you again. The anxiety in your heart grew with each step, and when you reached your desk, you heard Daniel talking to Susan.

"I got a message that Mrs. Kruger-Waltz is already here. She's waiting for me."

"Yes, please hold on a moment." Susan reached for the receiver and dialed Castillo's internal number. Soon her voice filled the room again. "Mr. Stevens is here... Yes, she's already here too... Of course. Thank you."

With a soft click, the receiver returned to its place. “Mr. Stevens, you may come in.” And then your name was called. “Mr. Castillo is expecting you as well.”

Susan smiled politely, not even realizing that you felt like she was inviting you to the gallows. But you couldn’t refuse, so you grabbed the bare necessities and headed for the glass doors, trying to remember to breathe.

The office was brightly lit, and you immediately noticed Harry, who was sitting in a comfortable chair by the coffee table. He smiled when he saw you, then nodded towards the woman sitting on the couch. She was beautiful. Long blonde curls fell over her shoulders, and ruby ​​lipstick adorned her lips. She looked like a classic beauty, dressed in a well-fitted dress.

“This is Mrs. Diane Kruger-Waltz,” Harry said, and the woman nodded politely. “And I think we already know each other?”

Only then did you remember that Daniel had come in with you.

“Yes! Good morning, Mr. Castillo.” They shook hands, and the man moved toward Kruger-Waltz to sit some distance away from her. “I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

“Easy, Daniel.” The woman laughed lightly, showing white teeth. “It was just a very nice chat for now. You didn’t tell me that Mr. Castillo was such a charming man.”

"I asked you to call me Harry." Your boss reminded her, and then he showed you the other chair.

You sat up, feeling like you had “liar” written all over your forehead, and you hadn’t even done anything wrong. But you couldn’t let anything show. As conversation filled the office again, you took a deep breath and opened your notebook, ready to write down everything that was said there.

You were an assistant after all. Castillo was your boss. And this was your job.

Shit.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @nrschuster30 @maried01 @lunariantears @thatesqcrush @suzysface @youkeeno @legoemma @nuo0n @sarahhxx03 @hazzzy418 @pedrofan @peepawispunk @readingiskeepingmegoing @maryfanson @anoverwhelmingdin @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @axshadows @picketniffler @underneath-the-sky-again @kaysfanficcorner @noisynightmarepoetry @xmaykeca @orcasoul @sincerelywithheartt @southernbe @chaoticfestninja @telumendilsoul @hermionelove @paleidiot @lemon-world1

[bradleysass]

red + string - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 631

James Potter doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in making things happen, in chasing after what he wants, in sheer dumb luck. But fate? No, that’s some fairytale nonsense, and he’s always been too impatient for fairytales.

Which is why it’s ridiculous that he keeps running into Regulus Black.

The first time, it’s the grocery store. James is pushing a cart with one wonky wheel, trying to make a very important decision between two brands of cereal, when he turns, and—bam—his cart slams into another. The other cart is filled with absurdly neat rows of organic produce, meticulously stacked like it belongs in a stock photo. And standing behind it is Regulus Black, scowling at him as if James has personally ruined his day.

James grins. “Fancy seeing you here, Reggie.”

Regulus exhales through his nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“You eat fruit? Thought you lived off espresso and disdain.”

Regulus blinks at him, unimpressed, and then without a word, steers his cart in the opposite direction.

James watches him go, feeling strangely victorious. He chalks it up to nostalgia—because sure, he and Regulus have crossed paths a handful of times over the years, mostly through Sirius, but it’s been ages since they’ve had an actual conversation. He almost forgets about it.

Until it happens again.

This time, it’s Remus’ apartment. James drops by unannounced (as one does when they have no regard for their friends’ schedules), barges into the living room, and nearly topples over when he spots Regulus curled up on Remus’ couch, sipping tea like he belongs there.

James stares. “Are you squatting here? Have you been secretly living in Moony’s flat?”

Regulus doesn’t even look up from his book. “I’m allowed to visit my friends, Potter.”

James gapes at Remus, betrayed. “Since when are you guys friends?”

Remus sips his tea, unfazed. “Since university. Some of us can maintain normal adult friendships without dramatics.”

James plops down on the armrest of the couch, still watching Regulus like he might disappear. He doesn’t. Instead, he flips a page, entirely ignoring James’ existence. James should be annoyed. Instead, he’s intrigued.

The third time, James literally walks into him.

He’s at an art museum, pretending to be cultured, when he gets distracted by a group of schoolkids loudly debating whether one of the paintings looks like an old man or a really ugly dog. He’s laughing to himself when he turns a corner and—

Smacks straight into Regulus.

James stumbles back, blinking. “Are you haunting me?”

Regulus looks up at him, unimpressed as ever. “This is a public space, Potter.”

“That’s what a ghost would say.”

Regulus rolls his eyes and steps around him, but James is quicker. He steps into stride beside him. “So, what’s your favorite piece here?”

Regulus narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to determine if James is being serious. He must decide he is, because after a moment, he sighs and gestures subtly to a painting in the next room. “That one.”

James follows his gaze, expecting something cold and dark, something perfectly curated and distant. But it’s not. It’s soft brushstrokes and warm colors, almost dreamlike.

“Huh,” James says. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the sentimental type.”

Regulus glances at him. “That’s because you don’t know me.”

James doesn’t have a good response to that. Because he’s right—he doesn’t know Regulus. Not really. But it seems, lately, that the universe keeps throwing them together, over and over again. And James has never been one to ignore an opportunity.

So he grins. “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to fix that.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow but doesn’t immediately shut him down. And James counts that as a win.

Maybe the red strings of fate aren't such nonsense after all.

[kokii-omii]

Random fun facts with my Twst ocs

(not drawn cuz i dont have my tablet with me rn)

Pan Nikos

He bit a kid once cuz the kid was badmouthing his brother

Is the Heir to the Hermes branch of Olympos

Was the team captain on his middle school spell drive team

likes to cosplay and crossplay

the magestone he has is located on the right side of his headphones instead of a pen like it normally should be

once sent a message via pigeon because his phone died and he was NOT gonna ghost someone because it was just that important (it really wasn't)

his room is an absolute MESS, wires on the floor, foam, blankets everywhere, plushies scattered on the bed, books everywhere except the shelves

used to be in a club called "Bug Collector's Club" before him and jade saw each other in the mountains doing club activities and just decided to merge clubs

the ignihyde first years are low key scared of him because they pissed him off so bad he actually started yelling at them and threatened to leak everyone's search history if they misbehaved again

he has photographic memory

Pan knows how to play the electric guitar, the flute and the lyre

teched out his shoes so he could fly

flew into a tree when he was testing it out (always wear a helmet kids)

his love language is gift giving

Peyn Algos

Has a grandma that's fae and lives in briar valley

he visits her for winter break and often helps her with the modern technology

he's his family's tech support

his mother is human and his father is fae, his mother works as an archeologist while his father is a librarian

has an older sister that's a model

has a tamagotchi named Peggy that him and Pan take care of (it was a gift from Pan)

is more magically connected than technologically (he was taught by fae after all)

he fully thought he would be put in Diasomnia given his background, but learned and adapted pretty easily to techno-magic science and stuff within the first month

