#unhinged reenacting and all

[fabiosofabz]

#ghosts spoilers but low-key obsessed with the reaction Trevor had to Flower's unhinged recounting of watching her own death. Sheila Carrasco really fucking nailed the bit. And it was a whole ass goddamn mood.

[spaydekingcayde]

I need to study my irls in a Petri dish

[kxsagi]

Hii can I request a reader that is always loud, laughing, joking (darkest and driest jokes) but actually serious and responsible in work, like she’s always being silly, but suddenly getting serious when it’s come to her assignment, feel free to do with any BLLK characters but can you include Karasu and Yukimiya?

Thank you so much ily 🥰🔥

“𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬”

a/n: OKAY THIS READER DESCRIPTION IS SPOT-ON ME, LIKE THIS IS LITERALLY ME

anon are you on my alt??? 

ft. karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, mikage reo, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

karasu tabito

the first time he met you, he genuinely thought you were a walking meme compilation. you were doing a deadpan reenactment of your funeral, complete with “my last words will be ‘sybau’ while laying on the floor like you were auditioning for a broadway tragedy. karasu’s like “yo... what is wrong with her 💀” “nothing, what’s wrong with you for being alive during my performance?” his soul left his body. instant love. 

but the day he saw you working for the first time? jaw-dropped. you were elbows-deep in paperwork, planner color-coded, firing off deadlines, and actually emailing people back like a normal adult? you even hit him with a “can’t talk right now. i’m working.” in the most monotone, CEO voice ever. karasu just blinked like, “… where did my unhinged girlfriend go???” 

he finds the contrast sexy as hell. like yes, joke about your own funeral, but also please help him organize his taxes because he hasn’t done that in three years. 

he will literally follow you around going, “say something messed up” like a fanboy just to hear you hit him with another “if i got run over, would you keep the pieces as a souvenir?” 

sometimes he gets whiplash. you’ll be laughing at a meme, and then suddenly turn to him with “babe, did you turn in your PR proposal? the deadline’s 3PM JST.” and he’s like, “how did you– bro i forgot that even existed…” 

yukimiya kenyu

he thought you were deranged at first. you met at a charity gala, and you made a joke about "selling your soul to capitalism, but at least doing it ethically.” he laughed, but cautiously. like you were a tiger in clown makeup. but then you were laughing so hard at your own joke, and the way you wheezed like an old radiator made him soft. 

what really made him fall, though, was seeing how responsible you were behind all the dry jokes. you handled all the event logistics like it was second nature, emailing sponsors, correcting billing issues, and still cracking the occasional “if i die from stress, make sure my ghost finishes the job” in your corpse-dry voice. yukimiya was like, “wait… so she’s the brains and the chaos???” 

he’s a bit of a perfectionist, so he really respects your ability to flip the switch. when he’s spiraling about a brand deal or a photoshoot, you’re the one who calmly reminds him that “you’ve already survived worse. remember when your hair got fried in that one ad? and you still slayed.” 

he listens. because underneath the sarcasm and your “i hope the earth explodes” humor, you always get things done. 

the two of you are basically opposites: he’s elegant, poised, and a little dramatic; you’re loud, meme-obsessed, and unfiltered until it matters. he thinks you’re the perfect balance of chaotic good and responsible queen. “i love that you’re insane, but i also love that you scare HR with how efficient you are.” 

isagi yoichi

his first impression: “she’s hilarious, but needs to be monitored at all times.” you were making jokes about tax evasion and pretending to haunt people through google docs. “i wrote ‘i’m behind you’ in size 2 font at the bottom of every spreadsheet.” “WHY.” 

but when the blue lock PR team asked someone to help manage the team’s community outreach campaign, you went full commander mode. suddenly spreadsheets, schedules, polite corporate emails, and you booked everyone’s appointments like a pro. isagi was SHOCKED. “wait, you’re actually a professional???” “i am literally linkedin-certified. don’t play with me.” 

isagi now just lets you talk your insane talk as long as you walk the walk (which you always do). but he does sometimes worry when you casually say things like “if this deadline kills me, cremate my body and mix it into office coffee.” “love. are you okay?” “no, but i’m still doing my job better than everyone else.” 

kaiser michael

at first, he thought you were annoying. too loud. too sarcastic. too many disturbing jokes. until one day he caught you managing your own press schedule, negotiating deals over the phone like a shark, and drafting a marketing deck for your brand in the same breath as “haha if i get hit by a bus at least make sure it’s a mercedes.” 

kaiser’s respect for you skyrocketed. because that’s his energy – joking around, acting like he doesn’t care – but being a monster at your craft? that’s how you earn his interest. now he just follows you around like a smug little bodyguard. “you’re a menace. and you’d probably make a million dollars scamming me in a powerpoint.” 

when you two work together on anything serious, it’s absolute power couple energy. he’ll be leaning against your desk like, “are you done being hot and responsible?” and you’ll deadpan, “no. but your face is delaying my work productivity.” 

mikage reo

honestly? he was enchanted from day one. you were cracking jokes like “if i win the lottery, i’m investing it in haunted dolls,” while organizing a full event on your phone and replying to work emails with scary speed. reo watched with his jaw dropped like “are you even real???” 

he’s used to people who joke around, but flake out. you are the rare breed that jokes harder and works harder. he finds your duality fascinating. you’ll clown someone to their face and then finish your budget projections by 3 AM. “how do you have so much chaotic energy and still have a retirement plan?” 

reo is obsessed with your balance. he calls you “joker boss” because you’re both unhinged and terrifyingly capable. he’ll 100% show you off at events like, “yeah, she made our whole business plan… while doing a bit about eating drywall.” 

itoshi rin

you physically hurt him. not because you hit him, but because the first time you met, you made a joke so vile and deadpan, he choked on air and stared at you like you were a walking red flag in human form. something like: “i hope the company burns down, but like... on a friday so we don’t have to work monday either.” “what the actual f–” 

he genuinely thought you were an unserious clown. like the kind he’d never tolerate. until one day during a group project, everyone was slacking off and joking around… and suddenly, you flipped into hyper-efficient, eyes-glinting, do-it-or-die mode. you whipped out a laptop, started outlining deliverables, assigning tasks, and saying terrifying things like “i’ve already emailed the supervisor your excuses. now pick up the slack.” rin was stunned. aroused. slightly afraid. 

now he just watches you in silence whenever you’re in your serious mode, trying so hard not to look impressed. but then you break the tension by going, “anyway. if i die tomorrow, bury me in a blazer and tell god i was productive.” and rin's brain just short circuits again. he thinks you're mentally unwell. he's also never been in love like this. 

you actually motivate him. he’s already serious about his career, but you’re the only one who outworks him and makes him laugh like a man losing brain cells. 

sometimes he hears you laughing at your own jokes at night and just sighs into the pillow like, “she’s so weird.” then goes back to cuddling you tighter because you’re his weird. 

itoshi sae

sae heard your laugh before he ever saw you. loud. wild. from the gut. he turned around like “who let a maniac in here?” then you walked past him saying something like, “if i disappear, tell my manager i ascended. into the void.” he watched you leave and muttered, “what the fuck...” 

but the next time he saw you, you were on a work call, serious voice on, notebook open, calling shots and speaking like the CEO of a fortune 500 company. and when the call ended? you dropped your pen, leaned back, and went: “anyway, if this job doesn’t kill me, i will.” sae almost choked on his drink. 

this man is dry. so dry. but you? your humor is even drier, darker, and more sarcastic than his, and it physically pains him to laugh at your jokes. like the one time you said, “my toxic trait is being really responsible while secretly hoping society collapses.” “... that’s so stupid.” but then he’s laughing five hours later on the team bus because of what you said. 

he secretly loves watching you flip from “chronically online chaos gremlin” to “scary competent adult.” he’ll watch from a corner, drink in hand, smirking while muttering, “they’re not ready for her. poor bastards.” 

you stress him out when you’re too funny during serious moments though. “sae, if you die mid-game, can i have your bugatti?” “no, and i’m blocking you when i haunt you.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[hancorys]

k.lh — fruit punch and stomach bugs

genre: its leehan, ofc its FLUFF, friends to lovers trope, loud leehan !! attempt on golden retriever x black cat trope pairing: friend!leehan x afab!reader wc: 3950 warning: chaotic, lame jokes, hmm lmk if i forgot anything !! listen: apple cider — beabadoobee, perfect pair — beabadoobee

you never really noticed leehan before.

sure, you knew he was part of your friend group. you knew he was the loud one, the one who somehow had endless energy no matter how late you all stayed out. you knew he had a laugh that made everyone else laugh with him, even if they had no idea what was funny. but beyond that? nothing. you never had a reason to talk to him, and you never thought about changing that.

it wasn’t like you were avoiding him—there was just never a need. every gathering, every hangout, every chaotic group chat interaction, leehan was just there. always talking to someone else, always laughing at something stupid, always moving from one conversation to another like he physically couldn’t sit still.

and you? you preferred to stay on the sidelines. observing, commenting only when necessary, giving rei and eunchae unimpressed looks whenever leehan did something particularly dumb, which was often.

like the time he tried to balance three cups of bubble tea in one hand while dramatically reenacting some anime fight scene with woonhak. predictably, all three drinks ended up on the floor.

“dude,” jaehyun had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “this is why we can’t take you anywhere.”

“no regrets,” leehan had declared, completely unbothered as he wiped milk tea off his sleeve. “the scene was worth it.”

or the time he climbed onto a shopping cart in the middle of a parking lot, insisting that sungho push him at full speed.

“this is a terrible idea,” you had muttered to rei.

“he’s going to break something,” rei had agreed.

both of you had been correct. he crashed into a curb ten seconds later, and you had simply stepped over his sprawled-out form on the pavement, unimpressed.

“so dramatic,” you had muttered as you passed.

“so heartless,” he had groaned in response.

but despite all of that, you had never actually spoken to him. not directly. not one-on-one. you existed in the same space, floated around the same conversations, but your worlds never really collided.

and you thought that was how it would always be.

until tonight.

it started with a simple realization—both of you were leaving jaehyun’s house at the same time. you wouldn’t have thought much of it, except that when you turned the corner, leehan was still there. walking in the same direction. with you.

but before that, the night had been nothing short of chaos.

jaehyun’s parties were always like this—loud, messy, and somehow both the best and worst decision at the same time. the living room was packed, music loud enough to shake the floors, and the friend group was scattered across the house, each involved in their own brand of mayhem.

wonyoung and eunchae were doing dramatic reenactments of k-drama confession scenes on the couch, taking turns being the heartbroken lead. rei was recording them, hyping up their performances while sungho kept yelling, “oscar-worthy! pure art!”

meanwhile, taesan and woonhak had somehow started an impromptu dance battle, with jaehyun acting as the referee. leehan, true to his nature, was right in the middle of it all—hyping them up, throwing in ridiculous dance moves of his own, and laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

“i don’t know whether to be amazed or horrified,” you muttered, watching as leehan attempted to moonwalk but somehow ended up looking like a malfunctioning robot.

rei, standing next to you, snorted. “knowing him? both.”

at some point, someone suggested a game of truth or dare, which quickly devolved into chaos. woonhak ended up wearing a ridiculous hat made out of plastic cups, jaehyun was dared to text his professor something absolutely unhinged (thankfully unsent at the last second), and leehan?

leehan, of course, had to take things up a notch.

“i dare you to confess to the person you find most attractive here,” woonhak smirked, clearly expecting chaos.

leehan didn’t even hesitate.

he turned, dramatically sweeping his hair back, and locked eyes with you.

“you,” he declared, pointing directly at you.

silence.

then, laughter exploded around the room as everyone hooted and cheered, assuming it was a joke. you, however, just blinked at him, unimpressed.

“you’re not funny.”

“no, but i am committed to the bit,” he shot back, grinning. “also, you should feel honored.”

“oh, so honored,” you deadpanned.

somehow, between all the chaos and ridiculousness, time flew by, and soon enough, people started heading out. and that’s when you found yourself in this situation—leaving at the exact same time as leehan. you wouldn’t have thought much of it, except that when you turned the corner, leehan was still there. walking in the same direction. with you.

and then he kept walking. and walking. through the same streets. past the same convenience stores. down the same subway stairs.

you eyed him suspiciously as you both tapped your train cards in sync. leehan, however, just looked amused.

“are you following me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“i could say the same thing to you.”

he let out a laugh, light and easy. “guess we just have the same route home.”

you hummed, unconvinced. but then, as the train arrived and you both stepped into the same car—then sat in the same row—your skepticism turned into sheer disbelief.

“you have got to be kidding me.”

leehan grinned, resting his chin in his hand. “this is kinda funny, though.”

“no, it’s weird,” you deadpanned.

“or maybe it’s fate.”

“don’t push it.”

but then it got weirder. because when you both got off at the same stop and started walking again—this time in perfect sync—it became undeniable. when you reached your apartment building, you could only stare as leehan casually pulled out his key.

“wait. you live here?”

leehan laughed, unlocking the front door. “you sound so horrified. yeah, i live here.”

“since when?”

“for, like, a year?”

you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “this is insane. i have never—not once—seen you here.”

leehan just shrugged. “guess we were never meant to meet. until now.”

“that’s actually creepy.”

he shot you a playful glare. “you’re ruining the moment.”

and just like that, it started. what was supposed to be a one-time coincidence turned into an unspoken routine. you and leehan started walking home together. started taking the train together. started stopping by the convenience store for late-night snacks, where he’d insist on paying even when you threatened to strangle him with a pack of ramen.

