#it's the return of the neon font

[pharawee]

Every decision has its binary choices. Which choice should I take?

[pittifullyyours]

Pink Doughnuts - Dr Jack Abbot x F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: You left Pittsburgh with a cavernous hole in your heart, and return to find pieces of it shattered across the floor years later. In fact, you ran far, far away. But will a honky tonk bar, Dana’s birthday and hazel eyes that make you feel like the world will collapse from under your feet somehow draw you back in?

Notes: So…this is my first time posting ANYTHING on any forums, let alone Tumblr or AO3, in about 9 years. Please forgive a starved wannabe-hobbyist writer for any mistakes.

This has not been beta’d. I’m honestly terrified to let another single person read it…so it only made sense to let it loose on the world at once right?

In saying that, please please please let me know if you are enjoying this little teaser of a chapter. I’ve got a whole lot more lined up, but am utterly terrified that I’ll do a disservice to my people.

The Pitt and Jack Abbott have sufficiently ruined my life. I cannot stop the mania. Hope you enjoy!

All my work is my own, yadda yadda. Reposting is not permitted on any other platforms without my express consent and appropriate credit.

AO3: Pittifully_Yours

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Your footsteps echo quietly into the night air as you slowly come to halt in front of the bar doors.

The thrum of the night coming alive in the city was normally electrifying - music spilling from bars as doors are pulled open and closed, laughing and love-sick couples walking arm-in-arm, cab horns piercing as they push along groups of young people making their way around, so engrossed in each other and oblivious to the world around them. You took a deep breath, feeling part of your chest rattle a little at the familiar sounds, smells…it felt like home.

And as soothing a thought as that was, you can’t wipe the furrowed brows from your face as you peer up at the huge, neon sign spelling out ‘THE TWO STEP’ in multicoloured lights. Of course the mandated cowboy hat dangled over the bright letters, almost like it was tipped in a nod of welcome.

And yet you continued to stare at the dark oak doors, adorned with brushed brass knobs, almost as if waiting for it to magically come to life and tell you to hurry up and come in from the cool Pittsburgh winds.

‘This is such a dumb idea,’ you mumble under your breath. But it’s not like you were here of your own volition - hell, you hadn’t even stepped foot in a Honky Tonk bar before. And never even realised this particular one existed in the countless years you resided in Pittsburgh.

But for Dana, you’d move mountains. Three weeks ago, your email tone had ‘bing’ed on your phone and you couldn’t stop the smile that had pulled softly at your mouth once you read the name of the sender.

‘Hey kid,

Would love it if you can make it, understand if you can’t though. Miss you.

Big hugs,

Dana’

The email attachment was clearly (and very cleverly) designed by one of her daughters, decorated in old school, Western movie-style fonts, outlines of cowboy boots, and spelling out the pertinent birthday party details. It stated that it was a big one for Dana, but didn’t specify an exact number. Not that it particularly mattered - no one would dare ask Dana anyway.

But that was how you found yourself on the sidewalk in front of the bar, decked out in an old band t-shirt, one of those little skirts with fringes dangling down the sides sitting just above your knees, and a pair of black heeled boots. Still, rooted in place, heart skipping in a way that you knew was anxiety and not something more concerning, and still frowning at the door to the damn place.

A little voice in your head just echoed the sentiments from before, about how stupid this was, how it could become a really awkward night, and how being gone for 3 years might make this more un-welcoming than you’d ever imagined.

But a more certain thought came to the forefront of your consciousness, with clarity and sincerity - ‘for Dana’.

And so you took a deep breath, a few steps towards the entrance and turned the door handle to the bar.

********************************************************************************************************

The inside of ‘The Two Step’ was dimly lit, but still emitted a warm glow. Various glowing beer brands, photos of famous country music legends and more neon letters spelling out cheesy phrases on across the walls. Fairy lights stream above the dance floor, and in front of the hardwood floors that are scuffed from years of stomping boots, is a live band covering what you recognise as a modern country song from the long drive that got you here.

And as you take in the faint smell of leather, sweet barbecue grease from the kitchen and stale beer, you hear your name shouted from further in and snap your head forward to see a huge, lopsided grin on the beautiful blonde walking your way, arms already outstretched.

You step into the hug that exuded warmth - maternal, loving and cherished in every sense of the word.

“It’s been too long, kid. We’ve seriously missed you.” Dana whispers to you.

“And I can’t believe you let them throw you a cowboy-themed 21st birthday again”, you reply, mirth dripping all over your words as Dana pulls away to scan your face. Her eyes bore into every part of you, ignoring your teasing and scanning, as if you needed medical clearance to stay at her birthday party.

“If I buy you enough tequila shots tonight, do we get to see you on the mechanical bull?” you continue, while she finishes appraising you, seeming to find some kind of answer in your face that she’s semi-content with in her evaluation and throws you a wry smile.

“Fuck no, ain’t enough tequila in the world for that shit.” she scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of the massive mechanical bull penned off in the corner of the bar.

“But I reckon if we team up and give Whiticker just enough,” she continues, pinching her fingers together to show the fine balance of her proposal, “he’ll have the ride of his life.”

You throw your head back as a wicked cackle escapes you and the glint in Dana’s eyes turn from scheming to warm concern in a matter of milliseconds. Her hands are on the top of your arms, almost as if she wants to keep you glued in place.

“Seriously though, you doin’ okay over in California, hon?”

“I’m okay, promise” you breathe, a light smile tugging at your lips at the sight of her worry. “Seriously, it’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. The sun’s always out, the food is amazing, and the hospital I’m at is great. But the charge nurse could probably use some of your pizzazz.”

You wink at her, but your attempt to appear blasé falls flat as the worry still reigns supreme over Dana.

“Okay,” she says with an almost sigh, “just don’t go turning into one of those assholes doing dog yoga on the beach with a kale smoothie. Then I’ll know I’ve lost ya forever.”

“Never”, you whisper in a hushed, solemn voice - nodding your head and making direct eye contact like it’s the most serious vow you’ve ever sworn.

She nods her head back at you, seeming to shake off the air of concern.

“Come on, kid, there’s a few people that have been itching to see you”, Dana says. She leads you by the hand further into the bar, and you look up to see a few familiar faces sprinkled throughout different sections of the venue.

You smile at the thought of all these people here to celebrate Dana; an ode to the woman she was and the way in which people gravitate around her.

You almost crash into her as she suddenly stops and spins towards you again, face pulled into a grimace and realisation suddenly dawning in those eyes.

“What now?” you joke, eyebrows pulled upwards in surprise - Dana was never caught off guard. Her face grimaced a little, looking like she was dreading whatever she was about to say. You stood there in silence with her for a second, face confused but waiting for her to spit whatever it was out.

“Jack’s here, y’know”, she mentions in a soft exhale. She almost cringing at having to tell you this piece of information - a heads up, word of warning, cautionary offering in whatever shape it took.

Not that it mattered, since you already knew.

Less so of a ‘knowing’ and more of a ‘sensing’.

The skin-prickling awareness, heavy and filled with something more than a cursory glance that you had felt as soon as the bell on the bar door had chimed the announcement of your entry. You knew the bell’s chime was too quiet to be heard against the strumming of the band and the voice crooning in the microphone, the laughter and sound of beer glasses clinking to rest on sticky tables around the bar.

But he heard it anyway. You felt those eyes tracking your every movement, head to toe, step by step as you moved through the space - and that felt familiar too.

Like pulling on an old sweater that lay discarded over summer and is picked up as the cooler months creep in. Well worn, sliding over your skin and giving you goosebumps of familiarity. The weight of his gaze from somewhere in this bar was a sensation you knew well.

Revelled and cherished in, once.

Sought out with hunger, even rage sometimes.

And a sensation you didn’t know what to do with anymore.

Your gaze pulls over Dana’s shoulder, sensing that his close proximity in this direction caused the crashing-to-a-halt-to-give-a-warning approach to this whole conversation.

And just as the motion of someone moving away from one of the wooden, circular tables on the opposite side of the bar catches your eye, there you see him.

Staring directly at you from across the room.

Sitting with a few others, cradling a beer glass in his hand and completing ignoring the conversations occurring around him.

Hazel eyes locked on you - pinning you in that spot, not daring to breathe while he holds onto your gaze with a powerful grip. You stare back, rising to the challenge and forcing yourself to suck in a breath.

Seconds that feel like a millennia pass. You’re struggling to gulp down air, and would be worried about the bar having a carbon monoxide poisoning issue with the accompanying head spins you were currently wading through…but you know it was just him. The effect he had on you - gripping, and unending, and unshakeable even with your mightiest efforts.

Those eyes, flecked with green and brown that you knew well, struck a magically fine balance of looking hard and broken at the same time.

The thumping of boots towards and on the dance floor as the band picked up the pace behind you now seemed like a distant echo.

And it isn’t until Dana softly grabs hold of your arm, gently saying your name in a tone that’s not unlike soothing a child, that you finally snap out of it.

You were prepared for this, this little voice echoes in your head. He’ll probably avoid you, and you stay as far away as possible, and it’ll all be fine.

You force your eyes to make contact with Dana’s, who has evidently returned to the state of worry and concern you had literally just appeased with your smiles and jokes earlier.

“It’s fine, Dana” you say, the most superficially composed smile growing on your face.

You berate yourself into projecting an easy calm in your voice, ignoring the twitching of your fingers and repressing the urge to cross your arms and curl into yourself. God, it was her birthday - she didn’t need to be fretting on you like this.

“We’re all big boys and girls here. It’s really not a problem!”

Fuck, if only your voice hadn’t squeaked at the end of that sentence and given away the cracks in your false confidence.

Dana’s eyebrow furrowed again, eyes squinting and seemingly assessing the bullshit you were pouring forth. Equally assessing whether now was a good time to call you on it.

“Listen, if-“

A squeal accompanied by arms wrapped around you quite literally yanked you from the conversation, spinning your around and finding the face of one Cassie McKay.

“I can’t believe you made it” she semi-squealed, pulling you into a fierce hug. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this face!”

You hear Dana sigh, followed by a familiar male voice as you’re pulled from Cassie’s arms.

“Hey! Stop hogging her!” Frank bellowed, only semi-joking. You are again torn from Cassie’s embrace into the quick but tight one from Langdon, smiling and winking over his shoulder at Mel.

“Jesus, can you stop pulling me around like a rag doll please? You’re gonna give a girl a complex!”, you chuckle.

Frank’s stint at rehab had left him angry at the world - torn between hating himself for every misstep that landed him there, and everyone else around him. As soon as you had heard about it all though (via your group chat with Princess and Perlah), you started messaging him across the platforms. Text, Instagram, Facebook, you name it. Initially, you were thoroughly iced out - 3.5 weeks of complete and utter silence on his end in response to your incessant, one-sided jabbering. It took an absolutely repugnant TikTok video link to a video comparing animals with their celebrity look-alikes that finally broke the ice.

“Are you sure you aren’t the one who should be monitored 24/7 and in a 12 step program right now?”, was all you got back from Frank. But you knew it was enough to remind him that the sibling-like bond you had forged in the trenches of the Pitt were not forgotten to time or distance. And so you kept it up, sending him inane videos and memes, knowing it would make him scoff a laugh and question your sanity - even after his time at the facility was done and he had returned to work.

“You look pretty good for someone who spent 6 months in a padded cell,” you joke, still holding onto his shoulders.

“It was rehab, you asshole, not a goddamn asylum from the 1950s.” He replies, shaking his head but still laughing quietly.

“Whatever. Just count yourself lucky Mel seems to like them a little bit coo-coo…”

You make circle motions on the side of your head in the universal sign for “crazy”, winking and laughing as you duck behind Frank to give Mel a warm hug (and sweep stealthily away from an arm gesture you knew meant he was coming to pull and / or mess up your hair).

Mel giggled into your shoulder as you said hello, and you fist-bumped a greeting to Whitaker who stood behind her shoulder.

You hear Dana’s name being called from a distance, and wave her off with a ‘go, go’ motion while you caught up with the rest of the group that had corralled around you, smiling in re-assurance to the charge nurse to take her leave comfortably.

Before you know it, a glass was dangling in front of your face, connected to a familiar arm stretched over your head. You reach the glass filled with what looks to be your standard drink order, and turn to find Robbie with a small, hesitant smile on his face.

“Hey there, stranger.” He quips, “Reckon it’s my turn for a hello hug?”

You could spot the awkwardness on him from a mile away. The drink was the alcoholic equivalent to an “I come in peace” sign to an alien - cautious, attempting to be friendly, but fully prepared to be rebuked.

A part of you that had hardened over the years cracked, seeping a slight warmth into your veins at the sight of him expecting to be shunned by association.

You pulled him into a death grip - eyes welling a bit, and a deep breath echoing through you at the friend, the mentor, the truest kind of family you used to know wrapping his arms around you.

“I tried to call,” he mumbled weakly into your shoulder, almost pathetically.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you whispered back.

“I thought you hated me.” He replies pathetically.

You pull away, connecting his slightly watery gaze to yours.

“Never.”

You quickly dab at your face, making sure mascara wasn’t leaking from the outpouring of love you never expected to be graced with in his bar, while Robbie makes quick work to do the same on his zip up jacket sleeve.

“Now,” you begin, “where is my ridiculously hot best friend who happens to be married and spawning offspring with you?”

“Putting said offspring turned hellion to bed before the babysitter arrives,” he chuckles.

You smack his arm and gasp, putting an exaggerated hand to your chest.

“Don’t you dare speak about my godson like that. He is a ray of sunshine and I’ll hear nothing else on the matter.” You defend, frowning at him with a threat in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robbie replies, shaking his head, “tell that to me when he’s standing over you, breathing heavily and whispering about chicken nuggets under his breath at 3am while you’re trying to sleep.”

You cackle at the vision of it all, laughing harder at the thought of Gray’s curly head of hair and deep chocolate eyes looming above Robbie every night like something that needed to be exorcised.

“Heaven help me when she gets here…” he begins rubbing a hand up and down his face, the picture of exhaustion at their years of antics together.