Peyn's an absolute beast at DDR and any rhythm game

beefs with riddle sometimes

memorized all 810 rules of heartslabyul just so he could argue with Riddle about how absurd they are

he is VERY spiteful

is actually two weeks younger than Riddle (his bday is on August 10)

probably the only ignihyde student that likes PE and sports

his love language is quality time

Ezmond Morado

has rook on his hit list (dont ask why)

has been a genius at potion making since he was 7

the feather on his hair is a quill, he sometimes writes with it

he gets mistaken for a beautiful girl almost every day (deuce thought he was a girl at first)

his mother is a doctor while his father is a botanist

he knows how to draw really detailed plants and landscapes (cant draw people tho)

there was one time a potion brewing went wrong and accidentally turned him into a cat

has beef with leona because he's constantly making krohn do things for him (he literally does the same)

Ace is also on the said hit list (i don't think i need to explain why)

he holds grudges and NEVER lets them go

His love language is words of affirmation

Krohn Luteus

He's fully fluent in squirrel, he sometimes has full on conversations with the squirrels at school

Can absolutely boogie down and groove

he has no enemies 😌

seriously nobody beefs with the guy cuz a. he's built like an absolute unit and b. the entirety of savanaclaw would jump them if they tried anything (the pros of being Savanaclaw's chef)

he's REALLY strong

he could lift Jack, Ruggie and, Leona all at once and STILL be able to run full speed

he was a boy scout

he's also probably vargas' favorite student idk

he's dumb, maybe even a little dumber than deuce but he got the spirit

his love language is acts of service

___________________________

I'll do my yuus next if anyone wants me to

[msilverstar]

transcription:

FOREWORD: BUCKY BARNES (by Sebastian Stan, Spring 2025)

I remember standing up on a ladder, sweating, in the middle of a take on a hot day in Palmdale, California, on the set of The Apparition. They were doing a camera reload, I think, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and looked at it: "Unknown caller I.D." "That can never be important," I thought. I let it go to voicemail.

We got the take and, in fact, continued to shoot for another few hours until, finally, I remembered, "Oh right, I had a voicemail." | took out my phone and brought it to my ear, expecting a telemarketer, only to hear, "Hey, it's Kevin. From Marvel. We'd love for you to do Bucky. If you're up for it. Give a call back." My heart stopped. My knees got weak. No way. Impossible. Earlier that day, someone had played a prank on me, stating, "It's April 1st! APRIL FOOLS' DAY!" Was this a joke or the real Kevin Feige?

It's an understatement to say my life changed that day: April 1, 2010. In three months' time, I was to go to London and start filming Marvel Studios Captain America: The First Avenger as Bucky Barnes.

It's insane for me to admit I didn't know anything about good old James Buchanan Barnes before my Captain America screen tests - which were for Steve Rogers, not even Bucky Barnes. I just didn't grow up with comic books, but I immediately had to dive in. I had a lot of catching up to do - including reading the convention-breaking series by Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting that revived Joe Simon and Jack Kirby's long-dead creation and started his journey as the Winter Soldier. Now, fifteen years later, I'm here trying to impart some wisdom. Life is crazy. I've never known it any other way. And neither has Bucky.

I think the thing I've loved most about Bucky all these years is that he always keeps me guessing, in one way or another. Every time I think I have him figured out, he keeps surprising me. Sometimes, I don't know what he's going to do next. What he wants from this life next or if he even knows - like most of us, I guess. Part of the reason is that he never really had a choice. I always felt that, at the end of the day, he enrolled in the Army back in the '40s mainly to protect his best friend, Steve - to go on with him and fight the good fight and keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't get hurt. After all, Steve kind of was the only family he ever had. At least, it felt that way to me.

Bucky was always a real human being to me. A young man trying to figure out his purpose - and before he could, he was captured, brainwashed and turned into a fighting machine. A Manchurian candidate, to some extent. Held against his will. Given a new identity. And for the wrong team. Bucky Barnes is all of us. And that's why Pretty intense for a comic book if you ask me. And yet real. I've never questioned why so many people related to Bucky or why so many former soldiers approached me about him, saying, "I know what he went through..." But I just knew he was real. People connected to him in a deep, profound way.

As we know, Bucky eventually regains his memory and thus all his "sins" along with it, leaving him more lost than ever and full of guilt and shame. How does he go on? How does he accept his past?

I think, for me, this was always incredible to explore, because this is a very real thing. It's human. We all must do this in life - confront our past - and some are braver than others, while others fight and run from it. But this struggle to embrace the past and move forward is something I think has always rang true about Bucky, and it's also something many people understood.

Without a doubt, he is one of the most fascinating characters I've ever played. Alongside him for fifteen years, I have met life as best as I could and questioned life as much as I could - and I feel we have grown together as a result. He's my brother, in a way. The brother I never had. And he's taught me a lot.

Bucky Barnes is all of us, and that's why he will always live on. He understood that the only way out is by going back in and truly confronting yourself. By doing so, he achieved his freedom. The freedom he lost back in the '40s. I could go on and on because he fascinates me, and I feel so blessed to have been given the chance to play him. I'm so grateful for that day: April 1, 2010. It changed my life. Thank you, Kevin.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER [MARVEL PREMIER COLLECTION] (Amazon link) by Ed Brubaker. Features an exclusive foreword by Academy Award-Nominated actor Sebastian Stan

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER [MARVEL PREMIER COLLECTION] by Ed Brubaker Features an exclusive foreword by Academy Award-Nominated actor Sebastian Stan

[adamaramma]

*SxF ch114 manga spoilers*

Muahahhahahah i am going to absolutely DEMOLISH THIS CHAPTER INTO BITS BECAUSE THERES SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT HERE >:))

(this is going to be a LONG post so PLEASE HANG IN THERE)

ALSO I KNOW IM LATE, THE SPY X FAMILY CHAPTERS ALWAYS COME OUT AT 2:00 AM ON MONDAYS FOR ME AND THEN I HAVE SCHOOL TO WORRY ABOUT PLEASE SPARE ME.

Firstly, Endo and the translators are at it again with the name puns and I am absolutely here for it lol. We have 'Falsa Chargis' (false charges) and 'Khan Spirasist' (conspiracist).

Beautifully done Endo. (also does anyone else get Ace Attorney vibes from these name puns...? No? Just me...?

alright...

Then we get this really cool panel of the First Lieutenant, Chloe, and Yuri all in their SSS uniforms, and they all look really cool and professional. (SSS Yuri is SO UNDER APPRECIATED I FEAR). I'm also very happy Chloe makes an appearance in this chapter, as i feel like the will prove to be very important to Yuri's character development later on in the series, so we'll just have to wait and see...

small little tidbit but i love this panel of Chloe being shocked at the prospect of Yuri having a date lol

Alright, now we're getting into the meat of this chapter >:)

First off, ENDO DREW YOR SO PERFECTLY IN EVERY SINGLE PANEL, LIKE SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS EVERY TIMEEEE. Her cute smile and wave is so fitting for her.

We get some scenes about Yuri obsessing over Yor, and trying to buy her something she barely looked at.