“leehan, put the card down.”

“why? i like treating my friends.”

“okay, but i don’t like being treated.”

“that sounds like a you problem,” he said, successfully tapping his card before you could stop him.

you huffed, grabbing your drink from the counter and stomping out of the store. leehan followed, barely suppressing a laugh.

“you’re so dramatic.”

“and you’re an idiot.”

“an idiot who just paid for your snacks.”

somehow, someway, you became friends.

which, apparently, was the most shocking thing to everyone else.

“you and leehan?” wonyoung had stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “you guys are friends now?”

rei had been even more dramatic, clutching her chest like she was about to faint. “the walking golden retriever and the resident black cat? unbelievable.”

“it’s not that weird,” you muttered, stabbing at your lunch with your chopsticks.

“no, it is,” taesan confirmed, shoving a chip into his mouth. “leehan gets along with everyone, but you? you don’t just ‘get along’ with people. you tolerate them.”

“thanks for that.”

“anytime.”

sungho narrowed his eyes. “wait, so you guys really hang out? like, outside of group stuff?”

rei gasped. “wait, wait, wait. have you ever laughed at his jokes?”

you rolled your eyes. “i’m not heartless.”

“so that’s a yes,” woonhak smirked. “wow. history is being made.”

leehan, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. “you guys act like i tamed a wild animal or something.”

jaehyun nodded. “because you kind of did.”

“seriously, though,” eunchae piped up, eyes gleaming with interest. “do you guys ever, like, talk? or is it just comfortable silence?”

“both,” leehan answered easily, nudging your side. “sometimes she lets me ramble about random stuff. sometimes we just exist in peace.”

rei leaned forward. “and you actually enjoy that?”

leehan just grinned. “it’s okay. i like black cats.”

“it’s okay. i like black cats.”

.

.

.

“it’s okay. i like black cats.”....

.

.

.

“it’s okay. i like black cats.”

this shouldn't bother you, right? at least, that's what you’ve been telling yourself for the past 10 minutes… no, 20 minutes, as you stared at yourself in the mirror. face flushed, red as a tomato.

it was stupid. it was just leehan being leehan—annoyingly charming without even trying. he probably forgot he even said it. meanwhile, you were standing here, gripping the edges of the sink like it had personally wronged you.

“this is stupid. get yourself together,” you muttered, lightly smacking your own cheeks before splashing cold water on your cheeks, as if that would help. 

except it didn’t. because the moment you stepped out of your room, your phone buzzed with a message from leehan.

[leehan]: convenience store run?

you stared at the text for a solid five seconds. you could ignore him. pretend you were already in bed. but your feet were already moving before you could think twice.

[you]: fine. be outside in 5.

when you got downstairs, leehan was already there, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, a familiar grin on his face. “you’re five minutes early.”

“i like to be efficient,” you mumbled, walking past him toward the store.

he fell into step beside you, chuckling. “so efficient that you took twenty minutes to text me back?”

“i was busy.”

“busy staring at yourself in the mirror?”

you stopped in your tracks, whipping around. “excuse me?”

leehan blinked innocently. “what? i just figured, you know, considering how red you were earlier—”

“shut up.” you picked up your pace, pretending your face wasn’t burning again.

leehan laughed, easily catching up. “you’re fun to tease.”

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

unfortunately, he was right.

at the store, you went straight for the snack aisle, grabbing a bag of chips and your usual drink. leehan, as always, hovered behind you, dramatically inspecting his options.

“hmm,” he mused, holding up two different ice cream flavors. “do i want strawberry or mint choco?”

“strawberry.”

he gasped. “wow, no hesitation.”

“because mint choco is disgusting.”

he clutched the mint choco to his chest, looking genuinely wounded. “you wound me.”

“good.”

leehan pouted before tossing both ice creams into the basket. “guess i’ll have to get both, then.”

“or you could just make a better life choice.”

“this is a personal attack.”

the next day, the unspoken routine continued as if nothing had changed. but you swore leehan was watching you a little too closely when you met at the station.

“you look extra grumpy today,” he commented, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. as usual.

“thanks,” you deadpanned.

he grinned but didn’t push further. instead, he just walked beside you, the easy rhythm of your steps falling into sync like always.

as usual, you stopped by the convenience store. but this time, something felt different. you blamed it on last night’s stupid moment, on the way your brain kept replaying his words like a broken record. because suddenly, standing next to leehan under the fluorescent lights, everything felt… hyper-aware.

“what do you want?” he asked, already reaching for his wallet.

“i can pay for myself,” you said, shooting him a glare.

“yeah, yeah.” he waved you off and grabbed a basket, throwing in his usual snacks. then, without thinking, he plucked a carton of banana milk from the shelf and tossed it in too.

you blinked. “why are you getting that?”

he looked at you like you were asking something obvious. “because you always get banana milk.”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. because—oh. he noticed?

“stop looking at me like that,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow. “it’s just banana milk.”

except it wasn’t. not really. it was something small, something dumb, but it still sent your heart into a quiet little panic.

this was bad.

this was really, really bad.

because of the fact that you kind of liked it.

which was a problem.

—

jaehyun’s house was packed again, music thrumming through the walls, the air thick with the scent of food, alcohol, and too many people crammed into one space. you weren’t even sure what the occasion was this time. knowing jaehyun, he probably just felt like throwing a party for no reason.

you had just arrived, barely setting foot in the living room, when wonyoung and rei ambushed you.

“oh my god, look who finally decided to show up!” wonyoung beamed, linking her arm with yours. “and here i thought you’d become too busy with your new best friend to hang out with us.”

rei snickered. “right? they’re practically attached at the hip now.”

you rolled your eyes, shaking them off. “not this again.”

“you’re not denying it, though,” taesan said, popping up from behind you with a knowing grin.

before you could snap at him, your eyes caught sight of leehan on the other side of the room, laughing at something jaehyun had said.

your stomach did something weird. you ignored it.

jaehyun noticed you staring and smirked. “hey, look who’s here.”

leehan turned his head, his eyes immediately finding yours.

and then—he winked.

you nearly choked on air.

rei and wonyoung let out a synchronized ooooh.

“okay, you guys are insufferable,” you muttered, heading straight for the kitchen, desperate for something—anything—to distract yourself.

but leehan was fast. before you could grab a drink, he was suddenly beside you, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just almost made you collapse five seconds ago.

“you’re late,” he said.

“and you’re annoying,” you replied, popping open a soda.

leehan just grinned, stealing the drink right from your hand and taking a sip.

“hey—”

“mmm, refreshing,” he sighed dramatically, handing it back to you with an infuriatingly smug look.

you narrowed your eyes. “i should poison you.”

“aww, you’d miss me.”

“debatable.”

you took a sip from the same can, too caught up in glaring at him to realize what you’d done. but the second you did—when you felt the ghost of his lips on the rim—you nearly dropped it.

leehan saw your reaction, and that stupid grin of his widened.

“oh?” he teased. “flustered?”

“shut up.”

“you totally are.”

you needed to get out of here. fast.

but as the night went on, escaping leehan became impossible. somehow, he was everywhere—pulling you into games, making sure you were on his team during random challenges, always finding some way to be in your space.

it didn’t help that the others were having the time of their lives watching it unfold.

“oh, come on, just admit it,” jaehyun said at one point, slinging an arm around leehan’s shoulder. “you two have something going on.”

“yeah, it’s called friendship,” you deadpanned.

“nah,” taesan interjected. “i’ve never seen leehan act this way with anyone else.”

rei nodded enthusiastically. “he literally follows you around like a puppy.”

wonyoung gasped. “oh my god, he’s a golden retriever boyfriend in the making.”

leehan, unbothered, just nudged you playfully. “see? i told you i like black cats.”

you ignored the way your face burned.

—

later that night, after hours of pretending everything was fine, you finally managed to slip away from the chaos. you grabbed your jacket, heading for the door.

and then, right on cue, leehan appeared beside you.

“leaving already?”

“yeah,” you muttered.

“i’ll walk with you.”

you frowned. “aren’t you staying over at jaehyun’s?”

he shrugged. “changed my mind.”

you eyed him suspiciously but didn’t argue. and so, just like last time, you left together.

and this time, as you stepped out into the quiet night, something had shifted.

the walk back to your building was different this time. quieter. more charged.

a few months ago, leehan had been just another name in the friend group, a background character in your life who never had any real reason to cross paths with you. but now? now he was walking beside you like he had always belonged there, his presence as familiar as the crisp night air wrapping around your skin.

and maybe he did belong there.

you weren’t sure when it had happened—when he’d started showing up in your thoughts even when he wasn’t around, when the stupid things he said began lingering in your head longer than they should. you weren’t even sure when the sound of his laugh had become something you liked hearing, or when the way he looked at you started making your chest feel too tight.

but it had happened. somewhere between the teasing, the ridiculous dares, the way he always seemed to be near you even when he didn’t have to be—it had happened.

and now you were here, walking home together, fingers grazing every few steps.

you pretended not to notice. he pretended not to, either.

but you both did.

the city hummed around you, neon signs flickering in the distance, the occasional car passing by. it was late enough that the usual bustle of the streets had quieted down, leaving just the two of you and the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the pavement.

you reached your building, stepping toward the entrance, but then—

leehan stopped walking.

you turned to him, brow raised. “what?”

he looked... different. not in the usual smug, teasing way. he was shifting his weight slightly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his gaze flickering between you and the ground like he was debating something.

and then—

“…do you want to come over?”

you blinked.

“…huh?”

his ears were turning red. red.

he cleared his throat. “w-we can, uh… eat? and have a movie marathon?” his words came out rushed, like he was afraid he’d forget them if he didn’t say them fast enough. “o-or, uh… i don’t know, whatever you’d love to do. online games?”

your lips parted slightly, caught off guard. leehan—confident, annoying, always-has-a-snarky-response leehan—was nervous.

nervous about you.

his fingers curled inside his sleeves, his usual teasing grin nowhere to be found.

and that was when it hit you. the way he always found you in a room. the way his insults had softened into something closer to fondness. the way he never actually seemed to mind when you called him annoying.

he had been holding back.

and maybe, just maybe—you had been, too.

you took a step closer, tilting your head. “leehan.”

his throat bobbed. “yeah?”

your lips twitched into a smirk. “silly, of course i’d love to come over.”

before he could fully process your words, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the entrance of the building.

“and while we’re at it, we’ll talk about how we don’t like each other that much.”

leehan let out a strangled noise. “huh—wait—”

you ignored him, swiftly entering his passcode like it was your apartment, pushing open the door. “hurry up, we’re wasting time.”

he stood frozen for a second, blinking at you, before breaking into a wide grin, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re unbelievable.”

“unfortunately.”

you plopped onto his couch like you lived there, grabbing the remote, already scrolling through movie options. leehan sat beside you, close—closer than usual.

and this time, neither of you pretended to ignore it.

the movie played in the background, its soft glow casting flickering shadows across the dimly lit room. but neither of you were watching. not really.

leehan sat beside you, slightly tense, like he was aware—of the space between you, of the way your knees brushed when you shifted, of the fact that this wasn’t just another night hanging out. this was something else.

you, on the other hand, acted as if everything was normal. because if you thought too much, if you acknowledged the weight in the air, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

but leehan was staring. you could feel it.

“if you keep looking at me like that, i might start thinking you actually like me,” you muttered, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between you.

leehan didn’t even flinch. “what if i do?”

you paused mid-chew.

slowly, you turned to him, raising a brow. “what?”

his expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped absently against his knee, a nervous habit you’d only recently started noticing.

he inhaled, exhaled, then shrugged. “just saying. maybe i do.”

you stared at him, waiting for the punchline. some stupid joke, a teasing smirk—something to make it feel less like he was turning your entire world upside down.

but nothing came.

he just looked at you, quiet and steady, like he’d already made peace with whatever was about to happen next.

and suddenly, all those months of playful arguments, of lingering glances, of almost-but-not-quite moments came rushing back at once.

you hated him. except, you didn’t.

“you’re messing with me,” you said finally, but your voice lacked the usual bite.

leehan shook his head. “nope.”

“…seriously?”

“seriously.”

your heart was doing something weird. like a stuttering engine, skipping beats it wasn’t supposed to.

you scoffed, trying to mask it. “wow. what a plot twist.”

“right?” leehan hummed, leaning back into the couch. “who would’ve thought? me, liking you.”

“so tragic.”

“a real disaster.”

but despite the words, despite the banter, neither of you laughed.

you could still feel his gaze, waiting... waiting for you to say something.

but what were you supposed to say?

that your heart had been beating like this for weeks now? that you had started looking for him in every room before you even realized it? that you kind of liked being the first person he teased, the first person he looked at when something funny happened, the first person he always, always sat next to?

ugh.

this was so unfair.

so, instead of answering, instead of dealing with the mess he’d just dumped into your lap, you grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at him.

leehan blinked. “…seriously?”

“seriously.”

a beat of silence.

then, he smirked. “oh, you’re so dead.”

before you could react, he grabbed a pillow and launched it at you, knocking you back against the couch.

“leehan!” you shrieked, throwing another handful of popcorn in retaliation.

what followed was a full-blown war; popcorn flying, pillows swinging, laughter filling the small space between you. the movie played on, forgotten, as you both devolved into something ridiculous and childish and stupidly happy.

somewhere between dodging an incoming pillow and trying to wrestle the remote from leehan’s grasp, you tumbled forward, colliding into him—too close, too warm, too real.

your breath caught.

so did his.

neither of you moved.

his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. your knees were pressed against his. your face was this close to his, close enough to see the way his lips parted, just slightly.

the teasing, the laughter, the noise...it all faded.

for a second, the world stilled.