“Ahhh shut up, you’ve missed me,” you chide, softly elbowing his stomach after he turns to stand beside you and his arm wraps around your shoulder.

Robbie sighs deeply.

“We really have, Y/N. We really have.”

You smile quietly, before Robby continues.

“And not just the day shift…”

Your sharp intake of breath is enough for Robbie to know he’s said too much, or the wrong thing altogether. His eyes are tainted with an apology - but also a truthfulness that makes you clench your glass and take a deep sip of your drink through the straw.

His saviour comes in the form of an arm looped through yours, Cassie’s, as she drags you to the dancefloor. And as you pull away from Robbie, your bittersweet smile at him lets him know he’s off the hook.

He raises his own glass in a soft motion and nods, seemingly making his way to the back of the room before disappearing from view altogether.

You are spun in your boots on the sticky dancefloor, tassels on your skirt swaying as you join the group dancing to the band. Mel, Frank, Cassie, Dennis, Trinity, Samira, Javadi and Matteo clap, holler, stomp and step to the country jam being belted out on the guitars and drums in front of you all. You give the four you hadn’t seen yet a quick ‘hello’ and warm smile, turned quickly into a full on belly laugh and cackle as Whitaker whips out a quick country two-step and some moves that were evidently reminiscent of his farm boy youth. Jaws drop and suddenly he’s giving them all a crash course in Line Dancing 101, Frank surprisingly struggling the most.

And this right here, this sense of joy, wholehearted, unabashed, and enveloping, had been missing from your sunny, Californian existence.

You signal that you’re headed to the bar with your empty glass, and turn to make the short walk over. Stepping up to the bar top, you signal the barkeep in a Stetson who promises to head over to you next.

And then it hits you. The goosebumps and tingling - the sensing you had picked up on before. But this time stronger, more intense and evidently triggered by the final steps closer of a presence to your left that you’d be able to spot in the dark without any light.

The smell of him alone almost caused your knees to wobble, held up straight only by your nails that had seemed to embed themselves into the sticky wood of the bar top.

Looking straight ahead at the selection of top shelf spirits, your brain felt like it was misfiring a chant that wouldn’t manifest.

He’ll ignore you, you ignore him.

He’ll ignore you, you ignore him.

He’ll ignore you, you ignore him.

But there was no ignoring the warmth exuding from the body that was a whisper's distance from yours now, seemingly intent on causing your heart to palpate, almost to the point of medical intervention. Your hands were getting clammier by the second, knowing that the eyes boring into the side of your face had once been softened through gentle caresses and whispered confessions.

He says nothing, but from your peripheral you can see the sculpted frame leaning on the bar top, elbows on a sticky surface, fingers intertwined, solid forearms with a bulging vein as though it took physical might to restrain himself from touching you. And while every element of his body looked the picture perfect portrayal of composure, she knew that those hazel eyes wouldn’t be pointed with rage, or fury, or pleading at the same line of vodka and scotch on the bar wall that you would be. They would be squarely and firmly placed on you.

So in a move so wildly stupid, so incessantly moronic, and against every fibre in your being telling you to run from a world of pain in those hazel eyes, you turn your head so that you are face to face.

And the most juxtaposing cacophony of cold hard steel, pain and anger flares as he takes in your face from this distance.

“Hello, Jack.”

[escapismbook]

ESCAPISM

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

→ AUs: non idol!au→ Genre(s): dark romance, smut, mature, mafia

→ Trope(s): professor-student, forbidden romance, dark, slow-burn, seductive, mafia,

→ Rating: this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.

→ Word count: 4.9k

→ Author’s note: Escapism is a dark romance—intense, poetic, and deeply atmospheric. It explores desire, deception, and the pull of the forbidden. This story contains mature themes, including:   

This story is also written by two authors. Both working on the two couple. Please read with caution. For those who stay, welcome to a world where love and darkness intertwine.

Dedication:

Reaches out to cup your cheek, "now be a good girl for me."

(Don't forget to like and comment.)

A small note:

When you see the italic font, it means they are speaking in Korean.

CHAPTER ONE | DANTE'S INFERNO Songs for chapter: The Weeknd | Life of The Party Massive Attack | Angel

The night was thick with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and slow-burning tobacco, the kind of humid, lingering darkness that clung to the skin like a whispered secret. It was mid-May, and the city pulsed with nocturnal life, a symphony of distant horns, murmured conversations, and the low thud of bass bleeding from the club's depths.

Min Yoongi stood at the edge of the alleyway, cigarette balanced between his fingers, ember glowing like a dying star. He exhaled slowly, smoke curling around his sharp features, dissipating into the night air. The weight of the day sat heavy on his shoulders, though he wore it well—loose black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the veins along his forearms. He didn't belong here, not really, and yet, he was the city, carved from its bones, his presence an extension of the world that lurked beneath the surface.

The club's neon sign flickered above him, Kitty Gang, a name that masked its true nature. To outsiders, it was just another place for Seoul's restless youth to waste themselves in music and alcohol. But Yoongi knew better. He was part of the blood that kept it alive, an undercurrent of power that hummed beneath the polished floors and dimly lit VIP rooms. He had no intention of being here longer than necessary—just one last cigarette before heading back inside, before returning to the inevitable.

The he saw her.

Aalia Vito Hong stood near the entrance, caught between two figures, a quiet presence in the chaos. Her friends —because this is what they wanted to be, young and careless, unaware of the beast they had led her to. They laughed between drags of their cigarettes, their voices light and easy.

"You better not be drinking!" She gave her friend a stern look.

Sol Jin laughed and reached her fingers out to pinch her friend's cheek. "I'm not," she said. "I promise." Aalia gave her a funny side-eye and hummed.

Yoongi could see that she did not belong at a place like this. It was in the way she held herself, in the way her hands curled into the sleeves of her cardigan as if seeking warmth, in the way her gaze flickered to the street, as if making sure nothing would come at her through the shadows of the alleyways. There was something hesitant about her, something untouched. Innocent. And that made her stand out more than anything else.

His gaze traced the lines of her silhouette—long, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, skin catching in the dim light, eyes dark pools of something unreadable. She wasn't trying to be seen, wasn't dressed for attention the way the others were, and yet Yoongi found himself watching her, drawn by something he couldn't quite place. She was still oblivious to how he was watching her from a far.

He took another drag, let the smoke fill his lungs before releasing it in a slow exhale. He dropped the cigarette, crushed the ember beneath his shoe, and entered the club once again.

Kitty Gang was alive with heat and sin. Strobe lights flickered in a rhythm that mimicked a pulse, casting electric shadows over bodies lost in the music. The air was thick—perfume, alcohol, sweat. The kind of place that thrived on indulgence and secrecy, where the walls knew more than the people inside ever would.

He had no interest in any of it. He moved through the crowd like a shadow, unseen, untouched, until he reached the back of the club. A private corner, dimly lit, where he could observe without being disturbed. He leaned back into the leather seat, rolling his sleeves up further, revealing the ink that traced along his forearm—subtle, yet a silent reminder of who he was. Of where he came from.

He wasn't here for pleasure. He was here because his friend, Jimin had asked him to be.

Jimin, the owner of Kitty Gang, one of the few people he could call a friend. Like him, Jimin had his hands in more than just business. Kitty Gang was but a beautiful, constructed illusion hiding something far more dangerous. It was a place of sin.

Time passed in a slow blur, an hour or more of nothing. Just bodies moving, music pressing against the walls, the clink of glasses from across the room. Yoongi stayed still, detached, nursing a single glass of whiskey, uninterested in anything beyond the burn in his throat.

Then, he moved.

He slid out of the booth, weaving through the crowd with effortless precision, shoulders brushing against strangers without a second thought. He didn't belong to their world, and yet, it shifted around him, making space. The bar was crowded, neon lights casting blue and violet hues over the polished counter. He reached for his drink order –

And then –

A soft collision. A sharp intake of breath.

Someone had stumbled into him.

He turned, already prepared to dismiss whoever it was—until his gaze met hers.

"I am so, so sorry," her posh british accent fell from her lips, and he stopped breathing for a moment.

He didn't respond immediately. He was stunned into silence as he took in the sight of her in. The way her face flushed red from the embarrasement of colliding with him, the way her gaze remained steady on his, not averting. There was something fearless about the way her eyes held his, like she was not the least intimidated by him.

It amused him.

He didn't mind the face that she had crushed into him. In fact, he found himself relishing in it, in the way her smaller frame compared to him.

"Oh," she shook her head, relising that she spoke in english. She appologies again, this time in Korean.

He quirked a brow at the sound of her vice, from the accented English to Korean added a new layer to his intrigue. There was a certain elegance in the way she spoke – a sort of smoothness.

"Apology accepted," he responded in englsih. "No need to be so formsl, though. You can lose the '-yo.'"

She laughed. It was soft, a sound he found himself curiously drawn to. There was something about the way her lips curved into a smile that made him want to hear more of that laugh, to see more of that expression.

He returned the smile, a subtle upwards movement at the edge of his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time someone had looked this happy to collide with him.

His gaze flickered over her face once more, taking in the details he could see in the light, the soft curve of her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips.

"I should go!" Her words were alsot lost to among the 4/4 kick drum beat of the music, yet he still could hear her. He leaned in, close enough for her to hear him without having to shout over the music.

"So soon?" he said, trying to sound disinterseted, to not let her hear the mild ciriosity in his voice.

"I have to find my friends!"

He considered for a moment, observing the way she looked around, clearly searching for the girls he had seen her standing outside earlier with. Her eyes were fixed on the sea of bodies, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. He allowed himself a moment to study her, to take in the way she bit her lip in thought, the way her hands fidgeted against the fabric of her cardigan.

"Can't they wait?" his tone was light and casual. He knew from the moment he saw that she was not like the others. She was untouched by sin. Did she know that Kitty Gang was the nine circles of hell? Did she know she was in the land of Gods and Monsters?

Her phone lit up in her hand, and he watched as she unlocked it.

He watched silently as she checked her phone, his gaze flickered from her face to her hands. Despite the loud music and flashing lights, she seemed almost calm, her attention entirely focused on her phone.

He watched her lock her phone and place it inside her bag, beforer his gaze returned to her. He thought for a moment before gesturing to the left sight of the bar were there was a larger room with leather sofas, chairs and tables. And all the way in the back there were a few booths just hidden in the shadows.

"Join me?" he asked, his voice bearly audible iver the pulsating msuic. There was a nonchalantness in his tone as if the invitation was mearly a casual suggestion. But his gaze was stready, a subtle hint of intrest dancing in his eyes.

Her lips pursed to the side as she looked at him. "Um..." she trailed off.

He could sense her hesitation, her uncertainty at the suggestion. There was a pause, a moment where she seemed to be weighing her options, and he found himself curiously awaiting her response. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the subtle changes in her expression, the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way her gaze flickered between him and the rest of the club.

Nevertheless, he waited, his eyes still fixed on her and his fingers tapped against the edge of his glass, silently counting the seconds. But then he noticed something. Her eyes shifted over his shoulder, and there was an uncomfortable look in her eyes.

He followed her line of sight, turning to look over his shoulder just slightly enough to see. He saw a man standing on the other side of the bar, his eyes fixed her her like a hawk.

He didn't like it. In fact, he hated the way that man's eyes moved over her figure while smirking as if he was planning to approch her soon. He turned back to her, just in time to see her small, subtle smile, a silent agreement to joining him at his table.

Yoongi nodded but first turned to the bartender and leaned over the bar. "Him," he shifted his eyes to the man. "Out." The bartenter gave him a nod. He waved his hand, and two buff-looking men dressed in black grabbed the man, pulling him away as Yoongi led her to his table.

The booth was in a secluded corner of the club that offered a small respite from the chaos. The atmosphere was different here, the music subdued, and the shadows darker. He watched as she sat down slightly across from him, his gaze lingering on her movements, noticing the way she fidgeted with the sleeves of her cardigan, the way her eyes roamed the area.

She noticed the pack of opened gummy bears, a bowl of fresh tantarins and a few glass bottles of water.

He reached for his glass, taking a mesured sip of his whiskey before setting it down again. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but rather heavy with unspoken words. He let the silence hang in the air for a moment longer, his gaze studying her face in this better lighting, his eyes tracing the lines of her features, the arch of her brows, the curve of her lips. He wanted to hear more of her voice, that soft British accent that had caught his attention.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leand back agasint the leather sofa of the booth. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Aalia," she extended her hand out towards him, a force of habit.

His eyes fall to her hand and then back to her face. He smiled at her gesture and reached out to shake her hand. "Aalia," he echoed her name quietly, letting it roll off his tongue. It suited her. His gaze remained on her, his eyes studying the way she was sitting, so small in the vast booth. She looked young, yet there was a certain maturity in her eyes, a quiet wisdom in her expression.

"Yoongi," he introduced himself as well.

She smiled. "Nice to meet you, Yoongi." He couldn't help but notice the way the smile lit up her face, making it softer and her eyes shined brighter than any city. She was a stark contrast to the atmosphere of the club, a breath of fresh air in the smoke and chaos. And he found himself wanting to see more of that smile, to hear more of her voice.

They broke the handshake, and Yoongi crossed his arms once again. He tried to keep his expression casual, trying not to betray the gorwing intrest within him.

"Do you come here often?" the words slipped out before he could stop them.

And then he heard it, her laugh. It had caught him off guard. It was one of those contagious laughs. The kind that made you want to draw it out of someone over and over again. Yoongi found himself grinning at her reaction, the way she acted as though his question was the most ludicrous thing in the world.

He found himself unable to look away as her laughter echoed around them, his gaze fixated on her face, the way her almond-shaped eyes almost closed, the way her nose scrunched slightly and the way her cheeks pushed her cheekbones up.

"No," Aalia managed to say through her laugher.

He raised a brow at her response, surprised by the simplicity of it, the hosenty. He thought maybe she was going to lie and say that she was a regular.

He tilted his head. "So, this isn't your regular Saturday night, huh?"

"Mm-mm," she shook her head. "And no matter how much I want to, sneaking out of this club is not exactly on my list tonight. My friends are kind of my ride."