After agreeing that Yuri could buy her something she wanted, she picks out these bedsheets with stars on them, and Yuri comments on how childish it is for her to want them. AND THEN WE GET THE SWEETEST PANEL IN THE ENTIRE CHAPTER.

I've already planned on making a post about the domestication of Yor and Twilight, and this will definitely be in the post I make, but it's so sweet to see how accustomed Yor has become to the family lifestyle and being a mother to Anya that she noticed something as small as her bedsheets being worn out.

I love how Yor has been shown time and time again to be so selfless, and always thinking about what everyone else around her needs even if it's at the expense of herself. Even seeing the bedsheets and immediately thinking of Anya is SO 🥺🥺

Guys I love Yor so much she deserves everything.

Then the Briar siblings go out to dinner, and we have this hilarious misunderstanding between the two of them. Of course, we all know that she actually meant her tendency to knock Loid out with her strength lol.

Yuri claims that she's like a servant to Loid, and Yor adamantly denies it, saying she isn't being brainwashed.

(he actually needs to shut up and stop getting in the way of the twiyor moments (jk i love him so much leave him alone💔))

I will be posting a character analysis about Yuri and Yor later on, and even though I haven't started on it yet, this next panel might make an appearance in it for a good reason.

We all know that their parents passed when they were younger, and it left Yor having to take care of him all by herself, ultimately acting as a mother to him. So when she says that Anya reminds her of him, I feel like it comes from deep inside her as she reminisces about what once was.

Yuri 100% feels guilty about the fact that Yor had to take care of him from such a young age, feeling that she sacrificed her own happiness to give him a good childhood (my poor bby). But Yor comforts him by expressing her enjoyment of the days they spent together, and how it led her to where she is now.

SHE EVEN MENTIONS HOW LONELY SHE WAS WITHOUT HIM, LIKE THEY'RE SO 🥺🥺

But ever since she started living with Loid and Anya, she doesnt feel that way anymoreeee guysssss 😭😭😭

We also get this MAGNIFICENT PANEL OF YURI YUM YUM YUM YUM LOOK AT HIM

erm is it obvious how much i love them

And Yuri is still an insufferable man-child oh my gosh can he actually shut the hell up.

They get kicked out of the restaurant due to his antics, and we get more reminiscing and memories about their childhoods, with Yuri getting the idea that they should move back to their childhood town, Neilsberg and live there together.

He says he was 'happy' back then, making me think he isn't happy/ satisfied with how his life is now, and like 😭😭💔

He's still stuck in the past and refuses to go on and look at the future, which can be a symptom of unresolved trauma/ PTSD, where individuals find it difficult to move forward due to past experiences. We still don't know the specific details of how their parents died in the war. Maybe it was due to a raid or unplanned explosion, and they got caught in it while Yuri and Yor had to watch...

Yor politely declines his idea, saying that there are things that she needs to do in Berlint, and Yuri agrees with her. (sort of unrelated but another BEAUTIFUL PANEL OF YOR💗💗)

Yuri hands Yor a gift (which is actually the bedsheets she wanted to give Anya <333), and we get YET ANOTHER breathtakingly gorgeous drawing of both of the Briar siblings, and then that's the end of their interaction.

Honestly, I was quite shocked when this scene finished, and we kept following Yuri afterwards. I was fully expecting the chapter to end there, but I was pleasantly surprised, especially considering the chapter was getting pretty long at that point.

BUT IM NOT COMPLAINING BECAUSE WE GET MORE YURI CONTENT YIPPEEEEEEEEE

We get another scene of Yuri thinking about the past (MOVE ON PLEASEEE THIS CANT BE HEALTHY), and we see more of young Yuri and Yor, with Yor leading him away, not wanting to get caught in an air raid 😭😭

I like the detail of Yuri also being very hostile and vigilant all the time because of his job. And he has to make sure no one enters his room while he's away. (its giving Twilight ngl)

We FINALLY get a shot of the inside of his room, and OH MY GOSH IT LOOKS SO DULL, LIKE THERES NOTHING IN THERE IT'S SO SMALL AND LONELY MY SHAYLA😭😭😭

The layout of his room perfectly plays into his next thoughts about Yor, and how all he wanted to do and all he wants to do is make her smile, but now she feels distant :(((

aaaaaand then he ruins it all by blaming his own problems on the Forgers like BRO GET A DAMN GRIP YOU ACTUALLY SUCK SO MUCH

Wait a minute...

what...

WHAT...

WJAT IS THIS...??

ARE WE ACTUALLY GETTING SOME MATURE YURI WHO ISN'T BLAME OTHERS ON HIS PERSONAL PROBLEMS, AND IS ACTUALLY TAKING RESPONSIBILTY FOR HIS OWN ACTIONS????

Okay, i have a couple of thoughts about this screenshot, so lets discuss them all haha

NUMBER ONE is that I LOVE this character development with Yuri, as before this point, we have only ever seen him blame Loid for EVERYTHING to the point where it started to become really annoying, and Yuri felt more like a joke character rather than one with actual cohesive thoughts and a good narrative. So this is a HUGE step in the right direction for us Yuri fans hehehehehe.

NUMBER TWO is the fact that HE LOOKS SO LONELY NOOOOO. We've never seen this side of Yuri before, only being shown his overly hyper and obsessive side, so this quiet and somber scene of him is a REALLY nice change of pace and I am HERE FOR IT GIVE ME MORE ENDO PLEASE.

NUMBER THREE... guys... what the hell is this...? Ummm so, we get to see his room, which is pretty cool yayyyy.... but WHY DOES HE HAVE A WALL OF PICTURES OF HIS SISTER THATS SO WEIRDDDD WHATTTTTTTT. GUYS I ACTUALLY CANT DEFEND HIM ANYMORE LIKE THERES NO WAY I CAN JUSTIFY THIS HES SUCH A FREAK 😭😭

And then we get a really sweet scene of Yuris co-workers calling him over to have a drink with them, destroying the loneliness that consumed him only moments before. Guys this is so cuteee i swearrrr 💗💗

Also, possible Yuri x Chloe moment???????????????????

Anyways this chapter took me A BILLION YEARS TO DISSECT, but I REALLY enjoyed doing it :))

(how it feels becoming a Yuri fan a week before this chapter dropped hehehehehehehe)

(tagging @tare-chan because i wasn't actually going to make an analysis until you gave me that ask, so thank you so much :3)

[evamame]

bet.

how kenma confesses his feelings for you

kenma gets dared by kuroo to ask you out. kenma acts very nonchalant about his crush on you, but it’s obvious he’s such a wuss. even though he really likes you, he swears to himself he’ll never confess and tries to consider himself unreasonable, saying things like “it’ll pass,” and, “it’s just a stupid crush.” but one night, kuroo dares kenma to finally admit how he feels to you because he knows kenma doesn’t have the balls to do it on his own initiative.

sprawled out on the carpet in kenma’s room next to an empty box of pizza late into the evening is kuroo. admist the background noise of the show left unattended to on the tv, kuroo speaks up with a smug smirk that shows he’s up to no good. “kenma, you’re in love with y/n, right?”