“…you’re not gonna hit me again, are you?” leehan murmured, voice quieter than before.

“depends,” you said, but it came out softer than you meant it to.

his gaze flickered down, just for a split second.

then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “you like me.”

you scoffed, pulling back. “delusional.”

“you so do.”

“good night, leehan.”

“admit it.”

you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him again before standing up. “sleep well, best friend.”

“oh my god.”

“bye.”

leehan’s laughter followed you as you walked toward the door, his voice light, teasing but different now. like he knew something you weren’t ready to admit yet.

and maybe he did.

either way, it didn’t matter.

because as you stepped out, your heart still racing, you realized—this wasn’t the end of something.

it was the beginning.

© hancorys, 2025.

[valeisaslut]

thinking about collide ellie and reader on snl…

NO BECAUSE I 100% thought of writing Ellie and reader on SNL but there was already SO much happening in the fic that I was like okay Val. breathe. you do NOT need to write an entire season of sketch comedy in the middle of your lesbian slow burn.

BUT IN MY HEART (and in the AU) THEY WENT. They 100% went.

SO, FOR MY NATION: ROCKSTAR!ELLIE X POPSTAR!READER ON SNL.

The episode aired like two weeks after the Grammys, and the SNL writers were frothing at the mouth to recreate the chaos. So obviously, you and Ellie did a full sketch reenacting the Grammy moment—THE “nah. you look too fucking hot right now.” THE “i love you.” The pause that followed. Beat for beat. There was dramatic slow motion. Ellie fake-mic-dropped. You dramatically collapsed to the floor like you’d been shot. The audience BLACKED OUT.

BUT WAIT. There was also that cursed SNL music sketch where you're both singers from different planets. You were a glittery Y2K alien who only sang in autotuned adlibs. Ellie was a country cowboy who doesn’t believe in music unless it’s played on a busted banjo. It made ZERO sense and somehow ended with an animatronic horse doing the dougie. At one point, Ellie LASSOED you and made a kinky joke that wasn't in the script at all. Twitter hasn’t recovered.

Weekend Update?? A disaster. You showed up, said four words, and went “ok i’m too hot for this” and just left. Ellie stayed behind and gave a fake PSA about “dating your popstar girlfriend responsibly” and how you should “not accidentally make out on live TV unless it’s for the bit.” It got 70 million views.

AND THEN. THEN. The cheerleader skit. You and Ellie were rival high school cheer captains. Seeing Ellie’s masc ass in a cheer uniform nearly ended humanity. She was PISSED about it but after shooting she begged the costume department to let her keep it. The skit escalated immediately—normal flips turned into Ellie back handspringing off the desk, you pulled a megaphone from thin air and screamed “L FOR LESBIAN.” A marching band materialized out of nowhere playing She. And then, inexplicably, it ended with the two of you slow-dancing in cheer uniforms under falling confetti while Pedro Pascal (as the school principal) screamed “THIS IS A SCHOOL ASSEMBLY.”

OKAY BUT YOU’RE NOT EVEN READY FOR THE "LESBIAN QUIET LUXURY" SKIT. Like. You and Ellie played these absolutely feral rich girls who inherited old money from their great-great-grandmothers (who were, quote, “roommates”), and now live in a haunted countryside manor in Vermont where they “just do pottery, collect oil paintings of women with secrets, and make eye contact with ghosts.”

It was shot like a Vogue mini-doc. You wore a floor-length linen nightgown, held a glass of wine, and whispered “I only speak in lowercase now. Capital letters are performative.” Ellie was doing an interview in a library and said, completely straight-faced, “we don’t have a television, we just recite Sappho to each other while our oat milk steams.”

Then it CUT to you two at a farmers market arguing with an old man about whether figs have feminine energy. Ellie was like “you don’t get it. figs are bisexual.” And the old man just left. He walked off the set. That wasn’t scripted.

The sketch ended with both of you holding a single candle, standing barefoot in a field at dusk, and solemnly saying “quiet luxury is loving your partner so hard it echoes through generations.” And then you made out behind a hedge while a harpist played Phoebe Bridgers.

That sketch is on every sapphic aesthetic moodboard.

The cast was breaking so bad the cameras were shaking. Cecily Strong had to walk off set. It was the exact brand of unhinged chaotic lesbian television we DESERVE.

Anyway yeah. You were on SNL. Sorry for not writing it in the fic. I might still. Don’t tempt me.

[beelsbignaturals]

Unhinged Dates with the Obey Me Cast.

AN: This was just a silly haha but I had way too much fun with it. It was supposed to be one line each...

Leviathan takes you to go see a whale fall in person. He uses magic so you don't die, obvi, but come on guys!!! Whale fall!!!

Barbatos will take you back in time to witness some of his favorite historical events. You can have a picnic while watching Pompeii from a safe distance.

Satan takes you to a real murder mystery party. Someone sold their soul to him and it's time to collect. Why not make a date of it and kill the poor fool at their own party?

Asmodeus takes you out for the Elizabeth Bathory spa treatment. Virgin blood does wonders for your complexion!

Belphegor will pull a Freddy Kruger and take you with him to haunt some poor shmuck's dreams.

Lucifer is a classy guy. You can sip demonus while watching a Shakespeare reenactment of your choice. When a character dies, so does the actor! Don't worry, love. It's just the souls of the damned. Part of their punishment, y'know?

Beelzebub takes you to a restaurant that used to be all the rage before it was shut down just prior to the exchange program. But the locals kicked up such a fuss it reopened. Just... ignore the fact the menu looks like something the Sawyer family would be offering.

Mammon had a phase where he was really into jumping off of buildings. If you find old Devilgram pics of him divebombing the ground before flying off at the last minute and give your best puppy dog eyes, I'm sure Mammon would be delighted to hold you close as he indulges in an old pass time!

Diavolo will let you join while he sentences souls to damnation. As his future co-monarch, it's your right to learn about the ins and outs of the kingdom. You can even wear a crown made of bones if you want!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You absolutely do not need to write about this but I need to share this mental image with you: Azul learning about the Cursed Cafe, getting annoyed because 'how dare there be a new cafe that he did not hear about months in advance'.

Goes in to investigate only to stumble head first into the majority of the school's heroes (read: almost all of the villains) and trying not to lose it because IS THAT THE SEA WITCH OF LEGEND? AND SHES DRESSED SO NICELY?

I just love the idea of him coming in to try and undermine the cafe, only to come back trying to pull it together because OH GOD ITS HER. WHile the tweels just ???? About why hes suddenly losing it.

dhahebwvgswu Azul is definitely the type to put on a disguise to “scope out the competition” if a new café opens up 😭 He finds a table and hunches behind a menu to observe just what makes this place so special?? And then in walks in someone that resembles the Sea Witch?? Azul’s so shocked he almost drops his menu!! He tries to get a leash on his emotions and come up with a reasonable explanation for this—is it one of those “cosplayer” people Idia-san has mentioned at club meetings? A historical reenactment?? Simply an uncanny acceptance? Would it be too rude to start up a conversation? He had a pen on him, plus these napkins… c-can he get an autograph?!

The twins, who came to the café with Azul for the so-called “reconnoissance mission”, are greatly enjoying his reaction. They probably tag team to gaslight him, saying it’s sooo weird and mannerless for Azul to stare at a stranger and such. (Jade and Floyd are actually secretly curious too!) Maybe they also find some time to feed fish flakes to the moray eels at the counter’s fish bowl.

bfksbwkkw The way the Disney Villains Cursed Café depicts Ursula is honestly so precious 😭 She’s obviously still evil and wants to use dishonest means to get her way, but I really appreciate how she’s relatively sweet to the player compared to some of the other villains we serve. Ursula is the one that walks us through the tutorial and she frequently refers to the Potionista as “angelfish” or “dearie”. She gives me sweet (and maybe a little unhinged) cat auntie vibes… I bet Ursula would be sweet to the Octatrio too ^^

[writing-the-stars]

Where the Fire Settles

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader, Rebekah x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Kol Mikaelson has always been chaos wrapped in charm—fire and fury personified. But with you, he's something softer, quieter, settled. You can't help but wonder if Kol really sees you, or a lesser version of what he lost.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Angst (Of course! Are we surprised?), Insecurity, Hurt/Comfort. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

A/N: This is based on this request. Thank you so much Anon for sending this in. I hope this is exactly how you envisioned it! As always, thank you all so much for reading. I really hope you enjoy and that you have a wonderful day from this point forward!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

The chandeliers above the compound flicker with warm candlelight, casting long shadows over the worn brick walls and aged leather. Jazz drifts in from somewhere deep in the French Quarter—lazy and low—mingling with the clink of crystal and the occasional burst of laughter. Real laughter. The kind this house almost never hears.

At the heart of it all, Kol lounges on one of the vintage leather sofas, grinning like a king who’s conquered death itself. He’s practically glowing—relaxed in the way he only gets when he’s fully adored, which, tonight, he is. Surrounded by his siblings, and for once, no blood spilled, no daggers drawn. Just a toast to his eternal existence.

You’re tucked in beside him, a half-empty glass of champagne in hand, your fingers laced with his. The candlelight catches on the ring he gave you— antique, intricate, older than most empires. It gleams like a promise whispered across centuries. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, lingering just beneath the stone— a grounding gesture you’ve come to know well. He always touches you like he’s making sure you’re still there. 

The room smells like bourbon and birthday cake.

Rebekah is deep into one of her favorite stories, hands carving the air as she reenacts one of Kol’s more infamous escapades.

“You nearly exposed us that night in Madrid,” she says, laughing. “Nik was ready to dagger you on the spot.”

Kol scoffs. “Nik’s always ready to dagger me.”

“Only because you bloody earned it,” Klaus adds smoothly, swirling his bourbon with a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

“You impersonated a Spanish nobleman,” Elijah adds with a chuckle, “and seduced both the wife and the mistress. Simultaneously.”

Laughter erupts. You join in, but mostly, you watch. Listen. Trying to imagine this version of Kol— reckless, gleefully unhinged. It feels impossible. Not when the man they’re describing just gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Not when he looks at you like the world isn’t something to burn but something to protect.

It’s like hearing stories about a ghost. A Kol who doesn’t exist anymore.

Your Kol makes you breakfast in bed. He reads to you when you can’t sleep. He kisses your forehead like you’re made of glass. So different from the man who once danced on a burning bar with blood on his shirt and laughter in his lungs. 

Rebekah turns to Elijah, mischief dancing in her eyes. “What about the time he and Davina took on those cursed covens in the Quarter?”

You stiffen, just slightly. But Kol feels it. You know he does.

Davina.

The one name Kol never says around you. The one part of his past that stays locked away.

Elijah’s eyes gleam with the memory. “Ah, yes. Quite the spectacle.”

“She was a hell of a witch,” Klaus says, grinning into his glass. “Young, fierce, dangerously gifted.”

“She matched Kol in every way that mattered,” Elijah muses.

Something inside you twists.  

“They were inseparable,” Klaus continues, almost fond. “He adored that little spell of hers. Snap a neck with the flick of a wrist.”

Kol’s fingers are still laced with yours, but they feel heavier now. Or maybe it’s your heart.

You hadn’t heard much about her—just whispers, fragmented echoes. His partner in mayhem. The girl who nearly became Mrs. Kol Mikaelson. She had magic. Power. She had him when he belonged to the blood and chaos. The world he still carries in his bones. The world you’ll never fully touch.

What were you, compared to that?

Just… human.

Kol turns to you with a lazy smile, eyes warm. “You’re awfully quiet, darling. Everything alright?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

And you mean to be. Because it’s his birthday. He’s happy. And you love him more than anything.

So you swallow the ache pressing against your ribs. You laugh at the next story. You raise your glass when they toast. You kiss him when they cut the cake.

But somewhere deep in your mind, a whisper takes root:

Why would he choose you?

-*-

You stand alone in the parlor, stacking a few stray glasses onto a tray. The air still holds the scent of melting wax and leftover cake. From the kitchen, Rebekah’s voice drifts in—giving Kol hell over something, probably the way he butchered the cake. His laugh echoes back, warm and carefree.

Your fingers drift unconsciously to the ring on your hand. You twist it slowly, again and again, the way you always do when your thoughts get too loud. A silent comfort. A grounding weight.

You should be happy. Content. The night went well. Kol is happy. The house hums with family, laughter, warmth.

But your mind keeps drifting.

To her. To those stories. To Elijah’s voice, low and reverent.  

She matched Kol in every way that mattered.

Your stomach churns. Not in anger. In something softer. Meaner. The slow, creeping ache you could never explain out loud.

Hearing about his time with the witch wasn’t new. You knew the broad strokes— the engagement, the subsequent heartbreak, the legendary love wrapped in blood and fire. You heard the whispers about her. The legacy. The power. Kol never talks about her, but the world does. Witches who whisper her name, Vampires who remember how fiercely they fought for each other. A girl who lit the Quarter ablaze and stood her ground beside an Original Vampire.

And you? You’re just… human.

No magic. No bloodline. No armor.

No place in this world except the one directly next to Kol.

You don’t hear him come in until his arms slide around your waist from behind. He presses a lazy kiss just behind your ear.

“You vanished,” he murmurs into your hair. “Thought I’d been abandoned on my own bloody birthday.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just cleaning up.”

