#they all feel like cardboard characters by the last chapters

[vivika-ka]

Maybe I’m not interpreting Bakugou’s character right, but isn’t him asking Izuku to join his agency under him, as in an underling, out of character? (I’m not sure if the sidekick aspect is factual)

Hori wrote Katsuki after the war and in the first part of the epilogue eager for Izuku to compete with him again. Wouldn’t working under him go completely against his supposed characterization?

One thing would be opening an agency together, since that puts them at equal grounds in terms of business, and I don’t see why Izuku wouldn’t be able to be considered his own hero since he’s the one who defeated the “big bad.” Basically, both would retain their autonomy. Being an employee is another thing.

Like, I kind of see the call back to when they were children and Katsuki would play about having his agency and the underlings and whatever, but why maintain something indicative of regression instead of moving forward in an epilogue? Especially when it’s been sort of established they were moving on from that childish view of their goals they held on tightly (I still stand their view on hero culture as a whole didn’t change much other than helping each other, and that’s about it).

Obviously, Katsuki hasn’t completely “grown,” he is still abrasive, but when it comes to his motivation, this whole agency thing is so unnecessary. I see the direction of it being an opportunity for Izuku to finally stand his ground, but I think there were other avenues for him to do that (especially society-wise).

But anyway, the story and characters has been dissonant for a great part of the last chapters, but this epilogue served as an even greater setback (in my opinion).

Does anybody else feel this is out of character for Katsuki?

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

also sorry for the neige slander, I don't hate him but vdc broke me

[starlight727]

A little gift (part 3, the final part, I promise lol)

Shadow Milk Cookie x reader fic (Chapter 2 - Theater of Lies)

Author's note: Had planned to leave this part for part 2, but decided to make a separate part for it, so here we go, final act, let's do this!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (you are here)

"As saddening as it can be, we've reached the last round! And since it's the last question, you get twice the amount of points!" announced Shadow Milk with a sad tone in his voice, but at the same time he sounded excited for what was coming next. He pointed out this last question was for White Lily, you looked over your shoulder to see her pale face and eyes widened, she tried to steel herself, but what came next shocked her to her core.

"You sure seem proud of your new title of 'the Guardian of the Seal...' ...let's see how great you really are...!" and with that, Shadow Milk summoned lots of strings that held you and your friends up in the hair by the wrists and ankles, it scared you all, it was a painful feeling how tight the strings were.

But suddenly, you felt the strings let go of your limbs and you fell on a solid platform, it was a cardboard star! You were then carefully taken to the one place you never expected to be: Shadow Milk's hand. You were frozen in fear, trying your best to hide your trembling self. Your eyes were wide open, taking in every single detail in the giant entertainer's form, his attire, his strange hair (or hat, what even was all of that??), his face... his wonderful face and its... majestic features... oh my Witches, you were falling in love with him HARD, like a shooting star crashing on Earthbread (that doesn't make sense but you get the idea). You got up on your feet, but your shaking knees were not helping you keep your balance. You tried walking up to him, but you tripped over your own foot (like a clumsy main character, you hated it), but to your surprise, he caught you just in time! Your gaze softened at the surprisingly generous act, you were staring at him, at his gorgeous sky blue eyes, for so long, you got lost in them, you didn't notice you were so deep in there until Shadow Milk started talking to you with a voice so soft it could be softer than silk.

"Hello there, Y/N Cookie!" he began with a light chuckle, something that snapped you out of your trance and made you blush like mad.

"Hehe, don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, my little star. You'll stay right here, close to me, so I can keep my eyes on you~." he said as he moved you to the top of the Silver Tree, where the night sky was covered with thousands of blue eyes peering into your soul. It took you a couple of minutes to register what just happened, you needed to lie down after that, you felt like you were about to pass out and you didn't wanna fall off the platform you were standing on, so you rested on it while everything else was happening.

While you were asleep, a lot of important events were happening: Shadow Milk Cookie was holding your friends hostage (Wizard’s string restraints were tighter than everyone else’s), White Lily Cookie was about to make the ultimate decision between saving everyone or defeating Shadow Milk, all while he was making sure you didn’t get caught in the crossfire because the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt by his hands, especially hers. So everything was going great for him so far, he was going to kill your friends, rule Earthbread and have you be his favorite doll forever… until… something unexpected happened. White Lily used her Guardian powers not to attack Shadow Milk, but to seal the crack in the Tree, thus ruining his plans (also making shrink in size) and saving everyone in the process. You were slowly waking up after the blast healed the Tree, all those loud noises and bright lights were too much, you had to see what was going on.

“You... YOU...!!!! I gave you only two choices...!!!” his loud complaints woke you up more and more, you quickly got up from the platform and stretched. But suddenly, it started shaking and slowly falling, you tried your best to stay calm and steady, but you were at the top of the Tree so it wasn't as easy as you thought it would be. It wasn’t long before the cardboard star you were standing on disappeared completely and you were plummeting to the ground, screaming for help.

“…!!!” Shadow Milk gasped at the sight of you falling, so he extended his hand towards you and a bunch of gooey black tentacles rose from the ground to grab you, bringing you close to him.

“There you go, my darling! Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now, would we~?” he said as he caressed your face, you blushed a darker tone at the gesture, you weren’t expecting to be this close to him like this, this was simply too much!

“Y/N Cookie! Hold on!” exclaimed White Lily, sending large green vines to your location, grabbing you and pulling you away from Shadow Milk.

“NO!!! You're NOT taking my star away from ME!!!!” he shouted as he sent more tentacles to grab you and pull you away from her, both cookies were now pulling you in opposite directions. It hurt you a lot, you were cracking from the tight grips the vines and tentacles had on you. You were visibly uncomfortable and groaning loudly, both cookies were now fighting for your safety and survival.

“How dare you ruin... This moment I've been waiting for for so long...” his tentacles’ grip on you was weakening, White Lily vines’ kept pulling away from him, their grips were so tight you were losing air, you couldn’t breathe properly anymore.

“Eugh... Agh...” you didn’t like hearing him groan in pain, his tentacles were getting weaker and weaker. White Lily took his moment of weakness to her advantage and used her vines to pull harder, successfully bringing you closer to her.

“WHOA!!” you exclaimed as you were pulled away from Shadow Milk’s grasp.

“ARGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

…

……everything went silent, everything turned white…

………….

You were unconscious for a long time.

“…….Y-……” someone was calling out to you.

“…Y/N…………..” you were slowly opening your eyes.

“……Y/N Cookie…!” your eyes shot wide open, you were breathing heavy, you tried to get up but the pain in your waist hit you like a bullet. Pure Vanilla and White Lily were holding you steady, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself more.

“It’s alright, Y/N Cookie! You’re safe.” said Pure Vanilla as he was healing your wounds.

“Aughh, hmm? Pure Vanilla Cookie…? White Lily Cookie…?”

“Oh Y/N Cookie, I’m so sorry for the damage I caused, if there’s anything I could do to make it up to you…” said White Lily, gently placing her hand on your forehead while looking away from your damaged self.

“No no, it’s ok. You did it to save me, thank you…”

White Lily smiled softly at you, Pure Vanilla smiled at her, he was so grateful that she was able to save you. A few moments later, Gingerbrave and friends, Mercurial Knight and Silverbell came to see you.

“Y/N Cookie, you’re ok!” exclaimed Gingerbrave.

“Oh thank the Witches you’re alright!” said Strawberry.

“Finally, it’s all over for that Beast. Thank you so much, White Lily Cookie.” added Wizard.

“Hehe, hey guys.” you whispered as you tried to get up, your voice was weak from the screaming, and you couldn’t maintain your balance from your broken waist. Luckily, Mercurial Knight and Silverbell were there to catch you.

“Careful Y/N Cookie, do not overexert yourself.” said Mercurial Knight.

“Don’t worry Y/N Cookie, we’ll help you get better, we’ll take you back to the kingdom so you can rest!” said Silverbell while smiling at you.

“Thanks, you two, I appreciate it.”

As you all returned to the Faerie kingdom, you all noticed how everything was going back to normal, all the magic from Shadow Milk’s realm was receding. Oh man… he was gone… oh… why were you feeling sad? This was supposed to be a good thing, right? …right? You weren’t sure how to feel about this, until you heard his voice again.

“You think you won, don't you?!”

“HUH?! How are you still talking?!” exclaimed Wizard, you wanted to know how he was talking too!

“You may be celebrating your little victory for now... ... But heed my words! We have finally risen. Do not think that you can hold us back. Foolish Cookies...! You simply have no idea what's waiting for you...! HA HA HA HA HA!”

…

…….

……….

It had been a while since Shadow Milk warned you all about the upcoming danger that was headed your way. You were feeling better about your injuries, Pure Vanilla managed to heal you and the Faerie Cookies patched you up. Everyone was celebrating White Lily's triumph over Shadow Milk's evil ways by having a feast to honor her and the late Elder Faerie. None of this made you feel better emotionally though, you felt conflicted whether you should be happy for everyone winning against Shadow Milk... or sad over his forced departure. You needed some time alone to think, so you excused yourself to go check on the Silver Tree, Mercurial Knight suggested against this because you were still healing from your wounds. You told him you'd be ok on your own, you trusted White Lily's magic would protect you from harm, so he let you go. You made your way towards the Tree, where you rested your head against it and imagined yourself with Shadow Milk again.

"Hey, Shadow Milk Cookie? ...I thought your show was great. I thought... I think... you're great! You're amazing, and funny, and extremely handsome, heh." you started quietly, hoping he could hear you from inside the Tree.

"I wish... I wish I could... see you again..." you whispered as you placed your hands on the Tree, giving it a little kiss, maybe he could feel you from the other side...

...

......

..........

"You're an interesting little cookie, aren't you~?" he spoke to you in your head, so no one else could hear you. You were startled by his response, you didn't think he'd actually say something! You took a few steps back from the Tree, you were hoping nobody saw you doing all of this.

"What the?? How are you talking to me?"

"I'm in your head, silly! Heheheheh!"

"Oh, right. That's not concerning at all."

"Hehe! Y'know, out of all the Cookies I've tormented today, I didn't expect you to resist. In fact, it almost looked like you were truly... interested in me! Why is that?"

You didn't think he'd ask you about your behavior towards him, so with no other way of answering (cause you knew he could see through your lies), you told him the truth.

"O-Oh, w-well, I just... I just thought... that... you were the most intriguing Cookie I've ever met, and I've met a lot of Cookies on my many adventures, but none of them had the same effect on me like you have."

"And what might that be?"

"...Your charms, your witty banter, the fact that you made me laugh several times during your show... and... the way you treated me was so... gentle and caring... not to mention bold... I honestly didn't expect that coming from the Beast of Deceit himself."

