#it would be so interesting to see him interact with the whole group

[degenerata69]

I'm thinking on just how doomed the relationship between Sae-Byeok and Sang-Woo was.

Sang-Woo overhears that Sae-Byeok saw a hint of what the next game could be. From there, he spends the whole night and morning considering how he should approach her.

When he does, he finds out that she is similar to him: reserved and untrusting. So, he convinced her by stating how he grew up playing those games and if he could figure out what would be the next game be, she could follow behind and benefit from it.

They didn't have many interactions after, but they didn't need to exchange words for Sae-Byeok to know that trusting Sang-woo's intuition was the best thing she could do to get far.

She followed behind in both dalgona and the glass stepping stones, and likely joined Gi-Hun's group in part out of the familiarity Sang-Woo gave, knowing he would figure out the best outcome, and that benefited her indirectly.

She is still very untrusting, and Sang-Woo recognizes this. When they made the barricades to keep each other safe, he suggest how there would be two people doing the nightwatch to avoid betrayal. Ensuring a sense of safety for everyone, specially for her who was very vocal about it.

I wonder how big the argument between Sang-Woo and Gi-Hun was on her.

Unlike Gi-Hun, her morality was dubious. She was part of a gang, she knew how to use weapons, she probably saw blood on her hands in more than one occasion. Seeing Sang-Woo murder someone in front of her eyes wasn't something that would torment her, and she could interpret the nuance better than Gi-Hun, for sure.

But the words "we are only here because he could tell the tiles apart" [we are here because the help of others] must have made her reflect.

After all, it was thanks to them she has made it so far. They both protected her from Deok-su, they won a strength game against all odds because of their leadership and strategy, following behind Sang-Woo helped her survive two games. And they never asked her to return the favor.

She wasn't naive and knew that at that point, Sang-Woo was a threat to her, but she was already dying.

She wasn't interested in pursuing self-preservation as she did when entering the games, and she wasn't interested in "winning" (she would not make it), she just wanted her brother to be taken care of, as she could no longer provide that for him. And while she didn't knew neither Sang-Woo or Gi-Hun on a personal level, just by their interactions, she knew how deeply they cared for one another.

Her telling Gi-Hun to not kill him wasn't on her best interest, but she knew that Gi-Hun would regret murdering his friend, so she adviced against it, and she was right.

Seeing how her life faded away, the only way she could do to pay them back for all they did for her was to not fight anymore. Sang-Woo, disgracefully, accelerated her death, but I don't think she was tormented by it. She already let Gi-Hun know her only wish.

While Sang-Woo's actions were irrational, guided by the thought that after all the death and sacrifices they made, they would leave with nothing but the guilt in their hearts, he murdered her after seeing her moribund state. The loss of blood and her unresponsiveness must have made him conclude it was the "best" thing he could do for her (and he would benefit from it).

But we saw how shaken he was by the actions he wanted to believe were justified. How he regretted doing it immediately after, because, he too, wasn't that type of person.

**EDIT** just found this article and 😭.

[anotherhomelanderblog]

So, a common consensus seems to be that Homelander starts hating Hughie out of nowhere. Before he even knows he's involved with the group who killed Translucent, he sees him at the Believe Expo and decides to torment him. It's almost instinctive and a nice parallel to Butcher's similarly instinctive feelings towards Hughie. It helps set these two sides up against each other etc etc.

Buuuut... I do actually think there was a specific reason Homelander took an initial disliking to Hughie at the Believe Expo.

First of all, he was pissed off at Madelyn for prioritising Teddy over him, so he was already in the mood to subtly act up - as we see later when he gives his speech. But why target Hughie, this nobody he's never met before, out of every single person in that tent if he wanted someone safe to take his frustrations out on? For the plot, yes, but also...

I think he was doing it for Starlight. Hear me out.

We know a young Homelander was told by Vought that the Seven would be his family, and certainly in the early seasons we get moments where it's clear he does view them this way - albeit in a very messed up, controlling sense, but duh. He's the leader of the Seven, so therefore obviously he should be some kind of father figure to the younger members, right? He plays this role with A-Train when he finds out he and Popclaw have been shooting up V.

In the Believe Expo episode, we get Annie herself thinking Hughie has only befriended her for the perks being friends with someone in the Seven can get you - in this instance, tickets to Ezekiel's private and expensive baptism event. When Homelander introduces himself to Hughie, he makes it pretty clear he knows he's only there because he's Starlight's friend. He even makes a pointed comment about the tickets being pricey. Clearly, he believes Hughie is taking advantage of her too.

We don't see Homelander and Annie interact one to one an awful lot in S1. They sort of go from that very interesting scene on the corridor where they talk about secret identities to him getting all up in her face for "betraying" the Seven. We don't really get to know for sure if Annie's whole perception of Homelander was shattered in that latter moment, or if he'd already pulled intimidating stunts with her the way he does with A-Train, Deep, and Maeve. My point being, they don't appear to have been close on a personal level and - since Homelander is very prone to doing things for people without asking them first, anyway - it makes sense to me that he'd take this twisted, paternalistic approach to the situation he saw and intimidate Hughie on her behalf like this.

But still, he's Homelander. Why bother? This is Annie's problem. Well, not purely out of the goodness of his heart, of course. I do wish they'd explored Homelander and Annie's relationship and parallels a bit more throughout the show, but they didn't (and probably won't in S5, either). I'm not trying to claim he had any particular feelings towards her at this point in S1 - things didn't get truly messy between them before S3, anyway. I'm sure at first he thought she was a naive idiot due for a wake up call, who'd soon fall into line, and whom he didn't need to worry too much about.