He turns you gently in his arms, his fingers warm against your sides. His eyes— soft, brown, and endlessly mischievous— study you. His gaze narrows slightly.

“You’re quiet, darling. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You look up at him. Hesitant. 

It’s stupid, really. It’s not fair to ruin his night.

And yet.

“She meant a lot to you.” 

It isn’t accusatory. It isn’t bitter. Just factual. But it drops between you like a stone in still water.

You don’t say her name. You don’t have to.

His expression shifts— subtle, but immediate. The warmth drains just a little.

He lets out a slow breath, stepping back just enough to really look at you. He waits a beat, then nods. “She did.”

You nod too. You already knew that. That’s not what hurts.

Your eyes drop to your hands, to the ring on your finger. You twist it once, then again, like the motion might steady your thoughts. Like it might anchor you to him. But tonight, even that familiar weight feels unsteady. 

“She was powerful. Fierce. She was part of your world in a way I’ll never be.”

“Hey,” Kol’s voice sharpens slightly. He lifts your chin with two fingers, trying to catch your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m not trying to start something,” you say quickly. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. The stories. The way everyone talks about her like she’s fire and fury. Like she fit beside you. And I’m—”

“Mine,” Kol interrupts, firmer now. “You’re mine. You belong with me.”

You try to laugh, but it cracks halfway through. “Do I? Or are you still trying to convince yourself?”

Kol’s eyes narrow, the first real flicker of temper rising.

You keep going. The words are tumbling out faster than your brain can catch them.

“Everyone looks at us and wonders what an Original Vampire like you is doing with someone like me. And maybe they don’t say it out loud, but I see it. I feel it in every single one of their gazes.”

You take a shaky breath. Your voice softens.

“I don’t have magic, Kol. I don’t have power. I don’t even have a place in this city unless it’s beside you. And I know you love me — I do — but part of me keeps wondering…”

Your throat tightens. The ache crawls higher.

“If you ever miss what you had with her.”

Kol tenses. “This again?”

“Yes. This,” you snap, louder than you intended. “Because she fought with you. Bled with you. She was part of the fire and the dark. And me? I just sit here and hope you come home in one piece.”

Kol’s jaw tightens. “You think that’s what I want? That chaos again?”

“I think part of you misses it,” you whisper. “And if not the chaos… maybe just her.”

Kol runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Maybe I do miss her— at least she didn’t turn every bloody conversation into a trial.”

The words are out before he can catch them.

Silence.

Your breath catches, unable to breathe around the impact. You stare at him— disbelieving, shattered.

Kol’s face shifts instantly. “Wait—darling, that’s not—”

You don’t give him a chance.

“No.” Your voice is low. Flat. “That’s exactly what you meant.”

You step back. The weight of the ring on your finger suddenly unbearable.

“Maybe you should go find her, then.”

You twist the ring off your finger, undoing something that you thought was sacred. You shove the piece of jewelry into his palm like it’s searing through your skin. He doesn’t stop you.

“I’m sorry I’m not her,” you whisper. “But I won’t stand here and be punished for it.”

You turn, tears finally spilling over. The sound of your heartbeat drowning out the sound of your footsteps on the tile. You barely register Rebekah’s voice from the hall. All you see is the bedroom door and the blur of tears as you lock yourself inside. 

And when the sob finally breaks from your chest, it doesn’t stop.

Kol stares at the closed bedroom door, the ring heavy in his palm. The warmth of your hand still clings to the metal like a ghost. His brain hasn't quite caught up to his mouth— the words still hang in the air, ugly and unforgiving.

What the hell had he just done?

He takes a step forward, ready to knock, to beg, to undo it all— but a voice cuts through the tension, sharp and low.

“Don’t.”

Rebekah.

She steps out from the hallway shadows,arms folded, posture stiff with fury. Her heels click against the floor — precise, deliberate — as she closes the distance between them.

There’s a long beat. A quiet standoff between siblings, too alike in their anger. 

“I need to talk to her.”

“No,” she snaps, stepping firmly in front of her brother. “You don’t get to hurt her like that and then chase after her two seconds later like a kicked puppy looking for forgiveness.”

Kol clenches his jaw, frustration bubbling up. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” Rebekah cuts in. “I understand that the best thing that’s ever happened to you is in that room, sobbing her heart out, because you couldn’t keep your bloody ego in check.”

Kol flinches, jaw ticking.

“You’re one to talk,” he snaps suddenly, eyes flashing. “You’re the one who brought up Davina in the first place— stirred the pot and walked away. You practically lit the match.”

Rebekah doesn’t even blink.

“Oh, don’t you dare try to put this on me.” Her voice drops low, dangerous. “I mentioned Davina. You turned it into a bloody wrecking ball. Don’t confuse your guilt with my honesty.”

She steps in closer, her presence fierce and unshakable.

“She loves you. Do you get that? Do you have any idea how rare that is? Someone who loves you— not your charm, not your power, not your name. You. She’s stood by you when any sane person would have run. She makes you better, Kol.”

He looks away, guilt twisting his insides.

“You're softer with her. You smile more. Hell, you even think before you kill now— most of the time.”

He lets out a bitter breath.

“She’s not Davina,” Rebekah continues, softer now. “And thank God for that. Because Davina may have matched your darkness, but that girl in there? She made you want to leave it behind.”

Kol’s fingers tighten around the ring, knuckles white.

“She stands by you even when it terrifies her. Even when she feels small and breakable and wrong for you. She worries she’s not enough, that she’ll never be enough for someone like you. And instead of proving her wrong, tonight, you proved her right.”

“I didn’t—” he tries again.

“But you did.” Rebekah cuts in, merciless. “You did, Kol. And you need to fix it. Not with flowers or pretty words or that half-smirk you use to charm your way out of trouble. You apologize. And you mean it. Grovel if you have to.”

Kol is quiet. He looks smaller now— or maybe just exposed. The kind of pain he usually masks with cruelty bleeding through in silence.

Rebekah exhales and softens. Just slightly.

“She’s not a witch. She’s not a warrior. She doesn’t belong to this world like we do. But she’s chosen you anyway. She’s still choosing you. Don’t be such a bloody fool that you make her regret it.”

Kol stares down at the ring.

The weight of it— the weight of everything— presses against his chest.

“Give her time,” Rebekah says, finally stepping aside.Her voice lowers, warning laced with sibling affection. “But when you go to her, Kol… mean it. Or I swear, I’ll dagger you myself.”

-*-

You sit curled on the edge of the bed, knees hugged to your chest, eyes red and swollen. Rebekah steps inside, her heels now silent against the rug. She doesn’t speak right away. She just crosses the room and sits beside you.

The silence between you is gentle. Compassionate.

“I didn’t mean to ruin his birthday,” you whisper.

Rebekah glances over. “You didn’t. He did.”

You let out a small, broken laugh. “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. All of it. The stories, the way people talk about her. About them. Like they were this perfect match. What do I have to offer compared to that? I’m just…”

“Human?” Rebekah supplies gently.

You nod, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “I just don’t understand why me. I can’t fight beside him. I can’t protect him. I don’t belong in this world, Rebekah. I’m not strong. I’m not... anything like what he needs.”

“You are,” she says instantly. “And that’s not me being nice. It’s the truth.”

You let your gaze drop. “I just… I saw him tonight. The way he lit up talking about that time in his life. With her, he was… alive. Untouchable. He didn’t have to hold back.”

“He also left a trail of destruction in his wake,” Rebekah replies, her voice dry. “Kol back then was a storm with teeth. Dangerous, reckless, impossible to rein in. You think that’s something to envy?”

Rebekah’s tone softens. “You don’t tame him. You anchor him. You make him want to be still. To be better. And trust me— Kol Mikaelson has never wanted to be better for anyone.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“And look,” she continues, quieter now, “Kol lives in that same fear. Of being unworthy. Of not being enough. It’s been carved into him since we were children. Which is why what he said tonight…” She pauses. “It was cruel. And he knows it.”

You close your eyes. “It just hurt so much.”

“I know,” she says, placing a steady hand over yours. “But if there’s one thing I know for certain— and that’s saying something— it’s that Kol loves you more than he knows how to handle. That doesn't excuse anything. But it means he’ll fight to make it right.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Then, softly you speak, “I don’t know if I can forgive him tonight.”

“Good,” Rebekah says bluntly. “He doesn’t deserve it yet. Let him sit in it. Make him earn it.”

You manage a soft laugh through your tears.

“Come on,” she says, rising. “Take a breather. Let him wonder if he’s truly ruined it.”

You nod slowly, rubbing at your face. “Okay.”

You stand. Rebekah walks you to the door, arm lightly around your shoulders.

As she opens it, you glance up at her.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes your hand. “Always.”

-*-

You return just after dusk.

The Quarter is quieter now— its usual pulse slowed to a soft hum of distant music and street lamps flickering to life. You walk slowly, trying to breathe in the cool air, hoping it will help wash the hurt away. But your heart is still bruised. Your fingers twist absentmindedly in the absence of your ring.

When you reach the compound, Rebekah is sitting near the door with a glass of wine. She looks up as you enter, eyes scanning your face carefully.

“You okay?” she asks.

You nod once, offering a tired smile. “Is he here?”

She sighs. “Upstairs. Been pacing like a madman. Looks like someone gutted him and left him standing.”

You nod again and make your way up. Each step feels heavier than the last.

You open the bedroom door slowly. And stop.

The entire room is covered in flowers.

Hundreds of them— your favorite shade of pink, full and soft, overflowing from mismatched vases, lining the windowsill, scattered in delicate trails across the bed. The air is thick with the scent of honey and roses.

Kol stands near the bed, shoulders rigid, hands twisted together like he doesn’t trust them not to shake.

When he sees you, his whole body stills. His red-rimmed eyes lock on yours, wide with something raw. Desperate.

“Before you walk away again,” he blurts, voice ragged, “please. Five minutes. You don’t have to say a word. You can hate me. Just… let me speak.”

You hesitate in the doorway.

“I’m not ready to talk,” you murmur.

“I’ll talk,” he says. “You listen.”

You step inside.

He doesn’t move toward you. Just begins.

“I’m sorry.” The words scrape out of him, cracked and unpolished. “Not just for what I said— though that alone was bloody awful— but for even letting you feel that way in the first place.”

You don’t speak.

“I was an idiot,” he continues. “No, worse. I was cruel. I lashed out and I used the most painful thing I could find to hurt you because—” He cuts off, jaw tight. “I got scared.”

You blink. “Scared?”

“That I don’t deserve you.” His voice is quiet now. “Because I don’t. I never have. You’re kind, and human, and good. You let me be soft with you, and that scares the hell out of me.”

You’re still frozen in place, but your heart is beating louder now.

“I’ve never had anything this real,” he confesses. “Not in a thousand years. And I’ve done nothing in this world to earn it. So when you started doubting us tonight, I panicked. Because some part of me still believes that one day, you’ll wake up and realize you deserve better.”

His throat works around the next words.

“I don’t want her,” he says. “I want you. The woman who brings me back when my instincts scream to destroy. The woman who looks at me like I’m worth something. The woman who taught me that peace isn’t boring. It’s just... safe.”

You take a trembling breath. Your chest tightens.

“I’m sorry I made you feel small,” he whispers. “You are not. You are everything.”

The quiet stretches long between you.

Then softly, you say, “You can’t expect everything to be okay with an apology.”

“I don’t,” he says. “But I had to try.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls something out.

Your ring.

He walks to you slowly, then kneels— petals crunching faintly beneath him.

“I’ll wait,” he says. “If that’s what it takes. But I’m asking again. Will you still marry me?”

Your lips part. Tears finally spill over, silent and warm against your cheeks. You don’t speak. You just step forward and drop to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He clutches you like you’re the last thing anchoring him to the world.

“Yes,” you whisper against his shoulder.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. Gently, reverently, he slides the ring back onto your finger, then presses a kiss to your hand like it’s sacred.

“I’m still mad,” you murmur.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“And you still have a lot of making up to do.”

“I plan on it,” he says. “Starting with dinner. Just us. Sushi. The good kind.”

You nod, breath catching on a laugh. “Okay.”

He kisses you then— slow and full of apology. Full of promise. His hands frame your face like you’re the only thing in the world that’s ever made him feel steady.

And in that moment, you believe him.

-*-

The next few days are… different.

Kol is everywhere.

He holds your hand when you walk. Wraps an arm around your waist while you make tea. Follows you from room to room like a cologne-wearing shadow who thinks everything you say is the most brilliant thing he’s ever heard.

And he is absurdly affectionate.

Every kiss is too long. Every compliment is too loud. The flowers multiply daily— fresh blooms on your pillow, tucked into your boots, even braided into a crown he insists you wear around the house until Rebekah snaps a picture (and promises to use it as blackmail).

You should be annoyed.

But you’re not.

Because he means every word. Because every brush of his fingers feels like a promise: I won’t hurt you like that again.

This morning, he’s curled beside you on the couch, your legs draped over his lap. The TV hums softly in the background, but Kol is more interested in playing with your fingers, absently twisting the engagement ring like he’s still marveling that it’s back where it belongs.

You sip your tea and side-eye him. “You do realize the ring’s staying on this time, right?”

He grins. “I’m just making sure it fits. Permanently.”

The door swings open. Rebekah strides into the room holding a half-empty vase, her expression one of theatrical exasperation.

“Kol,” she says flatly. “If I find one more flower in my shampoo, I’m going to make Freya hex your eyebrows off.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Please. I’d look dashing with no brows.”