Your answer filled Shadow Milk's ego... and his heart. He felt himself blushing and genuinely smiling from the honest opinion you had about him, he wanted to jump out of the Tree to give you a big hug and never let go, he wanted to smooch you until you were breathless, leaving marks on you to let everyone know that you were his and only his.

"...Well aren't you such a cute little cookie~? As a token of my appreciation, here's a little something that you may have lost during my show." you tilted your head in confusion, what was he talking about? Suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard something fall behind you. You quickly turned around and gasped at what you saw. It was your hat! The one that puppet gifted you! Oh, you were so happy to see that hat again, you took a quick sniff and... yep, the same blueberry milk scent from before.

"...Thank you!" you held the hat close to you before you put it on, still fits.

"You're welcome, doll! Just make sure you don't lose it again... or let your small wizard friend see you with it... hats like that one don't just grow on trees, y'know. And... if you ever come back here... I'd love for you to give me more of those sweet and tender kisses of yours, maybe I could return the favor~."

What the?! How does he know about...?? Wait, he knows, but you never actually kissed him... did you? In a split second, your mind travelled back to the memory of you... giving the puppet a kiss... oh my Witches...

"I- uh-... uhhh...b-but... w-wait what?!" is all that came out of your mouth. You couldn't believe it: The puppet, that was him in disguise! You kissed Shadow Milk Cookie (on the forehead, but still)! Shadow Milk laughed heartily at your stuttering self, blushing while doing so.

"Hahahaha! Oh, you look so adorable when you're confused~!" he teased with a devious grin that you couldn't see. You were feeling very dizzy from all your rushing thoughts and rapidly beating heart, you had to sit down for a little while, luckily the wind was there to cool off your head.

"Hehe, you're full of surprises, Shadow Milk Cookie. And sure, if I ever come back here... then maybe... I could give you a surprise of my own~." you said while taking your hat from your head and giving it a long kiss while looking at the Tree, knowing that he could somehow still see you. Your words and your actions made him gasp loudly and jump with excitement, his face turning dark blue while he floated giddily, giggling, squealing, flapping his hands and kicking his feet in the air like a high school girl who got asked out on a date by the hottest guy in school. You heard him making all those noises, which made a light blush grow on your cheeks, then you chuckled while covering your mouth with one hand. But alas, it was time to go, you knew this because you heard your friends calling you in the distance.

"Y/N Cookie, come on! We gotta go!" shouted Gingerbrave.

"Pure Vanilla and White Lily are calling us!" said Strawberry as loudly as she could.

"Let's go Y/N Cookie, we don't wanna keep them waiting, do we?" added Wizard.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming!" you answered back, hiding the tone of annoyance in your cheerful response. You really weren't looking forward to leaving, especially since you had a good thing going on with him.

"Well, I have to go now. It was nice talking to you again." you told him sadly with a small frown on your face.

"..."

"...Shadow Milk Cookie?"

"Oh, yeah, my apologies heh, I was just... thinking" he said sternly, staring at your friends, and Pure Vanilla's his Soul Jam.

"Hm, about what exactly?" you said teasingly with a smirk. This made him snap out of his thoughts and smile.

"About how much I'm going to miss you, my shining star~! Hehehehe!" he chuckled lightly. You were blushing a lot, he called you his shining star! Witches, you wanted to jump and squeal, but you couldn't show it because your friends were watching you.

"Uh-... w-well uhm, hehe, I'm gonna miss you too...!" you said while breathing heavily, he's been flirting with you so many times, it was time you did something about it before you left, so you did the next best thing.

"Goodbye, my dazzling jester~!" you finished your statement with a wink and a bow, then quickly turned around and ran to your friends with the biggest grin on your face. You had to hide it from your friends so they don't ask you about what you were doing by the Tree, you also hid your hat somewhere in your clothing only you knew about. As you approached your friends, you all waved goodbye to the Faerie Cookies.

If only you could see the look on his face, he was flabbergasted from your bold move, his face was a whole blueberry, melting in place, drunken smile and everything, sighing dreamily over your eventual return.

"Hey Y/N Cookie, what are you smiling about? Did something good happen?" asked Strawberry curiously.

"Oh it's nothing, just remembered something funny." you said as you cleared your throat, trying to wipe away the smile of your face as best as you could. As you all left the Faerie Kingdom, you took a glance at Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam and you heard him speak to you one last time.

"Farewell, Y/N Cookie of the Cookie Kingdom, I'll see you soon." he said softly, his last message to you, if you could, you'd invite him into your kingdom. You remembered how he mentioned that Dark Enchantress would give him and his comrades new cookie bodies so they could unlock their full potential again. Maybe when he finally gets his new body, you could give him some proper affection. Back home, you stare at your hat as you wait patiently for the day when you eventually reunite with him, when you give him those kisses you promised him... when he returns the favor in the most dramatic and romantic way possible, it would be expected from a Cookie like him, you'd still welcome him and his show of affection with open arms.

When you two meet again.

The end.

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ PROLOGUE ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

no specific warnings on this chapter slight foreshadowing of another stranger things character!

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

"Oh, no need to help, dear! I can do it by myself."

The nice 50 year old-ish lady told you not to worry about her fish pond. You're a second year high school student who just got accepted in an exchange program, and now you’re finally here, in Hawkins, Indiana.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Byers, I can handle it pretty well… My dad also has a fish pond on the back of our house.” You tried to reassure her that it’s totally fine for you to take care of it. Remembering that she can already be categorized as an old lady, it would be very cruel of you if you let her clean it by herself.

“You are truly an independent and hardworking young lady… Reminds me of myself back in the old days.” You can see her smile while looking to a blank space, probably reminiscing herself back when she was younger.

You chuckled at her compliment, slightly thanking her for saying something you don’t hear everyday, especially from your parents. Instead of saying anything further, you smiled at her before continue cleaning her fish pond.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“Please, dear. Feel free to look around.”

Ever since you got here last week, you never had the courage to explore her gigantic house. Not because it has spirits living on it, of course not! (hope so) But, it’s more like you don’t wanna disturb her peace and you don’t wanna look like you’re being nosy about her personal stuff. Yet, from the first step you took on this house, you literally fell in love. The vintage architecture, big pillars on her yard, it seems impossible for an old lady to live her by herself.

Sure, her house only has two levels, but the interior of her house is just mesmerizing. The details and antique things in this place are remarkable. If only you don’t have to control yourself, you’d already touch every single one of her things.

The only thing that you did here was to go to school and spend time with her a lot. You went shopping together, clean the house, do regular house chores, watch cheesy rom-coms or comedy movies (which you surprisingly also love). The whole week basically already felt comfortable for you.

You always loved old people. You get to hear their stories, adventures, and all what happened in the past. It seems… Very interesting, so different with what you have now. And one of the things you love about Mrs. Byers, is that she talks about her youth days a lot in the 80s! You, as a person who is a big fan of the 80s always had an open jaw when listening to how beautiful life seemed to be in the 1980s, especially in the year 1985.

“These are some beautiful watch collections, Mrs. Byers!” You looked through a cardboard box full of old clocks and watches inside.

“Those were my parents’. I was planning to give those to the antique store since I don’t really use it. But you can look around there if you’d like, dear! If one catches your eye, please do take it before people put a price on it in the antique store.”

The feeling of knowing that you can look at these old watches and actually bring them home without needing to let out a single dollar made you feel euphoric. But, you still need to help her cleaning up this messy attic, not wanting her to get asthma from breathing the dusty air so much.

“Maybe I’ll do it later, Mrs. Byers. I gotta clean these up first.”

Mrs. Byers looked at you, giving you the ‘I swear this kid never rests’ look. Yet, she just smiled. And you know deep down she’s really happy to have someone to be her company and to help her around since her husband died a year ago.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“If you need me, I’ll be downstairs, okay dear?” Mrs. Byers excused herself to go back to her room, probably knitting since it’s what she’s been doing at home (as far as you know). She left you there in the attic, wandering through her watch collection.

As you were diving through it, you took pictures of every single watch, especially the ones that has unique details in it. But one caught your eye… A golden pocket watch. It has golden chains, chained to the top of the watch. Tiny details surrounding the face of the watch. Since it looks pretty old, it was also covered in dust and rust, including the roman numbers that tell the time inside.

You made the watch dangle around your arms, admiring it’s old, yet timeless beauty. You started turning the clock around, seeing if it still works or not. Sadly, it’s broken. You immediately thought of the 80s just by looking at it, imagining how Mrs. Byers would always wield it and brought it everywhere she goes, even though you know this watch must’ve came from an older time… Most likely to be from the 30s or the 40.

Since you liked that pocket watch so much, you put the chains around your arms, keeping it there as you put back the rest of the watches gently inside the cardboard, not wanting to be irresponsible after Mrs. Byers let you mess around with all of it.

note: hey, i'll be publishing the first chapter like around... later! but i'll be posting it today as well (i'll try hihi ^^), lmk what r ur thoughts about the prologue so far, and if there's any of u that wants to be in the taglist, feel free to ask! hope you like this one <3

@xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse since y'all seemed pretty excited abt this, i've decided to tag y'all in this and all future chapters, really hope y'all like it and continue reading <3

[ramhaiba]

All I need is you (Yandere Kenma x Reader x Yandere Kuroo)

Chapter One

No warning in this chapter however MINORS DO NOT INTERACT SERIES TW: Gore, Stalking, Sexual themes, major character death

You hugged your dear friend, Hinata, as closely as possible, this was the last time you were going to see him before you moved. "Y/n, c'mon, you'll make new friends!" he chuckled, rubbing your back, you only knew he has kept an optimistic appearance because he couldn't bear to see you sad. You always liked that about Hinata. "I don't want to make new friends. I want to stay here!" you mumbled as Hinata pulled away, dusting your light-colored sweater.

"I know.." Hinata responded, his lips curled into his smile but you could still tell deep down in his heart, he would miss you. You never wanted to leave that bus station, you rather run away with Hinata and graduate at Karasuno. There were so many memories you could have made at Miyagi Prefecture but your mother urged you to move to Tokyo. You didn't quite hate her for that but it did break your heart the second you realized all of your possessions were packed into cardboard boxes.

You'll never make friends as you had in Karasuno! You completely forgot how the entire Karsasuno's volleyball team even became your friend. What are you going to do without Hinata?

Hinata's hand curled on your cheek, "hey, don't worry! Just look for Kenma and tell him you know me. Kenma will take care of you for me, I promise! " Hinata uttered. You blinked, holding back your tears, "okay..promise you'll visit me" you mumbled. Hinata chuckled, tilting his head, "of course, I'll visit you the second I can" he announced.

Y/n was a first-year, she had just recently transferred from Karasuno to Nekoma. She had no idea what to expect. She just remembers her old friend from Karauno, Hinata, telling her "don't worry Y/n! You can tell Kenma you know me and he'll be nice to you!"If only she knew the type of person Kenma truly was.