“i’m not in love with her,” he states, focused on his switch in hand.

the wide and teasing grin plastered on kuroo’s face can practically be heard in his words as he replies, “you like her though. it’s obvious.”

“…” what’s he supposed to say? he can’t out right admit that he likes you, but he can’t say no either. because that would be far from the truth.

“i bet you can’t tell her how you feel.”

a long, hard sigh leaves kenma’s lips at that, but he can’t let himself loose a bet to kuroo of all people. the endless amount of jokes he’d have to endure for not being able to confess drives him insane just imagining it, so he mans up and puts down his switch to take his phone out of his pocket. that evening the texts between him and you look a little something like this:

10:37 pm kenma: hey you: hey. wsp? kenma: just got something rlly important i need to tell you you: sure, anything but you didn’t really mean anything. at least, kenma doesn’t think you really care to hear what he has to say next. kenma: i really like you you: i really like u too!! you’re a great friend is he seriously being friendzoned? kenma: not that kind of like. i like like you what? not that kind of like? that’s not something you’d ever imagine or expected would come from kenma. especially towards you. were you that oblivious? or is kenma just terrible at sending signals? you: wdym? kenma: let’s go on a date. just me n u you: u mean it? kenma: yeah you: okay. we can give this a try. see u kenma: c u

he’s a dry texter. no surprise there. but it’s hard to tell if he’s not messing around when his responses are so cut and dry. it’s unfortunate that what you can’t see is the way he flushes a deep red and starts freaking out on his end after you agree to go out with him. you also can’t see the way kuroo teases him to absolutely no end, but he doesn’t mind you not witnessing any of that.

you go on the date with him nonetheless, and although unexpected you two do hit off quite well as more than friends. he’s quiet and shy, but very thoughtful. you both have a great time together. and kenma didn’t loose a bet either, so it’s a win-win. as much as he hates to admit it, kuroo’s push really helped him get out there in a way he would have never done on his own. so now he can finally call himself yours.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[omelettewise]

Can you do a twisted wonderland x blind or mute male reader?

Characters:

Mallues, Idia + ortho and the rest is up to you. I don't mind 😼

Sorry if anything is spelled wrong. Also I wonder if Mallues and Idia can be platonic with ortho (obviously) ?

The book is collecting dust waiting for it's reader , why not give it a try ? .. another one for the pile of books by your side !

hiii ... its me again ... back umh ive decided to do it with a mute reader ! maybe ill post a blind one later (in 20 years) , i was rewriting the wattpad book .. after many misspells n cringe its back !! i love the choice of characters !! btwww the new malleus card made me go wildd THE BACK WINDOW ??? ❤️

btww (again) there might be some mischaracterization on my part since its been a while since ive actually writen not sure what the last part meant but i tried my best (i might have a favorite) (no proofread!!!!)

pronouns : you / yours

reader can be read as yuu or not (implied yuu on malleus)

– Idia barely leaves his room , so getting to know him was already hard . you two might have meet during book 6 , yet he might have seen you before because of the school cameras . He took notice of the fact that you barely talked , or talked at all .

–Idia secretly admires how you handle your muteness with grace and confidence. He wishes he had your ability to communicate without words, especially since he often struggles to find the right ones himself.

– because of him watching the cameras , now aware of the fact that you are mute due to observing your sign language as you seemed to scold grim .. in his defense the quality of the cameras is complete ass.

– Ortho was the first one to reach out for you , whether it was before or after book 6 , using himself as a translator of sign language in case any ignorant students would just ignore you.

– you warmed up to Ortho and that led you into the situation of right now .

Idia wasn't completely sure of what to do , or what to say in that matter , neither could you .. so he decided to play for a while as you sat on whatever surface you could in his bed (Ortho started to clean the room even more after that). He could feel your eyes on him , choosing to pause the game and look at you unsure of what to do but inviting you to watch him more closely .

“ I'm aware I might not be the best company right now .. but i hope you don't mind .” Idia stuttered between teeths as you took another chair and sat next to him , getting as close as physical possible with the huge gaming chair , Ortho on your right side , keeping an eye for potential sign language . A happy smile could be seen by how bright his eyes were . “ Yeah Yeah ! We adore having you here. I'm really glad Idy can have at least one Irl friend ! “ , Ortho giggled and you smiled brightly at the older Shroud , leaning in as you signed , Ortho immediately working on translation.

“ It's okay . I'm having fun just by being here ! . “

–Ortho is a curious one by nature , (look at his big ass and tell me he is not) he caught on immediately on the fact that you were mute , as i said before whether it was before or after book 6 , he was ready to lend a ‘hand’ for you to be able to communicate with people who didn't understand sign language , making your a life a lot easier , you make sure to thank him every time .

–Sometimes you and Ortho spend the rest of the day together in peace , communication between the two of you very few people can understand , as time went on Ortho may have become a very important pillar in your social life .

–He might even ask Idia to create a special accessory that can translate via detecting the movement of your hands at the moment of your signing . Ortho brings you a comforting peace whenever he is around , you can't help but love the younger brother energy he has.

Yuu and Ortho are sitting together in the Ignihyde dorm, surrounded by the soft hum of machines and glowing monitors. Ortho beams as he hands you a sleek, wrist-mounted device he and Idia have been working on.

“I call it the ‘Voice Companion!’ It translates your sign language into speech instantly, and you can customize the voice, too!” Ortho explains, his excitement palpable as he demonstrates its features.

You can't help but smile warmly and sign a heartfelt "Thank you." As the device speaks the words aloud in a gentle tone, Ortho’s eyes light up even more.

"I’ve also added a setting that lets me understand you directly through my sensors," he continues, leaning closer with genuine curiosity. "That way, even if the device isn’t working, I can still communicate with you—no tech hiccups allowed!"

Your laughter fills the room, not as sound, but in the way your eyes crinkle and your shoulders shake—a joy that Ortho immediately mirrors with his own gleeful giggles.

"Do you want to try it out during the next board game night with Idia?" Ortho asks, his enthusiasm unwavering. He’s already imagining how much easier it’ll be for you to join the conversation with his introverted brother.

You nod , your hands moving fluidly to sign, “Only if you’re on my team!” The device translates your words, but Ortho doesn’t need it to understand the teasing sparkle in your eyes. He grins and claps his hands together.

“You’ve got it! Let’s crush him together!” Ortho declares, buzzing with determination. In that moment, the bond between the two feels like its own kind of magic—a connection built on trust, creativity, and unspoken understanding.

–Malleus was curious about two things , you didn't seem to fear him, but neither did you talk  to him. It was when you communicated your name to him in sign language when he understood why.

–You being mute doesn't bother him , he probably has an uncanny ability to read your emotions through their expressions and body language. His fae senses help him pick up on even the subtlest cues, making your communication feel effortless.

–Malleus as someone who has faced isolation and misunderstanding, he is fiercely protective of you . He ensures that you are treated with respect and steps in gracefully yet firmly if anyone ever dismisses or mistreats you .

– Both you and him appreciate moments of solitude, and your relationship is built on mutual respect for each other’s need for space. This creates a tranquil world of your own where words are unnecessary.

The moonlight filters through the ancient trees of the Ramshackle yard where Malleus and you are . Fireflies dance in the gentle breeze, casting tiny glimmers across the serene pond. It’s a spot Malleus rarely shares with anyone, but tonight feels special.