“Seriously,” Klaus calls from the hallway, voice full of disdain, “it’s like a bloody florist exploded in here.”

You glance at Kol, who only smirks.

“I’m in love,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “We’re celebrating.”

“With daisies in my coat pockets?” Klaus mutters.

“You’re welcome,” Kol replies. Then he turns to you and drops his voice to a dramatic whisper, “Ignore them, darling. They’ve simply never known love like ours.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin tugs at your lips anyway.

Rebekah sighs. “I actually liked you better when you were brooding.”

“Impossible,” Kol declares, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m radiant now.”

Klaus snorts and disappears upstairs. Rebekah mutters something about needing more wine.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “You know they’re never going to let this go.”

Kol just pulls you closer. “Let them tease. I have you.”

You glance down at your ring again, your heart full.

Peace doesn’t come easy in this world.

But right now, it’s wrapped in a floral-scented Original Vampire who won’t stop looking at you like you hung the stars.

And for the first time in a long time, forever doesn’t seem so scary after all.

If you want to be a part of my tag list, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you (If you don’t specify, I’ll just assume you want to be on the general list)!

Taglist: @chaoticfanpeach @hazgold @devotedlycrookeddonut @catmikaelson20 @stargirly05 @sc4rrc

[luigisleftshoe]

Dating Luigi Headcanons

How it starts:

Yall probably meet at like one of three places; some activity like surfing (you get a sneak peek of him shirtless in board shorts), at a bar and your trying to play pool and he’s like “ actually 🤓 you need to hold the stick like this” (man was actually just trying to flirt with you and he didn’t know how to), or HEAR ME out like a random niche gym class you both signed up for and your both just there like 🧍‍♀️🧍

First date I feel like is like slightly unhinged actually?? Like this man wouldn’t go straight for like “let’s get dinner together” the man wants to do an escape room to see how compatible you guys are at solving puzzles together ? Yall will progress to dinner tho

Also like I look at his Virgo moon and Aries Venus and I’m just like I feel like Luigi would lowkey play hard to get. Not in like the he likes to be chased way but more of a he’s like very anxious in commitment. Like it takes a lot for this man to be like yes ! Were bf and gf! Ya know like he really has to be warmed up to the idea

Anyways!

He takes a stupidly long time to actually confess that he likes you too! Like you’ll be there 3 “friend dates deep” and haven’t even held hands. But once he does it’s very heartfelt and dramatic and you know he’s using his hands a lot to try and convey how he feels. Definitely would prefer a friends to lovers type beat

That’s also not to say he hasn’t had his fair share of hookups bc look at that man who wouldn’t want him. But like he’s not just gonna bring anyone home to his mom ya know. Also italian-Americans boys are massive mamas boys imo so if he’s bringing someone home HES BRINGING HIS PERSON HOME. Like Look, Luigi would treat introducing you to his family as basically a marriage proposal ok. Not everyone gets to be brought home to his family and he will be stressing about it for weeks beforehand like it’s a final boss battle.

Being together:

The man loves being domesticated??? Legitimately it’s his favorite thing. Grocery shopping? A date! Washing dishes together? A date! Fixing a leaky sink together? Basically foreplay.

Bro he would love it if you hopped in the cart while grocery shopping and just directed him around and what to get. he’ll love pushing you around, but after like 5 minutes he’s dramatically like,“Okay my turn, get out. It’s my turn” And man would be a sassy king about it too.

Like you’ll reach for a random olive oil and he’s already behind you like,“No. We get the good one. That one’s disrespectful. Put it back.”

He’s surprisingly (not at all) very bossy but not in a jerk way, more of a him putting his hand on the small of your back and steering you left in the grocery aisle because “Babe, trust me, the good bakery section’s this way.”

Also he would be constantly glued to you when your at home together. Like everything is a group activity. You’re trying to wash dishes? He’s behind you, arms around your waist, doing absolutely nothing helpful but insisting, “No I’m helping, moral support.” You’re folding laundry? He’s throwing socks at you and laughing when you miss.

OHMYGOD he would be so serious about home improvement projects. Full engineer mode. It doesn’t matter that his engineering is not at all close to the project you're doing. He's got out his protractor and man is hard at work. And he would fully try and reenact like a porno trope of OHMYGOD the sexy maintaince man has come to service you 😏😏 while waggling his eyebrows.

Busts out unnecessary tools just for the aesthetic. You’re hanging one (1) picture frame and he’s got a full toolbox laid out like a weapons montage scene in a spy movie. Leveler? Check. Protractor? Check. Stud finder? Beeping it against his own chest like “guess I found one.”

OH and he will INSIST on doing it shirtless “because he’s sweating.” And it’s like sir you unscrewed two screws why are you shirtless. No ones complaining ab it tho.

He has absolutely zero chill once you praise him. You say one thing like “Wow you’re so handy,” and he short circuits. Immediately ten times cockier. “You know I could totally redo the whole kitchen. Build you a greenhouse. Knock down a wall. Babe we could have an open floor plan in like two weekends.” Man would be threads deep in Reddit that night trying to figure out how to rebuild your entire house just the way you want.

I feel like once this man is in he’s in and he’s absolutely whipped. Man is so obviously down bad for you and he doesn’t even care he’ll own every time his friends give him shit for it. Like “stay pressed you can barely get a tinder date”

Would insist on you stealing his clothes. Would purposely leave a hoodie draped over your couch like “Oh nooo I guess you have to wear it now, crazy how that happens.” But also the man like rotates the same closet from 8th grade so lowkey he starts running out of clothes v quickly if you steal them.

Gets quietly obsessed with your hobbies.You start painting? He’s randomly showing up with watercolor sets. You like baking? He’s researching recipes to try with you. Literally acts like whatever you love is now his life’s purpose too. He would absolutely die on the spot if you expressed interest in his too he’d be so happy.

Will never, ever, EVER forget anniversaries, milestones, or inside jokes.

Also just wanna say the man likes to argue for the sake of arguing. Like to be fair he probably is right but when he isn’t he doesn’t stop bc he just loves the debate. Lowkey gets turned on by it if it’s a good debate

Also idk why I have this feeling but I just know this man loves to get high and fuck up overcooked with you.

“Babe, trust me, I’m cracked at this game. I’m basically Gordon Ramsay.” 20 minutes later he’s screaming because he’s accidentally thrown a pot of soup into a trash can.

He gets high and turns into a full-blown Overcooked tyrant. Barking fake orders like “YOU’RE ON TOMATO DUTY, MOVE MOVE MOVE!!” Running around in circles on the screen shouting “WHERE’S THE PAN?! WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?! WHO BURNED THE ONIONS?!” (It was him. He burned the onions.)

He absolutely BLAMES YOU for everything that goes wrong. “Babe you’re supposed to be dicing! Why are you just standing there?!” Meanwhile he’s throwing chopped lettuce at a plate that’s already on fire.

He’s losing every level but he’s like “One more time. We’ll get three stars this time. I have a new strategy.”(His strategy is yelling louder.)(I’ve never met a quiet Italian man in my life)

Afterwards he cuddles you and swears you’re a terrible teammate but he wouldn’t want anyone else. He’s laying on you like a weighted blanket, mumbling into your shoulder, “You’re the worst line cook but the best girlfriend. You can’t teach that kind of loyalty.”

Hes way more protective than he possessive

Like Walks on the street side of the sidewalk without thinking about it. Steps between you and a guy being weird at a bar. Double-checks your locks without even saying anything. Notices when you’re tired or uncomfortable before you even say anything and adjusts.

If a guy flirts with you? His vibe would be less “blow up and make a scene” and more “laughs coldly, stares daggers, and tightens his grip on your hand.”

Below the belt:

He’s way more dominant than he acts day-to-day. He’s playful and flirty outside the bedroom. But once the tension tips over? He’s heavy, needy, in charge, and a little mean (in a sexy way). “You’re not getting away from me tonight.”

Man is a golden retriever by day but night is a different story

Grips your hips, manhandles you easily, but with that slow patience — dragging it out because he likes hearing you beg a little

Slow build king. As he should be tho. Foreplay lasts forever if he has his way.

Kisses down your chest like he’s savoring a wine tasting flight. Hands everywhere — mapping you out like he’s learning you on purpose. Whispering stupid cocky things between kisses like “you’re not even ready for me yet, babe.”

Really into control( we’ve all seen how big his hands are you know he likes to put them around your throat)lowkey would love to sleep spooning with his hand around your neck. Loves when you tug at his shirt, moan for him, grab at his arms.The second you show him you want him to take it further, it’s over.He switches into that possessive slow dominance mode instantly.“Good girl. That’s all you had to say.”

He’s a growler, not a moaner. When he gets frustrated (aka you’re teasing him too much)? You’re gonna hear him low-growl “quit playin’ with me.” It’s half warning, half promise, and it always ends with you absolutely wrecked.

HES A MUNCH. I KNOW A MUNCH WHEN I SEE ONE

Will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him. Turns it into a game — how long can he keep you trembling, gasping, falling apart on his mouth? Spoiler: longer than you can handle

[thatonefandomweirdo]

Poppy Playtime Make Believe AU where the events of the game are just a (very messed up) game the kids at the orphanage are playing.

It all started with "Huggy" playing a prank on the unassuming Player, secretly following them around. It spiraled from there because a lot of kids wanted to join in afterward. Poppy was the one who came up with the basic plot and got "The Prototype" to play the villain. Except for Theo and Poppy, nobody interacted with The Prototype, so nobody knows who the big bad is, but most are sure it must be Poppy's father, Elliot Ludwig.

It's Marie who first throws in the idea of cannibalism and everyone immediately loves it. Poppy puts her in charge of the Game Station in the story, and the shy Marie becomes the completely unhinged Mommy Long Legs. She blossoms as Mommy Long Legs. It is terrifying. But she accidentally breaks her arm during the game and has to watch the rest of the game from the sidelines, much to her disappointment.

Theodore is the next one to focus the story on himself. At first his worship of the Prototype within the story is acceptable, but he gets a little too excited to play this game over time and steals some files on the other orphans to use as a base, so he as well as Marie (due to her broken arm) get to have long extensive talks with Elliot Ludwig. Because both incidents happened because they were needlessly antagonising the Player. Elliot is not amused. Poppy and the others decide rather than getting dragged away after being caught, Catnap deserves the honor of going out in a really cool boss fight.

Quinn acts like a rabid animal in the game. Outside, he is a relatively normal kid, but in game he goes full animal. It is terrifying

Riley is really happy she is involved, and writes some very intense diary entries that fit the story. Miss Harper is very concerned over this. "I am finally fitting in with the other kids :D" "I am being cut open. Life is hell"

Matthew was originally not supposed to be a part of the game since he is much older than most kids, but he was supervising Jack and Kevin at the time, who both wanted to join in, but only with him. Kevin was a bit too rowdy, so the adults asked Matthew to watch over him, and Jack's parents worked at the factory but couldn't find a babysitter. So Matthew was asked to handle both.

When it got pointed out by someone Jack needed to be an orpan, Kevin said they would just kill off his parents and Jack immediately happily agreed. As revenge for trying to exclude Jack from the game, the trio decided to kill off the character of the kid, Pianosaurus, immediately. "Pianosaurus" was mad over this, but the others found it hilarious.

Initially, the trio is teamed up with Poppy and the Player, but Kevin does not like this arrangement. When the Player messes up too much and them doing their job leads to most of the characters dying off, he convinces Matthew and Jack they should get revenge.

There are some adults who play along. The Prototype and... Harley Sawyer?? The mean doctor who most kids are convinced is evil. But Quinn managed to convince The Doctor to join in to torment the Player. Nobody is 100% sure if it is because Quinn was the one who asked or if the Doctor just hates the Player so much and loves tormenting them.

But for most adults the kids just reenact things they heard them say to fit the game, making them come off as exaggerated.

The Player is just some worker, none of the kids knows their name. They don't even realize they are made part of the kids' game, they just think they have very bad luck and the kids are being a bit weird. OK, not a bit weird, they are being chased around by kids, bitten by Quinn and attacked for no reason.

[plotbunnysyndrome]

More Than Honour

Chapter 27: To Win, To Lose, To Choose

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Introduction: The rules were simple: play to win. But no one warned them what it would cost. Between stolen glances, scattered compliments, and the quiet hum of something unspoken, alliances frayed and affections cracked open wide. The games were always meant to end with applause—but none of them expected heartbreak to sneak onto the scorecard. And somewhere in the chaos, with a lemon tart in one hand and a scandal on the tip of their tongue… someone realized this wasn’t just about victory anymore. This was about who would survive the final round with their heart intact.

The bell chimed across the garden like the sigh of a house catching its breath.

The judges stood from their shaded pavilion. Violet, ever the composed matriarch, gave a subtle nod. “That concludes the morning events,” she declared. “You may all proceed to the west lawn for lunch. Try not to duel anyone on the way.”

The competitors—still reeling from the deliciously unhinged chaos of the Compliment-Off—moved like soldiers to temporary ceasefire. The competition had paused. The tension had not.

Long trestle tables awaited under white-draped canopies, adorned with silver trays of lemon tarts, fresh bread, roast vegetables, soft cheeses, glazed ham, and pitchers of cool elderflower lemonade. The place settings sparkled. The air was thick with the scent of late-summer roses, freshly mown grass, and unresolved feelings.

Each team gravitated to one another instinctively, still locked in their alliances.