"Y/n! The bus is here" your mother called, lightly tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. "O-oh..goodbye Shoyo" you sighed, a pout growing on your lips. "Don't say goodbye, I'm always here for ya. So, don't act like you're never going to see me again!" Hinata urged, punching your shoulder, playfully. You knew he was right but it didn't lift the aching feeling in your heart. You took a deep breath as you stepped foot on your bus, quickly glancing at Hinata, he kept the same big grin he had when he first met you, "I'll see you later, Shoyo! "You announced. "I'll see you later, Y/n!" Hinata chuckled.

----

You walked into the classroom. Everyone had a seat, beside you. You stood in front of the class. "You must be the new student, Y/n? Will you like to introduce yourself to the class?" your teacher said, behind his desk. You responded to him with a nod, it'd be good for you to introduce yourself, especially when you transferred in the middle of the semester.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n. I transferred here from Karasuno. I- uh look forward to working with you all" You announced, fiddling your thumbs together from behind your back. You heard whispers from the back of the classroom, instantly spiking your anxiety.

"Karasuno is so far"

"She looks weird"

"Her skirt is way too short"

"God, I hope she doesn't sit next to us"

"Is something wrong, Y/n?" The teacher said. You snapped out of it. It was just your imagination tricking you, god you were so damn nervous... "Nothing, sorry," you said. Your teacher gave you a quick smile and then searched the room for a seat. "Sit next to Lev, Lev stand up,'' The teacher said.

Then a silver-haired, green eye, extremely tall boy stood up. He looks scary, he might have been the tallest guy you have ever seen, was this kid even a first year?

You quickly took a seat next to him, not wanting any more eyes to be on you. The teacher started his lecture.

"Pssssh"

You looked to your left. Lev was trying to talk to you.

"Yes?" you whispered

"You're from Karasuno right?" Lev asked

You nodded. Lev grinned. He looked a lot less scary with such a wonderful smile.

"Do you know Hinata?" Lev asked

You eagerly nodded your head, excited to hear Hinata's name.

"Do I know him? He's my best friend" you whispered. Lev chuckled, he had a kind of laughter, it made you feel safer and less intimidated by his appearance.

"Do you know Kenma?" You asked. Lev answered your question with a nod.

"Yeah, He's on the same volleyball team as me," Lev murmured, covering his mouth from the teacher's perspective.

"Oh um.." you stuttered, anxious about what to say to him next. Would it be weird for you to ask to be introduced to Kenma? I mean you just met Lev five seconds ago...

"Do you want to Come by volleyball practice with me?" Lev asked, casually, Oh, thank god he asked. "Sure!" you whispered, a bit too loudly.

"QUIET DOWN IN THE BACK " your teacher announced, his eyebrows furrowing. Lev held back his snicker, his cheeks swelling. "Meet me there at 5" he whispered, keeping his head faced in the front to cause less suspicion.

You stood in front of the gym, it was a bit bigger than Karasuno's gym and maybe slightly older than Karasuno's gym. You looked around, searching for the grey-haired student, unable to catch him in your eye view, you started getting anxious.

Where is he? Oh god, he thinks you're a dork and left you here. You should leave. You tried to walk away but you heard something approaching you.

"Y/N! " Lev yelled, running up to you. "Oh hi, um I'm here," you said. Wow smooth, Y/n...

Lev grinned, "why didn't you go inside? Everyone is here already" Lev asked. "Oh they are-?" you said. You idiot, the doors were opened... Oh god just transfer to another school.

You walked into the court with Lev next to you.

"Oi Titan, who did you bring?" Said a short boy, with brown hair, his height reminded you of Noya, but you chose not to mention anything about it.

"I brought my new classmate, Y/n! They were from Karasuno" Lev said, a big grin on his face as if he was proud he brought a new person to introduce to his upperclassmen. "Huh? Karasuno? Oh- I'm Yaku, a third-year" Said the boy. "I'm Y/n L/n," you responded, smiling because you felt you'd look friendly.

"Yaku, do you know where Kenma is?" Lev asked, stretching his long arms.

"Hmm, I think he's with Kuroo, in front of the locker room," Yaku said, pointing. Lev gave Yaku a thumbs up. Lev placed one of his hands behind your back as he guided you towards a pair of upperclassmen.

One had dyed blonde hair, he looked like he definitely didn't want to be there, he was shorter than the person he was talking to, he strangely reminded you of a cat. The other boy had dark hair, was much more muscular and taller than the other boy, and had hair covering one of his eyes.

"Kenmmaaaa" Lev sang, swinging his arms up and down. The blonde boy snapped his head towards you and Lev.

"What do you want," he asked. His voice was so.. Quiet and calm. It didn't seem like he was too fond of Lev, it didn't look like he was too fond of anyone, to be honest.

"I want you to meet someone," Lev said, less confident. Kenma's eyes focused on you, he was clearly annoyed, his glance was so intimidating that you could basically melt by a single stare.

"Why," he asked, annoyed. You looked at Lev and Lev looked back at you. "I HEAR YAKU CALLING ME," Lev announced, quickly dashing away and leaving you to fend for yourself The dark-haired boy put a hand on Kenma's shoulder. "Kenma, don't be mean. She's a cute girl" The boy said. Kenma rolled his eyes.

"What does the 'cute girl' want," Kenma asked.

"I-oh- I'm from Karasuno- "You said.

"Karasuno?You think she knows Chibi-chan?" The dark-haired boy asked, leaning on the shorter boy's shoulder, Kenma clearly didn't like the physical touch.

"Do you mean Hinata? Yeah! He actually told me to meet up with Kenma." you said.

Kenma sighed. "Since Shoyo likes you... I guess I can try to like you too... I'm Kenma Kozume. You can just call me Kenma" Kenma said. "And I'm Tetsurou Kuroo, you could stick with us, " The dark-haired boy said. "Thanks, let's have a good year together, alright!" you beamed, happy you were able to introduce yourself to kind, friendly people. From that moment, they seemed like nice guys who'd introduce you to your grandma. Little did you know... They were capable of some much worse. 

Masterlist

[the-other-art-blog]

SOPHIE NEVER ASKS BENEDICT TO CHOOSE HER OR MARRY HER.

I can talk endlessly about Sophie Beckett. She is one of my favorite characters ever. And I was thinking the other day how Sophie never asks Benedict to choose her or marry her. There's no "pick me" moment at all. She never gives him an ultimatum, a "marry me or I leave" kind of threat. She simply wants him to leave her alone.

How amazing is that? And how strong she was to do this and stick to her decision?!

Sophie, as romantic as she is, has a very realistic view of society and her future. She leaves her dreams to be dreams and takes life as it is, without sugarcoating it.

She refuses to be Benedict's mistress no matter how much she loves him, and he has no intention of marrying her until the last chapters.

In Mexico, we have a saying "mejor sola que mal acompañada," which translates as "better be alone than with bad company."

It's not that Benedict is bad company per se, but the life he offers her only works for him (and not even that really, not in the medium or long run). As a mistress, she would feel shame for the rest of her life adding one more disgraceful label to her name AND she would subject her children to the same shame and pain she endures every day. She will never be a Bridgerton, and the family will never accept her as they accepted Kate and Pen.

So she chooses a lonely but dignified life. Even Benedict tells her how lonely she will be:

And honestly, kudos to her because it's easier said than done. I mean, it sucks to be alone and everyone is afraid of it (this also applies to friendships too, and even family). Look at social media, everybody is lonely or afraid of being lonely. It's a rational fear, but it traps people in bad relationships. How many people have partners that do not support them or pose obstacles to their growth, some even mistreat them physically and emotionally. And they stay because they don't want to wake up to an empty bed.

When you take all the Bridgerton paraphernalia, you have a very current issue at the core, a very relatable woman (probably the most relatable one for the 99%) who just wants to stay true to herself. She's a woman refusing to be mistreated because she knows her worth and protects her dignity. She's not in the streets carrying cardboard with feminist messages, but she's fighting for herself and that's enough because it keeps an overprivileged man from ruining her. In the end, Benedict understands this fully and loves her all the more for it.

This also reminds me of all the posts here and on tw that say something like "I would be Benedict's mistress" or "my love for Benedict is dangerous for feminism." I know it's a joke and it's fun BUT when you think of it, Sophie could have said this, Benedict wanted her to say this. She could have accepted his proposal to enjoy the luxuries but she didn't.

I was going to post this until we have actual official confirmation that Sophie will be Sophie. But I am confident we'll have her. For 3 seasons the writers have demonstrated their love for Benophie with foreshadowing like no other character has had. And if we still have to wait more weeks to have casting news, then this post is still true to the book. I love Sophie so much 🥰.

[lovemyromance]

(Not a troll ask please don't shoot :D - genuine question)

But I feel like it's really downplayed how much Gwynriels gaslight the fandom. I joined ACOTAR bc I saw Gwynriel fanart and thought they were cute. I Got all the way to ACOSF still hoping for Gwynriel and got a whole lot of NOTHING. And honestly I think Elain is as interesting as cardboard (sorry), but you'd have to be downright blind to ignore she had something going on with Azriel.

Then I saw on titktok about the bonus chapter, everyone going in saying omg thats where gwyn & az are mates! So I cracked it open, read it - and bruh - HE'S OUT HERE TRYING TO GO DOWN ON ELAIN??

How can you put THAT interaction & the conversation he had with Gwyn side by side and people are walking away from it saying Gwyn & Azriel are mates?

I'm so genuinely confused why someone would start that nonsense. The way I ate up Gwynriel art/fan theories it was like she was a major character there from the start and they'd already had 8 kids and a HEA.

Then I open the books and they barely even have a conversation??

It was honestly really annoying. felt like a scam, like one of those authors peddling their book on social media and then you realize its a wattpadd fic written by a 12 yr old not an actual book

If it helps - we're all confused. Nothing has been proven yet about any remaining couple so idk why the Elucien and Gwynriels are out here straight up inventing fiction and trying to pass it off as fact to anyone willing (and even unwilling) to listen.

This ship war could've just been - "Hey I like Elucien more!" Or "I love elriel!"

But instead of just accepting these are all opinions and not actually what is in the books - people decided to straight up gaslight and claim that Elucien are a couple and Gwynriel are mates.

If you cannot point to it on the page where such a thing it explicitly happened - then it is not canon.

Lucien & Elain? They're mates. That's canon.

What's also canon - is that not all mates are a good pairing and end up happy together.

Whats also canon - is that the cauldron was wrong.

It shouldn't be hard to reach accurate conclusions if people stopped treating their wants and headcanons as fact.