But, all of that ambivalence aside, the fact remains for Homelander: Starlight is a supe and a member of the Seven. We know Homelander's views on humans, so in his books it'd be totally unacceptable for a supe, especially one at Starlight's level, to be taken advantage of - made a mockery of, taken for a ride, whatever - by the insipidly average human known as Hughie Campbell. Homelander can't have Hughie thinking he's gotten away with disrespecting the Seven like that. What makes him special? Nothing. Does he think he's clever getting himself freebies? Think again. Homelander could actually drown him right here, right now, if he was feeling vindictive enough.

It's petty behaviour, because Homelander is petty. And, to be fair, considering he's spent his entire life being taken advantage of for the sake of Vought's fortunes and people's entertainment... you can understand why this situation combined with an already bad mood irks him enough to act. He can't/won't attack the system that puts supes in this situation, but he can lash out at the little guy who thinks he's getting one up on them.

That's my interpretation, anyway! And, of course, the irony is that Hughie wasn't taking advantage of Annie because he wanted something as basic as VIP access to some dumb event - he was actually part of the group coming for Vought and Homelander. To Homelander, Annie really is betraying her "own kind" by still loving this guy in the later seasons. Maybe some part of him even thought he was saving her - as well as getting to torment both her and Hughie for his own amusement - by forcing her into a relationship with him in S3.

But that's another discussion...

[campbenji]

since the official synopsis for s3 still says "old (and new) friends"...

[yuujispinkhair]

NERD!SUKUNA HEADCANONS - Part 1

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). College AU. 2k words 18+, fluff + smut (Sukuna has some dirty fantasies about Reader. The actual smut will be in Part 2). "Enemies" to friends to fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is shy and struggles with her grades. Sukuna is a genius but bad at feelings ;) Minors don't interact. Divider @/.lacedolliee. Credit for the super sexy fanart of Nerdkuna goes to my sweet friend @winterrbluess. The pic was used with Winn's permission 🖤 You asked if someone could write a little something about your fave sexy nerd, and I couldn't resist ;) I hope you'll enjoy it!

Nerd!Sukuna, who looks like a bad boy but is actually at the top of all his classes and a huge nerd when it comes to his studies and his various interests. Very intelligent, passionate, and hardworking. Sukuna always wants to be the best in everything he does.

Nerd!Sukuna, who could be one of the most popular guys on the whole campus if he wanted to, with his good looks and impressive height and fit body. But he keeps everyone at arm's length, not giving a fuck about popularity and not wanting to get distracted from his academic success.

Nerd!Sukuna, who once beat up a football player who tried to make fun of Sukuna's passion for all things history-related, and ever since that day, no one dared to bother Sukuna again.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks (rightfully so) that no one is fit to hold a candle to him. He is constantly looking down on everyone around him and would rather spend his free time perfecting his skills and studies than doing something useless.

Nerd!Sukuna, who hates group projects and prefers to work alone because everyone else is just holding him up, and Sukuna has to control all of their steps to fix their mistakes.

Nerd!Sukuna, who rolls his eyes in annoyance when he gets paired up with you for an assignment. A shy little thing whose name he never heard before, which means you are definitely not playing in the same academic league as him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who towers over you with his backpack slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tattooed face cold and hard when he informs you that he expects you to work hard and not fuck up his grades, or he will make your life hell.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is fully convinced this will be a disaster when he sees you wring your hands nervously and promise him you will work your ass off for this assignment because you really need a good grade so you can pass.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is a control freak who plans everything ahead and, therefore, doesn't let you have a word on how often you meet or when or where. He doesn't like having people over at his place, but he invites you over anyway because his kitchen table is his favorite place to study.

Nerd!Sukuna, who fixes you with a stern look through his nerdy glasses as he shoves a huge stack of books across the table, informing you he expects you to read all the needed information, which he already marked for you with various color-coded sticky notes. "Because you probably don't even know what we need for this assignment."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how thoroughly you work and by the questions you ask him, which let him know you aren't as dumb as he thought.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how you hang on his lips when he explains stuff to you, clearly impressed by his detailed knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he intentionally lowers his voice a bit more, just to see you get all nervous when he is talking in such a husky way, almost as if he isn't explaining political intrigues in the Heian era to you but rather telling you what he wants to do to you in his bed.

Nerd!Sukuna, who finds devilish joy in seeing how flustered you get around him and how clearly intimidated you are by his tall and broad body and his tattoos and arrogant attitude.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit (only to himself) that getting paired up with you isn't too bad because at least you give your best, and you are actually kind of cute. The kind of sweet, shy girl who usually doesn't cross paths with him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself watching you during study time in his kitchen or in the library. He tells himself he is just checking if you really do your work, but his gaze mostly lingers on your glossy lips, which wrap around your pen while you focus on something or on your nose, which looks super cute when you scrunch it up in confusion.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't one to brag because he thinks that is something for losers, but he can't help but mention casually some of the academic awards he already won just because he is getting addicted to the buzzing in his veins when he sees the way you gulp hard and get all shy and cute on him, muttering something about how you struggle to even stay in college.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually loves to be a little sadist and make fun of people who have bad grades, but somehow, he can't bring himself to do that when it comes to you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who instead surprises himself by reaching out and ruffling your hair, telling you that he will help you with your studies.