Team 1 — Lucien, Simon, and Hyacinth claimed the central stretch of the long table with the ease of people who knew they were winning. Lucien settled into his chair with unhurried elegance, pulling off his gloves and setting them beside his plate. Simon leaned beside him with a military casualness, letting Hyacinth launch into a monologue about the next round’s sabotage potential.

Team 2 — Anthony, Edwina, and Kate were quiet as they claimed a spot opposite them, slightly more reserved. Anthony’s jaw remained set. Kate’s eyes moved between him, you, and Lucien like she was solving a complex puzzle. Edwina, chipper and oblivious to the subtext, reached for the lemonade with a bright, “What a lovely day for lighthearted competition!”

Team 3 — You, Benedict, and Eloise chose seats slightly off to the right, near the edge of the canopy where the ivy filtered the sunlight. You didn’t say much at first, distracted by the memory of Lucien’s words—you scare me—still humming like a bell against your ribs. Benedict refilled your glass before you asked. Eloise was still furiously muttering her last line from the Compliment-Off under her breath, as if determined to outdo herself over sandwiches.

Team 4 — Colin, Daphne, and Gregory formed a bright, boisterous hub down the table, gleefully reenacting Gregory’s emotional collapse during All Too Well. Gregory had clearly leaned into the persona. “It was the scarf line,” he sighed dramatically. “It unraveled me. Literally.”

“I thought you were going to faint,” Daphne said, pouring water with one hand and patting Gregory’s back with the other. “Mother was on the verge of sending for smelling salts.”

Colin smirked. “If he performs like this in the next event, we’ll need to drag him back to the field in a wheelbarrow.”

You found your appetite slowly returning as a tart was passed around, though your attention drifted—not to your food, but to the easy way Lucien laughed at something Simon said, the glint in his eye when Hyacinth whispered conspiratorially into his ear.

He didn’t look at you. Not at first.

But when he did, it was deliberate. And quiet. Like a thread tugged gently between you.

You looked away first.

Anthony, three seats across, did not.

He hadn’t spoken since the last round. Not to Edwina. Not to Kate. Not even to Benedict, who had made a valiant attempt at goading him with an offhand comment about Lucien’s cravat being sharper than most of Anthony’s retorts.

His silence wasn’t calm. It was control in freefall.

“I’ve decided,” Hyacinth declared mid-chew, “that if the next event doesn’t involve physical contact or a slingshot, I’ll be disappointed.”

Simon raised a brow. “Do you always weaponize your leisure time?”

“She was practically born with a saboteur’s manual,” Lucien murmured, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “I’ve merely encouraged it.”

Eloise, from your end of the table, gestured toward them. “There. Right there. That’s collusion, is what that is.”

“It’s charming,” you said, sipping lemonade. “In a terrifying sort of way.”

Anthony, still not eating, said nothing. But he shifted slightly in his chair when you spoke. As though he could still feel the echo of Lucien’s words during the compliment round — you could’ve had her,  and didn’t.

Kate tilted her head at him. He didn’t notice.

But she noticed everything.

Benedict stood halfway through the meal to refill his plate, and as he passed Lucien’s end of the table, he tipped his head in mock acknowledgment. “Lovely compliment back there, Blackbourne. Didn’t know you had restraint in your arsenal.”

Lucien raised his glass. “One must conserve energy. The day’s still young.”

Gregory piped up from the far end. “He’s saving it for whatever Hyacinth throws at us next.”

Lady Danbury, passing behind them toward the pavilion, murmured under her breath, “Poor boy doesn’t even know.”

Dessert was light—just as Violet intended. Fruit tarts. Slices of sponge with sugared petals. Something sweet to contrast the slow build of tension back into the air.

“Has anyone noticed,” Daphne said idly, “how no one’s spoken to each other across team lines since breakfast?”

“Battle lines have been drawn,” Eloise replied. “But the lemonade is a temporary treaty.”

“Temporary,” Lucien echoed, his voice low.

You didn’t meet his gaze this time. But you didn’t need to.

Across the table, Anthony set down his fork with precision. “Shall we prepare for the afternoon events?”

Violet, having returned to her seat with an expression of perfectly polite foreboding, stood once more. “Indeed. You have ten minutes to regroup. I suggest you use them well. Your judges are feeling... generous.”

Lady Mary raised a single brow.

Lady Danbury simply smirked.

Event Four: The Great Scandal Pitch

The sun had shifted to its peak, casting warm light over the terrace as luncheon cleared, replaced by sweetened tea and a hint of mischief in the air. The garden was dappled in sunlight and secrets, as the teams returned to the field with renewed energy and questionable morals.

Lady Danbury rose once more, her cane striking the ground like a gavel.

“Welcome back,” she said, with the theatrical grace of someone introducing an execution. “Our next event is one of tradition, truth, and—above all else—timely defamation.”

A ripple of laughter followed, the kind that always preceded danger.

“This,” she declared, “is The Great Scandal Pitch.”

Gregory nearly whooped with delight.

Lady Mary rose beside her, reading from the rules. “Each team must now invent a scandal. One for each member of every other team. That’s three teams, multiplied by three targets… nine glorious opportunities to destroy reputations in under thirty minutes.”

Violet, calm as ever, added, “Each scandal will be judged on creativity and delivery. One to three points in each category. If the audience gasps—” she smiled, gently, “—you earn two bonus points.”

Daphne clapped, almost sweetly. “So basically, lie as dramatically as possible.”

“No,” Hyacinth grinned. “Lie convincingly.”

Violet added with a faint smile, “Do remember that this is all in jest.”

Lady Mary, from her seat beside her fellow judges, smiled far too serenely. “Yes, of course. Nothing said here will leave the garden.”

“And I,” Lady Danbury said, cane tapping, “will personally ruin anyone who repeats a word at supper. Understood?”

The teams nodded.

The scores, prior to the event, were recited by Hyacinth in dramatic tones:

Team 1 (Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth) – 12 points

Team 3 (You, Benedict, Eloise) – 9 points

Team 4 (Colin, Daphne, Gregory) – 4 point

Team 2 (Anthony, Edwina, Kate) – 3 points

You exchanged a glance with Benedict and Eloise. There was a sparkle of war behind all three of your eyes.

The teams huddled briefly, heads bent together in whispers, grins and gasps exchanged in confidence. And with that, the destruction began.

Team 1 – Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth. Targeting: Anthony, Edwina, Kate | Benedict, Eloise, You | Colin, Daphne, Gregory

Lucien stepped forward like a man about to give a sermon — or deliver a eulogy. “Let us begin,” he said, “with Anthony Bridgerton.”

He gestured with one elegant hand. “It is said, and I quote, that the Viscount once mistook a goat for his fencing opponent during a duel, and still lost.”

Gasps. One judge dropped her pen. Violet pressed her fingers to her lips.

Hyacinth took over for Edwina. “Miss Sharma was once overheard calling Lord Bridgerton ‘inspirational’ for his decision to marry only out of duty. In Latin.”

The room collectively winced.

Simon, clearing his throat dramatically, addressed Kate. “It has come to our attention that Miss Sharma’s boots have steel tips—not for practicality, but for duels at dawn. Three confirmed wins. One decapitated lawn statue.”

Kate’s smile barely twitched. But her eyebrow did.

They moved on.

For Benedict: “Disguised himself as a statue in Vauxhall Gardens to overhear a rival artist’s critique. Was there for three hours. Pigeons were involved.”

For Eloise: “Wrote an anonymous pamphlet promoting political unrest. Accidentally signed it with her real name. Twice.”

For You: “Reportedly broke six proposals in one season—not by refusal, but by out-arguing the suitors until they fled crying.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s not even exaggerated—”

Lucien winked. “You’re welcome.”

Now, for Team 4.

For Colin: “Secretly operates as Whistledown’s wine columnist under the pen name Baron Bubbles.”

For Daphne: “Once elbowed a viscount’s wife in the stomach during a waltz and claimed it was ‘a moment of spiritual reckoning.’”

For Gregory: “Owns a journal titled The Art of War: Flirtation Edition. Illustrated. Annotated. Multiple editions.”

The audience was gasping between laughter. Gregory looked vaguely proud.

Total Gasps: 3

Total Points Earned: 23

Team 3 – You, Benedict, Eloise. Targeting: Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth | Anthony, Edwina, Kate | Colin, Daphne, Gregory

You stepped forward with a demure smile. “Lord Blackbourne,” you said, voice syrupy, “was once found locked in a greenhouse at midnight. Alone. With two bottles of wine and a parrot who, for weeks after, only repeated the phrase, ‘Again, but slower.’”

Lucien looked positively delighted.

Benedict pointed to Simon. “Rumor has it the Duke of Hastings once faked an engagement to avoid dancing with five debutantes in one night. Ended up married. No regrets.”

Simon raised his hands. “Accurate.”

Eloise grinned. “Hyacinth has been banned from three apothecaries for ‘experiments.’ One involved a frog, a lemon tart, and a nobleman’s wig.”

Gasps.

You turned to Anthony.

“Lord Bridgerton,” you said innocently, “once recited poetry to a potted plant, thinking it was Miss Edwina. The plant was more moved.”

Anthony’s fork twitched where he held it behind his back.

Eloise cleared her throat. “Miss Sharma—Edwina—once offered to help a suitor adjust his cravat. She accidentally choked him unconscious. It was ruled an accident. Was it?”

Kate’s scandalized laugh almost startled her own sister.

Benedict’s smile was razor-sharp. “And Kate once bribed a footman to fake a fainting spell so she could escape an eligible marquess. The footman now owns a tailor shop.”

For Colin: “Once tried to sell autographs of himself to foreign tourists. Claimed he was a prince in disguise.”

For Daphne: “Has never lost a game of croquet. Ever. Suspicious? Maybe. Rigged? Definitely.”

For Gregory: “Accidentally proposed to two girls in one night by blinking too slowly.”

More gasps

.Total Gasps: 4

Total Points Earned: 25

Team 4 – Colin, Daphne, Gregory. Targeting: Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth | Anthony, Edwina, Kate | You, Benedict, Eloise

Colin opened with flair. “Lord Blackbourne is currently banned from five ballrooms for the crime of weaponized flirting. One hostess fainted.”

Daphne took Simon. “He once disappeared at a country ball and was found hours later teaching toddlers how to smuggle pastries into the library. They still write him letters.”

Gregory, beaming, raised a finger. “Hyacinth once made a clergyman cry. No one knows what she said. He doesn’t know what she said.”

Lucien laughed, full and loud. “I want that framed.”

Then came Anthony.

Colin took a breath. “Viscount Bridgerton was once seen sprinting down Bond Street in pursuit of a hat. Not his own. Rumor says it belonged to the Modiste’s assistant. No explanation was ever offered.”

For Edwina: “Refused three suitors in one afternoon, citing lunar incompatibility. One was a Sagittarius.”

For Kate: “Once made a grown earl return a book to the library. She didn’t work there.”

And now, Team 3.

Gregory went for you. “Once sent a gentleman caller home crying just by correcting his grammar.”

Daphne added, “Eloise once pretended to be Lady Whistledown for an entire week. Fooled everyone except the dog.”

Colin finishes, “Benedict painted a nude portrait of a woman once. Months later, realized it was a self-portrait with a wig.”

Gasps. Violet actually dropped her handkerchief.

Total Gasps: 4

Total Points Earned: 24

Team 2 – Anthony, Edwina, Kate. Targeting: Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth | You, Benedict, Eloise | Colin, Daphne, Gregory

Kate stepped up first, eyes scanning her targets.

“Lucien Blackbourne once had a duel cancelled because his opponent fainted before the first shot. From his smirk.”

Edwina, quietly vicious: “Simon once tried to write a romantic letter to Daphne. Accidentally sent it to the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

Anthony’s voice was tight but clear. “Hyacinth once forged a marriage certificate between two footmen for practice.”

Now, Team 3.

Kate went for you. “Y/N once convinced an entire house party that she was engaged to a French nobleman. The man didn’t exist. He had a name. And a tragic backstory.”

Anthony turned to Benedict. “Painted a scandalous mural in a country inn. Claimed it was a ‘visual metaphor for longing.’”

Edwina blinked. “Eloise made a matchmaker cry. In four minutes.”

Final targets.

For Daphne: “Has been using the same ‘lost glove’ excuse to flirt with men since 1813.”

For Colin: “Tried to pass off a sheep as a racing horse to win a bet.”

For Gregory: “Spotted in Hyde Park, wearing lavender and quoting Shakespeare…to a goose.”

Gasps: 3

Total Points Earned: 22

Scores After Event Four

Team 1 (Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth) – 35 points

Team 3 (You, Benedict, Eloise) – 34 points

Team 4 (Colin, Daphne, Gregory) – 28 points

Team 2 (Anthony, Edwina, Kate) – 25 points

As the last of the laughter faded, and the judges scribbled down their final tallies, Anthony stood still—arms crossed, jaw tight, clearly seconds away from exiling all of you.

Lucien turned toward you and whispered, “You did convince a house party of a fake fiancé?”

You smiled sweetly. “Of course. He died tragically in a dueling accident.”

He gave a low whistle. “Remind me never to disappoint you.”

And the day wasn’t over yet.

But for now, they had survived the scandal.

Mostly.

Event Five: Fashion Duel – Walk of Unshame

It begins, as all disasters at Aubrey Hall do, with Violet Bridgerton’s soft, amused voice over the garden’s low murmur.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she calls with impeccable grace, “your next event is what our dear Hyacinth has coined—‘The Walk of Unshame.’”