He raised an eyebrow at that. So, she had no escape route. she was trapped here, with her unreliable friends and the loud thumping music. In a way, it was pleasing to know she had nowhere to go. It seemed to match her innocent, untainted nature. "I could give you a ride home," he offered. "If you want?"

She laughed again, and his heart skipped a beat. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said. "But thank you."

He couldn't help but be amused by her immediate rejection, the way her laughter danced in the air. "Why not?" he asked.

Aalia gave Yoongi a small smile and shrug. "I don't know you."

He nodded. "You don't know me," he repeated, his voice low and seady. "Fair enough. But how do you expect people to get to know each other if you always deny them?"

"What makes you think I deny people the chance to know me?"

He stared at her, studying her face, the innocent  in her eyes, and the soft curve of her lips as she smiled. "I don't know," he said. "Something tells me youre the type of girl who keeps herself guarded."

"Are you writing yourself a novel there?" she smiled and tilted her head.

He smirked at her words. "I'm just making an obervation," he replied. "I doubt I'm too far off the mark, am I?"

She held her index and thumb apart. "Meh," she squinted her eye playfully, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Her innocent and playful attitude was infectious. He found himself intrigued by the contrast between her demeanor and the way she tried to keep her guard up.

"You're quite something, Aalia," he whispered under his breath in amusment. The way he was looking at her was as if he was looking at a Sandro Botticelli painting. He wondered what it would take to break that facade, to see what was hidden beneath the surface of that sweet smile. "So," he sighed. "Why did you come here if you're not the clubbing type?"

"Because my friends didn't want to leave me alone," she explained. "And...they wanted to see what I was like at a club."

"Which is?"

She sighed deeply. "I want to sleep."

He couldn't help but smile at her blunt honesty. There was something so enduring about the way she didn't care about the club's atmosphere the way she was more intrested in getting hom and sleeping. But deep down, dispite how dark Kitty Gang was, Yoongi was happy she was dragged here tonight. After all, if her friends had not taken her, they would've never met.

"And what would you be doing if you had not come here tonight, Aalia?" he asked in amusment.

"I would have ordered chicken shish kebab, read a book and then I'd fall asleep."

He laughed at her response. It was so simple, so mundane and yet, it was the most refreshing thing he heard in a while. Most people here were concerned with appearcenes, shallow chatter, drugs and meanignless hookups. "That's it?" he is tone was playful.

"Yep," she smiled cheerfully and proudly.

He leaned back into the booth, his arms still crossed over his chest. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. "Are you always like this?'

She knew what he was asking, and she gave a small shrug, "I'm sure the other girls here are the same," she said. "You just have to get to know them."

He wanted to roll his eyes. She was so painfully naïve, it almost made him want to burst out laughing. "Oh, you sweet summer child," he smiled. "You don't think everyone here is just looking for meaningless fun?"

"If getting drunk and dancing is meaningless fun," she held her hands up in surrender. "Hey, I don't judge. You do you, boo."

Her response caught him off guard, the unexpected nonchalance of it like a splash of cold water.

He smirked, amused by her attitude. "You're naive." his tone was tinged with a hint of admiration. He found himself strangely drawn to the innocence she carried with her, as if it beckoned to something within him. His gaze steaded on her as he continued - "and somehow incredibly endearing."

A moment of comfortable silence hangs over them, and he found himself simply admiring the way the faint lighting catches the gleam of her eyes, how her long hair fell down her back, and the shorter pieces framed her face and the way her  part. "Are you even old enough to be in here?"

She laughed out loudly. Other would have tried to impress him with a giggle, hand over their mouth while batting their lashes. But she sat there, throwing her head back and laughed like she didn't care. "Does that laugh an aswer to, 'old enough,' or 'not old enough?'"

"A lady does not reavel her age," she said.

And he couldn't help the smirk tugging in the corner of his mouth. "In that case," he sighed. "I suppose I'll have to guess."

Aalia's brow shot upwards as she looked at him while smiling. She watched how he studied her for a moment, his head tilting from one side to the other as he thought. He bit down on the side of his bottm lip and inahled sharply. "Nineteen?"

She tilted her head, a silent answer that he was wrong.

"Hmm," he raised a finger to his chin. "Alright, if not nineteen, then twenty?"

She pressed her lips togther, scrunched her nose and shook her head.

"Twenty-one?"

"Mm-mm," she shook her head. "I'll tell you; twelve."

He raised a brow, clearly knowing she was teasing him. "Now it all makes sense," he nodded, playing along. "Your innocence, the naivety and your clear lack of life experience."

"Hey!" she laughed as she grabbed a gummy bear from the pack and threw it at him. The gummy bear hit his chest and fell into his lap. His smiled at the sound of her laugh. 'God, her laugh,' he thought to himself. "I'm twenty-two," she admitted finally. To say that he was relived would have been an understatment. He was enjoying talking to her.

"You're the fisrt guy to talk to me for so long," she laughed.

Yoongi found himyself chuckling at her words. It was an unexpected admission. Most women would claim to have men talking to them constantly so they would appear desiable. But not her. He couldn't help but be intrigued. There was something refreshing about her honesty, her authenticity. "I find that hard to believe," he scoffed, and she laughed.

He watched her subtle movements with curious eyes, the way she swayed to the beat of the music without even realizing it. The way the dim lighting cast shadows on her features, making her look almost dream-like. He took another sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving her.  He was inexplicably drawn to her, to the innocence that radiated from her like a faint glow.

'Take that step, you're the life of the party.'

He was trying to imagine her in the middle of the crowded dance floor, and he begain to wonder – want to see what she would look like. He wanted to se how she would move and look under the pulsing lights. "Do you dance?" he asked, his tone casual, as if the question was a simple curiosity rather than desire.

"I don't feel comfortbale dancing in places like this."

"Not even with me?" he asked teasingly.

Aalia squinted her eye playfuly. "Especially you," there was a hint of flirtation in her whispered tone.

He chuckled, finding her response endearingly honest and sweet. "So, no late-night parties?" he asked, and she shook her head. "No drinking?"

"God, no," she laughed.

The words slipped out his mouth before he could think to stop them. He wanted to test just how far her purity went. "You're a good girl then, aren't you?" he asked, his tone was a shade lower. His mind started wondering what other things she haven't done yet, and the thoughts made his throat go dry. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "So...this is your first time at a club, then?"

There was innocence written all over her and he couldn't help but find himself ewanting to see more, to find out just how far her purity extended, to what lengths she would go to remain pure and innocent. The thought of it alone was overwhelming, like a drug he couldn't get enough of.

He leaned in closer. "No drinking, no parities, no dating, huh?' he said again, his eyes fixed on her face, hoping for a reaction. He hoped that this was all just a joke. That she was only messing with him, but she only shook her head.

He was mesmerized by the innocence radiating from her, the way she confirmed it all, he wanted to take her away all to himself.

"No kissing?"

She blinked and her eyes widended, as if she was slowly realising the game he was playing. "No kissing?" He asked again. "No touching? Nothing?"

She only blinked again.

He smirked at her reaction. He was already addicted. The thought of her not being touched, unsullied by anything and anyone was enough to make him crazy. He leaned in closer, his hand reaching out to trouch her face, to feel the smoothness of her skin. His fingers traced along the soft skin of her cheek.

Her lack of flinching to his touch was both pleasing and maddening. He ran his thumb over her lips, his touch was gentle, like she was a crystal ball and he did not want to drop it. Touching her like this made his heart race. He wanted to throw her on the table and ruin her for anyone else.

He wanted her in every sense of the word. He was a man starved, and she was a banquet laid out before him. "No one has kissed you before," his voice was rough and low. "No one has tasted your lips before." He wanted to be the first, to be the only one to kiss her. His hand on her cheek turned her face upwards so she was looking into his eyes.

He moved along the leather sofa of the booth, drawing even closer to her. "Just how innocent are you, really?" he asked. "Have you ever been this close to a man before, darling?"

A low chuckle left his lips at her lack of response. "You're trembling," he said. He allowed for the moment to hang in the air, relishing in the way she looked. He could only imagine what she would sound like moaning his name, begging for more.

His fingers ran through her long hair, marveling at the softness. "It's adorble," he said. "How pure and innocent you are."

Yoongi leaned in, closing the fianl distance between them, his lips met hers in a soft and tentative kiss. He could feel her inexperiance in the kiss. She wasn't moving her lips, but she wasn't pulling either. It was driving him wild. He pressed his lips more filmly agasint hers, his tongue darthing out to sweep across her bottom lip in a silent request. His hand, cupping her cheek tighter as the other went to her waist, bringing her over his lap to straddle him.

A low groan cralwed in his throat when she settled on top of him.

He broke the kiss briefly, his gaze flickering up to meet hers. He could bearly restrain himself. He wanted to take her right here, in the dark corner of Kitty Gang with a crowd of people just a few feet away.

He leaned in again, capturing her lips in another kiss, this time more demanding. His tongue seeking entrance, but he didn't want to have to tell her. He gripped her hips, tugging her even closer, making her gasp, and he took the opportunity to taste her tongue.

Aalia gripped his shoulders tighly, her body trembling against his, and it only served him to deepen the kiss. Yoongi's hand moved to her thigh, while the other gripped the back of her head, holding her in place, his fingers lost and tangled in her hair.

He didn't want to, but he needed to break the kiss to breathe. He saw how her chest rised up and fell down in short quick breaths. The golden necklance sitting around her nack glistned in the dim lights, and his fingers dug into the softness of her thighs.

His lips moved to her neck like a magnet being pulled where he left a trail of kisses, his teeth grazing against her pulse. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart under his lips. He sunch his teeth into her skin.

"Aahmmn."

Yoongi smirked agaisnt her skin, his grip on her thigh tightened as he heard her soft gasp of a moan. He licked over the sensitive skin of her neck, his tongue darting out to sooth the faint mark from his teeth. 

She was shaking – trembling like a leaf. He pulled back to press his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. He took in her flushed cheeks, swollen lips and her widened eyes with that innocent look in them. It all made him want to devour her, to ruin her completely.

He caputred her lips I another kiss. He didn't care that they were in a public setting, that they barely even knew each other. All he knew was that he wanted her. He needed her. He was almost feral with the need to take her.

He abruptly pulled back from the kiss, cupping her cheek with one hand. "Come home with me," he said, his voice a raspy whisper. It sounded more like a plea than a request. He was past the point of caring about propriety, or decency. He wanted her.

He made her shift in his lap, and something pressed between her legs. It made her suck in a sharp and deep breath. "Can you feel it?" he asked, his voice still rough and gravelly.

He didn't even bother waiting for her to answer, and he kissed her again. Min Yoongi knew that if he did not take her out of her, he was going to take her right on the sofa in the booth, and he wouldn't care who was watching.

"Come home with me," he repeated again. "Please."

"AALIA!?" Sol Jin yalled from a far.

Yoongi felt her freeze in his arms, the sudden interuption breaking the spell he was under.

Reluctantly he loosened his grip on her, letting her get off him when all he wanted to do was tell her to be quiet and wait for her friend to leave so he could have her. But he didn't.

He watched as she crawled over the sofa, grabbing her bag and smoothed out her skirt and blouse. He watched her walk away, his eyes following her every movemnt. He was left feeling fustrated and unsatisfied, the need to take her was still burning in his veins. He wanted to follow after her, to pull her into a corner or even just his car and finish what they started. But he couldn't. She had already disapeared.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of her, Aalia.

(You can read ESCAPISM on AO3 so you can read the chapters there in order)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64009903/chapters/164201557

[yinyuedijun]

okay i have returned for a redemption

ADLFWVLD FDLBSFLDEKVLSNKRDJSJW THIS IS FRYING ME SO BAD MIRA 💀💀💀💀💀 the font. the colours. the fucking. neon green x over mydei's face. the bag of rice for the mr rice = maostorice pun. the bag of rice shaking your hand. THE FACT THAT CASTORICE IS HOLDING TURBO GRANNY????? AFGLKFMRNFLDDKSJS IM LOSING MY MIND

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Lavender Haze Chapter 1: Anarchy in the UK

A/N: Hello and welcome to the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed the prologue (I mean if you're here, you likely did). Anyway, this isn't beta read or proofread. This is just for fun and my procrastination from doing my grad school work. As always, this blog is 18+ only. Word Count: 7.9ishk....It was 16 pages on docs... Warnings: 18+ only, enemies to lovers trope, close proximity, friends scheming, eventual smut, Much Ado About Nothing, use of Y/N, reader insert, she/her pronouns for reader Chapter 1: Anarchy in the UK Synopsis: Reader leaves for London for her cousin's wedding, Dustin and Suzie scheme, and someone from the reader's past returns.

SIX MONTHS LATER 

The hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the soft rustling of travel brochures fill the air as you step into the airport terminal. You clutch the wedding invitation in hand, the edges slightly worn from handling, the elegant gold lettering on the cream-colored paper showed a sharp contrast to the utilitarian surroundings. 

The air smells faintly of stale coffee and the distant whirr of vending machines and buzzing of neon lights. The walls are lined with large, laminated posters advertising far-off destinations in cheerful fonts, but your mind is fixed on London, England — specifically the wedding of Dustin and Suzie, which has become a beacon of joy and anticipation. As you approach the check-in counter, the sounds of muffled announcements echo through the cavernous space, and you realize that in just a few hours, you'll be across the ocean, heading toward a new chapter in the lives of two people you hold dear. 

You check in with ease, muttering a quick thank you to the attendant before starting your journey down the LAX’s vast labyrinths of terminals and gates. With your boarding pass in hand, you wander toward the gate, a slight bounce to your step as you escape the rush of the check-in counter. The gate is quiet now with only a handful of early birds settled in for the long wait. You find an empty seat near the window, the soft hum of overhead ventilation mixing with the faint chatter of fellow travelers.

Settling in, you pull a well-worn magazine from your bag—a glossy travel issue from a few months ago, its pages crinkling at the edges as you flip through articles on London’s hidden gems and tips for surviving long-haul flights. You adjust your walkman, pop in your favorite mixtape, and press play. The soft click of the cassette starting up is followed by the familiar crackle of the first song, an instant wave of nostalgia sweeping over you as the first notes of the track fill your ears. You lean back in your chair, one leg crossed over the other, eyes half-closed as you drift in the music and the pages of your magazine, the world outside the terminal window fading into a blur of airport tarmac and distant planes. 