Nerd!Sukuna, who forms a strange little companionship with you, almost looking forward to your meetings and even preparing an extra plate of snacks for you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually isn't someone people would refer to as nice, but who drops his arrogant and mocking attitude at least a little when he is in his kitchen with you and instead jokes around with you and feels his heart throb weirdly when you get his humor, and laugh about his even most sarcastic remarks.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes it when you come out of your shell more and more, joining in on his playful teasing or telling him about your favorite books and shows.

Nerd!Sukuna, who accidentally overhears you telling your classmate that you don't have time to go to the coffeeshop with her because you are already meeting your friend Sukuna after class, which leaves Sukuna standing in the middle of the hallway for a whole thirty seconds, with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned and looking like a brainless idiot as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that you see him as your friend when Sukuna never had a friend before.

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes sure to bake your favorite muffins and prepare your favorite type of tea before you come over that afternoon, wordlessly showing you that he values your companionship, or friendship, as you called it, too.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels a small smile tug at his usually smirking lips when he sees your big happy smile and hears your sweet "For me? Oh, thank you!" when you see the plate with muffins on your place at his kitchen table. And yes, he refers to it as your place, and the thought makes him feel strangely warm.

Nerd!Sukuna, who playfully teases you for your Hello Kitty pens and glittery pink notebooks, asking if you are in some "Little Princess Kindergarten Club" or something. Only for you to march up to him the next morning before class to press a Hello Kitty text marker set against his chest so he can join the club, too, causing Sukuna to sit in class with a stupid grin on his face for a whole hour.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how easy things feel with you. How he can put all his hard work into your assignment and also see you working hard on it, but also have this light-hearted, playful banter with you, making him realize how boring and dry his afternoons used to be before you became his assignment partner.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit that you definitely aren't as bad of an assignment partner as he thought you would be. He even allows you to fill out a whole page all by yourself, which is the biggest compliment he can give you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself playfully flirting with you, smirking smugly when he catches you staring at him when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "See something you like, princess? Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I know those glasses look sexy on me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who loves to tease you like that and who ducks just in time when you scream in embarrassment and throw a pen at him while looking so fucking cute that Sukuna just teases you even more.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is quite happy with how your assignment is going. Usually, he would do the whole presentation by himself because he trusts no one else to deliver it the way he wants to, but Sukuna knows how shy you are about talking in front of the class, and Sukuna wants to teach you how to lose that fear.

Nerd!Sukuna, who just smirks at you when you complain loudly, "I can't do that! I am so bad at presenting things. I get all nervous and flustered, and then I mess up. Please do it yourself, Sukuna! You are so much better at this!"

Nerd!Sukuna, who tells you, "If you always run away from everything that scares you, you will never make it in life. So, nope. You will do your part. But aren't you such a lucky girl that you have me as your teacher?"

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes you stand in front of his fridge and practice your presentation over and over again while Sukuna sits on the kitchen chair, long muscular legs spread, tattooed arms crossed in front of his broad chest, occasionally pushing his glasses up as he watches you with an amused expression on his tattooed face, providing a brutal but honest opinion and actually helpful advice.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't just an overly critical and perfectionist asshole, but also someone who gives praise when he thinks it is deserved. And you, his cute little assignment partner, really deserve it. Sukuna walks over to you, stopping in front of you with a broad grin, "You did really well, princess. I'm proud of you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who wonders why your pupils look so blown out all of a sudden when you tilt your head to look up at him, stuttering in a slightly breathless voice, "Th... thank you. You were a really good teacher."

Nerd!Sukuna, who laughs and pets your hair as he smirks at you, saying something about how he could teach you lots of other things, too. Not sure anymore whether he is still just teasing you or if he really means it in a sexual way.

Nerd!Sukuna, who realizes he has a little big problem when he starts noticing the way your tits get pushed up and almost spill out of your shirt when you press a stack of books against them. Or when he loses his thread because you decided to wear a sexy little skirt, and now Sukuna can't stop thinking about how cute it would look if you were bouncing on his cock while still wearing that little skirt. Or when you suck on your stupid Hello Kitty pen, and Sukuna can't help but imagine how those sweet glossy lips of yours would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to suppress those thoughts though, not wanting to mess this assignment up.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels like encountering a world boss in a computer game, when you have a breakdown at his kitchen table, the evening before your presentation, crying and sobbing because you are nervous and convinced you will fuck up. And suddenly, Sukuna finds himself comforting you, gently caressing your arms with his large hands while murmuring reassurance to you. "Hey, stop being a brat. I know you can do it. You learned from the best, after all, didn't you, princess? And you got me. Just look at me the whole time, ok? Nothing bad can happen when you just look at me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how protective he feels over you at that moment. You are sitting in front of him looking like a wet cat, with your eyes all red and swollen from crying and snot running out of your nose, but somehow you still look so fucking cute to him, and somehow you make him so much softer and less rational than he usually is.

Nerd!Sukuna, who sighs and growls, "Oh, just come here." sounding annoyed but contradicting it by pulling you into his strong arms and holding you until you feel ok again. Sukuna still complains that you got his shirt wet with your tears, but his words lack the bite.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is genuinely proud of how much you improved when he watches your part of the presentation the next day. He even catches himself smiling a real smile at you when he congratulates you after class.

Nerd!Sukuna, who experiences a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when you smile back at him and put your small hand on his tattooed biceps, "Thank you, Sukuna. It was really nice working with you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who manages a "same," but then just stands before you, opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing what else to say because there are too many thoughts racing through his mind, and all of them seem to be too honest. And you do the same, shuffling around shyly, looking at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, but no words come out. And so both of you just lift a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and leave on opposite sides of the hallway.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to tell himself he is glad that your assignment is over and he can work in solitude again but then ends up staring longingly at the empty chair at his kitchen table, where you used to sit those last few weeks.