Malleus crossed his arms as you leaned on the twisted trunk of an old oak, his gaze fixed on you as you signed with your hands to describe the beauty of the night. He watches your movements intently, his sharp eyes catching every flick of your fingers and every subtle change in their expression.

“I see,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You find the moon particularly enchanting tonight.”

You smile, nodding as you continue signing. Malleus moved toward the fireflies next, his hands weaving imaginary patterns in the air. You watch, your lips curving into a small, amused smile.

“You’ve captured them beautifully,” he remarks, holding his hand out to summon a small wisp of green magic. The glowing orb hovers between them, then bursts into dozens of sparkling points of light, mimicking the fireflies around you two. Your face lights up with delight as you gesture to say, Amazing.

Ortho might be my favorite ... might

[lapdogchase]

and as for 6.14 private lives. i think contextualizing it as being only a few episodes after cameron leaves is important. they haven't even signed the divorce papers yet, he's still very raw from it all and trying to figure out what he did wrong (eg., when he says "it's cameron's favorite book. i don't even know what it's about," and wilson replies, "don't do that to yourself") (or as he tells her in lockdown, "i spent months wondering how i made it go bad. if you never loved me, then i didn't do anything wrong")

after the speed-dating incident with house and wilson proves to him that he's pretty (and that women can be superficial) he's clearly ruminating on it. he so quickly is like man. this means that all women ever have only cared about me for my appearance. when he asks thirteen how good looking he is he clarifies that he's asking bc the speed definition "cost [him his] definition of [him]self. and women."-- what was he defining himself by before? what is he defining himself by now? considering how heavily he leans into the 'slut' role after this and thru s7- probably that, for a while. not in as many words, but he seems to do what's expected of him and fill any role that needs to be filled and right now that role is, again, slut.

he talks to thirteen again after he asks a nurse for her car keys and she gives them to him no questions asked- he says "i've been deluding myself that I'm actually connecting with people"- he's worried every connection he's ever made in his entire life is irrelevant because of the possibility that they only cared about him for his looks. and thirteen, who smoothly brushes over a very concerning age gap between her and her ex, tells him that he can live his life assuming people all have ulterior motives if they try to get close to him or he can accept that maybe people are just nice sometimes. it's good advice that he doesn't take. he keeps ripping himself up over this and brings it up to her again at the end of the episode, and she realizes he's so upset because he thinks cameron didn't actually love him. which she gently but firmly tells him is stupid.

he gets a few episodes of buffer time between this whole, "worrying every woman he's ever cared about only wanted to sleep with him and didn't actually care about him as a person," thing- time where he and cameron talk, and they sign the divorce papers- and when he starts sleeping around.

which, i thought started in 7.03 when he leaves after work to hook up with a woman he won't see again- but it was 7.01. when thirteen's leaving and he asks if she wants to have sex with him (because "the deadline's been moved up") and then "follows up" (his words) to "confirm" (his words) her disinterest because he would "be remiss" (his words) not to. (first of all, uncertain how he's gotten this many sexual partners when him propositioning someone sounds like he's sending an email. second of all-) i never really got the impression that chase was interested in thirteen that way at all, maybe i just missed it but i saw them as entirely platonic thru all their interactions. it seems to come out of the blue and i'm choosing to read it less as a "he's had feelings for her for a while and is just now choosing to act on them" situation and more as a "semi-desperate reach for a connection with someone," or a "this is what i'm supposed to do, this is how you connect with people"- either way, it's (understandably) denied

and it's after that when he really starts to go off the rails. which definitely isnt thirteen's fault (or cameron's fault for that matter), but after that is when we see him with a new woman every episode, his colleagues are teasing him about it, patients are noticing, it's impacting his work life, in 8.12 he finds out patients know about his chronic sleeping around because the nurses gossip about him- etc etc. it takes over his life in a way that continues well into s8

fascinated and distressed by chase's disordered relationship with sexuality + his emotions abt his own trauma & abuse

thru the beginning of the show he doesn't even realize he's hot despite being objectively attractive. when he finds out he's hot he then realizes people pretend to be interested in him as a person in order to have sex with him and gets super upset about it

he starts having a bunch of meaningless sex as a coping mechanism when cameron leaves him. and also a lot of other times. whenever something bad happens, basically, he starts going out with a bunch of women, just to feel something, presumably

^to the extent where hes known within the hospital as a slut. and has had sex with an insane amount of nurses. as well as presumably women who are not at his place of work.

he says doing this made him hate himself so he stopped. it's the b-plot for an episode and then he's back having meaningless sex again by the end of the episode

even his coworkers know this about him. and have called it out, masters even says she thinks he doesn't respect women bc, in her words, he's with a different one every few days or maybe he finds comfort in meaningless relationships

goes back to having meaningless sex within weeks of getting stabbed. which is really bad for wound healing reasons too. genuinely it seems like such compulsive behavior for him considering he keeps doing it even when its objectively not only a bad idea but actively dangerous

house even directly says he's "a serial slut" because he's "terrified of intimacy." incredibly accurate assessment

his relationship with his sexuality reads so heavily as someone who thinks they're not good for anything else

see also: dissociation & avoidance

we know he has a lot of trauma especially in childhood- he never really gets into it let alone into how he Feels about it but what we know is already bad & that's just the stuff he's okay with sharing with his coworkers or patients

in general he's very avoidant of his own trauma- when he gets stabbed he says he "can't change what happened, can only make better choices from here" as if it was his own fault, and refuses thru the whole episode to acknowledge that being traumatized by this would be a really normal reaction that he is definitely having. instead he just blames himself

also, he dissociates from traumatic things that happen to him - says "there was a stabbing" rather than "i was stabbed" for instance

when he's talking abt his childhood trauma he does it in a very similar way - he talks about it very bluntly and doesn't ever get into how he actually feels about it.

see also: dr. fawn response

general passive willingness to go along with anything- when cameron says they should have sex in s3 he's surprised and then he just kinda goes along with it. not bc he didn't want to bc he obviously did, but he's just generally very much someone who does whatever other people want him to do. i feel like he and cameron both tend to seek validation thru sex in an unhealthy way that i'm still gnawing on like a dog with a bone i have to go rewatch s3 to really articulate it though

he has a sort of desperation for praise and approval especially from anyone he views as an authority figure. he does whatever authority figures tell him out of this idea that it'll bring him approval and therefore safety

like no matter what house does or says to him he doesn't argue or retaliate or anything. even when house punches him he collapses on the ground in pain and then just keeps talking about the patient like nothing happened.

the scene in 3.10 after house punches him where he's in the ddx room and house walks in and throws the file at him and chase is startled and tries to pretend he's not. and he looks up with this huge fuck ass bruise on his jaw swallows heavily and pretends not to be upset. and house asks if he got that looked at as if he wasn't the one to give it to him and chase just swallows and says he's fine. dr fawn response :(

[belphegorsheart]

faith ㅤ᭢ ܍ tom riddle

the golden boy of slytherin house is a largely inaccessible figure— few know much of him past his charm and all too thin smile. which leaves you to wonder… who is he really?

main course tom riddle x reader

details one-shot, gender neutral reader

perfect tom riddle. prefect, head boy; amiable with just about everyone, considerate, top of his class. all while hailing from meager beginnings— an orphan, raised among impoverished muggle children without a clue about the true extent of his power. humble tom riddle, gracious tom riddle. this is the persona that the students of hogwarts have become acquainted with over the seven years he has spent roaming its hallowed halls.

it is also a facade.

and you know it.

perhaps it was your intuition… or maybe it was the fact that your ‘closeness’ with tom gave you a closer look into his psyche than most would be privy to. but you don’t understand. if he is aware of how you are scrutinizing him and his every intention, he hides it very well.