Like for gods sake - let's just look at fanart. I'm not saying that every piece of fanart is canon or even should be canon - but elriel has much more canon fanart. Thats literally a fact. They have multiple major moments together - on the page.

What is canon Elucien fanart? When she falls out the cauldron - naked and humiliated and he gives her his cloak? When they sit together over a tea service acting uncomfortable? When she avoids him every other time she sees him?

What is canon Gwynriel fanart? When he gives her boss a secondhand necklace to give to her or anyone else? When he - and cassian and everyone else - watch her cut a ribbon she sees as an enemy?

I've seen so many people open up these books expecting some grand romance between Elain & Lucien and end up disappointed because... she doesn't even want to be in the same room as him.

So many Gwynriels with similar stories to yours expecting some entertaining Gwynriel love story only to also end up disappointed because Gwyn doesn't even exist till the last book and she and Azriel barely interact.

They chose to believe in a nonexistent ship and are trying to compete with canon Elriel evidence. Like ok - tough shit? But you can't just start making shit up.

Until Elain accepts that bond - or even gives Lucien the time of day - they're not a couple. They are nowhere close to endgame if everything she has done and said has shown us she doesn't want him.

Until Azriel himself declares Gwyn is his mate or vice versa - they're not mates.

And yeah I'm gonna get a lot of backlash from the "foreshadowing and crumbs" crowd.

But let me ask you this:

There are some Elriels who think the mating bond between Lucien & Elain is fake. There is plenty of evidence and similar language used about their bond that resembles the fake Rowan & Lyria bond. Plenty of signs showing their bond isn't quite right.

do you think Elriels can then claim it's canon that the Elucien bond is fake?

"We have crumbs and foreshadowing and similar language used" too. But do you see us going around claiming it's canon?

No.

We are very clear about the distinction between canon and headcanons. About what's in the books, and what is just pure guesswork and theory.

"Sparky spark" and "elucien is endgame" are both theories until proven. They are NOT canon.

Wish they'd just learn the difference. They'd be a lot less unhappy fans.

[mullermilkshake]

The rose garden - Chapter 3

I will be uploading the whole thing here, it's just going take a little time, but if you want to read more right now, there's more on my AO3 <3

Summary - You are just an author wanting to put your writing out there and carry on with your life, but when two people end up murdered, things you write about seem to be more real than just pure fiction.

Pairing - Yandere!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader / Detective!Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader (Sort of one sided)

Word count - 3.9k

Tags (master list for the entire fic, will add TW for significant tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!!,NSFW,SMUT,NO USE OF Y/N,Yandere!Getou Suguru, graphic depictions of violence, major character death,Porn With Plot,Porn with Feelings,Established Relationship,PleasureDom,Codependency,Murder,Torture,Conspiracy,Cunnilingus,Orgasm Control,Multiple Orgasms,Minor Original Character(s),psychiatry,Medication,Power Imbalance,Vaginal Fingering,Disembowelment,Manipulation,Gaslighting,Rimming, Praise Kink,Grinding,mentions of blowjobs,Dry Humping,thigh riding,Dark,Autopsy,Aftercare,Hunting,Guns,Perceived infidelity,Body Horror,Smoking,Vaginal Sex,Misogyny,Public Stimulation,One sided sexual tension,Invasion of Privacy,Strangulation,Reader-Insert,Serious Satoru Gojo,Orgasm Edging,Obsession,Accidental Voyeurism,Angst,Questions of masculinity, stabbing, shooting

One case after another.

Satoru Gojo just needs a little sleep.

Tags for chapter - Detective!Gojo, Smoking, Grahphic depictions of gore and murder, body horror, Shoko my bby, Ino my bby, Crime scene, Serious Gojo

“Gojo…” 

“Wake up man…” 

“Jesus christ- Wake up!”

Satoru Gojo shot up from his desk and banged his head on the overhanging desk lamp. “Fuck!”

Takuma Ino perched himself on his desk as Satoru rubbed the stale sleep from his eyes. “You slept here again? You should really go home and shower. It’s kind of sad.”

Satoru groaned and did his best to sit up straight and stretch as best as he could. “Yeah, I had to finalise the details of this case I just closed. I figured it was just easier to sleep here so I could speak with Nanami and go home early.”

He’d worked tirelessly over the last week, all he wanted was a little bit of paid time off and he was sure Nanami would give it to him.

Ino adjusted his position and looked away from him, his hand rested over his tack vest. “Yeah… About that.”

“Give me some good news, man. I’m too tired for this shit in the morning.” He slumped his head back on top of his folded arms.

The overhead light was too bright, the stagnant office air far too stuffy and Ino’s voice a pitch too loud. Satoru hadn’t had a solid night's sleep in two weeks and now there was something else?

“I came to wake you because there’s something Nanami asked me to ask you to go see.”

“So instead of coming to get me himself, he sends his lackey to do it for him?” Kento Nanami would be the death of him if he sent him on any more errands before a hot shower.

“It’s important. An odd homicide… you’re favourite.” He sang that last part.

And odd cases were his favourite. There was a reason Satoru’s record of arrests was perfect. Because he could see parts of a crime scene that no one else could. Sort of like a sixth sense.

He tried to ignore Ino and fall back asleep. “Not today.”

“C’mon, Nanami gave the all clear for me to come with you. We never get to partner up anymore. I heard it's particularly gruesome too. That’s like a candy shop for you.”

Satoru didn’t move.

“Let’s go!” He was shaking him now. Idiot. “We have to go before the regular beats leave their dirty paws all over the crime scene. C’mon!”

“Fine.” Satoru got up and narrowly avoided his head on the lamp again. “Fine. One scene and I’m off to bed, I just want a few hours that aren’t sitting up at my desk.”

He needed to buy a fancy new chair for his office and not that god awful sofa. Harder than rocks and smaller than a cardboard box. But first he needed his own office.

Shit. What he would have done for his own office not to get bothered by Ino day in, day out.

“Awesome, just like old times eh?” 

Way back, when Satoru belonged to part of a specialist unit. Now he was somewhat of a rogue. He performed better on his own, that way no one could slow him down and he wouldn’t need to watch out for others. It was better that way in his specialist field that he stayed on his own.

“Yeah.” But he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it from time to time. “Anything we should know goin’ in?”

Ino kept his pace and shook his head with a quick withdrawal. “Nothing. Shoko said it would be better if we saw it when we got there.”

Wasn’t she the one for puzzles this early in the morning? “Where is it?”

They made it to the elevator and took it all the way down to the ground floor. “Some place over the other side of town, up near the lanes.”

“That narrows it down.” Satoru rifled through the pockets of his jacket and pulled out his cigarettes and put one to his lips.

He hated the taste, the horrid smell it left lingering on his clothes, but it was the only thing that seemed to help clear his mind. His mind could read a crime scene thoroughly from top to bottom in minutes. His clear mind could do it easily in under a minute. Less if he really wanted to show off. 

“She requested you by name if that is anything to go by.”

Satoru and Shoko had not been in the same room for the better part of a year, she had pursued a career in forensic pathology, and one would think they would have crossed paths more being in their respective fields. Most of the time she was already gone when Satoru got there.

Life just went on and things got in the way. Part of him looked forward to seeing an old friend. The other half was intrigued by the fact she would still be there waiting for him.

Gruesome. What an interesting word. “Did Shoko say that it was gruesome? Or did Nanami?”

“Shoko did.”

That meant something entirely in comparison to Nanami. If the forensic pathologist was using a descriptor such as that for the scene, then it would have been more than just bloody. Satoru went into the scene with a mind to prepare for something worse than the town had seen for some time.

And of course, he was right on it.

A large house off of the lanes, big and obvious enough that the occupant wanted to hide in the trees totally oblivious to the house with more money than they knew what to do with, stuck out like a sore thumb against the greenery.

A house with a dead body inside.

“Holy shit.” Ino’s mouth dropped.

Satoru was already reading the place as he stepped in and saw what Shoko was talking about.

No mud tracks. 

Dust lines are non existent 

She’s still fully clothed. 

“I need everybody out for the time being.” Satoru pulled out a pair of gloves from the little pack in his jacket pocket.

Shoko was right over by the body taking photographs, the flash filling up the entire corner of the far east wall. Everybody, besides two people slowly filtered out of the room, slower than Satoru would have liked, trudging and dragging their feet past him with looks full of ruffled feathers and annoyance.

“Always need to command a room, right Gojo?” Shoko had her back to him. She held the camera out to one of the other men and they promptly left with it in hand.

“You know me. I prefer being one of the only guys in the room.”

“A big headed one at that.” It was like they had picked up where they left off.

“Maybe. But you did call for me . It kinda gives me the right to have a big head, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, something I’m starting to regret.”

The body was an odd one, and it continued growing in that oddity the closer Satoru got to it. But, it truly was gruesome.

Shoko finally faced him, leaning against the wall in ther white overalls and mask, a tilted head in amusement. “So… What do you think?”

“Well, whoever it was, was already inside, they didn’t break in. This was for control, not for sexual gratification and they cleaned up afterwards. You’ll need ultraviolet light to look for evidence, but I doubt you’ll find anything.”

“Cleaned up?” Ino came up alongside him and knelt down. “There’s no signs of wiped blood smears and I don’t smell any cleaning products.”

“There’s no dust lines. It would have taken time to clean up, but they cleaned up all of the surfaces too so it stopped the dust in the room from being disturbed. Dust can gather very quickly, especially in a room with so much stuff in it.”

The room was packed out with carpets, ornate sofa throws and pillows, the entire place was a dust factory, yet there wasn’t any signs of dust anywhere, except from the slither of sunlight poking through the closed curtain.

The killer used the large open floor length windows to funnel the smell and pungent chemicals out to nullify that theory. Quite clever.

“What about her?” Shoko nodded to the body.

The body was posed, like a doll, sat up along the chaise lounge in a seductive pose to inhibit a reaction from officers that this was for sexual gratification. But it was not.

There was no bruising about the neck, eyes or mouth meaning she didn’t die from asphyxiation, but rather the large gaping hole in her chest. Even an idiot would have been able to figure that one out.

It was the fact that her body was still entirely dressed.

This had been thought through far more than most scenes Satoru had stepped foot into. The most riveting part being her eyes were missing and stuffed full of organic matter. Like leaves? Grass clippings?

So was her mouth, like they were put there to keep her quiet. Upon further inspection, Satoru noticed no bruising or creasing on the matter which could indicate that it was all put there after she died.

Though there were blood drips down her cheeks when her eyes were removed, the killer made a conscious choice not to clean them up like the rest of her body, which by now, looked spotless.

“Who the hell does something like this? Shoko, do we know who lives at this address?” Ino got back up and approached her, pulling out his little notebook.

Satoru didn’t need a notebook. His mind was his notebook.

“Yeah, It’s-” Satoru faded them out and concentrated.