Aww Sukuna, do you miss us? ;)

I AM VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM AAAHHHH please, Kuna, tell me more about history and physics and every other subject that there is!!! You are so sexy!! 😘😘

Winn's fanart of Nerdkuna made me swoon so much and fall in love with him, and I always picture him as being at the top of classes anyway, so I think it was really time to finally write about him living his best nerdy life.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the headcanons! I will post Part 2 in a few days 💗 Will Kuna find a way to get us back onto his kitchen chair?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

Here is Part 2

[kyeomofhearts]

Bad Boy!Wonwoo x Reader Headcannons

[☻] found this little gem while going through my (various) drafts! this was honestly what pushed me to create back for more sooo… why not post it while you guys wait for part 3? just think of it as a little prologue hehe <3

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who would almost always come to class late. Not caring about the attention he would get for disrupting the class.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who would come into campus with a sleek black motorcycle, helmet in hand, and a face that rarely displayed emotion.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who never actually caused any trouble, well, at least not anymore. But there was something that made people wary of him—including you.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who you've known for almost your whole life—having gone to the same elementary, middle, and high school…and now university. You both even shared the same group of friends but you two were never particularly close by any means.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who was always just there. He was the quiet kid who never stood out too much, always hanging around your shared friend group but never making an effort to be the center of attention. 

If you had to describe him back then, you would say he was reserved. You knew how he could get when he was with his close group of friends so it wasn’t like he was shy, he just wasn’t open with everyone.

You don’t remember ever having a full-blown conversation with him either. Just small interactions here and there, nothing too serious.

Which is why his new behavior is odd to you.

Bad Boy!Wonwoo who had eyes all over him for the first few months of school—but he didn’t mind them.

Not when he had his sights set on you.

It started off small. A glance that lingered for too long, a smirk that felt too intentional, or a passing comment that seemed designed to get under your skin. 

Then, suddenly, he was everywhere.

Showing up at the same campus cafe you normally went to. Catching your arm just as were about to walk past him. Even walking you to your classes—you felt like it was nearly impossible to escape Wonwoo these days.

Even when you talked with him, you noticed just how close he was. It was just enough to make you move back, just enough to make you aware of him. 

It wasn’t flirting, not really, but the way he watched your reactions made it feel like some kind of game. 

You don’t understand why he’s suddenly interested in you (if you can even consider it like that). 

But… after all these years, why now?

What you didn’t know was that Wonwoo had liked you for many years by now. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a small hallway crush if anything.

He never planned on acting upon his interest in you, if he was being honest. Preferring to admire from a distance.

But then, he saw you again. Attending the same university as him. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So now he’s making sure you see him.

Read [Back For More] here.

[hermitadaymay]

WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2024!

I'm thrilled to bring this challenge to you all for the second year in a row! Hermit-a-Day May is a challenge inspired by Hermitober, but with a twist: instead of theme prompts, we focus on a specific Hermit every day!

THE RULES: 1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day. 2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while I recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.). 3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in a big queue in June. 4. I am not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves.

WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because, this year, there's an extra dimension to the event: a fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by @rendiggitydog and @belmarzi.

GRAND TOTAL INCENTIVE: For every $150 we raise for Gamers Outreach, belmarzi will make 10 seconds' worth of animatic, featuring as many Hermits as she can fit into the time frame.

INDIVIDUAL DONATION INCENTIVE: For every $50 (formerly $65 - changed 5/3) you personally donate to the fundraiser during the month of May, Rae rendiggitydog will draw you a shaded flats commission of a Hermit of your choice.

WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use she/her, he/him, ze/hir, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Yep, before you ask, it really is just me, but to be fair I've had a lot of help.

BONUS SUNDAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT

TFC - May 5th While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.

FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 12th There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them: just as a small number of examples, Season 9's Rift opened up to a whole server of Emperor friends, and there are always allies to be made in MCC and enemies to be made in the Life Series. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.

FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 19th HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?

GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 26th This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?

[starhrtz]

❝CAUSE I THINK I'VE FALLEN IN LOVE THIS TIME.❞

summary: each one of them, in their own way, seeks for your attention, hoping to be the one you choose..

featuring: wanderer, kazuha, heizou, ga ming.

notes: anyone miss me :3 anyways this was a fic from an old blog of mine. I'll be try to be more active anyways. (DO YOUR DAILY CLICKS!!)

WANDERER — who tried to ignore it. this feeling whenever he hears you talking to your friends, where his chest tightens and him wanting all your attention to himself. yet the more he saw you, the more he found himself wanting to be near you. He started making excuses to hang out with you, offering to help with homework or making you both paired up together for projects. He even found himself trying to impress you, showing off his intelligence in class or dropping hints about his latest achievements to you. Hopefully, you'll choose him instead of those countless of guys pining for you.

KAZUHA — who at first didn't know why he was feeling like this? Why did his heart tighten everytime he hears that you would be hanging out with your group of friends and he soon finds himself wanting to hang out with you everyday and trying to impress you. He tries to make himself available in case you want to hangout with him, how could he resist seeing you energetically planning on what to do after school with him and him alone?

HEIZOU — who doesn't even hide that he has a crush on you, doing the most embarrassing and dumbest things imaginable just so he can have you even glance at him. Afterall, he didn't get the title as the class clown and troublemaker for nothing so don't be surprised if he got himself in detention doing something reckless since his whole reason is so he can have your attention on him and him alone.