“what is it?” you snap to attention as tom’s voice cuts through your internal monologue.

both of you are hunched over desks in the slytherin commons, the stacks upon stacks of tomes barring your view of him. you hum noncommittally in reply.

“oh, nothing.” you plant your cheek in your palm, tapping your quill relentlessly against the table. this is entirely purposeful. you’ve noticed that every single time you do it— if only for a split second— you spot undisguised disdain on tom’s face. a split second of irritation before he corrects himself in some vain attempt to appear more tolerant than he really is.

“… you keep staring. is there something you wish to discuss?” his tone is clipped, moderate. the politeness grates on you.

you hesitate, not wanting to rock the fragile stilts of the ‘connection’ you have to tom. referring to it as “a relationship” feels like an exaggeration of the truth; despite the rumors that have made their way from every seventh to first year that you and tom are romantically involved. they aren’t unfounded, either… after all, he walks you everyday from potions to charms, studies with you, brings you as his date to all of professor slughorn’s parties, and every day you are the only person that he is seen alone with on a regular basis.

tom riddle is easily the most well liked boy in hogwarts. the only person unenchanted by him is professor dumbledore, though you don’t have a clue why. perhaps he sees what you do— that lack of a glimmer in his eyes. the little lie.

he compliments you, smiles just when it’s right and tells you all that he knows you’d like to hear. saccharine promises where he smoothly assures you that you are special and clever and more than what other people say you are. and the flattery would go right to your head, the way it has to slughorn and many of tom’s eager followers, but it doesn’t. because while he may lie, his eyes may not.

there is no true soul or emotion behind his kindness, no real admiration or passion. you wondered at first, if this was your fault. if he simply reserved his affections for other, more important people. but you observed tom closely. this performance of his was for all eyes, it seemed. but why? why would he need to pretend? what was he hiding?

“you’re doing it again…” tom sits silently before he chuckles, though even that feels rehearsed. “if there is something troubling you, you may confide in me.”

“is there something you want from me?” the words have slipped out before you can reign them in. “i’m sorry, i just… i simply don’t understand your interest in me.”

“do you mean to imply i have ulterior motives?” tom asks teasingly. you pay close attention to the undertone of condescension in his voice.

“no, no, not at all!” you start, oh so tentatively broaching the topic… “i’d like to know you better. i feel as if… i don’t understand you.”

“is that so?” you can’t see him past the books, but you imagine he’s turned smug at this. “i don’t believe you do.”

“that i want to know you, or that i don’t understand you?” you snip back.

“both.” tom replies curty.

“but i do… i want to understand you.” you move a stack of books out of the way so that you can make proper eye contact with him. “there’s more.” you go on, leaning forward in your chair.

he raises his eyebrow as indication for you to continue. you oblige. “i was simply… confused. about our status. there are rumors, after all…”

“about?” tom asks, acting as if he has no idea.

“our… relation… to each other.” your skin prickles with heat as you avert your gaze from his. tom’s beauty is transcendent, everyone knows it… he gets his way so easily. it disarms you.

“is that so…” tom hums, and gingerly places his quill on the desk. “what about it?”

“are we friends, or… more? forgive me if my assumptions are unfounded, but after you had asked me to accompany you to slughorn’s party, i thought that was…” you trail off, flustered.

“is that what you desire?” he asks. you chew on your lip thoughtfully… do you? and before you can answer, he does for you. “i suppose it is their expectation, considering our… closeness. we are both top of our year after all.”

“but…” you begin, biting your tongue.

he raises his eyebrow. “yes?”

“when you look at me… there’s… nothing there. you smile, but, there’s no… warmth.” you stare holes into your textbook. you don’t want to see whatever expression he’s carefully practiced to evoke guilt in you.

it does not come. “you are far too observant for your own good.”

tom’s eyes are just the same as they almost always are when you believe he is not performing— cold, soulless, and entirely apathetic. but you’ve been given a moment of grace to be able to see this true and honest facet of him.

“i know you. we’ve spoken at length. i know you have ambitions… so do i.” his manner of speech is so utterly clinical that it unnerves you. “i have seen you, when you believe you are alone. i see no reason to prolong a charade when our interests are aligned.”

“what interests?” you ask, your throat suddenly feeling incredibly dry.

“you have something… that i want to use.” tom smiles sardonically, his eyes narrowed. “i have made friends in our year who share my vision for the world. but there is something to be gained here for the two of us.”

“what do you have that i could want?” his chair creaks as he makes his way over to your side of the desk. he leans forward, his arms folded behind him.

“information.” he slowly produces a book from inside his coat— a book you recognize. one on enchantments that have been banned from libraries across the globe… with entries on the philosopher’s stone. immortality has always been of interest to you. how did he get it out of the restricted section?

“it’s incredibly simple. i get what i want, as do you.” how can someone be so detached? so utterly lacking in humanity, and feeling?

“if i refuse?” you expect him to react with frustration, but he doesn’t. he just smirks, as if he’s already got you in the palm of his hand.

“have you ever heard the term, ‘mutually assured destruction’?” tom drawls, as if the fright on your face is entertaining him.

“you don’t have anything on me.” you stand up, pushing your chair in and looking to dust off your coat and head out. but he grabs your wrist icily.

“oh, but i do,” he tilts his head. “you see, i seem to recall a certain someone being incredibly helpful to me during my fifth year. unwittingly, albeit, i doubt that matters when you’ve lied to our headmaster...”

and that’s when your blood runs cold. “no.”

“you should consider it a compliment. i wouldn’t have divulged anything, had you been more daft.” tom lets his hand skate over the desk, to the leather bound notebook he always keeps close to his person. “i’d like to employ your assistance.”

he’s right by your ear, and it’s as if all your nerve endings have been set alight. you’re terrified, and unfortunately, your feelings have passed a dark shroud your judgment. privately, you curse the rapid beating of your heart.

“why do you think i requested favors, then? asking you to make excuses for my absences to our professors?” tom closes in on your personal space, so horrifyingly aware of the effect his presence has on you. “the basilisk killings had just begun. you had an inkling, didn’t you? some part of you must have realized… how when i disappeared, the slaughter would begin again… and oh, when i asked you to claim you’d seen that oaf hagrid let his foul beast attack that filthy little mudblood …”

you panic, your eyes going wide. “no, you— you told me he had done it, that it was the right thing to do, that he was—”

“you knew,” he hisses lowly, keeping your wrist in his grasp as he raises it in the air. “you knew it wasn’t him. but you took my side… because you fancy me.” and tom sneers so cruelly as he says it.

your voice wavers. “no, that’s not why i…” you’re silenced as tom collects both your wrists in one hand, his nose brushing yours. wordlessly, he uses his free hand to grasp your chin roughly. you feel his breath against your face, and it’s so unbearably overwhelming as your heart jumps from your throat to pound on your ears—

“that is all the proof i need.” he mocks, releasing your wrists and stepping away from you.

you stagger in front of the desk, clutching your chest as you breathe heavily, still delirious and caught in shock.