This was a well integrated woman. Popular. Well received. By the awards nearest to the kitchen, she was an accomplished author. Dark fiction going by the scripture on the bottom, the many lined photographs hanging on the walls and over various surfaces containing mostly dogs and friends.

Well received but not fully accepted going by the document stuck to the refrigerator with the wine bottle magnet. A messy divorce? Or a business deal? He wasn’t sure.

It was clear there was a party last night based off of the overflowing trash can full of red wine bottles and soft cheeses left out on the counter top. 

Satoru looked further, still remaining by the body but observing everywhere else but the body. Confetti under the sofa and parts clung to the longer fibres on the shag carpet.

“Any news of the party last night? Were there any complaints; has anyone started to contact those who were here?”

“A party? Uh,” Ino rifled through a booklet Shoko had given him. “There was a party the night before, around thirty people came… they were celebrating something… uh.. They came from somewhere, but we’re still actively getting information.”

The night before? “Good. Have them question everyone and send the minutes of each call to my desk.” Satoru stood up and moved away from the body.

There was not one hint of bleach or cleaner in the wood, not even the fabrics. Satoru smelt everything. Unless, she was brought here after death, but it could not have been far.

“Has anyone checked the surrounding area for blood splatter?”

Shoko nodded. “They got nothing, even the cadaver dog turned up empty.”

That didn’t sound right. “Time of death?”

“I put it around midnight the night before, to two o’clock yesterday morning.”

A two hour time window.

How did no one see if there was a party

Satoru doubted whoever was still here either with the barrage of police vehicles at the bottom of the hill lighting the whole driveway like a christmas tree.

“Someone local maybe. If they didn’t kill her and bring her here, how the hell did he not get caught by the others?”

Ino shrugged his shoulders and wandered into the kitchen, pulling away the document papers in his gloved hand. “Maybe they were drunk, thought she was asleep or something. What makes you think he did it where there were people present?”

No. No, that wasn’t right. “Whoever this was, had to sit and hold her like this until rigour mortis set in so the body held its shape.”

Shoko seemed to agree. “Rigour mortis is precise enough. If she died at midnight at the earliest, whoever killed her would have needed to sit there with her for at least six hours, then clean the entire place, leave no smell and get out without being caught by anyone who came knocking the next day. But by now, rigour mortis would have softened her up.”

But there was still no smell which led Satoru to believe that there might have been some sort of embalming solution inside her.

“Oh that’s right.” It seemed Ino was on the same page too. “Rigour mortis disappears twenty four hours after death. So maybe the time of death is wrong and she was killed last night. So when she softens up, we’ll know when she died definitively and piece together the timeline…”

“The estimated time of death isn’t wrong. Whoever did this had plenty of time to get everything cleaned. They mustn’t have been disturbed.” 

If the killer did all that, then Satoru needed to find out when everyone left the house, but as of right now, “Everyone who attended this party is a suspect. We need information on all of them.”

“Sounds good; see I missed this… us guys all together again solving crimes.”

Satoru leaned against the wall and thought hard. What even was the motive? There was always a motive, always a reason despite the most depraved crimes.

Ino took himself off to the next room as his phone rang. It was probably Nanami giving him some other boring job to do, though Satoru would class this as an interesting day. Well worth the lack of sleep.

His head was still clear. The most important part.

“So how you been holding up, Shoko-”

“Uh, Gojo?” Ino popped his head round the corner.

“God you can really read the room, idiot.” Shoko climbed to her feet and adjusted her overalls.

“What is it?”

“There’s another case, you should really take this.”

Good grief. Now Nanami was dropping stuff on Satoru’s lap as well? “I’m good, thanks.”

“It’s a hit and run.”

“That’s not my area.” Satoru waved him off, his tiredness setting in. “Tell Nanami to get someone else to study tyre tracks and skid marks.”

“You’re gonna want to take this. Shoko you too… It’s just down the road aways, we could walk there actually.”

Jesus christ. “One more,” Satoru raised his voice so he knew Nanami could hear him over the phone line. “Then I’m taking paid time off or you’ll run my ass into the ground!”

“Uh… Yes sir; yes- yes I’ll tell him…. Gojo, he wants a report on his desk after this too, then he said you can negotiate paid time off. A-and he said stop sleeping in your office, you know how he feels about overtime.”

That was laughable. “My whole life is overtime, man. Let’s get this over with then.”

By the time they had reached the next crime scene, Satoru had smoked two more cigarettes. Shoko swiped the smoke wisps away and upturned her lip. “God those are so strong, why do you smoke those?”

“You smoke too, or have you tried giving up again?” Ten months went by quickly.

“I do, but those aren’t menthol, why don’t you smoke menthol?”

Satoru shrugged with no care and stubbed the end out on the floor. “I don’t like the taste of these ones, let alone that minty crap.”

“Guys? Doesn't this look similar to someone we know?”

Satoru looked near the side of the road along the lane where a body was. An outdoor crime scene yielded different results to those indoors. The environment could wash things away, indirectly hide evidence and just be a bastard to work with, even with Satoru’s eyes on the case.

A crime scene was never a two dimensional affair. There were the walls and ceilings to work with, but outside with the elements, it was genuinely more case by case.

This body. This defied all two dimensional logic. “I wonder how our friend got all the way up in that tree there.”

It was as though he was hovering with his head all caved in like that, the only way really from this distance Satoru knew who he was looking at, was by the way his genitals blew about in the breeze through the trees, his broad frame held up by nature.

The tree was embracing the body, sort of placed like a crucifixion, but it wasn’t what stumped him that drew him closer, that he didn't even study the heavily leaf ladened floor at his feet.

Red roses, stuffed into his mouth and his side where a large portion of his waist should have been, where observing now, was in a pile on the floor along with his intestines like a long dodgy balloon string.

“Yummy…” Shoko’s humour was ever present. “Better get the camera out.”

This bared a striking resemblance to the woman in that house not half a mile away. Now, Satoru could not say at all if they were linked, not definitively until the forensics came back, and there was more readily available information to him.

Hang on… “Why was this called in as a hit and run?”

“They found blood splatters off on the road and linked it here.”

So the man was hit by a car, then dragged all the way through the woods and strung up like a decorative christmas turkey. Two in one murder, or a planned calculated move.

Curious.

Calculated. Or maybe it was last minute and rushed? No, not rushed for the time it would have taken to put him up there. 

“There could be two killers?” Ino sat on the same page, flicking through his little notebook and turned to Satoru with a small subtle glint in his eye.

“Go on.”

“If the rigour mortis is anything to go by, then whoever did the lady in the house would have time. It could be the same person a day apart, but I’m thinking there's two people, because, how else would someone get that guy up there, he’s easily… what, two hundred pounds, two fifty soaking wet is my guess.”

Maybe Satoru had actually rubbed off on him all this time. “What if this guy was done after the woman on the same morning? It’s still tight. If there was a party not half a mile that way, then he’d have to avoid the cars coming down the lane. So If I was going to kill two people at the same time, I'd do it in the early morning when most people are asleep.”

Shoko disagreed. “I’m certain that this guy was done last night. Much later after that woman.”

As soon as they found out the time when the autopsies were finished, then it would spell things much clearer.

“I’ll put a rush on the call backs or something to get a basic timeframe.” Ino then rushed off to speak with another officer along with the big old smile on his face.

“What do you make of this, Shoko?” Satoru’s arms were folded, bored now that the initial shock had worn off.

“It reminds me of something, but I can’t put my finger on it.” Her little tool kit was out, dusting the man's toes for prints. “I’ll remember after the autopsies I think.”

“How so?”

It was like she was stuck for words. “I’m not sure. Back at the house, she sort of looked like a doll. That’s the only way I could describe it, her skin was way too smooth for how her decomposition record is.”

“A doll?” His eyes wandered up to the body above him. He sure didn’t look like a doll, but the roses were a nice touch.

“Yeah, like I’ve read it somewhere, in an article or something.” Carefully folding the clear plastic over itself, she tucked it into her little belt and pulled out a pair of long needle nose tweezers.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” It was time he left back to the station for that report.

“One last thing before you go…” She yanked her glove off, rummaged through a pocket of her overalls and presented Satoru with a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke menthol for goodness sake, it might save your life. And get some sleep, you look like shit.”

And here he thought it was going to be work related. “Thanks for being such a considerate friend, Shoko. Don’t be a stranger now. Let’s go out for dinner sometime after all this blows over, I get the feeling we’re goin’ to see a lot of each other.”

“You’re buying though.”

“Don’t I always?” He grinned at her and left after she turned her head back towards her work.

Ino was already waiting at the car for him and upon leaving and reaching the station, Satoru came to the conclusion that it was two different people. He just wasn’t sure whether they were linked and knew each other.

Or there was a possibility, albeit rare and exceptional, that there were two separate and completely unlinked murderers in the immediate area who knew nothing about the other.

The latter didn’t seem too likely.

Still, he wouldn’t jump to conclusions until the facts were all put in front of him. And just like that, some of them were. A sheet of paper with the minutes of one of the phone calls made to the attendees from the party that night.

“Seems like she was definitely popular.” It took the interviewee ten whole minutes to calm down before continuing the phone call after learning of the woman’s death.

“Yeah, well liked and everything. Apparently she attended an event that night. An author’s ball thing- I dunno. And they all left after to go to hers.”

“An event…” Satoru studied the words in front of him. 

[All of us came from that event to celebrate the nominees and those who won awards… Oh my god. Oh my god.]

[Did everyone who was invited go?]

[Well… Some people weren’t invited. But I don’t know if they came anyway, we all got really drunk, we were celebrating. Oh god… I don’t even know where she went off too most of the time, we were all having such a good time. Oh my god! (Sobbing.) This is horrible…]

“So she wasn’t sure who came then?” It sounded utterly simple what the next move was. “Ino, get me a full roster of everyone who attended that event, staff, cooks, valet and an entire guest list… Also see if there’s anywhere nearby that might have security cameras we can check for that hit and run and try to identify him.”

“Sure thing.”

Someone in that list would be one of the two people they were looking for, in a rare circumstance, the only person they were looking for. And that footage, if it existed, was paramount, even if it was just a few minute little pixels in the corner, anything was better than nothing.

And when Satoru picked up a scent that made his intuition go haywire, he wouldn’t stop until he caught whatever was giving it off.

Because Satoru couldn’t leave well enough alone and strove to deliver justice to keep his record perfect. No one was going to escape him.

Though he hoped he could escape the station without giving that stupid report to Nanami.

He didn’t bet on it though.

Prev <- -> Next

(Master list)

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

The side characters and advanced plot is my own work. A gift for @vampir-queen and original idea for this fic is their own.