Time seems to stretch, and for a moment, the noise of the world falls away — just you, the rhythm of your music, and the thought of London waiting at the end of this journey. The quiet tap of your foot to the beat and the occasional rustling of your magazine are the only sounds, until the overhead announcement breaks the calm, signaling that boarding is about to begin. 

You hand your boarding pass to the agent, who scans it with mechanical efficiency, then gestures for you to move toward the jetway. Your eyes scan the cabin as you enter the plane, relieved to see that the seat next to yours—an aisle seat by the window—remains empty, all through boarding too. You settle in with a deep sigh of relief, knowing you'll have a few hours of peace before the inevitable chaos of London and the wedding week. You stow your bag in the overhead compartment and adjust the seat belt around your waist, a soft hum of contentment rising as you nestle into your seat, slipping your headphones back on and starting another song on your cassette player.

The steady pulse of the plane fills your ears as passengers shuffle past, finding their own seats. The overhead announcements are drowned out by the rush of activity, but you can still catch the tail end of the call: "Final boarding for Flight 348 to London. Please make your way to the gate immediately." It’s a soothing, routine moment—until you hear the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps approaching, and a voice calling out in a half-panic, “Wait! Wait for me!”

Your heart sinks as you turn your head. There, running awkwardly down the aisle with his oversized bag flopping to one side and a wild look in his eyes, is Eddie. Of course. Eddie. The last person you’d ever want to sit next to. You barely manage to mask the irritation creeping across your face as he barrels past rows of seats, scanning the numbers, his hand outstretched toward your aisle seat. He’s panting, cheeks flushed, and there’s that obnoxious grin of his as he makes eye contact with you—like the fact that he’s invading your space is some sort of joke.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," Eddie says, his voice dripping with that smug, self-assured tone you can never quite shake off. "Looks like this seat's mine, huh?" He practically drops into the seat next to you without waiting for an invitation, his bag thudding heavily against the armrest, leaving you no choice but to shift uncomfortably to make room.

“Hi Eddie,” you mumble, waving a hand haphazardly. “I guess it’s yours.” 

“What? Your fiance didn't come?” He mocks, sliding his carry on underneath the seat in front of him. “Or did you leave for London unannounced?” 

You should have known he would be coming to the wedding. Suzie did mention that Dustin had made him his Best Man during her bridal shower when she had asked you to be her Maid of Honor. Maybe you should have prepared yourself better, but nothing could have prepared yourself for a transatlantic flight sitting directly next to him. 

And spending an entire week together in London. 

“He didn’t come because I called things off.” You say simply, pulling a book from your bag before shoving it back under the seat. “We weren’t right for each other.”

Not long before the trip, you had ended your engagement with Billy and dropped out of law school, forgoing your internship. Your life was seemingly a mess. No school. No job. No engagement. You had none of it and while you felt free, you felt lost. 

You didn’t know what you wanted to do in your life. Maybe London could help you figure that out. 

“Oh. I - well, good for you?” Eddie didn’t know if calling off your engagement was a good or bad thing for you so, he left it as a question. He couldn’t find anything witty to say about that. 

The flight attendants close the cabin doors, and you can hear the final, automated announcement: "We are now preparing for takeoff. Please ensure your seatbelt is fastened and all carry-on items are properly stowed." But the noise in your head is louder—the dread of having Eddie beside you for the entire flight, the rest of your peaceful journey shattered in an instant. You force a smile, but it feels as fake as his disingenuous charm. With a deep breath, you settle in, knowing it’s going to be a long, long flight.

HOUR 3

The plane hums steadily through the night sky, the soft vibration beneath your feet a constant reminder that you’re crossing the ocean. You’ve managed to ignore Eddie for a while, your headphones on, book open, your mind elsewhere, but the dull thud of his knee against yours—a little too close for comfort—pulls you out of your bubble. He’s not talking yet, but you can feel his eyes on you, the way people sometimes stare, hoping for a reaction and when he finally speaks, you almost wish he hadn’t.

"So, Billy, huh? You really called it off," he says, his voice low enough to sound casual but with that sharp edge that cuts through the hum of the plane. It’s not a question; it’s an observation laced with something you can't quite place—like a mix of curiosity and judgment, a little too pointed for a conversation that wasn’t invited. “You really ended it for real this time? It’s not just a break?”

You glance at him, resisting the urge to snap at him. Eddie leans back in his seat, tapping a finger on the armrest, as if he’s just casually passing the time. His tone, though, betrays his attempt to feign indifference, and you immediately tense. His eyes glanced over to the ring finger of your left hand, noticing the lack of the engagement ring you wore only six months prior when he last saw you. 

It feels like a weight suddenly pressing on your chest, but you fight the lump in your throat.

"Yeah," you reply, keeping it short, hoping that’ll be the end of it.

Eddie, though, doesn’t take the hint. "Must be tough, huh? After everything…." His words are laced with a touch of something you can’t tell if it’s pity or schadenfreude, but it’s uncomfortable all the same. You brace yourself, feeling that flush of anger creeping up your neck, but there's something in his voice, a softness that wasn’t there before, that makes you hesitate.

You shift in your seat, trying to find a polite way to end this. "It wasn’t… like that, exactly," you mutter, focusing on the view outside your window, the blanket of stars now spread across the sky.

But Eddie’s not done. “I get it,” he says, his voice lower now, almost thoughtful, but with that unsettling edge of rudeness still there, like he doesn’t know how to stop prodding. "I mean, relationships, right? They can go from everything to nothing in a heartbeat. Or they can just fizzle out. And you’re left thinking, Why didn’t I see it sooner?”

You know he was alluding to your prompt exit after spending the night at his apartment and how he just viewed you as nothing. You knew it deep down that this wasn’t about Billy or your engagement at all. This was about you and Eddie. 

His words hang in the air for a long moment, and you're unsure if he's trying to sympathize or just trying to make you squirm. Eddie leans forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, a kind of half-apology playing out in his gaze. It’s a strange, fleeting moment, but you almost catch the flicker of something close to empathy there—before he ruins it.

"You must be glad to be getting away from all that. A wedding in London... kind of a perfect escape, huh?" He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional territory he's ventured into, but he doesn’t pull back.

You nod stiffly, your hands folding in your lap. "Yeah, I suppose," you answer quietly, the words tasting bittersweet. "It’s not what I expected but it’s a fresh start, kind of a bookmark to where I am in life and where I’m not."

Eddie sits back, finally, and for a moment there’s a silence that’s just loud enough to be awkward. He gives a small, half-hearted shrug as if he knows he’s overstepped, then mutters, "Well, everyone needs a fresh start. Especially after that kind of mess." 

And just like that, the empathy vanishes, replaced by the familiar sneer that you’ve come to loathe.

You turn your attention back to the window, trying to shake the unease in your stomach. The rest of the flight stretches on, the tension between you and Eddie hanging heavy in the cramped cabin. It’s a strange, uncomfortable dynamic—part judgment, part unwanted camaraderie, and it makes the miles to London feel like they’re stretching on forever.

HOUR 5

It starts small—just a little comment during meal service, a careless remark, but it’s enough to set things off. Eddie, leaning back in his seat with his hands behind his head like he's settling into his personal throne, taps the armrest between you with his fingers. You barely notice at first, too lost in your own thoughts, but then he mutters, "I still don’t get why anyone would choose tea over coffee, you know?"

You glance at him, frowning slightly. "What?" you ask, thinking you might’ve heard him wrong.

"Tea," Eddie repeats, his voice dripping with that condescending tone again, "I mean, seriously, what’s the appeal? It’s just hot, bland water with a leaf in it. Why would anyone choose that over coffee?”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. This is where he wants to take the conversation? Of all the things in the world, he’s bringing up tea versus coffee?

But then you remember where you first met Eddie and your interaction with him. You had ordered tea that day and he had bought it for you, pretending to be your husband. His comments now made complete sense. 

"It’s not about waking up," you reply, a little incredulous. "It’s about comfort. Tea’s soothing. It’s calm. You don't need a jolt of caffeine to feel good." You feel your voice rise a little, the absurdity of the argument making you defensive. “Besides, not everyone needs to feel like their brain is on fire every time they drink something.”

Eddie scoffs. "Well, it’s not like tea is doing anything for you except making you fall asleep faster." He gestures like he's trying to make a grand point, though it only makes you roll your eyes. "And honestly, you can’t even get it right half the time. Too hot, too cold, weak, strong, whatever. At least coffee works."

You feel the annoyance bubble up in your chest. "You don’t even know how to make a proper cup of tea," you snap, irritated that he’s dismissing something you actually enjoy. "You just throw a bag in hot water and call it good. You have no appreciation for it. You probably think chai is just fancy spiced milk."

Eddie's face goes mock-serious. "Are you really going to lecture me about tea right now? Like, are we actually having this conversation?" He leans forward again, locking eyes with you, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Honestly, you’re the one getting worked up over a beverage. You need a hobby, or something."

“You’re literally the one who made the first comment, Eddie. This is incredibly stupid. To think this is all a grudge because you bought me a cup of tea all those months ago. You’re really going to hold a grudge on tea?”

You can feel your face heating up, but it’s not just from embarrassment. It’s from the ridiculousness of the situation—the way Eddie is so casually dismissive about something that feels so trivial, yet somehow so personal to you. You cross your arms, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous this is. But it only seems to egg him on.

"Look," Eddie continues, almost too smug for his own good, "I get it. Tea’s a ‘thing.’ But coffee is the thing. It’s a culture, it’s an experience. You know, things with substance, not just hot leaf juice."

You shake your head, now feeling a bit silly for being drawn into it. "You’re unbelievable," you mutter, throwing a glance out the window just to escape the conversation for a second.

Eddie leans back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the way he’s ruffled your feathers. "Well, hey, I can’t help it if I have taste."

Your jaw clenches as you open your mouth to respond, but the flight attendants begin making their rounds again, offering drinks. And for a moment, you realize that the argument, though petty, has somehow managed to distract you from everything else—Billy, the awkwardness, the gnawing frustration of being stuck next to Eddie for hours on end and him seemingly just finding entertainment from annoying you.

The stewardess pauses by your seat, offering you a drink, and you glance at Eddie, who’s still smirking at you, clearly proud of himself. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself it’s just a stupid argument. A dumb, pointless, small thing—but somehow, in this cramped, turbulent space, it feels like the most important thing in the world.

"Tea," you say, to no one in particular, as you place your drink order. "I’ll take the tea. No sugar. No milk."

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically. "Of course you will."

The stewardess, a cheerful woman with a kind smile and a no-nonsense air about her, smiles softly as she hands you the tea she effortlessly prepared. Her eyes flickered between you and Eddie, who’s still wearing that smug, amused expression after your little "tea vs. coffee" debacle. She glances back at the both of you with a soft chuckle, her tone light and warm.

"So, I see we’ve got a newlywed couple here," she says, her voice almost like a comforting murmur. "First lover's spat already? Happens to the best of us, you know. Cramped quarters will do that to even the best of us." She grins at you both as if it’s all part of some adorable little story.

The words hit you like a slap in the face. Your stomach tightens, and your cheeks flare with heat. Newlywed couple? You force a smile—teeth gritted. Eddie, of course, doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward, suddenly playing the part with ease, his voice dripping with theatrical charm.

"Oh, yeah," he says, all too casually, giving you a playful side-eye. "First big argument on our honeymoon." He winks at the stewardess, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "But you know, we’ll get over it. It’s all part of the ride, right?"

The stewardess giggles, her smile widening. “Ah, young love. So sweet,” she says, as if this is all some innocent joke. “Well, I hope it doesn’t ruin your trip, sweetheart,” she adds, turning her attention back to you for a second longer than you'd like, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll just put you down for a romantic glass of wine to ease things over."

You sit there, completely frozen, the rage bubbling up like a pot about to boil over. Romantic? Eddie’s playing along like this is all some stupid farce, and the thought of him leaning into it, making light of your personal space and your frustration, twists something deep inside of you. This is the moment where everything—every last shred of patience—snaps.

“Excuse me,” you interject sharply, suddenly too aware of the weight of Eddie’s smirk next to you. “We are not a couple.” The words come out clipped and too loud, and the stewardess’s face shifts, a moment of confusion crossing her features. You push forward, as if you can physically distance yourself from the very idea of Eddie. “And I’m definitely not on a honeymoon with him.”

Eddie, for the first time, falters. He’s clearly caught off guard, his grin dropping for a fraction of a second, but then that trademark smugness returns. His eyes glint with mischief. “Whoa, hey,” he says, leaning back in his seat with his hands raised as if in mock surrender. “She’s just kidding. You know, a little fun on the flight. Can’t blame a couple for trying to help spice things up.”

The stewardess is now visibly awkward, trying to regain her composure, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The entire cabin seems to hold its breath for a moment, as if waiting for something to break. You can feel your face burning with embarrassment and fury. You can’t believe Eddie is playing this part, and the more he tries to make it sound like harmless fun, the more you want to snap at him.

“Listen,” you say through gritted teeth, your hands clenched tightly in your lap. “I’m just going to stick with my tea,” you bite out, your voice colder now, eyes narrowing. 

The stewardess, now a little flustered and clearly not sure how to navigate the awkwardness, nods quickly, offering a sheepish smile before she retreats down the aisle, likely trying to avoid the awkward energy you've just created.

But Eddie, damn him, isn’t done. "You know," he says casually, shifting to lean in a bit closer to you, as if he’s completely oblivious to how much he's irritating you, "If it makes you feel better, we can still make up in London. I’m sure the city’s full of romantic spots." He laughs softly, that teasing edge back in his voice. "I mean, we’re going to a wedding, after all."

You clench your fists, trying not to say something you'd regret, the heat of embarrassment still lingering in your chest. You don’t even want to entertain him anymore, but Eddie, as always, doesn’t give you the option.