GA MING — who wonders why you don't seem to interact with him sure he may be popular but did that really scare you off? He was clueless at first but decided to find out more about you, asking some of his friends who were in the same class as you, subtly looking at your phone to find out more about your interests(and maybe steal a glance at your phone number) when he walks and even asking his friend group for your Instagram. Sure, he may be trying a little too hard going as far as to have the same common interest as you but if it gets you to notice him and talk to him, he'll gladly do it.

[rebelspykatie]

Part 2

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

[livingdeadgirlflorette]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ₊˚✩⊹ carl grimes x fem!reader

summary : After what happened a few weeks ago, seeing Carl made you anxious. Just looking at him made you ponder what was the thing you had with him. But one visit to a friend of his may just be enough to be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

word count : 4.7k

tags / rundown : average teen angst, fluff, more-than-friends-less-than-lovers trope, glenn and maggie are your substitute parents here, carl has an emotional capacity of a teaspoon, reader and carl are so oblivious oh my word, slight jealous!carl, kissing, sitting on carl's lap, brief mention of teen pregnancy

a / n : hi guys! this is a part 2 for "late night kisses", but it could be read as a stand-alone as well ! i just finished this like 2 hours ago and proofread it, i'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i really wanted to show how angsty teenager's could be for such trivial things, and i think i showed it pretty well here >_< enjoy reading !

dividers by @cafekitsune 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

PART 1: LATE NIGHT KISSES ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

With Rick interrupting your whole secret rendezvous with Carl in his bedroom, and practically telling you he knows about you guys— you wonder how bad it really would be if they did find out about you and Carl.

But there was one question that gets under your skin more than anything. It makes you think if anything between the two of you was more than just what you guys were doing. What were you and Carl?

All this time it has been just Y/N and Carl, inseparable, attached to the hip best friends. Just. Friends. That's an interesting way to state the relationship between the two of you, if just friends sneak around and makeout in their bedroom, and If just friends hold eachother at night, looking into each other's eyes lovingly, never wanting it to end.

It makes you concerned also, what did Carl think about the two of you? You don't what to acknowledge it, but it makes you stomach churn thinking that Carl would think you guys were nothing more than friends that kiss one another every once in a while. Thinking about it just puts a crestfallen, depressed look on your face.

"What's got you down in the dumps for?" A voice snaps you out of your mind question of is-Carl-a-friend-or-something-more crisis, remembering where you are. You're at your dining room table, eating breakfast with Glenn and Maggie. Ever since their group came, you became close with them, subconsciously (whether you wanted to or not) growing a familial bond with them.

They told you multiple times that you were welcome to come and go— so whenever you feel like it, you come to them when you have a problem, or you just don't want to interact with other teenagers in Alexandria. They get too posh-sounding when they talk about trivial things for your liking.

"Oh its uh— y'know it's just nothing." You dismiss the brunette woman's question. Since you and Carl didn't want anybody to know about the two of you, you decided to keep it a secret. And it would be a shame for the both of you if all of that came crashing down just 'cause Maggie had asked why you looked so sad.

"Well nothing doesn't make you of all people look so depressed. Why don't you go to your little boyfriend? He always puts a smile on that face." Glenn suggests, using a teasing sound for the question. You know he's just trying to make you feel better, but the mention of Carl just makes you even more down trodden. But you quickly realize what Glenn titles him as.

With an seemingly unstoppable flush blooming on your face, you quickly try to defend yourself, trying to save face.

"He's not my boyfriend, nor am I his girlfriend. We're nothing really, just friends." You argue. Saying that makes your heart break a little, even if you don't want it to. You play with the food on your plate, seeming uninterested. You just want to curl up into a ball and let time pause for a minute. Everything is just too much right now.

"He may not be your boyfriend per se, but he sure does act like one." Glenn counters, smiling knowingly. Despite every molecule and fiber of your being wanting to defend yourself, he was right. Carl did tend to have tendencies towards you that were too close for comfort on being the role of a lover.

If you ever mentioned a food you'd been missing, or an item so specific that you'd been missing in general, he'd get it for you and act all nonchalant and dismissive when you'd ask how the hell did he get it from (but he'd never tell you how he had almost got surrounded by a herd of walkers trying to get it for you). He would put his hand, hovering ever so slightly on your back when going through a crowded group or when he's behind you.

"We're uhm— I dunno. We're something." You say, moving food around your plate, showing signs of boredom, but no amount of uninterest in your body language could mask the sad look on your face. As much as your answer was adding nothing to the conversation, what you said was sincere. What really were you two? Friends don't sneak into the other's room at night, friends don't straddle each other, and friends definitely don't lock lips with each other. It stumped you, if you were going to be honest.

"Well figure that something out with the boy, okay? It's disheartening watching the two of you walk around like sad little puppies all the time." Glenn finalizes, he finishes his plate of food and walks over to the sink. Unknowingly to him, what he had said made you perplexed. Carl was also blue? As much as it made you feel empathetic for him, it made you wonder why he was also feeling like he had his heart punched out of his chest. You thought what you were feeling was just you, but with him also feeling upset over it, it kind of made you guilty 'cause it felt good knowing that what you were feeling was mutual.

"I actually have an idea, but it's not one of my most proudest. . ." You barely let out, feeling all shy now that you realize you're gonna say it out loud. Glenn was washing his dish, but he turned his head to the side to share a look of curiousity with his wife. They both looked back at you, silently tell you to go on.