Also Please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[crybabyddl]

Black Coffee

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two

Warning: swearing, miscommunication, awkwardness, coffee shop au, modern au

Author's Note: I apologize for the abrupt end to the first chapter. I wasn't sure how to connect the next plot, so I just decided to post it instead of letting it rot in my drafts like I usually do. Enjoy! :)

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

----

Eddie spent the day unpacking more boxes, crushing the cardboard down with his boots. He told himself he had to do four hours of productive work before doing anything fun. However, around hour three, he was hanging up his beloved guitar. As his fingers accidentally brushed against the strings, he couldn't resist the siren call of his instrument.

Eddie indulged in his craft, getting lost in the fluid movements of his fingers and the melodies they produced. Today's setlist was comprised of songs from Rush's catalog, as well as some deep cuts from Metallica and Judas Priest.

It was two hours later when his hand started cramping up, and Eddie placed his prized possession back on its mount. Looking down at his watch, he made the executive decision to treat himself to a coffee.

Could he have made some from the Keurig he'd set up on the counter just hours earlier? Sure, but where's the fun in that? Eddie would much rather take a stroll down to the coffee shop he discovered yesterday. He needed to try the coffee a few more times before making the final verdict on this shop being his favorite.

That's how Eddie wound up ordering another small black coffee in the cozy café. To his disappointment, the girl who took his order yesterday didn't appear to be around. Regardless, Eddie tucked himself into the closest two-seated booth, slowly letting the caffeine seep into his bloodstream with each sip he took. He had to admit, it was really good coffee--just as good as it was the day before.

Despite his appreciation for the sepia-toned ambience and warm atmosphere that the coffee shop had, the sound of the pop music station, other customers' conversations, the espresso grinders, and the whirring of the milk frothers became quite overwhelming for Eddie. Not to mention the tension headache he could feel coming on due to the dim, yet concentrated overhead lighting.

As he went to throw his cup in the garbage, Eddie decided to take a risk.

"Excuse me." he approached the side counter where a chestnut-haired gentleman stood, drying dishes.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"I was just wondering if, uh, the barista with the cool eyeliner was working today."

The man paused for a moment before seemingly putting together who Eddie was talking about.

"No, she's not. Did you want me to take a message?"

"No, that's alright. Thank you."

"Sure thing."

Eddie knew better than to say anything, for fear of coming off as creepy. It was already slightly odd to be asking if a specific employee was working there. Maybe it wasn't as weird as it felt, but every action felt awkward, forced, and out of character for him lately. It's part of the reason why he packed up and relocated to the small town his parents moved to when they retired. There was a therapist he was going to start seeing, one that was actually supposed to help him work through his problems, not just listen to him rant about what was bothering him.

On the walk back to his apartment, Eddie tried to anticipate all the talking points his mother and father would bring up when he went to visit them tomorrow after his first appointment with the new therapist. How was the appointment? Did you tell her everything? Did you finish unpacking? Do you need to go grocery shopping? Did you sleep last night? Are you eating enough? He knew his parents were just looking out for him, wanted to make sure he was doing alright, but Eddie was twenty five years old, he was more than capable of taking care of himself... most of the time.

---- the next day...

8:00am

"Oh my god, you guys," you began in a tizzy. "I almost slid into a ditch on my way here."

"The roads are that bad?" asked Nancy, who'd been at the café since five this morning.

"Yeah," you reached behind your back to tie your apron. "It was really coming down over at my house. I think it's supposed to start here around noon."

12:02pm

The cafe had been steadily busy throughout the day, but the hours still seemed to pass far too slowly for anyone's liking.

Two minutes late, like always, Steve makes his grand entrance, bundled in a navy puffer jacket and a plaid scarf, likely from Ralph Lauren.

"Holy shit," he panted exasperatedly as he hung up his coat and scarf. "I almost ran myself into a ditch."

Nancy's eyebrows quirked as she glanced over at you to see if she was hearing your coworker correctly, but you'd since gone over to help a customer.

Once you returned, you and Steve exchanged stories of your treacherous commutes while Nancy tried to predict which of your fellow baristas scheduled for today would be the next to come in with a similar tale to tell.

"Oh, Y/N, someone was asking for you yesterday."

"Really? Who was it?"

"I didn't get his name, but he just asked if the 'girl with the cool eyeliner' was there."

You thought for a moment, trying to recall if any of your friends from high school or other jobs were slated to be in town this week, but nobody came to mind.

"I have no idea who that could be. Most of the people I know either wear just as crazy of eyeliner as me, or would know me by name. What did he look like?"

"He was probably around our age, maybe older. Long wavy brown hair, leather jacket, had on a shit-ton of rings."

You stood up a bit straighter upon hearing Steve's description of the mystery man. It sounded like the cute guy from a couple days ago... he ordered a black coffee... Eddie! His name was Eddie.

"Did he say anything else?"

"No. Do you know him?"

"That's the guy I was telling you guys about the other night."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that checks out."

The rest of your shift went by much faster, knowing you'd made just as much of an impression on Eddie as he did on you. Even though he didn't come into the shop by the time you finished your shift, just knowing he wanted to see you was enough to hold you over for a while.

7:03pm

Your phone buzzed. A text from Steve.

Stove: Btw that guy came in an hour after you left

Your phone buzzed again, another text from Steve.

Stove: I gave him your number

----

[ofmermaidstories]

there’s something so bittersweet and lovely about fanfic, at it’s core. it’s so impermeable, because it’s so individual. fics don’t get finished. fics get lost because they were typed out and sent to friends, in the 70s, and somewhere along the way someone packed it up in a cardboard box and their kids shuffled it to the attic. websites go down. archives get built, but then people lose faith in the story or the canon or the creator and delete them. you read it at like, 3am, and can’t remember the title months later when you look for it again.

the tiktok these comments are from was lamenting about the loss of a favourite fic—it (the tiktok) had 85k+ likes, and over 700 comments, mostly similar to these. people talking about downloading fics to read on a tablet only for them to disappear the next day. using the wayback machine and combing through results, just to find something they loved. i think it’s sweet because it’s so human—how easily we love something, and how easily we lose it. i used to print out my favourite fics, as a kid—i still have a binder of them, buried under yearbooks and the old journals i kept during those topsy turvy preteen years. i could tell you the overarching plot to a Cardcaptor Sakura fantasy AU i read (and loved; it became my personality for months afterwards) but i can’t remember how it ended, or if it even did. i finally broke down and signed up for an account on AO3 specifically to bookmark an old, old fic that i had read somewhere else, years and years and years ago and found again on AO3 only because i accidentally stumbled on the author here on tumblr (i had only found the fic in the first place all those years ago because of a playlist). i used the same shade of lipstick for years purely because a fic i really liked had the main character apply it (it was a limited edition one at the time; i bought my first one from a ebay seller in the UK at double the retail price, lmao) while the love interest watched them, but i can’t remember the name of it, only how it made me feel (and how, for years afterwards, i would wear that shade whenever i felt like the day had something promising to it).

one of the first anon’s i ever got, in the early days of this tumblr, was someone who asked me if it was okay if they downloaded surrender—and of course it was. of course it is. there was a point, during the final stretch when i was trying to write the last chapter, that i almost lost the entirety of what i had written for that fic—and i mean, it was on AO3 by that stage so it would’ve only set me back a chapter or so, but it goes to show how fragile things can be. how sometimes fics only last in tiny ways—because of the unfinished PDF file someone downloads. The patchy memory of someone’s who’s jumbling it and three other fics together. Because someone wore the same shade of lipstick you mentioned, off-hand, for years afterwards.

(this is a love letter to the silent readers; the silent savers. the lurkers. fandom and the internet at large is made of lurkers (eighty-five thousand likes. seven hundred comments). people who saved fics and waybacked them and will reread them, even uncompleted. telling each other we did a good job, that we liked this or we liked that is wonderful, and fun, and a great (and important) way to build a community and has also given me my current friends—but sometimes something you make will matter and live on in a way you will never, ever know. and it’s just how it is. it’s part of the fun and it’s part of the charm. it’s just how we work as people.)

[nonsensical-shitposting]

Decided to comb through a few separate playthroughs of Indigo Park with the intention of tracking down potential bits of foreshadowing that I haven't seen anyone recognize as such yet. Here's what I've got in no particular order, along with a few accompanying theories:

The player's screenname on the Discord expy seen in the opening cutscene is eEnsign. My first instinct is to say this is just a hint towards their surname, as their presumable first name is Ed and Indigo Park has already established a precedent for alliterative names: so, their full name could be "Ed Ensign." I do think there could be more to it symbolism-wise, though, so I'll just leave you with these definitions I grabbed from Wiktionary and let you come to your own conclusions about the potential implications for Ed's backstory, narrative role, and/or fate:

Could just be me reading too much into it, but Rambley's "or did you just get plastic surgery?" joke may be a hint that Ed will suffer some form of facial damage or alteration in a future chapter.

The power generators don't feel like they were "originally" part of the park, but rather seem to me as if they were a more recent addition- the only question is when and why. Rambley says the employees stopped showing up before the guests, so maybe they were installed during the time before the last employees ditched the park in an attempt to keep it functioning in their absence for as long as possible. Alternatively, maybe Mollie made them after the park was evacuated: she's already been established as good with machines, assuming her plane-building habits carried over from the character to the mascot.

Salem's cardboard cutout is bisected at the waist, which could be a hint that a similar fate has befallen the "real-world" mascot (there's precedent for this sort of foreshadowing with the headless Mollie standee at the park entrance). Similarly, on the cluster of screens Rambley appears on after the Rambley's Railway section the screen over where his right eye "should be" is noticeably deactivated, which could be a hint that his mascot counterpart (if it exists) is missing its right eye. Alternatively, Rambley might suffer a similar kind of damage in a future chapter- in that case, I'd interpret the potential foreshadowing more metaphorically in that the damage'll leave him "half-blind" in a sense, such as something that knocks out most of the park's security cameras or just locks him out of using them.

I think the general consensus by this point is that the Critter Cuff's resuscitation ability Rambley mentions will be unlocked and/or come into play somehow in a future chapter, but I haven't seen anyone dwelling on the implications of this- or, rather, the implications of this coexisting with how we've seen Rambley simply unlock a higher access level on Ed's cuff with zero physical modification to the device and no on-site capability to physically modify the cuffs that we've seen yet. I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that the resuscitation ability is likely pre-installed on all Critter Cuffs but only gets unlocked for the higher access levels, which. Y'know. Doesn't say great things about how Indigo Park treats its human employees or its customers. (I'm not saying this is a plausibility issue, mind you- as far as we know, Indigo Park is located somewhere in America- but still!)