There is a pause. A beat. A rustle of wind through linen and lace.

And then: laughter.

Real, unrestrained, full-bodied laughter.

Hyacinth grins devilishly from the sidelines, already sketching something onto a napkin. Possibly a diagram. Possibly Benedict in heels. She won’t say.

Rules: Each team must select one member to dress in the most outrageously impractical, scandalously mismatched outfit using only repurposed items from the estate. Bonus points awarded for drama, flourish, and refusal to feel shame. Each walk will be judged out of 5 for:

Creativity

Cohesion (or the deliberate lack of it)

Confidence of the catwalk strut

Audience reaction

Overall unshamefulness

Contenders:

Team 1: Lucien

Team 2: Anthony

Team 3: Benedict

Team 4: Gregory

And so the dressing begins.

Backstage (read: the drawing room)

It’s chaos.

Hyacinth is pinning an entire lace curtain into what she calls “regency-Venetian flair with masculine disillusionment.” Simon is doing something very serious with Lucien’s collar. It may involve a brooch. It may involve violence.

Anthony is being dressed with alarming efficiency by Edwina and Kate, who are arguing about whether cravats can be layered. Anthony stands like a man awaiting execution.

“I don’t see the purpose of this,” he mutters.

Kate tightens a belt under his arms. “That’s the point.”

Across the room, Benedict is trying to thread ribbon through a repurposed military jacket while you and Eloise debate whether or not feathers are too subtle.

“You’ve worn worse,” Eloise argues. “Remember your self-portrait phase?”

“You’ve worn worse,” Eloise argues. “Remember your self-portrait phase?”

Gregory, meanwhile, has voluntarily wrapped himself in two layers of taffeta, a hunting vest, and a sash made of garden bunting. Colin and Daphne are beside themselves.

“You look like a ceremonial goose,” Colin says helpfully.

“Perfect,” Gregory beams.

The Runway (read: the garden path)

First to walk: Gregory Bridgerton.

He emerges to a roar of disbelief.

Draped in pale yellow taffeta, tartan socks, fencing gloves, and a bonnet with a single daffodil, Gregory struts like he owns Versailles.

He pauses mid-walk to bow. Then spins.

Lady Danbury’s monocle falls off.

Violet covers her mouth.

“Three points for confusion,” murmurs Lady Mary. “Two for commitment.”

Score: 5/5.

Because somehow, it worked.

Second up: Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict appears looking like an absurd fever dream of a royal guard, crossed with an opera ghost. Velvet jacket. Lace cravat. A belt as a headband. No one knows where the pearls came from.

You call after him, “Should we mention the boots are on the wrong feet?”

“I’m making a statement!” he shouts, spinning.

He throws a wink at you on the way back down the path.

The judges are both impressed and alarmed.

Score: 4.5/5.

Next: Anthony Bridgerton.

He walks out looking… surprisingly put together. A formal tailcoat inside-out, two waistcoats layered over one another, and a sash made from Edwina’s discarded shawl.

He walks with military dignity, because that is the only way he knows how to walk.

Kate whispers something as he passes. He visibly falters.

Someone snorts—maybe Eloise. Maybe Lucien.

Hyacinth stage-whispers, “You look like a haunted groomsman.”

Simon folds his arms. “That’s generous.”

Still, the elegance cannot be denied.

Score: 3.5/5.

And finally: Lucien Blackbourne.

You weren’t prepared.

Nobody was prepared.

He appears like a storm. Floor-length curtain cape, open fencing jacket with no shirt beneath, a satin sash in the most scandalous shade of plum, riding boots, and a flower tucked behind one ear. The man is a problem.

He does not walk. He prowls.

Every step calculated. Every glance deliberate.

Simon leans over to Hyacinth and mutters, “Did he just flirt with a hedge?”

Hyacinth is too stunned to answer.

Lady Danbury grips her cane harder than necessary. “Five.”

“Five,” says Violet.

“Five,” says Lady Mary, sighing.

Lucien returns to his seat like nothing happened.

You are definitely not breathing.

Score: 5/5.

End of Event Five: Final Scores

Team 1 (Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth) – 40 points

Team 3 (You, Benedict, Eloise) – 38.5 points

Team 4 (Colin, Daphne, Gregory) – 33 points

Team 2 (Anthony, Edwina, Kate) – 28.5 points

There’s applause. Laughter. Whispers about Lucien’s cape physics.

But beneath the joy and mockery, something else stirs.

Anthony looks away.

Lucien catches your eye. Winks.

You?

You just exhale, your pulse somewhere near the clouds.

Because one event remains.

And it might just break everything.

Event Six: Emotional Chicken

Sunlight streamed like a spotlight over the sprawling lawns of Aubrey Hall, where the last remnants of the Bridgerton Olympics were still fluttering through the air—stray ribbons, a few feathers, a glittering trail of confetti courtesy of Hyacinth’s “ceremonial touch.”

But all of that paled in comparison to the current setup.

A narrow stage—cobbled together from crates, carpet runners, and a hastily repurposed chaise lounge—had been arranged in the center of the garden. Benches and chairs were drawn into a rough semicircle around it. The audience was restless, murmuring, shifting in their seats. Some fanned themselves, some clutched scorecards. A few—namely Colin and Gregory—had already begun placing bets.

This was it.

The Final Event. The Crowning Chaos.

Emotional Chicken.

Lady Danbury stood at the center of the chaos like a storm eye in a silk turban, her cane angled before her like a scepter.

“Each team,” she announced crisply, “has nominated one player—secretly. They will face off in pairs. The goal: fluster your opponent through any means of verbal flirtation. Swoon-worthy lines, seductive whispers, outrageous declarations. The one who falters—breaks, blushes, looks away, or gasps—loses. The winning teams for this event will be awarded 20 points, which could mean winning the entire tournament.”

The crowd was already buzzing.

Lady Mary and Violet sat at the judge’s table with straight faces and sparkling eyes. Violet’s teacup trembled once, ever so slightly, when Hyacinth blew her a kiss from the crowd.

Danbury raised one hand.

“Let the flirtation... begin.”

The crowd roared.

Lady Mary opened a velvet pouch and pulled the first matchup slip.

“Team Four… versus Team One.”

Another hush. All eyes snapped to the players.

Daphne Bridgerton rose slowly.

Elegant. Poised. Radiant in her soft blue dress that fluttered in the breeze like something out of a fever dream.

Across the stage, Lucien Blackbourne adjusted the cuffs of his dramatically impractical fencing blouse and rose with the kind of smug grace only a man too aware of his effect could muster.

The cheers that followed were deafening.

“I would pay to watch this,” Eloise muttered. “Oh wait. I am.”

Hyacinth, already at the edge of her seat, whispered to Simon, “Your wife’s about to kill him.”

Simon, arms folded, grinned. “He’s earned it.”

ROUND ONE: Daphne vs. Lucien.

Daphne stepped onto the makeshift stage and curtsied. Lucien bowed in return, one hand over his heart, eyes full of mischief.

Daphne started.

“I hear you make women faint with a single glance,” she said softly. “Is that your specialty, or just a side effect?”

Lucien smirked, circling her slowly. “Only if I want them to fall into my arms.”

The crowd “ooh’d.”

Daphne stepped closer. “And do they usually land there willingly?”

“Eventually,” Lucien said, voice velvet-smooth. “But I prefer the ones who fight it.”

Daphne’s smile sharpened. “Then I suppose you enjoy disappointment.”

Lucien chuckled. “Never. Only delay.”

She tilted her head, stepping even closer now. “You know, I once told my husband I’d never be tempted by a rake.”

Lucien leaned in, almost brushing her ear. “Then I hope he doesn’t mind exceptions to the rule.”

The crowd lost it.

Lady Danbury didn’t move—but one brow did quirk upward.

“You flatter like a poet,” Daphne said sweetly, her breath a mere whisper between them, “but I’m afraid I’m immune to theatrics.”

Lucien, without missing a beat, pulled a rose petal from behind her ear and placed it delicately on her shoulder. “And yet, I’ve been told I turn immunity into addiction.”

Someone actually screamed.

From the judge’s table, Violet sipped her tea. “Heavens.”

Daphne blinked once.

Lucien saw it. He smiled.

And then she struck.

“Well then,” she said, taking one step closer—nose to nose—“If I were to fall, Lord Blackbourne, I’d only ask that you ensure my reputation remained intact.”

Lucien opened his mouth.

Daphne leaned in, just barely—then whispered: “Like you did for the Marquess of Elbourne’s wife?”

Lucien’s breath hitched.

The audience gasped.

Simon let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Did she just—?” Benedict looked stunned. “That’s a real scandal, isn’t it?!”

Lucien raised both hands and stepped back with a deep, respectful bow. “Well played, Duchess. I concede.”

Daphne curtsied once more—serene, composed, victorious.

Team Four wins the round.

Daphne and Lucien had burned the air with their charm. The garden was still echoing with whistles and gasps. Simon was fanning himself dramatically with Hyacinth’s sketchbook. Benedict swore his wine had turned to steam.

And then — silence.

Violet stood, clipboard in hand. “Next up—Team Two versus Team Three.” Her eyes sparkled. “Anthony Bridgerton will face…” she checked her page with mock surprise, “Y/N.”

As Violet announced the final round, and your name was called alongside Anthony’s… a different kind of energy pulsed through the air.

The air shifted.

Hyacinth actually gasped.

Eloise sat up straight.

And somewhere near the back, Lucien stilled.

The two of you stepped forward — you from your team’s side, Anthony from his.

Neither of you smiled.

No theatrics. No strut. Just… gravity.

You stood across from each other, feet planted in the same grass that had been trampled by laughter and chaos mere moments ago. But here, now — you might as well have been standing on the edge of something ancient and unspoken.

The rules had been repeated already, but they barely mattered anymore.

Flirt. Charm. Fluster or falter, and you lose.

Except this wasn’t about winning.

Not anymore.

ROUND TWO: You vs. Anthony

Anthony went first.

Of course he did.

He stepped forward, just a little — a respectful distance, the kind a gentleman keeps. But his voice didn’t follow suit.

It dropped low, warm, close.

“If I met you at a ball — no family obligations, no sisters or rules or titles — I think I’d still find you in every room.”

You blinked. The world narrowed.

“I’d pretend not to notice you,” you replied, voice light, teasing, stepping in with the smallest smirk. “Let you suffer. Watch you fumble for my name.”

Anthony’s eyes glittered. “I’d get it wrong on purpose. Just to hear you correct me.”

Your breath caught.

He stepped closer.

“One dance,” he said, soft now. “That’s all it would’ve taken. And I would’ve been yours.”

There was movement behind him — Edwina smiling from the sidelines, utterly unaware. And next to her… Kate.

Watching.

Calculating.

Lucien stood behind your team, arms crossed, unreadable — except for the way his eyes never left your face.

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “Would you have asked me? Or would you have stood by the wall all night, brooding?”

“I would’ve asked,” Anthony said instantly. “But only once I was sure I’d memorized your laugh.”

Your heart thudded.

That felt too real.

You swallowed, willing your composure back. You weren’t done.

So you stepped forward. Just a little.

“You know,” you said, voice softer now, “I think I would’ve said yes. Not to your title. Not even to your face.”

He raised a brow. “No?”

“No,” you murmured. “But to the way you always look at me like you’re trying to memorize the shape of my joy.”

Anthony’s expression fractured.

Just a flicker — but it was there.

And suddenly the air wasn’t just thick with tension — it was tender. Private. And public. And wrong. And yet so, so right.

From the sidelines, Benedict whispered to Colin, “Are we… intruding?”

Lucien didn’t move. His jaw tightened slightly. His gaze never wavered.

Edwina clapped lightly, like this was all good fun.

Kate didn’t.

She watched Anthony like she was seeing something for the first time.

And then—

Anthony leaned in, voice a velvet blade.

“You ruin every plan I’ve ever had,” he whispered. “And I would still choose you. Every time.”

The sound that left you wasn’t quite a gasp.

Not quite a breath.

It was something in between.

Your hands curled slightly at your sides. You couldn’t look away.

So you stepped closer — barely inches between you now.

“I’m not asking you to,” you whispered. “I never did.”

Anthony’s eyes dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, and for a moment, you thought — God, he’s going to kiss me.

But he didn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

Because everyone was watching.

So instead—

He stepped back. And bowed.

It was graceful.

It was final.

And it was his surrender.

The crowd broke into cheers, hoots, gasps, applause — no one entirely sure who won, only that something happened.

The judges tallied scores with wide eyes.

Lucien hadn’t moved.

But when you turned, finally, to face him — he smiled.

It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But when you walked back to your team, he took your hand. Not possessive. Not threatened.

Just a silent reminder: I’m still here.

And you held on.

Because it was true.

Anthony had looked at you like you were everything he’d ever wanted.

But Lucien…

Lucien reached for you anyway.

Event Six Results

Team 4: 20 points (Daphne wins her round)

Team 3: 20 points (You win yours)

Final Scores

Team 3 (You, Benedict, Eloise) – 58.5 points

Team 4 (Colin, Daphne, Gregory) – 53 points

Team 1 (Lucien, Simon, Hyacinth) – 40 points

Team 2 (Anthony, Edwina, Kate) – 28.5 points

You didn’t just win the games.

You became the story.

And as the final event ended, and the crowd erupted into applause, you stood there — one foot in the wreckage, one hand still held — and let the applause wash over the war you’d just survived.

And the one you hadn’t. Yet.