“entertain this charade with me. consider it a kindness that i’ve deigned to play the role of your paramour.” tom waves his hand in the air, collecting his books, and inconspicuously tucking the stolen tome into his coat. “you’re a pureblood, and proficient enough in spells to be useful to me. you will do nicely.”

“i don’t understand,” you choke out. “what is it that you truly want from me?”

a smirk grows on his face, as if he’s thinking of some inside joke he has with himself.

“… you will carry a shard of my soul.”

[oraclemoontarot]

what type of streamer would you be and what would you get cancelled for? | pac tarot reading

from left to right, top to bottom -> pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, pile 4

pile 1

What type of streamer would you be?

cards pulled: four of wands, page of cups, sun, eight of wands, knight of swords

As a streamer, you would be quite successful and have such a wholesome bond with your chat/fans. There is this sweet, childlike and fun character to you that immediately draws people in. You may play fantasy or chill games, maybe some indie or a game like inzoi. At most, you may play games like valorant, final fantasy and stardew valley. Overall, you would bring so much positivity, warmth and energy - you may remember people from your chat and engage with them, creating a loyal fanbase. You'd always be excited to try new things and it would be so contagious. I also got that you would have a special name for your fanbase that just sticks - you would be insane at branding your streamer identity, making you easily identifiable and memorable, leading to a steady progress in gaining traction and fame.

What would you get cancelled for?

cards pulled: king of swords, five of wands, eight of wands, four of pentacles, seven of pentacles reversed

oops. It seems like you might have drama with a popular streamer. You were too impulsive when you should have kept your thoughts to yourself - maybe saying something out of pocket or an attack which doesn't end in your favour. You wouldn't be patient when you should have been, causing you to get cancelled. It doesn't help that this streamer was well respected and popular, so people easily jumped the bandwagon, not hearing you out, and choosing to defend them instead.

pile 2

What type of streamer would you be?

cards pulled: page of wands, two of pentacles, six of cups, moon, page of cups

As a streamer, you would be so fun, witty and energetic. You would create such a loving, friendly community, always exchanging conversation with your fans and they would appreciate you so much. It reminds me a little of the original youtubers who have their old fans look back on them with a sense of nostalgia. That's what you would have, you would leave such a gentle, lasting impact on your fans. You would be quite a mystery too, someone who doesn't share too much about their life, maybe even working full-time whilst being a streamer. Everyone would be so intrigued by you, possibly even theorising what kind of person you are outside of streaming. You may be popular in the just chatting category - reacting to things, doing q&a's, trying out recommended games - I am thinking someone like CaseOh, but more chill, or a genshin-like streamer, where they explore a game but spend most of their time interacting with their chat because, for you, building those connections with your fans is way more important. It's like you want to give them a nice experience and hope to brighten their day.

What would you get cancelled for?

cards pulled: seven of wands, five of wands, three of wands, moon, three of cups

Lowkey, this really is giving genshin streamer with the amount of friendship drama that happens online rather than in private. You may escalate the conflict and be a little hard-hitting, which drives people to feel a little uncertain about you. It doesn't help that you were already a mystery, so now people are confused further after seeing this new, unexpected side. People online would be a little hypocritical as these conflicts are normal amongst friends, though they did wish, despite it being entertaining, that this was kept in the DMs... Once this all blows over, some fans will either terrified of you or have a newfound respect towards you.

pile 3

What type of streamer would you be?

cards pulled: king of swords, page of pentacles, ace of pentacles, judgment, ten of cups

You would be very intelligent, detailed and witty as a streamer. You may be someone who gives people advice, maybe creating guides and completing games from back to front, getting all the achievements. If you do play games, then you would also be quite skilled and people would look up to you - you may join an esports team. Something of that level, where you would just continue to level up. Out of all the piles so far, you would have the biggest community of fans, someone who is well-loved and respected. You may donate a lot to your supporters, and receive donations back. You would be quite successful in the money department overall. You would also be the best communicator here.

What would you get cancelled for?

cards pulled: wheel of fortune, four of swords, nine of pentacles, page of wands, hierophant

Rather than getting cancelled, it seems like you would want to take a break from fame, finding it draining and preferring to just move on and enjoy the fruits of your labour, which would make you super excited. You would be happy when telling your community you want a break from streaming/content creating and your fans would be sad but would ultimately respect your decision. It seems like you would want to just enjoy your life, home, and maybe even pursue education or a traditional career path of some sorts. You may even settle down with a partner which is what gives you confidence in your decision.

pile 4

What type of streamer would you be?

cards pulled: eight of pentacles, knight of cups, ten of cups, nine of pentacles, high priestess

Can I just say, you would be the ideal streamer, pile 4. You would put in so much effort, possibly streaming every day and uploading content across various platforms. You would be consistent and that wouldn't go unnoticed by your community. Your fans would support you so much, finding a deep bond with you, like a family. Just like pile 1, your branding would be top-notch and recognisable. You would be the streamer everyone wishes for, the one who does all the little things for their fans. This could be acknowledging as much of the chat and donations you can, regardless of fame - as some streamers may start to ignore it due to it being too much. You would intuitively know what to do, what to say, how to act and what content would bring you the most success. It seems like, out of everyone here, you might be the most open to various games and content. This could be from cosplay, to different genres of games, maybe even doing things outside of your home, like irl streaming/vlogging.

What would you get cancelled for?

cards pulled: wheel of fortune, sun, king of swords, six of wands, page of wands

oops... Something unexpected, like from the past, may resurface for some of you. For others, fame may have negative consequences towards your overall image. You may end up saying something a little too bold, maybe a political take, or a personal opinion of sorts that rubs people the wrong way. Some may mistake you as being arrogant when that just isn't the case, it simply breeds from a place of jealousy. But, because of your success and strong, loyal fanbase, it seems like this cancellation wouldn't be of much significance, if any. You would bounce back and continue on with your streaming career as though this had never happened. Some people may bring this up again occasionally, but most people would be tired about it and start attacking those who won't let it go (which would be amusing to you lmao)

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

This isn't related directly to the current Discourse (TM) about Iggy Fingers and racism, but I'd like to point out that the two most thematically important people in Ed's life are Mama Teach and Stede. And there is a lot to be said about how indigenous women are treated (i.e. discarded) in various narratives, but there is something to be said about how Mama Teach influences and permeates the narrative despite having so little screen time. Ed's actions as a young boy, spurred by his desperate need to protect himself and his mama from his abusive father, are corrosive and defining moment of his entire childhood. He literally carries a piece of his mama (the red silk) close to his heart. We spend so little time with Mama Teach, but she's also kind of...always there, she's been there since the very first time we meet Ed (he's had the red silk the entire time, let's not forget).