I've watched over the scene where Lloyd attacks Ed multiple times now, and it looks to me like Lloyd specifically goes to grab at his nose/muzzle area when the Critter Cuff starts emitting the high-pitched frequency that drives him off. Building off of this and the fact that Mollie appears to be bleeding from her beak immediately prior to and throughout her chase sequence, my theory is that the park set the mascots up with some kind of multi-component implant located in the nasopharynx and Eustachian tube, and the implants themselves are what triggers the Critter Cuff to start emitting what I'm just going to refer to as "the deterrent frequency" from here onward for simplicity's sake. My best guess would be that the implants and Critter Cuff work in tandem via proximity detectors in both the implants and the cuff, which are in turn linked back to the heartbeat monitor and mood ring features of the Critter Cuff to determine whether a visitor seems to be in danger of being attacked by a mascot and automatically sets off the deterrent frequency if these conditions are all simultaneously present. (Granted, this does seem a bit advanced for the time period if we're working under the assumption that this was all developed before the park closed down in 2015-ish, but Rambley's AI would also be anachronistically advanced for even the present day, let alone 2015, so I don't think it's a stretch to say that Indigo Park was working with some pretty cutting-edge technology before its closure. Either that, or the Indigo Park universe is just more technologically advanced than ours.) If I'm right about the implants/their placement, the deterrent frequency probably drives the mascots off via both the high-pitched noise we already know of that hurts their ears and by screwing with their middle-ear pressure... which I think would induce some form of barotrauma in the long run, especially if it's repeatedly used? I'm not a doctor and I don't know if the game's going to go that deep into scientific explanations, though, so don't take my word for it without researching the topic yourself and/or seeking input from an actual medical professional.

Anyway, working from this assumption about how the deterrent frequency functions, this suddenly explains the apparent weirdness in Mollie's chase sequence. It seems clear that she was watching when Ed's cuff set off the deterrent frequency to drive Lloyd away, which would've tipped Mollie off that the deterrent frequency is still functioning; I think that this led to her deciding to tear out her implant beforehand. This would explain why she's visibly bleeding in the leadup to the chase sequence and why Ed's Critter Cuff never emits the deterrent frequency when she first appears or starts chasing them down, and it also explains the different high-pitched frequency heard at the very end of the chase sequence: based on the above theory, my assumption is that Rambley tried to set off a backup deterrent frequency to get Mollie to leave (which didn't work because Mollie tore out her implant), and when that failed he panicked and slammed the door shut.

I feel like Ed having been employed on the spot by Rambley is going to be of major relevance later. If it ends up being important for the ending, maybe there'll be some kind of weird legal loophole where, due to Ed being the only person working at Indigo Park at the time, ownership thereof automatically defaults to them? If the full game has multiple endings, this would also be an easy way to make choice-based multiple endings work, as if you do something that rubs Rambley the wrong way he could easily send security recordings of Ed breaking into Indigo Park to the authorities to ensure Ed can't exploit the loophole to gain ownership of Indigo Park, while on the flipside having Ed's hard work pay off with them getting rewarded for helping Rambley restore the park (rather than the company just swooping in after the fact to reassert control and reaping the benefit of Ed's work while Ed gets nothing but a fine for trespassing) could be a nice way to close things out... or alternatively, it could be a conduit for an anticapitalist "you cannot fix the system by working within its constraints, the whole rotten edifice must be dismantled" message, especially if Ed turns out to be more of a morally-gray character than we thought.

This is more instinct than anything else, but the references to Indigo Park as a "kingdom" that appear in the trailer and in Rambley's song feel like something that's going to be a recurring thematic motif rather than just a metaphor that gets used in a few throwaway lines. Not quite sure what relevance this could end up having, though.

I don't think I'm the only one to have noticed this, but Rambley seems to have a tendency to become more animated and use more in-between frames the more he opens up and/or deviates from what was likely programmed into him. However, I don't think this is an automatic or unconscious thing, but is instead an active choice to communicate genuineness and sincerity. He has been left running without pause for almost eight years, which as far as I know is Very Bad for computers, so if anything I'd be shocked if he had the remaining system resources to fluidly animate himself 24/7; as such, I think he physically can't do the higher-quality, more fluid animations all the time, so he chooses to save them for when it "matters" most.

[anastaaaaaaasia]

I really hate HBO

I am writing this and understand perfectly well that this post can cause a lot of discontent and hate, but I feel that I can no longer remain silent.

It's about HBO and the character of Aegon, and more specifically about the incident with Dyana.

Many of the green team and even Tom Glynn-Carney himself are hated and called rape apologists. *Deep breath*

Honestly, I will never understand this, especially when real people are bullied for fictional characters. But today I would like to talk about HBO.

I absolutely love the character of Aegon, I love the books on which the series was based, but HBO is hitting another rock bottom with their masterpieces.

All the scenes with Dyana look terribly awkward, because the serial Aegon is so pitiful that sometimes you think that he himself is being straponed by all the servants in turn. As my mother says, you can only hug him and cry. Diana as a character is a simple cardboard figurine for HBO's convenience.

All modern values, agendas and education on these topics are, of course, good, but not when they cover their asses with it for their own convenience. Unfortunately, in the modern world, where the topic of violence is very acute, it also turns out to be a very profitable topic. Profitable for increasing coverage, convenient for creating a clichéd image of a villain. I wouldn't even be surprised if HBO released Dyana T-shirts later.

But the most deplorable thing is that a large corporation does not remember about rape, when they could have donated to a fund to help victims and talked about it at events. Just perform an educational function!

Sorry, but HBO essentially monetized violence.

Chapter 2. Fans and double standards.

I can understand why the TV series Aegon is hated. Yes, he’s no good! Despite the fact that he still remains my favorite character. The first scene with the adult Aegon, right where Alicent scolds him for Dyana. This act is essentially presented to us as the main one, as the main feature of Aegon. How else should those who were not familiar with the books before react?

But I have another question, many of the fans of the House of the Dragon watched Game of Thrones, where there is much more violence. Why then were only new characters included in the distribution?

We had Ramsay raping Sansa on her wedding night. We believed this because we saw the sadistic tendencies and understood that Sansa was not a Mary Sue who would be able to escape from Ramsay at the last moment.

We had JAIME raping Cersei over the corpse of their own son. but his character had been revealed before from the best sides, so many did not even understand what happened.

I will never get tired of saying that the writers and producers, frankly, did a terrible job. We were supposed to have a series where the fight is between two types of shit, all of them gray. But we ended up with characters without motivation, with unnecessary clichés and, frankly speaking, boring in many places.

We got a real feud between the fans. This is good for business, but bad for humanity. It turns out that many actors receive hate.

Yes, I’m on the green team, but first of all, I’m on the team of those who condemn the shitty work of screenwriters and producers.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort on the Road

Summary - Part 42 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: In case I haven’t been saying it enough lately, I just wanted to let you guys know how much I appreciate you all: all your likes, comments, reblogs and even if you’re a silent supporter I appreciate it all the same. You guys constantly remind me why I love writing so much. So, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this week’s chapter. 

Once he pulls into the designated hotel car park, Dean gathers up all his purchases, slinging the bulging clothing bags and the bag of hearts over his arms while carefully balancing the cardboard tray of coffee and pastries in his right hand as pushes the door shut before making his way to the elevator. In front of your door, he attempts to pull his key card out of his pocket without dropping everything before resigning himself to knocking. 

You rush over at the sound of the knocking and peek through the glass hole before swinging the door open for your husband. Seeing his full hands and the bags hanging off his arms you quickly step aside to let him put everything down on the table. 

“I was gonna ask where you snuck off to but all this answers my question.” Once his arms are empty you wrap yours around him from behind and kiss his shoulder over his flannel. “I know you’re not comfortable with this set-up. Thank you for trying for me. This means so much to me.”

Dean turns around in your arms and sits his hands on your hips as he kisses your lips softly. “I know you’re still struggling from the pregnancy. If this is what you need, we’ll make it work.”

You feel the hot tears welling up just from the mention of your loss but you try to push them down as you rest your head against his chest. He pulls you close and rubs your back and places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

Once you gain back a little composure you look up at his face and say, “Let’s eat and then go see Garth and Bess. We can figure it out from there.”

He nods, kisses you again and then lets his hands slip off your hips. As he looks over your head he notices Destiny sitting on the bed watching you. As you sit down and start investigating what Dean picked up for breakfast he grabs the bags of clothes and sits them on the bed. 

“I got you some clothes that should hopefully fit. I obviously don’t know what you like so I just got a bunch of options.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly as she looks curiously at the bags. 

“I also got you some more of those hearts from last night.”

She nods and starts to pull some items out of the bags before scurrying off to the bathroom to get changed. As she disappears behind the door Dean comes back over to sit with you at the table and eat the now colder pastry and coffee. When you think he’s not looking you blow him a kiss – but of course he saw it – and then finish devouring your delicious breakfast. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

An hour later you’re all showered, dressed, packed up, and on the road again towards Wisconsin. You teach Destiny how to play some games on your phone and then give it to her to play while you use Dean’s to text Garth and let him know you’re on your way to see him and Bess. After you send the text you watch the road for a while before looking over and watching Dean’s concentrated profile while listening to the soft rock music filtering through the radio. 

After a while, you decide to ask one of the questions that’s been on your mind for a while. “Why Miami? Why Florida?”

Dean shoots you a quick, confused glance before fixing his eyes back on the road, “Huh?”

“I mean, did you just drive as far east as you could or was there a reason?”

“I wasn’t really thinking until I crossed that final border. Then I spent a few hours in Tampa…in that field. It’s not the same during the day. Or without you. I made the most impulsive decision of my life there, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I made a mistake that night. If I did it for the right reasons.”

“And? Did you?”

He glances back at you and you can see the love but also the fear and sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess by that night we were already too far gone, you were already…pregnant. But if I could go back to the night in the barn…”

You just nod and stare out your window trying to contain your disappointment in his words, despite your understanding. You spin your rings around nervously as you feel your disappointment turning into frustration. Glancing back at him you quietly say, “You want to know what I’d change if I could go back to that night?” 

Hearing the subtle edge in your voice he knows better than to respond with the sarcastic, pessimistic remarks in his head. Instead, he stays silent and focuses on the road. 

“I’d make Andre pull the car over so I could go back and get your number. I’d erase all the pain, longing and bad, emotionless one-night-stands that filled the months after. That’s my regret. Not saying yes, not the ectopic pregnancy, not the wedding, not even the pain I caused Sam by choosing you instead when I finally found you guys. What I do regret is all the other men I used to try and forget you and the time I didn’t get to spend with you.” You pause to brush the tears off your cheeks and take a deep breath to continue. “So, yeah, I’d love to go back to that night. But not for the same reasons you’re thinking.”