"Alright," he says, grinning wide now. "I’ll let you have your space but you know, that’s not the worst idea—London? We should totally go out, the two of us. Just the two of us.” His grin widens, and the worst part is, you know he’s doing it to get under your skin, playing into this whole ridiculous scenario he’s crafted in his mind.

You can’t even respond for a minute, completely caught off guard. The thought of him pretending to be part of your life like that, of him forcing his way into your head like this, makes your blood boil. You stare ahead, shoulders stiff with frustration, and the seconds drag on in a tense silence until the stewardess returns with your tea. She hands it to you with a nervous smile, and you take it, grateful for the distraction, but nothing seems to shake the odd, lingering bitterness that Eddie’s managed to infect everything with.

“I wouldn’t even go out with you if you were the last man on this planet, Eddie.” You spat, sipping your tea, hoping he gets the hint that you just want to be left alone. “We just have to get along for Dustin and Suzie. Besides, I thought I was nothing to you.”

This was supposed to be a peaceful flight to London. Now it feels like a slow, insufferable game of one-upmanship, with Eddie gleefully playing the villain and you stuck in the middle, trying not to explode.

As the plane continues its journey, you can’t help but wonder just how long you’ll have to endure this forced “comedy” of his, before it finally stops.

-------

The plane’s descent is gradual, the city lights of London beginning to twinkle below like a field of stars. You’re thankful the flight is over, but the prospect of what awaits off the plane brings an entirely new set of anxieties. As the plane touches down and the cabin lights flicker on, you hear the familiar chorus of seatbelt signs being clicked off and passengers stretching, gathering their things. You manage to stand, gathering your bag from the overhead compartment exchanging a few uncomfortable glances with Eddie, who’s now leaning back in his seat with that infuriating, too-casual grin on his face.

“You know,” Eddie says as the line at the gate starts moving, his voice almost cheerful again, “I’m actually starting to think we’re like a couple now. I mean, we’ve had the ‘first fight,’ and now we’re going to be the Best Man and Maid of Honor at Dustin’s wedding. It’s practically destiny.” He winks at you like it’s some kind of joke.

You don’t dignify his words with a response. The only thing you want is to get through customs, grab your luggage, and get away from Eddie, but the chaos of a busy airport only makes that more difficult.

Finally, you clear customs and head toward the exit. The hum of excitement from all the passengers fills the air, everyone gathering near the baggage claim area, talking about their travels, snapping photos, and exchanging excited greetings. You scan the crowd, finally spotting Dustin and Suzie standing near the front, waving at you.

You smile at the sight of them—Dustin’s easy grin and Suzie’s wide, radiant smile are enough to wash away most of your irritation. Despite the awkwardness of the flight, you feel a flutter of relief at finally being here and you hurry toward them.

“Hey!” Dustin greets you warmly, pulling you into a hug. Suzie follows suit, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace. The sight of them together is like a balm to your nerves—everything about this feels so right. They’re glowing with excitement for their wedding and the days ahead, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget about everything else.

“There’s my favorite cousin!” Suzie says, holding you at arm’s length and taking a good look at you. “You look great! How was the flight? No disasters, I hope?”

You smile, shaking your head. “It was… fine. Uneventful,” you lie, not about to get into the details of your flight companion just yet.

Dustin, as usual, is grinning from ear to ear, clearly in his element. “Well, you’re here now, that’s what matters! We’re so glad you could make it. Everything’s been a little chaotic with all the guests arriving, but it’s going to be amazing. We’ve got a lot of fun things planned this week!”

You nod, your excitement building again now that you’re here. But then, as you start to follow them toward the exit, Dustin’s expression shifts, and you can see the hesitation in his eyes as he glances at the two of you—Eddie still hanging nearby, looking like he’s trying to seem as unbothered as possible.

“Uh, so,” Dustin begins, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’ve got a little… situation with the hotel rooms.” He clears his throat. “It turns out we didn’t quite account for everyone when we booked. There are some constraints with the space, so… some of the rooms had to be reallocated.”

You frown, already sensing where this is going.

“What do you mean by that, Dustin?” You adjust the bag on your shoulder, casting a few gazes 

Dustin’s gaze flickers nervously between you and Eddie before he continues, “And with a few last-minute changes, it looks like... well, you and Eddie are going to need to share a room.”

For a moment, your brain doesn’t quite process the words. “Wait, what?” you ask, blinking in disbelief. “You mean, together?”

Dustin nods, looking sheepish. “Yeah, I know it’s not ideal, but we really couldn’t get another room. Everything’s booked solid for the wedding. You and Eddie will just have to make do. It’s only for a couple of nights, and it’s... well, it’s just temporary. You’ll be fine, right?”

The words hit you like a cold slap to the face. You and Eddie? In the same hotel room? You feel your chest tighten, your stomach doing flips, and you turn to look at Eddie. He’s wearing that too pleased expression again, like this is some kind of twisted little joke he’s getting off on.

"Oh, this is going to be great," Eddie says, his voice so overly chipper you can almost hear the sarcasm dripping from it as he approaches the group. "I mean, what could possibly go wrong? It’s just two adults who just so happen to hate each other, alone in a room. What’s the worst that could happen?" He chuckles, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

You feel your pulse race with a combination of rage and disbelief. You want to scream, to tell Dustin no way in hell would you share a room with Eddie��of all people—but you know it’s not his fault. They did what they could with the limited space, and it's just one night, right? You try to remind yourself that this is all for Dustin and Suzie, and they’re already dealing with enough stress. You can handle this, even if it feels like an impossible request.

But then, of course, Eddie’s next comment isn’t helping. "I’m just saying, it’s kind of poetic, right? I mean, a wedding, and here we are, forced to share a room. Maybe we should start a tradition, huh?"

Your teeth grind together, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, the tension in your chest threatening to break loose. "This is not funny," you mutter through clenched teeth.

Dustin, clearly sensing the awkwardness, quickly tries to smooth things over. "Hey, hey, no need to stress! I know it’s not ideal, but it’s just for a week and it’s for Suzie and I. Think of it like a... bonding experience? Besides, London’s a beautiful city. You’ll both be so busy with the wedding stuff, you won’t even have time to think about it. You’d only be there to sleep"

You stare at Dustin, then at Eddie, who’s still grinning like this is all some ridiculous prank he’s pulling on you. You want to say something sharp, to make him understand how uncomfortable this is—but you just nod, knowing there’s no other option.

"Yeah, sure. A bonding experience," you mutter, already dreading the next week of this forced closeness. You try to remind yourself that it’s just for a week, that the wedding is the focus, but you can’t help the sharp knot of tension that’s already building in your stomach.

As you pile into the car, heading toward the hotel, you feel every second stretch out before you, knowing full well that this is going to be a full on migraine of a trip.

The car ride to the hotel is a blur of muffled chatter and the hum of the engine. You’re still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you’re about to share a hotel room with Eddie for the entire week. The whole idea feels surreal—like a nightmare you’re waiting to wake up from.

Dustin and Suzie chatter excitedly in the back seat about the wedding plans, about the guests they’re excited to see, about everything going perfectly but all you can hear is the steady thrum of your own heartbeat and the tick-tick-tick of your brain reeling. You steal a glance at Eddie sitting next to you and you can almost feel the smug energy radiating off him, like he's already mentally preparing for the next round of “jokes” he’ll try to get away with. 

When the car pulls into the hotel’s narrow driveway, the low hum of the city outside feels strangely distant, almost muffled. It’s not until you’re standing at the check-in counter, trying to force a smile while you’re mentally drafting all the ways you might strangle Eddie in his sleep, that it really sinks in: You’re stuck with him. For an entire week. With no reprieve. 

You try not to glare at him as the clerk hands you both your room keys. You’ve been bracing yourself for this moment, but it hits like a punch to the gut.

"Here you go," the hotel clerk says, handing each of you a key card with a polite smile. "You’ll be in Room 204, just down the hall on your left. Enjoy your stay."

“Thanks,” Suzie says, giving you a quick, apologetic smile. “I know it’s not ideal, but—"

“It’s fine, Suzie,” you force out through clenched teeth. “Really.” You wave it off, trying to mask your frustration. Suzie looks like she’s about to offer some comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to let her fuss over you. Not when the real problem is still standing right next to you.

“See you guys at dinner!” Dustin calls over her shoulder as he and Suzie head off toward the elevators to return to their room down the hall. 

You and Eddie stand there for a moment, the weight of the awkwardness between you hanging thick in the air. You avoid looking at him as you head toward the hallway but Eddie can’t leave well enough alone.

"Well, this is gonna be fun," he says, his voice dripping with too much sarcasm to be anything but a deliberate jab.

You roll your eyes and quicken your pace, but Eddie easily matches your stride. "You know, I’ve stayed in worse places," he continues, his tone light, almost carefree, as if he’s genuinely trying to make the situation seem less horrific. "This place looks... quaint. I bet it’s got charm."

You grunt, resisting the urge to snap something rude. You’re beyond sarcasm at this point. When you reach Room 204, Eddie reaches for the door, fumbling with the keycard like he’s trying to make a point. “You wanna do the honors?” he says, his face a perfect mask of innocence.

You roll your eyes and swipe the card yourself. The door clicks open with a soft sound, and as you push it open, your stomach twists.

The room is small, nothing particularly luxurious about it—standard hotel fare. A double bed sits against one wall, a small desk by the window, and a bathroom tucked away in the corner. There’s a single chair, a tiny TV on a dresser, and a faint smell of bleach still lingering in the air. The single bed, of course, stares back at you with the same quiet challenge that Eddie’s presence brings. It might as well have a neon sign above it that says “YOU’RE GOING TO HATE THIS.”

You try to take a deep breath, but Eddie steps in behind you, making himself at home as he casually tosses his bag onto the bed nearest the window.

“Well,” he says, looking around and letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, “this place is charming... like I said. So, what do you think? You wanna take the bed or the chair?”

You spin around to face him, frustration making your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Eddie grins like he’s enjoying the very sight of your discomfort. “Hey, it’s a double bed, right? Just slightly smaller than a queen size - guess we’ll have to get cozy.” 

You stare at him, mouth open, not sure if you’re supposed to laugh or punch him in the face. "This isn’t ideal…That isn’t ideal,” you finally manage to say, your voice dripping with barely contained irritation. “But clearly you’ve already made yourself at home.”

He shrugs and flops back onto the bed like he’s lying down for a Sunday nap, grinning wide. “Well, you didn’t seem to have any objections when they handed us the keys. You could’ve spoken up earlier when Dustin gave us the news.” He pats the bed beside him. “But it’s fine, really. I’m cool with it. I’m a great roommate.”

You throw your bag onto the desk and stand there, trying to breathe through your nose, but the air feels too thick. You take a deep breath. You’re here for the wedding. You’re here for Dustin and Suzie. You can survive this. However,  the very idea of sharing a bed with Eddie, even if it’s just for one week, makes your skin crawl.

Instead of answering, you turn to the window, trying to ignore the heavy weight of his presence behind you. “Fine,” you mutter under your breath. "We’ll just... deal with it. We’re going to have to make a pillow wall though."

But Eddie’s voice cuts through the silence again, too light, too cheerful. "We’ll make it work, right? I mean, it’s just a week. We’ll probably be so busy with wedding stuff, we won’t even have time to think about it."

You noticed how Eddie repeated Dustin’s exact words from the airport. You give him a nod before starting to unpack.

"Right. Just a week." You turn back around to face him, hoping your exasperation isn’t showing too clearly. “Just…don’t be a bed hog.”

Eddie is already sprawled out, hands behind his head, looking far too comfortable for someone who’s clearly just ruined your entire sense of personal space and your trip to London. You try to calm yourself down. You can do this. You’re just here for Dustin and Suzie’s wedding. You’re not here for Eddie’s games.

But as you continue to unpack your things in silence, you can’t help but wonder if this week might end up being the longest one of your life.

After unpacking and getting ready for the first dinner of the festivities,  you sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to put some space between yourself and Eddie—who’s still sprawled out across the other half, clearly settling in for the long haul—you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. The whole situation feels like it’s spiraling into one big, awkward mess, and all you can think about is how badly you want to escape it. You try to focus on the fact that you’re in London, here for a wedding, and you can’t let this stupid room arrangement ruin everything. 

This was for your cousin, after all.

There’s that feeling, gnawing at the back of your mind. It’s too perfect, too convenient. Eddie's here. He’s always here. And for some reason, you can’t stop wondering if this—this weird, uncomfortable situation—isn’t just a random mistake. Nothing is coincidental.

First the flight. Now this?

Eddie isn’t making things any easier. He’s lounging on the bed, flipping through TV channels with an exaggerated, over-the-top disinterest, occasionally glancing over at you with a look that’s part smug, part playful.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think this would be the way we’d end up in a room together,” he says, flipping the remote with a sigh. “But I guess life’s funny like that, huh?”

You shoot him a glare, the frustration bubbling up again. “Yeah, funny,” you mutter under your breath, but he doesn’t seem to notice—or he doesn’t care.

He stretches out, looking entirely at ease in the tiny, cramped space that should have felt like a disaster but instead, he somehow makes it feel… normal—like he belongs there. You can’t even figure out how to deal with that, or how much it’s irritating you. You shift awkwardly on the bed, feeling every inch of your personal space being invaded.

It’s then that the door opens with a soft creak, without a knock and Dustin and Suzie walk in, both looking way too pleased with themselves. You raise an eyebrow as you glance up at them.

“We just thought we’d check in, see how everything’s going," Dustin says, his grin far too wide, the kind of grin someone wears when they’ve just orchestrated something deliberate.

You’re about to respond with a polite, "It’s fine," when Suzie suddenly glances over at you and Eddie, then back at Dustin with a look that’s half conspiratorial, half completely over-the-top sweet.

“So,” she says brightly, her tone a little too casual. “Everything going okay with the room situation? You two, uh, getting along okay?”

You blink, not sure if she’s joking or not. You glance at Eddie, whose brow furrows just slightly, clearly picking up on the weird vibe. He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the way she’s asking. "Uh, yeah, we’re good,” he replies, though there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice. “Just... you know, making the best of it. It’s fine.”