One of the big reasons all this "Ed is abusive/Ed has anger issues/Ed is just like his dad!!!" stuff confuses and pisses me off so damn much is because like. Back in June of 2022, soon after I finished bingeing all of Season 1, I saw a lot of completely serious takes equating Ed's behavior towards Iggy as equivalent to Ed's dad abusing his mother. And those takes made me uncomfortable and baffled, but, you know, didn't want to start shit so I just blocked and moved on. But those takes have stuck with me all this time, not just because they are so blatantly wrong and very anti-canon but also because they kind of miss a fundamental aspect of Edward Teach that the show clearly wants us to notice. And you know, I made a post about this before, but I'm going to say it again.

During this scene that is being played for comedy (because, you know, it's a romantic comedy) where Ed is essentially recreating a family unit that is familiar to him, there are likely intentional parallels between this recreated family unit (father, son, mother) and the family unit he grew up in. But in this recreated family unit, Ed is taking on the role of his mama. We even have a (comical, but again I'm sure they did this on purpose) rehash of what we see in that Season 1 flashback, violence breaking out during a meal! Yeah, sure, this is being played for laughs but I really can't imagine the writers would make such strong parallels completely by accident and not intend this to mean something. Also, I have watched a lot of shows that have very serious scenes being played for laughs because the comedy aspect is meant to off-set what would otherwise be deeply uncomfortable and a jarring shift in tone. Ed's suicidal spiral at the start of Season 2 also does this, blending comedy with drama. I actually think it's a keystone of how Ed is written and in general how this show approaches these serious topics while maintaining tone. The "snail fork" scene being the perfect example. The racist French captain calling Ed what amounts to/is clearly meant to be read by the audience as a racial slur and Ed (understandably!!) getting very angry and having the guy skinned with a snail fork in what is meant to be both serious and a comedy beat in context.

Idk guys. Maybe let's stop focusing on Iggy Fingers for a hot second and think about how Ed's love for his mama is so strong and beautiful and eternal and in many ways the show seems to want us to draw parallels between Ed and his mother? Like. You can argue about how "people who are abused abuse people" and shit like that, but OFMD doesn't seem interested in turning abuse victims into abusers. It seems more interested in exploring how abuse victims (like Ed and Stede, for example) can easily fall back into the pattern of seeking out abusive relationships and/or validation from people who remind them of their abusers. Yeah, obviously abuse victims can abuse people, but they can also be trapped in a cycle of victimhood because they seek comfort in relationships that recreate this abusive dynamic.

And I'd just like to point this out: Stede also had an abusive dad who treated him like shit. And he was physically and emotionally bullied for a great deal of his life!! But the worst thing we ever see Stede do is neglect his wife and kids, which is bad but he never like. Treats them the way his dad treated him. And Stede isn't perfect especially at the start of the show, he has some racist tendencies to unlearn and some realizations he needs to make, but even when he's putting himself in the role of patriarch on The Revenge he never abuses any members of his crew, even though he is literally part of a culture where stuff like that is normalized. For all of Stede's faults, he genuinely doesn't want his crew to experience what he did as a child (an angry emotionally and physically abusive patriarch, constant bullying from his peers, etc.). And you know, if we can accept that Stede grew up with an abusive dad and actively chose to never recreate that abusive dynamic even in an environment where such actions are encouraged, I think we can also make the very easy realization that we are not meant to read Ed as an abuser/future abuser who takes after his dad. Because a big part of this show is that neither of these men take after their shitty dads.

Anywayyy go listen to "Suffocation" by Against Me!, a song that I feel encapsulates Ed and Stede so well. And while you're listening to that, I'd also recommend "Delicate, Petite, & Other Things I'll Never Be", which is an Edward Teach song if I've ever heard one. Peace and love on Planet Earth.

[eldritchenochian]

spoilers for Stardust Rhapsody season 2 (eps 15 & 16) below

stardust rhapsody is (was? idk.) my favorite Legends of Avantris campaign. I've watched the first season upwards of 5 times now, and almost all of the fics and fanart I've made have been related to it. it got me through some pretty rough times.

I am disappointed with season 2, so far.

the whole idea of "all of that was just a story, and very little of it actually happened" just feels very. not great.

all those characters we love and connected to, including Pyke who told the story, are not at all what we know now. some characters weren't even real to begin with.

what was the point? both of caring about the characters, and retconning it all? it feels bad to have a set of characters that I spent so much time dedicated to- drawing, writing, analyzing, relating to- just to be told "none of that matters cause it didn't actually happen, also there's a copium leak in here".

we do not know these characters anymore. Pyke has proven to be an unreliable narrator- the past what, 2 years? of character development and recordings and story building mean nothing, because it's been made out to be an embellished story riddled with lies and barely truths. we don't know if the Pyke and Rett from the first season are the real Pyke and Rett or just a lie told by Pyke- same with everyone else. their backstories too- Pyke isn't even actually a racer. Leo doesn't exist, Rex is just some random guy- who knows what else about the crew was made up. Kavir and Dandy's backstories too, probably. which, ouch.

maybe it's stupid, because these are fictional characters. maybe I'm just not smart enough to enjoy the "story within a story" trope here. idk.

I get that they threw the campaign together relatively quickly, and thought the characters didn't mesh super well together (that second one is bs, they were peak found family, and the crew even said they qere the most stable party after the icebound crew). I get that they planned to do this for a very long time. but there were better ways they could've gotten rid of Leboosh and Chuckles. which I'm also upset about, but. not important in the face of throwing away 14 episodes of canon.

I guess I just feel like I've been made to feel stupid for getting attached to a handful of characters and expecting that their story would go in a direction that I enjoyed.

also I don't like Glup. I know he and Quibly are supposed to be comic relief, but he doesn't really feel like a character. he can't even talk directly, Derek has to do interpretation as Quibly. sure it's funny, but he can't meaningfully contribute to conversations, or planning, or interacting with non party members unless they speak his language. I know they're going for the Han Solo and Chewbacca type relationship, but idk. it doesn't appeal to me in this format. Chuckles was a fully fledged character, Glup is mainly a bit that's been turned into a character.

now I may be completely wrong about this, but it feels like they're trying to change the direction of stardust from something a little more lore based with bits of humor at points, to something more humor based with a sprinkle of lore at times. like another campaign that the algorithm and shorts really really love. nothing wrong with being more marketable, but doing it at the expense of good characters and great stories just feels bad.

for those who were there with me in Discord last night while we watched it live, don't get me wrong, I had fun. it was fun to theorize about what was actually going on, maybe this was real, maybe this was all a coma dream- until the cast addressed it and debunked it themselves. I'll be honest towards the end of episode 15 and all of 16 I saw (I bailed early, which is insane), I was not having fun. all I could think about is the fact that some of these characters don't matter as much to them as they do us, and that they are willing to get rid of them because they don't like them anymore. which campaign could be next? what if when Witchlight comes back, they pull this again, and one or even two characters leave in a heartbreaking, unsatisfying way? what then?

I desperately hope this is something I cam get used to, like they said on stream it may take some folks a while to come around to the change. I really hope so. please don't ruin stardust for me Avantris I BEG