"I'm gonna talk to Mikey. He seems to know Carl well enough, and I think maybe he could help me." Without skipping a beat, Maggie had paused the spoon with food that was about to go into her mouth and Glenn paused his movements before they continued doing their actions.

You know it was a silly conclusion, but with all the mood swings you were getting from avoiding Carl, desperate times call for desperate measures. You figured you had no choice anymore, and this was the only thing you thought of. Ever since Carl and his group had been recruited by Aaron, Mikey and the other teens seemed to have grown close with him, and you concluded that maybe he'd know if Carl was acting strange and if he had maybe, possibly told him about you.

But before that ridiculous thought, you pondered if maybe Enid could help you with this debacle, but you know she wouldn't be all that comfortable sharing feelings like that, and she wasn't a person that you could talk to about it. You also knew she'd thank you for saving her from that talk about how Carl made you feel all mushy inside.

Is it a stupid and dumb idea? yes— but as you said yourself, desperate times call for desperate measures. The married couple share a uncertain look with each other, but decide silently they wouldn't press too hard about it.

"And uh, how do you think Carl would feel about that? Y'know, going behind his back and all that?" Maggie suggests, finally finishing her last spoonful before standing up to go to where Glenn is at the sink.

You also thought that while thinking of a solution, but you figured that it would be better off if Carl didn't know. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"I . . . I uh– actually don't plan on telling him about it, I don't think he needs to know." You're not really sure if does, also it would be a hell of a lot embarrassing knowing Carl knows that you asked one of his friends about what he thought of you.

"Well, if you're gonna do that just make sure you make it right, okay? He seems like he wouldn't be too grumpy about that, but maybe a little." Maggie tries assuring you, standing up and brushing you hair in passing.

What she says gives you a little assurance, but it doesn't outweigh the fact that you're about to lie to Carl; not by saying something but the opposite actually. Lying by omission had never felt so burdening.

"I'll try." You finish you last spoon and head to the sink. Glenn and Maggie seemed to be readying to go outside. Maybe they were going on a walk together? You're not sure.

"Good. Also don't forget to dry that plate okay? You're thinking too much. From what i've read, it's bad for pretty girls." Glenn tries to joke with you, but it doesn't really work. You thank him for that, despite all the teenage angst you're going through, he still wants to put a smile on your face. It makes you heart feel a little lighter.

"I got it, now go away. Let me wallow in my self pity while I wash the dishes." You joke back with them, both parties laughing a little. Even if you're still feeling bad, all that pep talk with them gave you a feeling of determination. You had to get to the bottom of this before it all came crashing down before you.

You look back at the couple, seeing them walk out the door hand in hand with one another, having such a caring gaze for each other. Observing them made you question you and Carl. Did you want that with him? And if you did, did he also feel the same?

Walking to Mikey's house was an interesting experience, to say the least. With a mantra of affirmations in your mind that spans to saying "everything is gonna be okay" , "don't panic, it's not a big deal" and rubbing your hands up and down your arms a dozen times you're sure you could start a fire by doing it, you finally reach Mikey's house.

It helps you realize you don't even have a plan on what to say. Really, what were you gonna say? 'Hey Mikey, I just wanted to know if Carl said anything about me? Not to dump anything on you but i've been sneaking into his room and making out with him these past few months and his father caught us 2 weeks ago and now im panicking.'?

You rethink your choices, starting to backtrack your decision. But sometimes you just have to calm down— grin and bear it for the sake of needing to get to the bottom of this, before you spiral into a fit of hysteria and isolation.

Your knocks on the door are firm but hesitant, and not long after you see your friend's familliar face. Mikey seemed surprised, and you understood why. You guys were never really that close with one another, with you choosing to hang out with Enid (cause she seemed to understand you too) and him hanging out with Carl and the other boys in the walls. It's justified that he'd be looking like a deer in headlights at the sight of you at their front door.

"Oh, you're the last person I expected to see here. Not in a bad way though, heh. Hey Y/N, you need anything?" Even with the shocked feeling he has, he seems to recover it quickly, putting on a more welcoming, friendly expression.

"Yeah actually, uh— can I come in? I need to talk to you about someone, privately." Your voice comes out meek, frazzled because you haven't really thought out how this conversation would go.

"Uh yeah sure! Come in, come in. I'll uh- I'll ask my father if he's fine with it though, he's just out back and I think he'd be fine with having you over. While i'm talking to him, make yourself at home, okay?" Mikey scrambles to get his words out, it's obvious he feels awkward. But it doesn't stop him from trying to just make it seem like two friends (that's pushing it, better word for you and him would be acquaintances) hanging out. You thank him silently for that, trying to make it seem less awkward than it actually is.

With him going out the back door, you're left to your own devices in his living room. You look around, and there doesn't seem to be anything that interesting. It just looks like any other upper-class house you'd see in Alexandria.

You try to make yourself feel home, sitting down on the couch. Moving from multiple positions on the comfortable cushions, you give up and just fiddle with your fingers. For what feels like an eternity, in his living room, Mikey and his father come in and his father greets you in passing before settling in a chair in the kitchen, busy doing something you can't really see. But before you can really think about it, Mikey comes in and sits next to you.

"I have a glimmer of an idea on why you're here, but I won't say anything unless you want me to." Mikey leans back, getting comfortable. You're confused. How would he of all people know what you were gonna tell him about? It made you feel like you should bite the bullet and ask.

"No it's okay, I wanna know." You urge him. If he did know about who you were gonna talk about, how obvious were the two of you?