Suzie just keeps on smiling and it’s a little too bright for comfort. “Good, good. We were just so worried you might be... you know, uncomfortable. You are both so busy, what with the wedding and everything. We didn’t want you to feel... cramped or anything.”

Dustin clears his throat. “Yeah, and hey, if you two need anything, just let us know, okay? We’re here for you.”

You exchange a glance with Eddie, but this time, it’s more bewilderment than irritation. The whole thing feels... off. You want to say something, to ask what’s going on, but before you can, Eddie speaks up with a low chuckle, though you can hear the slight edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I definitely wasn’t expecting this when I came all the way to London. The whole ’rooming with a woman who ghosted me’ thing isn’t exactly on my bucket list, you know?" He flashes Suzie and Dustin a wry grin. “But hey, what do I know? I’m just here for the two of you.”

Dustin’s grin gets a little wider, if possible. “Yeah, we get it, man. You’re both so busy, with the wedding and all. So, really, enjoy the downtime together. Make the most of it. It’ll be nice, just the two of you after all the festivities…. Being here alone.” Dustin continues to grin, grabbing Suzie’s hand as he turns toward the door. “See you guys at dinner!”

There’s something about the way he says “alone” that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and suddenly it hits you like a bucket of cold water. This isn’t an accident. This wasn’t some weird hotel room mix-up or scheduling error. No. Dustin and Suzie have done this on purpose.

You stay silent as the couple leave, watching them closely and curiously. You swore you heard Suzie’s giggle down the hall. Quickly, you close the door and lock it, returning to sit next to Eddie in silence, just for a moment.

They did this shit on purpose. Dustin and Suzie set you and Eddie up—and you don’t know whether to laugh, scream, or throw something at the wall.

“They did this on purpose, you know.” You say, refusing to look over at Eddie. You nervously pick at your nails silently pleading he also caught onto Dustin and Suzie’s scheme. “You had to pick up on that, right?” 

“Dustin has never been the most subtle guy.” Eddie laughed, running a hand over his face as he continued to lay on the bed. “I picked up on it, sweetheart.”

There’s silence between the two of you. A silence so thick you could choke.

Eddie, ever the unpredictable one, breaks the silence with a casual chuckle. "Well, I have to admit, this is almost impressive. I didn’t think Dustin had it in him." His eyes glint with amusement, the kind that always seems to follow your frustration like a shadow.

You shoot him a sharp look, still processing everything, but there’s something in his expression that makes you pause. He’s not upset about this. He’s… enjoying it. Suddenly, a realization clicks in your mind. You can’t tell if it’s panic or pure frustration, but you know what’s coming next.

Eddie knows you and you know him. You both realize, at the same moment, that there’s no escaping the trap. It’s not like you can tell Dustin and Suzie the truth—they’re already too invested. And you certainly can’t go around making a scene. You’d have to lie low, play nice for the wedding and get through this uncomfortable, forced proximity.

You cross your arms over your chest, standing tall in the face of his amused gaze. "Okay. Fine," you say, voice low but firm. "We’re stuck together for the week but for the sake of Dustin and Suzie’s wedding, I think it’s best if we just… play along so they focus on their wedding and not us." You hate the words as they leave your mouth, but it’s the only sensible thing to do.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He doesn’t seem to be fighting the idea, which only makes you more suspicious. “Play along, huh?” he repeats, leaning back into the bed as if he’s settling in for a long conversation. “You mean, like, pretend we’re head over heels for each other for their wedding?”

You throw your hands up in mock exasperation. "I mean, what else do you want me to call it? We pretend we’re into each other, act like we’re happy, and get through the wedding without anyone suspecting we can’t stand each other. Then we never have to see each other again."

Eddie smirks, clearly weighing the idea. He lets out a soft laugh, almost like he’s trying to stifle his enjoyment. “Fake dating, huh? Yeah, I can see that. It’ll be like a rom-com, only with more sighing and eye rolling.” He eyes you up and down, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Alright. I’m in. This should be fun.”

You narrow your eyes, not quite ready to let him get the upper hand. “You better not mess this up, Eddie. I’m not in the mood for your jokes or your... whatever this is.” You gesture vaguely at him, already regretting the entire idea of having to spend more time in close proximity to him than absolutely necessary. 

He raises both hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa. I’m a professional. You’d be surprised how good I am at this,” he says with an exaggerated wink. “And don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You stare at him, suspicious, but you don’t have a better option. The whole “fake dating” thing might actually be the lesser evil. At least this way, you don’t have to worry about awkward explanations to Dustin and Suzie about how you really feel about each other. You just have to get through the wedding weekend, put on a show, and keep the peace.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Alright. Fine. But you better not ruin it. We’re not going to be all lovey-dovey, okay? We’re just... two people who are pretending. Got it?"

Eddie grins like a kid on Christmas morning. “Got it. You’re not going to catch me making googly eyes at you or anything. We’ll just act like we’re having the time of our lives together. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glare at him, your nerves already fried from the thought of what’s to come. "I don’t know, Eddie. Maybe you’ll actually start believing it,” you say, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

Eddie laughs, flopping back on the bed. “Oh, believe me, I don’t want to get any ideas since you’re a flight risk,” he says, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "I’m all about the performance here. Strictly professional. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You turn to face the mirror by the desk, staring at your reflection for a moment. You really thought you’d come to London to celebrate a wedding, maybe enjoy some time away from the madness. Instead, you’re stuck with Eddie, playing pretend for the sake of two people who have no idea that you’re not just friends anymore.

And yet, a strange, nervous energy flickers beneath your skin. You tell yourself it’s just the tension of the situation—that’s what it is. You’re not actually… curious about what it would be like to have Eddie’s arm around you again or what it would feel like to pretend to be in a relationship with him. You can’t be. That’s ridiculous. He said you were nothing to him. That couldn’t have changed. 

Still, as you glance over at him, still lying on the bed with that carefree smirk on his face as you begin to get ready for dinner. You can’t help but wonder if this week might turn into something completely unexpected - more likely a cruel joke than a fresh start but, you’d take a little bit of excitement over the mess you had created for yourself back home.

“Alright. We’re really doing this” you say, swallowing any remnants of doubt. “Let’s do this, then. Let’s pretend to be the perfect couple.”

Eddie’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re on, babe.”

[odaocer]

With a clunk the door to Freddy's room opened. Large metal steps sounded across the room as the mechanical bear entered. The lights inside were dimmed, the neon sign reading FREDDY FAZBEAR in a fancy font lit most of the room.

Freddy walked in clutching a boombox and red guitar. A bass guitar, it wasn't his instrument. The owner was not present currently, a mechnical bunny who Freddy had a lot of fondness for. Placing the boombox on a table he hit a play button, the boombox clicking alive as a low instrumental started playing.

Continuing along, Freddy took a seat on the tire swing. Installed just for him, he got the idea after a kid suggested he would like it. He did, even if finding a tire big enough for him took some time. Kicking his legs up on the swing it swayed gently at his heavy presence. Putting the guitar across his knees he started counting the beat in the song.

And just as it finished a bar, Freddy started playing. A chorus of chords and melancholic notes filled the room as the guitar roared between Freddy's fingers. Sometimes he would sit for hours and jam on end. During such quiet times Monty would play golf, Chica would bake, Roxanne would tinker and Bonnie would read. Freddy, he liked playing.

And while they played to audiences, children screaming in excitement, Freddy also liked playing to himself. Right now, he was the only crowd he needed.

…At least, until the door opened again. Freddy stopped playing, seeing who entered his domicile. With a wave and wink he showed as he saw Bonnie enter, the mechanical bunny nodding and keeping quiet. He didn't want to interupt Freddy after all. It was Bonnie's guitar he was playing, Freddy knew to expect the bunny show up.

He understood too, returning to playing and tuning the guitar as Bonnie lightly stepped so as to not break the bear's rhythm.

Taking a seat on the couch Bonnie watched with curious eyes and Freddy played, the guitar sounds hypnotic. His jaw hung slightly askew as wonder washed over him, in awe at the sounds Freddy made with his guitar.

When the song concluded, Bonnie applauded, even standing up to give him an ovation.

"That was so cool!" Bonnie said.

"Hehe, thanks."

-----

Here's a small Christmas present!

Freddy model by DravenJV01 and Bonnie model by BAYG. The map is from Moo0o0n.

This is a future scene from Pop Goes the Balloon, Job 3.

[wromwood]

While I've decided not to buy any more FNaF books, I'm still curious enough to check them out when my local library decides to offer them. And recently, they added the first graphic novel collection for their Tales from the Pizzaplex stories.

To those of you who remember my previous commentary on the graphic novels for FNaF short stories, you'll know that these adaptations are rarely good. They're often riddled with errors, strange design choices, and overall adequate comic making skills that I wouldn't expect from a Scholastic-published book for a popular franchise. But has this changed for the new graphic novel?

... Yes and no.

Overall, the art has steadily improved since the graphic novel adaptations came out. I do appreciate the choice to have a different artist for each of the three stories per installment, and since the artists periodically return across the books, I can see the improvement. However, each story has its fair share of things to criticize.

Let's start with the first story in this volume: "Under Construction."

At first glance, nothing appears to be wrong with this art style. It's detailed, colorful, and there is even creative usage of comic panels. Sadly, there are two areas that are still lacking. First is this font that's used for signs.

Hand-lettering takes effort. I can understand switching to text. But that doesn't take away from the fact that they still used it in a way that looks lazy. The font/lettering doesn't look natural in the world itself. You can tell it's just a text box put over an image, not really text that's naturally on the sign.

This is even more apparent for signs that should be more detailed or unique, like this birthday banner:

Or the sign for the Mega Pizzaplex:

Second, this story makes some weird choices regarding food. This actually isn't uncommon for these adaptations. Food is usually depicted in an either unsatisfactory (doesn't look good) or incorrect way (doesn't match the story or dialogue). But this story's art style is strong enough to make these errors stand out. For example...

The award-winning coffee cake. The protagonist even points out that it should have cinnamon, hinting that this is a traditional coffee cake. However, that's not a coffee cake. There's no crumbly stuff on top, and the icing looks pink.

You'd think they got the second cake right with all the roses. Until you see this...

That icing is white. There's not even a hint of green. I know pistachio doesn't necessarily mean neon green, but any comic should know that "pistachio" equals some kind of green. Otherwise, it just looks like a vanilla cake.

You'd think that I'd give the comic a pass for depicting a store bought cake that's supposed to look disappointing. The more disappointing, the better, right?

OH COME ON.

No store bought sheet cake looks like that!

Oh, don't forget the reappearance of the coffee cake, which looks totally different for no reason. And still not like a coffee cake.

All right, moving on to story #2: "HAPPS."

This art style is the weakest one to me, so I won't go over all of my criticisms. I'll just point out that it either doesn't show what it needs to, or it shows what it needs to in a disappointing way. Like this:

That first page is the only context we get of the laser tag fight that the protagonist was in. But it's up to the dialogue to tell us the important stuff: that the protagonist got elbowed by bullies and that there even ARE bullies. We don't see them anywhere else in the story. "Show, don't tell" is good advice for almost every occasion, but this is especially the case for a GRAPHIC NOVEL.

But it's not like the showing is all that good either.

This is the depiction of the protagonists scaring two little kids away. It leaves a lot to be desired.

Aaaand I've hit the image limit for this post, so I'll reblog with my criticisms of the third story.

[1997thebracket]

Round 1

End of Evangelion: It all returns to nothing. So says the haunting tune 'Komm, Süsser Tod' by Arianne, which soundtracks the fate of humanity in the End of Evangelion. The film serves as an alternate ending to the original anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion, which bewitched viewers with the then-unconventional match of giant mecha and existential depression all wrapped up in religious iconography. The final episodes of the anime are incredibly cerebral and proved controversial for viewers at the time, which led to director Hideaki Anno further expressing himself in the 1997 film... which took the heady themes and conflicting stylistic choices of the show and put them in a high-octane blender, along with a tall glass of Human Tang. At its core, End of Evangelion asks if individualism is the one great folly of humanity and the source of our suffering, or if it is the very point of it; it shows the loss of barriers between people and subsequent extinction of loneliness as a sort of cosmic horror. Looking back at the scenes, imagery, and music most associated with the anime and its continued influence, much of the franchise's legacy stems from the End of Evangelion.

Yahoo! Mail: If you're still using the same Yahoo! email address you made in middle school, this round is for you. In 1997, Yahoo! outmaneuvered Microsoft in acquiring RocketMail, which forced users of the existing mail service to adapt or abandon ship. They chose this move based on the speed at which email communications and email hosting were growing, as they believed the six-month-minimum to develop and build Yahoo! hosting from scratch would lose them thousands of user registrations per week-- and once the user already had an email address, they were seemingly off the market. Nowadays, it's fairly uncommon to have one email address for your entire life, but preserving the login for dolphindreamsinpink13@yahoo.com is an honorable mission. Yahoo! Mail came clad in a stylish dark purple with a memorably funky font and logo; Yahoo! also embraced emoticon culture early on, and their brand marketing along with their later IM service would reflect this.

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGCovers Week Thirteen BALIKBAYAN: Returning Home Rae Nedjadi

I was super jazzed last week when I saw a Tumblr post from Rae Nedjadi going over his TTRPG Projects on the table- and where they were at. In great part that was because I saw BALIKBAYAN listed among the games in “different forms of active.” I love the concept of the game, enslaved elementals in a cyberpunk world escaping to fight back against The Corp which has exploited you and your people. 

It’s a Belonging Outside Belonging ttrpg with a) some of the absolutely best pick lists for creating the world and b) some of the most striking and amazing playbooks for characters and beyond. 

I also adore this cover. The mix of colors here is so smart: both complementary and clashing. I am a sucker for distressed logos and so the title font at the center is absolutely my jam. I love the way the yellow backlash borders look like warning tape. There’s a great detail in how the neon characters in the background bleed upwards from the “BA” there. 