Taglist: @bollzinurmouth @drewstarkeysrightarm @thorins-queen-of-erebor @yearninglustfully @khaleesibeach

[noobiestnoober]

Last Minute Leon (Leon X Reader)

When it comes to love, some people write poems. You? You dive headfirst into bioweapon-infested nightmares just to see if Leon S. Kennedy will show up with his signature smirk and a terrible pun. In this hilariously chaotic comedy/crack one-shot, you keep testing fate—and Leon’s patience—by staging the dumbest, most dangerous stunts imaginable. Will he always come to the rescue? Can one survive love and Umbrella’s traps at the same time? With flying kicks, fake kidnappings, and sushi plans on the line, one thing’s for sure: it’s never just another day with you.

There were a lot of things you could say about yourself. Bold. Daring. Maybe even slightly unhinged, depending on who you asked. But above all else, you were consistent—consistently putting yourself in the most absurdly dangerous situations just to see if Leon would actually show up every time like some gun-toting, government-issued Disney prince with an arsenal and perfectly timed slow-motion entrances. Today? Oh, today was no different.

You dangled upside down from a rope trap—again—in the middle of what looked like a half-collapsed, Umbrella-owned abandoned science lab. The place was straight out of a post-apocalyptic fever dream: flickering lights, ominous sirens, and several suspiciously intact glass tubes filled with questionable goo. Because of course it was.

"Note to self," you muttered aloud, blood rushing to your head as a loose wrench clanged to the floor. "Next time, skip Reddit threads titled '10 Toxic Ways to Test His Love.'"

From somewhere deep in the facility, you heard the click of tactical boots, followed by the unmistakable swoosh of a door being kicked open. Leon S. Kennedy stormed in like a leading man who showed up late but insisted it was all part of the act.

Wind—there was always wind when Leon arrived, somehow—blew in dramatically, tousling his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Heard you were in a bit of a bind," he announced with a smirk that could probably be weaponized.

You groaned. "That pun hurt more than the rope burn."

With one smooth motion, he unsheathed his knife and cut the rope like it was warm butter. You landed on the ground with an unceremonious grunt, arms flailing.

"You alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, clearly used to this by now.

You dusted yourself off and gave a casual thumbs up. "Physically? Mostly. Mentally? I've had healthier coping mechanisms."

This wasn’t even the first incident this week. On Tuesday, you infiltrated a Plaga-infested chicken coop wearing feathers strapped to your back because, quote, “Leon needs to witness me in my avian prime.” On Thursday, you sold your own location to a black-market merchant under the condition that he reenact a hostage scenario—complete with rope, duct tape, and fake demands. Leon showed up with two pistols and one-liner energy to spare.

"You know, there are easier ways to get my attention," he said now, sliding a flash grenade into his jacket pocket purely for dramatic effect.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Yeah, but where’s the fun in not risking tetanus every time I flirt with you?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then gave that tired little smile—the one that screamed, “I should report you to HR but I’d probably follow you into a volcano first.”

You scooped up your slightly-burnt backpack and peeked through a cracked window.

"So… sushi after this?"

Leon tilted his head. "You just got nearly decapitated by a ceiling saw blade."

"Exactly," you said. "Nothing says ‘date night’ like dodging death and then drowning our trauma in soy sauce."

He sighed and checked his ammo. "Fine. But if I have to dive across a sushi conveyor belt to tackle a guy in a hazmat suit again, I swear I’m charging you hazard pay."

You saluted him with two fingers and a wink. "Deal. And I’ll even throw in a free wasabi dare. Bonus points if you don't cry."

As you both headed down yet another hallway littered with debris, flickering lights, and probably radioactive vending machines, you mentally mapped out your next big stunt. Helicopter ride. No doors. Just vibes. And maybe a flying kick for good measure. And, if he was lucky, you’d let him make another cheesy one-liner.

[selkiemaidenfae]

Okay so I had this crazy feral thought and I’m too afraid to just put it out there but I thought maybe you’d appreciate it?

What if after Spike dies Buffy and Dru have grief sex and when Spike comes back he really wants them to reenact it

(In my hc Buffy wouldn’t be able to without the grief but others might be into it if they became a theesome)

!!!!

i'm going to be so unhinged in response to this i'm sorry

dru knows that buffy is the only other person this century who's bothered to get to know spike, and she wants so badly to be near some form of him. so she shows up in buffy's life and just, like, refuses to leave.

at first buffy just keeps her around to keep an eye on her, but soon they're sharing spike stories and it feels like with every story, dru inches a little closer. talks a little sweeter. gets a little more affectionate. buffy tries to ignore it.

but then buffy gets choked up talking about spike's last moments and dru leans in and licks the tears right off her cheeks. and when she's done, she presses her cheek against buffy's and just lingers there, soft against buffy's skin.

the sex just kinda... happens after that.

and then spike comes back.

buffy feels awful about "moving on" so fast, not to mention doing it with an evil, soulless and chipless vampire. AND spike's ex?? she's terrible. awful. so she distances herself from both of them and tries to forget about the whole thing.

dru is practically inconsolable. she tastes the sunshine and then the sunshine just leaves? no fair. and spike just wants both of his ladies to be happy.

so spike tracks buffy down again, dru in tow, and tells her, well...if she only slept with dru bc they both missed him, shouldn't he have the right to see it? to feel how much they grieved him?

it probs takes more than just one conversation to bring them all together again, but it's step one.

besides, dru knows that she'll be surrounded by the starry skies and the daylight, her knight and their warrior princess, soon enough. the pixies told her.

[buggy1999]

★Weird R&J Adaptations★

…

Gnomeo & Juliet (2011)

Pretty much everyone knows this version already and it’s really cute!! They play around with the gnome idea really well in my opinion

Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss (2006)

This is strangely one of the most accurate depictions of Romeo and Juliet for kids??😭 it retains many of the aspects of the original play, Romeo and Juliet’s dynamic is really sweet, and it’s so charming considering that it was made by only one guy. The only sin the committed was making Mercutio straight, but other than that it’s kind of peak??

ShakesQueer(2015)

ShakesQueer was so unhinged I love it😭 it’s so funny watching both of the plays as a Shakespeare enjoyer because both have almost nothing from their original plays, I’m still wondering why they changed Romeo’s name to Romy when Rose is RIGHT there. It was honestly giving John Waters and I love it for that

Shakespeare The Animated Tales: Romeo & Juliet(1992)

If you need really pretty versions of Shakespeare plays, I highly recommend this series, especially their hamlet adaptation, but you could tell that they kinda gave up on R&J😭 it’s kind of the weaker adaptations they did, but there’s a lot of funny moments in there, like Romeo doing his little happy jump or the entirety of the battle between Mercutio and Tybalt and for some reason Mercutio looks like Frank N Furter and a horse

Romeo & Juliet & Vampires(2010)

I found out about this one after it jumpscared me while I scrolling through Pinterest. I’m so glad that all R&J fans agree that Juliet would be the vampire, but unfortunately this book is like really boring,

Romeus & Juliet (2012)

I love this so much your honor you don’t understand, it’s like I opened an artifact, again I really like how everyone in the R&J fandom agrees with vampire Juliet

WOA Fairy Tales R&J??(2024)

I-I don’t- I can explain?? They made Romeo the vampire this time which is really interesting

Romanoff & Juliet(1961)

COMMUNISM

Manga Shakespeare: Romeo & Juliet

This one really gives similar vibes to shows like Kapp Mikey or My Life Me and I kinda like the archaic anime style, other than that though it’s a pretty straightforward adaptation except for some reason the deaths are really brutal for some reason😭

Romeo &Juliet By Willie Shakespeare as Performed By Monsters and company(1985)

I had to dig through the depths of the internet in order to find this one and it was so worth it, they’re so silly in this version and the ending is actually insane😭 I love their little monster designs so much and they had a cute little poster of this short where it reenacted the birth of Venus with the little creatures like aghhhh they’re so cute

…

I have so many more of these, some that I can’t even find, so if you’d like a part 2 let me know!! My brain is shut down at the moment if you couldn’t tell

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby (Social Media Blurb)

Note: a little sneak peek into the next part 🫣

Liked by yourusername and others

latenightseth: @yourusername and I sat down to recap our day drinking that led to (y/n) having to be carried out. You don’t want to miss it!

Load more comments…

Fan#1: I love how progressively unhinged (y/n) gets during the day drinking segment

Yourusername: Thanks for having me and letting me embarrass myself all over again!

Fan#2: This isn’t an interview, this is two besties debriefing after a wild time out and I’m here for it

Fan#3: The way they have two totally different pov’s. (y/n)’s like “yeah I was fine and then I woke up in my bed” and Seth was like “No you got hammered and had to be carried out.”

Fan#4: The way she talks about her boyfriend, you can tell home girl is in love 😍

Fan#5: Let’s not skip over the fact it was Auston who carried her out of the bar

->Fan#6: And it not being the first time!

->Fan#7: Auston doesn’t even need to workout, carrying (y/n) around is his workout

->Fan#8: You know he stays tossing her around

->Fan#9: Yoo thats crazy to say

->Fan#10: nah it’s valid

Fan#11: Can we circle back around to @yourbff#1 totally calling them out and everyone on set just thinking they were hooking up in the bathroom

->Fan#12: my jaw dropped when Seth threw that in

->Fan#13: and you can tell (y/n) was not expecting that, girly got real giggly

->Fan#14: If Auston was my boyfriend I would be acting the same way

Fan#12: Seth sneaking in all the leafs content, he’s really out here doing God’s work

Fan#13: @yourusername thanks for being like the rest of us and honest. You embraced the embarrassment and totally owned it!

Fan#14: (y/n) casually dropping @stephmarner’s name

Fan#15: on a serious note I just want to say how much I love and respect Seth meyers. He obviously has met her boyfriend and knows who he is, but doesn’t name drop once. This is a hot topic right now so being the first to “find out” and report it would be big, but he isn’t doing that. There were a few suggestive questions, but that kept the segment light and funny! Also he didn’t give out the reason why the interview ended so abruptly and just said (y/n) needed to go home. He allowed her to lead the conversation and share as much or little about both the situation and her boyfriend. All around great conversation with two great people!

->yourusername: THIS ^^^^

Fan#16: THE AIRPLANE QUESTION👀

->fan#17: I nearly choked when he asked that

->Fan#18: So did (y/n)

->Fan#19: LMAO Seth had our girl stressing with some of these questions

Fan#20: I would sell one of my kidney’s to get drunk with @yourusername

->Fan#21: You might need to sell it to her after that segment 💀

Yourbff#1: I’m gonna watch that segment anytime I get hangxiety to feel better about myself

->Yourusername: no need to rewatch it, I’ll reenact it for you in real time

Yourbff#2: (y/n) 🤝 the bar bathroom floor

->Yourusername: I’m screaming stfu😭 my home away from home

Fan#22: Ahh I love (y/n) she’s so unserious

Fan#23: No ones roasting her as much as she’s roasting herself

->Yourbff#2: nah her boyfriend is probs chirping her the hardest

->yourusername: I can confirm he is

->Fan#22: I love this relationship 💙

[thedomesticanthropologist]

The BG3 characters on Tiktok

Wyll: has 2 accounts. One is for fitness, dancercize, calisthenics, and a little bit posing while flexing. The other is an unhinged BookTok account where he cosplays and acts out romance scenes with himself, stitches cosplay character actors with himself. Dramatic poetry, songs, reenacting Broadway play moments. Responds to every comment.

I would also accept a children's entertainment performer type account from him.

Shadowheart: Silent poses while staring down the camera. Almost every video is the same, but they all pop off in popularity saying she looks mysterious and beautiful. She uses the camera to do her eyeliner and outfit checks. No editing, always short videos, never replies in the comments. Manages to get makeup 💄 deals and free outfits sent to her all the time. Puts in mimal effort

Karlach: someone else films her just being herself. She has several viral videos. Sometimes she plans them, like seeing how much cereal she can eat in one sitting or if she can punch down an old shed she found without using any tools. Captions are usually just some version of a meysmash or one word in all capital letters.

Astarion: Influencer that got all his followers by gossiping and sniping at other influencers in their comment sections or making call-out posts but if they're unpopular he turns off comments or deletes them and pretends he didn't do anything. Posts thirst traps that would be extremely cringe but people fall for it because he's pretty. Never does "getting ready" videos without having already gotten ready off camera and faking that his hair is just naturally Like That. Ends up with a niche fan base that is extremely feral for him and he uses them to target other accounts and harass people who annoy him. Or when he's bored.

Laezel: her entire account is just clips the Shadowheart takes of her mispronouncing words or being irritable. She gains a surprising amount of followers. There starts to be an underground plot to figure out if shafowheart and laezel live together, with fans pointing out background items that match. Neither of them address it directly.

Halsin: it... it's a nature channel. Camera is set up on a log or something at a bad angle and he either whittles in silence for 15 minutes and then shows u a duck, or the camera is in his hands shaking and being fumbled regularly with his thumb half over the mic and the view isn't always in focus but you're pretty sure he's telling you about the symbiotic relationship of moss on a tree. Most of his comment section is people asking him to take his shirt off.

Gale: his tiktok would be exactly what is VA's tiktok already is probably honestly ajsdgjdhdhjg. But OK, so he would absolutely wear velvet outfits and spend 30+ minutes describing one book at a time per video feom his giant library. Sometimes does wine reviews, or cheese reviews. Mixed in is short videos of Tara snoring or her paws twitching in her sleep.