"I'm guessing it's because of a certain long haired boy? Just a guess though." His words seem to say he's just guessing, but his tone says otherwise. He sounded teasingly, like he knew something you didn't.

"Shit, was it that obvious? It's just— okay let me think about it, I'm just confused. He seems like he cares about me, but he never really wanted to talk about us. Like what we were. We're something, well we were." That's all you could say before your mind went blank. Thinking about all this is making you go stupid at this point.

"Well since you both seem and look like trainwrecks, i'll talk for you." Mikey knew what you needed right now, and that was for someone to tell you just straight up what was happening.

"You and Carl aren't just friends, okay? You and him may think that, but friends don't act like that with each other and act like it's nothing." Your friend's word seem to reach to you, telling you what needed to be done.

"We're friends, right? You and me? We don't do that. That's different. You and him have something different than friends. It's more than that, Y/N. And if you can't get that through your thick head, i'm not sure how you'll end up." Mikey finishes. He thinks his words got to you, and it did. You feel grateful, really. Despite it being blunt and straightforward, you got the message he was trying to send. You know what you have to do now.

"Wow, that's— huh. Thanks for that, Mikey. It means a lot, even if you unintentionally did refer to me as a numbskull." The joke you let out lightens the mood, putting a mood on both of your expressions. You realize you're lucky to have a friend like Mikey, he's not afraid to tell you straight up when you need something said.

"So since that's out of the way, wanna play videogames? I got something you might like." Mikey suggests. Even if you weren't that close to him, he still wanted to be civil with you. Given his inquiry, you didn't think it would hurt to play videogames with him, even if it was just for an hour or two.

You follow him up the stairs, but before you could make it up halfway with him, a firm knock at the door stops the both of your movements. You look at eachother, obviously curious.

"Stay here. It's probably just my father's friend or something asking about him."

He jogs down the steps, hesitant to open it but when he does, his shoulders drop in relief.

"Oh Carl, what are you doing here? You need something?" Mikey asks. With the stairs directly in front of the door, you tilt your head to the side, to see the long-haired brunet you'd been avoiding all this time.

"I was looking for Y/N actually, have you seen her?" Carl was asking. He seemed urgent, with a frantic aura to him, but his face was controlled. Before Mikey could answer Carl had finally found you, catching your gaze. You were on the stairs, looking like a deer in headlights. How did he know you were here? But weird enough, why does he look so rushed?

Carl seemed as confused as you. Why were you with Mikey? Why were you guys alone together? And why does it look like you were just going down from his room? Too many questions and no answers was gonna send Carl into a downward spiral. All these thoughts and no conclusion. He'll have to ask you later, 'cause he's going to die surely if it eats away at him from the fact that he'll keep thinking about it. It makes him feel such an unfamilliar feeling that he hasn't felt in a while; like venom coursing in his veins and his blood piping hot, he knew it in himself that he was jealous.

"Oh she's right here actually," Mikey turns so his body's facing you slightly. "You need her right now?" Mikey's question is starting to sound a lot more like earlier, with and underlying tease and knowing look.

Carl seems to pause at the question. Mikey's simple question feels like a more complicated one to him. To explain how much he needs her, he'd have to dive into an ocean's worth deep of words he's been meaning to say. But he'd rather open that can of feelings another time, preferrably with Y/N. Right now, all he wants to do is to speak with her.

"Yea can I actually talk to her? It's important." No matter what Mikey says, either way he'll get Y/N out of that house. It's killing him inside, he doesn't know why you've been so distant lately. The variable of your presence becoming absent in his routine for the past few weeks has left him dumbfounded. He needed to know what was wrong— or else it'll destroy him.

Before Mikey could even utter a proper response, Carl pushes past him and grabs your arm firmly, but gentle enough that he doesn't hurt you. His action befuddles you. First; he looks like a headless chicken trying to find you, and second; he's dragging you out of Mikey's house hurriedly. What could be so urgent that he needed to up and pull you out?

Your heart was in your mouth, unable to say anything. What would you say even? Carl was pulling you out of Mikey's house, and to the direction of his, were you supposed to ask why? You were frazzled, but all you could think about was how careful he was holding you hand. By the time he dragged you out of the house, his hand intertwined with yours, be it a habit or reassurance to him. That simple action made your heart leap out of you chest.

With the brisk pace he was walking with, you made it to his porch in record time. To add more flush to your cheeks, you see his father, Rick at the porch steps— looking at you both knowingly. It seems like he could tell you were tongue tied, and chose not to say anything else to save you the embarrassment (he'd do it later instead).

Walking quick to his room, he pulls you in and locks the door. He turns to you, standing face to face. You want to say something, so badly. But knowing if you would, you'd open up a pandora's box worth of words you'd been meaning to say. So you start slow.

"I wanna start off with i'm sorry, okay? Listen, it's just i'm really worried about us," Carl softens his gaze and walks closer to you. "—and I don't even know what we are anymore."

He grabs your hand and aligns it with his. "What are we, Carl?" As you ask, you watch him. It's cute, watching him observe your hand difference. It's as if he's trying to stall what storm is about to come. He then close his hand, intertwining it between the gaps of yours.

"We're friends, right?" He assures, he looks so pitiful, eyes pleading with you not to let this dam of unspoken words open into a whirlwind of emotions he desperately wanted not to let out.

"Are we really?" You barely say above a whisper. Are you really just friends? With all that happened with you and him, you guys are just platonic? It makes your heart shatter thinking that.

"Carl what you do— what we do isn't just friends. I'm sorry but I can't deal with it if it's just being friends with you." Your face falters, showing a more betrayed expression.