The figure in the center is striking, precisely because they aren’t looking out at the viewer. They look down: in worry? in exhaustion? in contemplation? It makes what otherwise might be an ordinary cyberpunk photo image into something more. There’s the additional detail of one hand reaching up to touch the side of their mask. I don’t know why, but it feels like a vulnerable gesture. 

Then there’s the whole background layer– with a blown out neon cloud at the top. But more importantly the two vertical titles on either side of the page. Through them you can almost see another world. As your eyes come down the page the elements become more mixed up and harder to separate. That ends in a complementary blow out of color in the bottom right.

[racingliners]

Helmet Watch 2024

*cracks knuckles* I'm back to yell about driver helmets.

Like talking about and rating all the liveries last year, I had a lot of fun doing the same for the drivers helmets, so helmet watch has returned for 2024! (Under a read more as to not clog up everyone's dashes, with the drivers listed in alphabetical order by surname.)

NB - I'm just doing the "core" helmet designs, as if the drivers come out with one-off helmets at the rate they did last year I wouldn't have any free time.

Alex Albon (Williams)

Like the 2024 Williams livery, it's an evolution of last year's design. Though with less sharp angles and using something much more bubble font-esque.

We still have the double As which is neat and I also loooooooove the baby pink and navy blue combo, especially with how much pink is on the helmet. It will really pop against the dark blue livery of the car.

8/10

Fernando Alonso (Aston Martin)

Pretty much a copy and paste from last year's helmet with a couple of minor tweaks. But in saying that I do feel that the minor adjustments make the design look a lot less busy. Like last year the colour scheme is great and it'll look great with the car, and I love the Aston Martin wings by the visor, it's one of my favourite details.

7/10

Valtteri Bottas (Sauber)

Any feelings I had about Valtteri taking forever to drop his 2024 helmet design have been immediately forgiven. I absolutely love this Northern Lights inspired design so so much. Both because of how unique a design it is but also the execution of it is just gorgeous. I love all the inclusion of the North star and all the different constellations, and that the number 77 has also been written like waves from the aurora. I would genuinely buy a mini-helmet of this I love it that much.

10/10

Pierre Gasly (Alpine)

I absolutely LOVE this one. The splashes of white and the subtle gradient shading adds so much dimension to the whole design (proof that if done right monochromatic designs can absolutely work!). I also just love the shade of pale blue as well, it's going to look really nice with both liveries Alpine are running this year.

10/10

Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes)

Misty eyes aside about this being the last core helmet design from Lewis as a Mercedes driver, I do absolutely love this. It's pretty much another copy and paste from last year, minus the rainbow band on the top. I'm glad that Lewis kept the rainbow lines otherwise the contrast between the neon yellow and purple would look quite jarring. But like last year I absolutely love it (apart from the exposed carbon at the top)

9/10

Nico Hulkenberg (Haas)

JMD Helmets really do never miss. Like his helmet from last year I love the paint splatter effect and I really like the choice to change it from orange and purple to acid green. I'm unsure on what to make of the purple and green combo as it def plays into the whole Hulk nickname, but the shades chosen do look good together.

9/10

Charles Leclerc (Ferrari)

Currently kissing Charles on his pretty little head for the addition of the dark metallic red accents. It's so pretty and adds a lot of dimension to his helmet design (while I did like his '23 helmet, it did feel a bit plain). I also really like the pattern on the base of the number 16 going round the helmet, it's been done in just the right font size and colour that again adds some more dimension instead of looking busy.

8/10

Kevin Magnussen (Haas)

This is a complete 180 from his previous helmet designs, and while I have zero idea what the inspiration is I really like it!

The bright splash of turquoise is really nice (I will always love fun colours on helmets) and it complements the parrot design really well. (Again, I don't know why Kevin has put a parrot on his helmet, but it's fun so I'm allowing it). I would never have thought to pair turquoise and marigold together, but somehow it works, and both looks really nice on the off-white base.

8/10

Lando Norris (McLaren)

I genuinely cannot fault this. I love that it's glossy, I love the neon yellow, I love the abstract black detailing. My new favourite helmet design of Lando's

10/10

Esteban Ocon (Alpine)

I am so happy to see Esteban carrying on the red and black colour scheme from last year. While I don't love this design as much as last year's (the big carbon fibre E is a tad off putting) it's still a really solid design that will not only stand out against the Alpine livery, but against the rest of the grid's helmets too.

He also gets a kiss on the head for keeping his helmet glossy instead of matte

8/10

Sergio Perez (Red Bull)

I'm unsure how I feel about Checo's helmet this year. On the one hand it does have a more cohesive colour palette than last year (and I LOVE the traditional Mexican inspired patten on the blue base), on the other it does feel a bit simple. I also wish the Red Bull logo with the white outline had been used instead, the text is a bit hard to read against the blue. But I do enjoy the splashes of yellow that do well to set his helmet apart from Verstappen's

6.5/10

Oscar Piastri (McLaren)

Another evolution of last year's design and I love the version for 2024! For me Oscar's helmet was too busy last year and I feel like it's been streamlined. My favourite part, the colour palette, has remained unchanged and like last year I just love how bright it is. I also really like the pattern on the medium blue base, it adds a really nice dimension to the overall design. However I do miss the silver holographic detailing from last year's helmet, it's a shame it didn't make the cut.

9/10

Daniel Ricciardo (Racing Bulls)

This is a colossal upgrade on last year's helmet (the tan and blue colourway was not it). And while the grey and silver colour scheme is plain, it definitely helps the flame design look a lot better than on last year's helmet and will look really good against the bright blue RB livery.

As with Gasly's helmet I also like the gradient shading, and the chrome (!!!) silver outline going around the flames.

7.5/10

George Russell (Mercedes)

I am so glad George stuck with a blue design instead of the acid green he trialled at some races last year. It's a really gorgeous shade of blue that looks stunning with the Mercedes W15 livery, and I really like the little bits of darker blue shading and the blue visor (again I don't talk much about matching visors much but I do appreciate them!!).

He also gets a bonus point for having the black parts painted instead of carbon fibre.

8/10

Carlos Sainz Jr (Ferrari)

Again another copy and paste from last year, but thankfully with less black. It looks so much brighter with just having the black on the top. I like that the design is a even more abstract than his design last year, it definitely makes it look different. And of course the red and yellow colour scheme means that it will look really good with the Ferrari livery

7/10

Logan Sargeant (Williams)

I really, really want to like this design but the American flag just completely takes me out of it. If it wasn't there this helmet would be gorgeous because imho it's not needed as the white and blue with the red accents already does a great job in showcasing Logan's home country colours.

Apart of that, the design is really nice and it will look so stunning with the car, it just has an echo of a Haas US GP livery 😭

5/10

Lance Stroll (Aston Martin)

A moment of silence for the fallen Aston Martin wings, they were very pretty 😔

Lance's helmet design for 2024 is a throwback to the design he ran in his championship winning European F3 season, but refreshed in Aston Martin colours. I did have a somewhat negative reaction upon seeing the exposed carbon but the more I look at it the more I'm on board with it. It definitely helps that it's all over glossy. Also shoutout to Lance's continued commitment to the Aston brand by having the flashes of neon lime to match the car's livery, I will always appreciate a proper commitment to the bit.

7/10

Yuki Tsunoda (Racing Bulls)

The Japanese maple leaves are baaaaaaaack!!!!!

I'm not so sure on the navy base... but then I also don't know what colour base I would switch it out for that would look good and also complement the Racing Bulls livery. But Yuki's helmet was one of my favourites last year so I'm really happy to see a version of it back for 2024.

7/10

Max Verstappen (Red Bull)

ngl I do like this a lot more than his design from last year. I love the cobalt blue (oh how I wish the RBR would be as bright as this) and I especially love the silver chrome accents, if they were a little bit thicker and more prominent I'd like them even more.

I also want to shoutout the red/orange duo-chrome visor, I never talk about them enough but I love it when the colour of the visors complement the rest of the helmet design (in this case the red and yellow in the Red Bull logo)

8/10

Zhou Guanyu (Sauber)

No notes. And dare I say, best helmet on the grid. I just love the pairing of all over black with the hints of the porcelain pattern and silver holographic accents. It's sexy as hell.

10/10

[inspirdgboutique01]

Louisville Cardinals Back In Black 2025 Hoodie

Link Product: https://inspirdg.com/product/louisville-cardinals-back-in-black-2025-hoodie/

A Bold Revival in Shadow: The “Louisville Cardinals Back In Black 2025 Hoodie”

Introduction: A New Chapter in Cardinal Legacy

In the ever-evolving world of sportswear, few garments manage to strike a chord between minimalist power and visual dominance. The “Louisville Cardinals Back In Black 2025 Hoodie” does exactly that. It isn’t just a fashion piece—it’s a proclamation. A visual roar cloaked in obsidian. This is more than merchandise; it’s an anthem woven into fabric for fans who bleed black and red.

For Louisville Cardinals faithful, this hoodie is not just a return—it’s a resurrection. The phrase “Back in Black” isn’t simply a nod to a colorway; it’s a call to arms. A promise of dominance, vengeance, and pride. It channels the spirit of the program’s most intense moments and condenses them into a wearable symbol of fearless identity.

Design: Darkness Refined and Elevated

At first glance, the hoodie captures attention with its monochromatic boldness. Everything—from the Cardinal birdhead emblem to the “LOUISVILLE” chest text—is executed in matte black or deep charcoal tones, creating a sharp silhouette that’s both mysterious and magnetic. This is no flashy neon or overdone pattern—it’s the strength of restraint, the loudness of intentional silence.

On the front, “LOUISVILLE” is embroidered in a modern collegiate font, raised with a subtle sheen that catches light just enough to create dimension. The sleeves bear a stylized badge design reminiscent of warrior insignias—quietly reinforcing this hoodie as part of a modern armor set.

Flip to the back, and the iconic Cardinal logo reigns supreme. Oversized and darkly embossed, the familiar snarl of the bird looks more imposing than ever. Above it, the university name arches like a battle banner—resolute and unfading.

This isn’t just branding—it’s heritage reimagined.

Symbolism: Power, Grit, and the Color of Purpose

Black is a color with weight. It’s the color of focus, of rebellion, of intensity. The Louisville Cardinals Back In Black 2025 Hoodie embraces these themes and amplifies them. It symbolizes rebirth—the kind that comes after setbacks, doubts, and rivalry defeats.

The aggressive Cardinal logo, rendered in shadow, is an embodiment of ferocity reined in by discipline. The dark motif also echoes stealth and intimidation, marking a return to form not just for fans, but for the team itself. This isn’t about cheering from the stands; it’s about standing with pride, grit, and a shared understanding of what the Cardinal standard means.

In this piece, black isn’t just a color. It’s a mindset.

Craftsmanship: Comfort Meets Authority

The garment’s construction matches its powerful message. Made from premium heavyweight cotton, the hoodie exudes durability and structure. It’s designed to keep you warm through a double-header or a long road trip, but breathable enough to wear indoors with ease. The brushed fleece lining elevates the comfort, offering a soft, cloud-like feel without compromising on the rugged exterior.

The double-stitched hem and cuffs, reinforced hood, and high-quality drawstrings make this hoodie not just an aesthetic win but a functional powerhouse. The print technique used on the logo and lettering ensures long-lasting wear, resisting fading even after repeated washes.

Whether you’re tailgating at Jim Patterson Stadium or layering up for a chilly night out, this hoodie delivers uncompromising performance and street-smart style.

Cultural Resonance: When Sports and Style Collide

“Back In Black” is more than a campaign slogan—it’s a cultural bridge. It nods to a legacy of greatness and hints at future conquest. This hoodie speaks to the die-hard Louisville fan as much as it appeals to streetwear aficionados who recognize strong design when they see it.

In an age where sports apparel often leans into over-saturation, this hoodie’s minimalist execution makes it stand out all the more. It’s not just a tribute to the team; it’s a piece you can wear to class, to concerts, to bars, to campus meetups—and always make a statement.

It belongs in the wardrobe of anyone who understands that loyalty doesn’t need loud colors—only bold conviction.

Conclusion: Fear the Return

The “Louisville Cardinals Back In Black 2025 Hoodie” is not just a clothing item—it’s a rallying cry. It represents a team and a community unwilling to be overlooked. A franchise with its eyes set on greatness and its fans dressed to match the energy.

It captures the essence of what it means to be Cardinal Strong in every stitch, shade, and silhouette. This hoodie doesn’t need to shout—it whispers with weight. It’s the hoodie you wear when you’re not just watching history—you’re a part of it.

[tnsigns]

Affordable & Elegant: The Power of 3D Acrylic Letter Boards for Chennai Startups

Starting a business in Chennai? Whether you're launching a café in Anna Nagar or a boutique in T. Nagar, one thing remains clear: your first impression matters. In a bustling city where every street is a marketplace, your storefront needs to be as bold as your business dream.

That’s where 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai come in — a solution that’s both budget-friendly and visually stunning for emerging brands. Startups often need to balance cost and quality, and this signage offers the best of both worlds.

Let’s explore how these elegant signboards are becoming a go-to branding asset for Chennai’s new entrepreneurs.

Why 3D Acrylic Letter Sign Boards in Chennai Are Perfect for Startups

Chennai’s startup ecosystem is vibrant and growing. From IT services in Guindy to home bakeries in Kilpauk, businesses are popping up across every sector. But no matter the niche, visibility is the foundation of growth — especially for footfall-based businesses.

This is where 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai make their mark. They’re sleek, customizable, and surprisingly affordable — making them the ideal branding choice for startups with limited budgets but big visions.

Why they work:

✅ Professional finish at a startup-friendly price

✅ Lightweight yet durable in Chennai’s weather

✅ Eye-catching aesthetics that attract customers

Instead of investing in heavy metal boards or temporary flex prints, many Chennai startups are making the smarter, more stylish move to 3D acrylic signage.

Cost-Effective Visibility: The Edge of 3D Acrylic Letter Sign Boards in Chennai

One of the biggest misconceptions among new business owners is that high-quality signage is expensive. But the truth is, 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai offer premium impact at a fraction of the cost of metal or neon signs.