Despite his attempted concentration on the road, you can see his eyes and cheeks are as wet as yours. Neither one of you having the right words to say, you both watch the road in silence as you rest your head against the passenger window. Eventually, you feel the lull of the steady car and overwhelming emotions start to drag you to sleep. Just before you drift off completely you feel the comforting weight of a hand on your thigh.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your eyes start to flutter open as you feel the car slowing down. You look at Dean confused and still half-asleep. He notices your movement as you sit up stretching and squeezes your thigh softly.

“You can go back to sleep. The kid just needs to pee,” he says as he pulls up at a Gas N Sip. 

You turn around and smile at her. “Come on then. Let’s find a bathroom.” You get out and open her door for her before leading her around the side of the building where you know the bathroom will be; you’ve been to hundreds if not thousands of these across the country and they’re all set out the same. You let her go inside first while you wait outside the door. After a few minutes, she comes out and you tell her to go find Dean while you go. 

Dean and Destiny are walking to the car as you come back around the front of the building. Dean opens the backseat door for her and then turns to you. As soon as you’re within arms reach he pulls you close and kisses you. 

When he pulls away he keeps a hand on your cheek as he softly says, “For the record, whenever I picture myself happy, it’s with you. I only regret putting you in danger.”

“How many miles did it take you to come up with that?”

“Too many.” 

“What you did this morning tells me all I need to know.” You lean up and kiss him. As you kiss, you reach into his pocket and pull out the keys quietly. “You love me. Now come on, we’ve still got hours to go.”

He pecks your lips again and then pulls away. “I felt that by the way. You can get her started, I’ll be right back.” He hands you a plastic bag full of snacks and drinks he bought in the shop and turns around to walk around the side of the building. You go around to the driver’s side, dump the snacks on the passenger seat and start the engine. After a few minutes, Dean comes wandering back, leans on the driver’s side door and raises an eyebrow at you through the glass, warning you to move over. You just shake your head and he has no choice back to go to the passenger side when you lock your door. 

Once he’s in you drive out of the parking lot towards the highway. Then he looks over at you and says, “You’d better be careful with my baby.” You glare at him and he puts his hands up in surrender and adds, “I was talking to the car.”

You shake your head as you focus back on the road, happy that the mood in the car is lighter now. You glance in the rearview mirror at the little girl and smile. “You good back there?”

She nods but then says, “Your phone went black.”

“That’s okay, it probably needs more battery. Pass it to Dean.” He turns around in his seat and reaches over to take it off her. When he turns back around you tap his thigh. “I know you didn’t sleep much last night, take a nap. I got this.”

“You sure?”

You glance over at him deadpan. “Yes, I’m sure. I promise I won’t hurt your precious car.”

“Alright. Wake me up if you need a break.”

“Of course. Actually, first…” You look in the rearview again, “Hey, Sweetie, tell Mister DJ here what you wanna listen to.”

“No way,” he says shaking his head, “Nope. She’s gonna ride with us, she’s gotta learn the number one rule. Driver…”

You sigh, “Picks the music.”

“Shotgun…”

“Shuts their cakehole.” You sigh again. “Fine.” You nod and go back to focusing on the road for a minute and then you glance back at Dean. “But you know what? The driver picks to listen to whatever Destiny wants to listen to.”

“I don’t know any music,” she says quietly. 

“Alright, that’s okay,” you say as you meet her eyes in the rearview briefly. You look back over at Dean then. “You know which one I want.”

He opens the glove compartment and pulls out a cassette with your name written on it in his writing. He ejects his Zeppelin tape, puts your mixtape in and lets the music fill the car. He takes your hand from his thigh, brings it up to his lips and kisses it before placing it back in your lap so he can lean against the window and take a nap.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78, @canyouimaginethatstory

[nono-uwu]

hi this is kind of random but. ive seen a few posts so far from people in the fandom expressing they don't like/aren't interested in mikayuu anymore and i was curious if you knew why? it's been like a long time since i was into ons (like 2018? 😭) so im pretty out of the loop and was wondering if smth crazy happened ig lol 😭

I'm more of a recent addition to the fandom (watched/read ons for the 1st time in 2021 lol) but here's what I observed I think (not sure if you've read the manga but just in case huge spoiler warning)(also I may or may not be biased against them since my favs are the vampires and shinoa squad without mikayuu lol):

- there is just too much of them. Obviously they're the main characters but ons always had a colorful cast of characters and a lot of them (mainly Shinoa squad tbh) were sidelined during the shibuya arc and basically turned into cardboard cutouts that shout "Yuu!" every few chapters. Though they did get their personalities back in ch 133, it took way too long imo.

- Mikayuu barley changed as people and their relationship stayed basically the same. Once they reunited and Mika 'joined' Shinoa squad their relationship dynamic could be boiled down to: Yuu is kinda stupid and wants to do smth bc fAmLIy or whatever, Mika disagrees, Yuu does the equivalent of puppy dog eyes, Mika begrudgingly agrees, Yuu gets what he wants with minimal consequenz. After a while it's just not interesting to have the main character constantly winning. Heck, Mika's 'death' and demon transformation barley did anything in the long run.

Like at one point, it got brought up that Mika is losing his emotions for everything except Yuu, which was a pretty interesting idea and could have brought conflict into their realtionship. But a few weeks later (in-story, took a few years irl lol) Mika gets turned into a demon, regains his emotions and the former conflict is left in the dust.

Now with Mika as a demon, he lost all of his agency. He is literally stuck to Yuu and the most he can do against him is refuse to give him power but Yuu can just force it out of him so. Pretty fucked.

After they split off from the main group post Shibuya arc, they once again have an inkling of a conflict.

For context, they split off bc Yuu had to either choose between resurrecting humanity or only Mika (at least that's how Guren phrased it). Yuu's gayass chose Mika and at first they had an argument bc Mika doesn't value his life and would rather have everyone revived at his expense. Yuu goes 'nuh-uh' and makes a run for it, devoures Asuramaru/Ashera in the process.

Once they've run off, Mika confornts Yuu and shouts at him, saying he should have a happy life with his human family instead of Mika. Yuu once again goes "nuh-uh" and decides to revive all of humanity, Mika included.

- They restate their goal, plans and whatnot too much. Ons is a monthly manga with ~35 pages per chapter. In Mikayuu centric chapters, almost half (if not all) are wasted on restating the goals they've stated LAST FUCKING CHAPTER. Maybe Kagami doesn't trust the readers memory but man, you didn't do this before, did you? Why now all of a sudden? There's plenty of plot to get through, we can reread old chapters if we forget something.

There's also way too much goofing around. Obviously down-time is needed in any action packed series but we've gotten so much random cut-ins of Yuu needing food in what are supposed to be tense moments. Also we do not need an entire chapter of them hunting, eating and talking about their plans and others plans.

-

This is all I remembered off the top of my head, anyone feel free to add more

[thinkingoflawrence]

Imagine: Adam and you move to San Francisco (Fluff)

—————————

This is for a friend, so there are insiders like “San Francisco” in it, The character is also based of off her, at least as best as I could.

i hope others still enjoy it!

———————

After you and Adam finally had enough money to move to San Francisco to open your camera shop,

you had helped Adam out of the bathroom, and finally got away from Jigsaw… you, yourself, were a Jigsaw victim too, you survived and somehow became an apprentice.

You had known him from Scott, you were invited to some house party that Scott was throwing, and then you met Adam there. Now, in San Francisco, the two of you set out to turn your passion for photography into a new chapter, leaving behind the dark part of your lives.

After a long ass car drive, we finally arrived,

Our car stopped in front of our new store and our new apartment, “Damn… We made it… Adam! San Francisco… our store. Can you believe it? Holy shit…”

with an excited tone to it, “Believe it, sweetheart. I always knew this day would come. Now, let the city bask in the glory of our photographic genius”

he gave me a smirk, and chuckled awkwardly, I got out of the car and Adam then followed.

I just stood there looking at the building, our flat was right above the store, it looked amazing… it was just amazing…

The sound of Adam's camera echoed through the moment, and as I turned, he had that mischievous grin. “Well, now our first new memory”,

“wait wait wait… take another picture, wait…” I did my best sigma expression that I could, and Adam took another picture, trying not to laugh his ass off.

As Adam previewed the shots, i glanced at the photos.

“What's with the Sigma act, Soph? Trying to look all mysterious and brooding?”

I chuckled, “You're missing the charm.”

Adam being a little sassy, “Soph, it's called ambiance. But if you've got a better pose, feel free to enlighten us.”

“Well… no, fuck you” i said jokingly

Adam smirked, “Ambiance, Soph, Ambiance. It's an art you might not understand.”

Sophia shot back, “Well, I've got my own art form it's called not giving a damn. Try it sometime.”

I chimed in with a playful tone, “Yeah, Adam, take notes from that.” Adam laughed, “I'll consider it, but I make no promises. I've got an image to maintain, you know.”

As we bantered, I couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth. “Yeah, alright, alright, whatever,” I said with a grin, “but seriously, maybe we should channel this energy into getting those cardboard boxes inside? Our new life in San Francisco isn't going to unpack itself.” i said,

Adam chuckled, “Fine, fine, we'll save the photo shoot for later. Let's deal with the cardboard boxes.”

My lips curled into a grin, “Finally, someone with priorities. Maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you. The mix of sass, laughter, and the excitement of a new beginning hung in the air as we put everything in the flat above the store.

Entering the flat, a comforting new smell surrounded us. Boxes down, we started unpacking, the promise of a fresh start in each unopened box.

—

Time skip ~ some days later

——

“Alright, that was the last one…” I remarked as I watched the last customer leave the shop, Adam was just in the back, Adam was immersed in developing pictures. Deciding to visit him, I swiftly walked to the door and opened it. “Boo.” I exclaimed, and to my surprise, Adam jumped, nearly dropping the pictures. He shot me a wide-eyed look, and then we both burst into laughter.

“You were very scary, you know?” Adam teased. “I know, I know, thank you,” I replied, inspecting the developing photos. Some were already hanging up to dry, and I noticed the pictures Adam took when we arrived were there.

“Well, they really turned out great, especially this one,“ I said, grabbing the picture. “Damn, I'm beautiful.” I held the photo next to my face, recreating the expression.

Adam took the picture, a bit embarrassed but still sassy. “I wanted to make something with it, but I forgot, okay?”

“Well, damn, okay,” I said. “I'll go upstairs already. You can finish if you want.”

“Alright, I'll just finish up and then join you, Soph.” Adam gave me a soft, quick kiss before I headed upstairs. way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth before finally heading to bed.

To my surprise, Adam was already there. “Well, someone was fast,” I remarked. “Yeah, I was quick to finish all of them,” Adam said with a small smile as he got into bed.

I joined him, and we just laid there, talking about everything and anything. Eventually, we fell asleep, wrapped in the comfort of each other's company.

————-

———-

Tag list:

@xqnqx @thinkingofnana