For a startup working with limited funds, this means:

💸 Reduced marketing spend

💼 Enhanced brand presentation

🚀 Faster returns through increased footfall

These boards aren’t just economical to produce — they also last longer, meaning you save on replacements and repairs in the long run. Plus, when paired with backlighting or LED glow, they offer round-the-clock brand visibility without needing a high ad budget.

Custom Branding: How Startups Can Personalize Their Look

One major benefit of using 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai is how versatile they are for brand expression. Whether your startup wants a quirky, youthful look or a classy, premium presence, these signs can be designed to match your brand DNA perfectly.

You can choose from:

🎨 Custom fonts and colors

💡 LED-backlit or front-lit options

🌟 Matte or glossy finishes

🧩 Acrylic layering for depth and design

For example, a startup cafe can go for warm-lit lettering with cursive fonts, while a tech firm might choose bold uppercase letters in icy white — the customization is endless, giving your startup a professional identity right from day one.

[acrylicglowsignboard]

Acrylic Glow Sign Board Near Me

If you want to stand out in a competitive market, searching for an “Acrylic Glow Sign Board Near Me” is a great start. These boards combine aesthetics, visibility, and functionality to attract customers and boost your sales. Whether you run a retail shop, a salon, a restaurant, or a corporate office, an acrylic glow sign board can be the branding solution that drives real results. Durable, customizable, and eye-catching, it’s a smart investment for long-term business success.

Call Now : +91-86991-07456

1. What is an Acrylic Glow Sign Board?

A modern type of signage made using acrylic sheets and internal lighting such as LED or neon lights.

Known for its sleek design, durability, and eye-catching glow, making it highly visible at all times.

Often used for business storefronts, retail shops, restaurants, clinics, gyms, and corporate offices.

Offers a professional and high-quality look compared to traditional flex or printed boards.

2. Why Search for “Acrylic Glow Sign Board Near Me”?

Local businesses often search this keyword to find trusted vendors or signage makers nearby.

Proximity ensures faster delivery, easy installation, and after-sales service.

Local providers can also offer custom design consultations based on local competition and customer behavior.

3. How Acrylic Glow Sign Boards Attract Customers

High visibility: The glowing effect grabs attention even in low-light or crowded environments.

Striking appeal: Bright and clean fonts with a glowing outline make your business name stand out.

Instant recognition: Helps customers remember your store or office, especially at night.

Enhanced brand perception: Gives a premium feel that suggests your business is established and trustworthy.

Custom design options: You can align the design with your brand’s theme and messaging for better recognition.

4. Benefits of Acrylic Glow Sign Boards

✅ 24/7 Advertising: Works day and night without additional effort or cost.

✅ Durability: Acrylic is resistant to weather, UV rays, and corrosion, making it suitable for outdoor use.

✅ Energy Efficiency: Uses LED lights that consume less electricity and last longer.

✅ Customization: Can be tailored in terms of size, shape, font, color, and illumination style.

✅ Low Maintenance: Requires very little upkeep compared to traditional boards that fade or tear.

✅ Professional Look: Clean edges and smooth finishes present a polished, modern image.

5. How Acrylic Glow Sign Boards Help Boost Sales

📈 Increased Walk-in Traffic: Visibility draws people in, especially in high-footfall areas.

🎯 Targeted Local Marketing: Acts as a landmark for customers searching for your location.

🛍️ Better Customer Engagement: An attractive sign can make people curious to step inside and explore.

💡 Stronger Brand Recall: A well-lit, clear brand name helps customers remember you when they need your products/services again.

💰 Higher Conversion Rates: More visibility often leads to more inquiries and more purchases.

🔁 Supports Repeat Business: When people recognize and trust your branding, they are more likely to return.

6. Use Cases Across Different Business Types

Retail Stores: Drive attention to your brand or promotions.

Restaurants & Cafes: Attract diners during evening hours with an inviting glow.

Clinics & Pharmacies: Help patients locate your service quickly.

Salons & Spas: Highlight your name stylishly and professionally.

Gyms & Fitness Centers: Inspire action with a bold, energetic display.

Corporate Offices: Showcase brand identity and professionalism.

7. Why Acrylic Over Other Signage Types?

Compared to Flex Boards:

Acrylic is more durable and premium-looking.

Compared to Metal Boards:

Acrylic is lighter, corrosion-resistant, and easier to install.

Compared to Wooden Boards:

Acrylic offers better lighting integration and modern aesthetics.

Call Now : +91-86991-07456

[usa2025store01]

Wichita Thunder Home Opener 2025-26 Black Hockey Jersey

Link Product:https://flavorhauted.com/product/wichita-thunder-home-opener-2025-26-black-hockey-jersey/

Wichita Thunder 2025–26 Home Opener Black Jersey: A Storm of Power, Precision, and Pride

In the fiercely passionate world of hockey, where grit meets grace on sheets of ice and every detail of a jersey becomes a badge of belonging, the Wichita Thunder Home Opener 2025–26 Black Jersey crashes into the scene like a bolt of lightning. This isn’t just another piece of sportswear—it’s a visual and emotional statement. A storm wrapped in thread. A bold black-and-white war suit announcing that the Thunder are ready to strike.

Crafted for the die-hard fan and the style-savvy alike, this limited-edition home opener jersey blends modern minimalism with classic toughness, delivering a masterpiece of design that resonates with the energy of the ice and the pulse of the crowd.

The Dominance of Black: A Statement of Intent

Black is not merely a color—it’s a presence. And in this jersey, it’s the foundation of intimidation and strength. The deep matte black body speaks with confidence and clarity, setting a powerful tone that immediately distinguishes the Wichita Thunder’s return to the rink.

It absorbs light and reflects resolve. It represents discipline, danger, and determination. In an era where flashy neons and gradients are the trend, this black jersey boldly returns to fundamental fierceness, proving that sometimes the most potent message is delivered in the simplest shade.

White Strikes and Bold Borders: Balance in Brutality

Contrasting the black foundation, stark white panels on the shoulders and sleeves deliver clean, cutting lines across the form of the jersey. These design choices aren’t just aesthetic—they’re symbolic. The white bars across the arms represent clarity of purpose and direction, slicing through chaos like a hockey stick through open ice.

This visual separation enhances motion visibility on the ice and gives players a sharp, high-contrast silhouette. It’s elegance meets aggression—a duality every great hockey team must master.

Front Design: The Thunderbolt that Unites Us All

Centered across the chest in bold silver and electric blue, the Wichita Thunder logo erupts with kinetic energy. The stylized bolt wrapped around a charging puck feels alive, full of velocity and focus. It’s not just a graphic—it’s a battle cry.

Flanked by sponsor patches (including SONIC and AHL league logos), this jersey honors the team’s partners while never distracting from the main identity. Every inch is built with purpose and presence, from the angles of the lightning bolt to the typography used in the crest.

It’s a design that captures both momentum and menace, inspiring players and electrifying fans.

Back Customization: Your Name in the Storm

On the back of the jersey, the customization option takes on a deeply personal tone. Whether you wear your own name, a favorite player’s, or a nickname earned on the local rink, it transforms this already powerful piece into your own chapter of Thunder history.

The bold block font used for the name and number feels militaristic and strong—ideal for the adrenaline-fueled environment of hockey. The crisp white print contrasts beautifully with the black background, ensuring visibility whether on the ice or in the stands.

And with “00” featured in the preview, it emphasizes the potential to make this jersey uniquely yours. Your number. Your name. Your legacy.

Fit, Feel, and Function: Engineered for Energy

Crafted from a lightweight, breathable polyester blend, this jersey isn’t just for show—it’s made for performance and comfort. Designed to be worn over pads or layered casually, it fits true to hockey jersey tradition: roomy, durable, and rugged.

The V-neck collar adds a professional finish, while the reinforced stitching ensures the jersey can take real wear—on the ice, in the gym, or during heated celebrations at home games.

Whether you’re slapping pucks at practice or shouting from Section 109, this jersey is made to move with your adrenaline.

Cultural Energy: The Home Opener as a Ritual

The home opener isn’t just another game—it’s a ceremony. It marks a new chapter, a fresh start, and a city’s collective hope renewed. This jersey encapsulates that energy. Wearing it isn’t just fandom—it’s participation in the larger Thunder mythology.

Every thread, every patch, every line is a signal to the league: Wichita is here, we’re watching, and we came to win.

The black-and-white motif is the perfect metaphor—simple but unrelenting, classic yet unpredictable. Just like the team.

Why It Matters: Beyond Fabric and Foam

Jerseys are more than merchandise. They’re armor. They’re memory-holders, emotional vessels that remind us where we were when the game was won, who we were with when the overtime buzzer sounded, and how it felt to belong to something bigger.

The 2025–26 Wichita Thunder Home Opener Jersey is destined to become one of those iconic pieces that future fans look back on and say: “That was the year we made a statement.”

Whether you’re a lifelong Thunder fanatic or a new fan riding the storm surge, this jersey invites you to step into a collective roar, a shared electricity that reverberates through every slapshot and save.

Conclusion: Wear the Storm. Own the Ice.

The Wichita Thunder Home Opener 2025–26 Black Jersey is not just a garment—it’s an emblem of arrival, ambition, and intensity. With its striking design, customized flair, and wearable power, it serves as a bold declaration that the Thunder have returned—not just to play, but to conquer.

This jersey belongs in the hands of those who believe in loyalty, grit, and the adrenaline of game night. A statement. A uniform. A storm you can wear.

Get yours. Feel the thunder.

[ssksigns]

Why Channel Letters Are the Go-To Signage Choice for Mississauga Stores

In the competitive retail and service landscape of Mississauga, visibility is everything. Whether you're running a trendy boutique in Port Credit or managing a well-established business along Hurontario Street, how your storefront looks directly affects customer footfall and brand perception. Among the many signage options available, channel letters have steadily become the top choice for business owners across the city—and for good reason.

What Are Channel Letters?

Channel letters are 3D, individually crafted letters or symbols, typically made from metal or acrylic, that are mounted directly onto a building's facade or onto a raceway. They can be illuminated or non-illuminated, and customized in a wide variety of fonts, sizes, and colors. The most popular types include front-lit, back-lit (halo), and combination-lit channel letters.

Now that we know what they are, let’s explore why channel letters have become the go-to signage solution for Mississauga businesses.

1. Exceptional Visibility – Day and Night

Mississauga is a bustling city with heavy foot and vehicle traffic. Whether your store is located near Square One Shopping Centre or in a quieter industrial area, standing out is critical. Illuminated channel letters are highly visible both during the day and at night. The LED lighting used in these signs ensures consistent brightness, helping your business stay prominent even in low-light conditions or harsh Canadian winters.

For stores that operate after dark—like restaurants, bars, convenience stores, or clinics—this kind of visibility can make the difference between getting noticed or being overlooked.

2. Professional and Polished Appearance

Presentation matters. Channel letters convey a sense of professionalism and trust. Their sleek, three-dimensional look provides a level of sophistication that flat signs or vinyl banners simply cannot achieve.

In a city like Mississauga, where businesses range from global franchises to local boutiques, brand image is crucial. A custom-designed channel letter sign helps businesses maintain a cohesive and upscale storefront appearance that attracts new customers and reassures returning ones.

3. Highly Customizable for Any Brand

Every brand has its own identity, and channel letters offer unmatched flexibility when it comes to customization. From bold fonts and vibrant colors to lighting effects and mounting styles, you can tailor your signage to align perfectly with your brand aesthetic.

For example:

A tech company near Sheridan Park might opt for a modern, back-lit design.

A cozy café in Streetsville may choose warm-toned, front-lit letters with a vintage font.

This versatility makes channel letters a favorite among marketing-conscious business owners in Mississauga.

4. Energy-Efficient and Environmentally Friendly

Mississauga businesses are increasingly embracing sustainable practices, and channel letters support that goal. Modern signs are typically illuminated using energy-efficient LED technology, which consumes significantly less power than traditional fluorescent or neon lighting. LEDs also have a longer lifespan, reducing maintenance and replacement costs.

Choosing LED channel letters can help businesses save on energy bills while also promoting a green image—a win-win for the environment and your bottom line.

5. Durability in All Weather Conditions

Ontario weather can be unpredictable, from hot and humid summers to snow-laden winters. Channel letters are built to last. Constructed with weather-resistant materials such as aluminum and acrylic, these signs can withstand rain, snow, wind, and UV exposure.

When installed professionally, they remain securely fixed and functional for years, making them a reliable long-term investment for Mississauga stores.

6. Compliance with City Signage Regulations

Mississauga, like many cities in Ontario, has strict bylaws regarding signage—especially in terms of size, illumination, and placement. Channel letters are a compliant-friendly option, as they are easy to design within regulatory guidelines. Many local signage companies in Mississauga are well-versed in municipal codes and can assist in ensuring your signage meets all legal requirements, avoiding potential fines or redesigns.

7. Proven Return on Investment

While channel letters might have a higher upfront cost compared to some other signage types, the long-term return on investment is excellent. They are low-maintenance, long-lasting, energy-efficient, and offer high impact in terms of visibility and brand recall. This means more people recognize and remember your business, leading to more foot traffic and increased revenue.

In a competitive retail environment like Mississauga, that brand recognition can be a key driver of growth.

Final Thoughts

For businesses in Mississauga looking to boost their visibility, enhance their brand image, and make a lasting impression, channel letters are the ultimate signage solution. Their sleek design, customization options, and energy efficiency make them a smart investment for any storefront.

If you're opening a new store or considering a signage upgrade, channel letters are a proven way to make your mark—literally and figuratively—in the local business scene.

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2.6 Contextual Annotation: Motion Graphics - annotation draft

Throughout this motion graphic, the simple, bold black font complements the dynamic peeling neon, tape-like lines. The layered effect and use of opacity throughout the green tape-like lines also add depth throughout the motion. The typographic and thick neon green lines interact cohesively with the elements, starting, slowing down, and pausing, then re-looping. This creates a captivating rhythm and an easy eye flow. Along with the slow, easy ease movements throughout the type and green tape enhancing an effective engagement with viewers, as eyes are guided in a natural way after the green lines return to their original positioning, after mid-sequence rotations and positioning.