Carl thinks he's pathetic. He swore to himself that he'd never let anyone or anything make you upset, but he never thought he would be the cause of it. It makes his eyes teary, but he'd rather get eaten alive by walkers than show you how much he's been holding in.

"I. . ." Carl hesitates. ". . . I don't want to be just friends with you." Him confessing that makes you doe-eyed, what did he mean by that?

"It's just— everyone I love always leaves." Before he can even register it, his hot tears spill out of his eyes. He's embarrassed, and looks down to hide it.

"I can't lose anybody else." Despite him looking down and his voice low, it's enough for you to hear. You felt stupid now. All this time he was trying to protect you. He felt as if he was magnet of death and chose to love and cherish you from a distance instead, no matter how much it makes his heart feel unsatisfied.

"I— I can't anymore." Carl barely says between his cries. Carl felt silly. Here he was, crying in front of the person he wanted and needed so badly just because he couldn't possibly have her. If he had to choose one word to name his state right now, it would be desperate.

But what you do next is something he never expected you would do. You use your free hand to lift his chin up and wipe away at his tears, still looking at his teary-eyed gaze. Your other hand that was holding his closes, finally reciprocating the action. And what you say next sends his heart going a hundred miles per minute.

"I'm not leaving anytime soon, okay? I care about you too much to do that."

Carl felt special. The one and only person he genuinely wants to be with feels the same, the feeling was mutual. All of it makes his heart feel like it's gonna jump out of his throat. With hesitant movement, you chastely kiss the stains that had been left from his sobbing. Everything Carl was feeling right now made him so overjoyed, it made him lethargic.

With a hesitant hand, he returns the action by caressing the side of your face, looking into your gaze before nervously asking her what he's been meaning to say all this time.

"I love you, okay? I wanna be—" He sighs before he could finish, and shuts his eyes in focus before opening them to look at you once again. He's hesitant, would him saying this ruin everything? You look to him curiously. What now?

"I wanna be your boyfriend." He concludes. All of a sudden you feel your body feel so much lighter. Him stating that made you feel so happy, wanting to jump for joy 'cause everything was going right.

Carl looked nervous, like he would break any second. It was adorable, really. Normally you would be the one doe-eyed and shy from your interactions, but now the roles reversed. You figured it wouldn't be so bad, him looking like that, eyes glassy and pitiful. You couldn't deny how even in his state, he looks so cute.

". . .Okay." You finally say as you smile. The moment you say that, it's like a switch flips with him. He still looked teary-eyed, but he looks ten times more happy. He holds you face in his free hand and asks the other question he's been dying to ask.

"That's— that's great! I- uhm, can I kiss you?" Nervous and skittish, he manages to let out a jumble of words. Even so, you vehemently nod at him.

Carl goes in slowly, trying to gauge your reaction, eyes going to your lips then to you, before he goes in completely to close the space. It feels like heaven, his lips on yours. Just like clockwork, his hands hesitate on your waist. It makes you relax, knowing no matter how many times you kiss, he'll always end up bashful. It makes you smile into the kiss.

Feeling bold, you gently push him back on the edge of his bed, making him sit while you hover on him to keep you as close to him as you need to. He looks so perfect; him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at you, pleading eyes begging for you to come back into his space.

With languid, calculated movements, you place yourself on one of his thighs and go back in to capture his lips with yours again. He blushes at this; with the extended amount of time you'd been apart from one another, he's gonna have to get used to you all over again and your touch.

But just like last time you saw each other, you get interrupted. You both hear a loud, firm knock, before an unnecessary amount of wriggling of the door.

You practically jump off one another, before you both come up to the door, with you slightly behind Carl.

The door unlocks and you expect to see Rick, but unexpectedly, you're met with Michonne at the entrance.

"You kids good in there? You seemed pretty silent." Michonne asks. She seemed to know what was going on, but proceeded to ask anyway.

"Yeah– uh-huh, I was just talking to her uh– Y/N." Carl quickly says. But his defense seems to make it a whole lot worse.

"Oh you're talking. All right, i'll stop buggin' ya. Enjoy your talk." Michonne looks at you, letting your already flushed face get even warmer from the implications she was trying to tell you, and then to Carl, who was trying to regulate his breathing, all while Michonne was growing a smirk on her face. She proceeds to close the door, leaving you and him to bask in the shy atmosphere that had been created.

". . .So you wanna make out some more?" You ask. You know you should be shy about it, but there's no use beating around the bush, especially when you want him to touch you so badly all over again.

"Hell yeah." Carl says before grabbing you by the waist and kissing your lips once again. Kissing you with your hands on his shoulders and his hands rubbing circles on your waist, he knows one thing for sure.

He'll never get tired of this.

BONUS ೀ⋆⑅˚

"Oh they're smooching it on alright." Michonne reports to Rick, seemingly teasing the teen pair that wasn't there to defend themselves.

He had asked her if she could go up and see what they were doing, not that he didn't trust his son and his friend or whatever she was to him, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to make a precaution. They didn't want another baby Judith situation after all.

"Ah. . . good, thanks." Rick looks back at Michonne then to the neighbourhood. He has an unreadable expression on his face. Michonne takes note of this, though.

"Trust me, with how shy Y/N is and how emotionally constipated your son is, you won't have to worry about another baby Jude in a good long while." She pats his back, reassuring him.

He silently thanks her, trying to believe what she's saying. But with how loose discipline is with the state of the world, He doesn't know how much that statement holds up when none of them know what they're like behind closed doors.

You'll never know until you find out.

oh wow, this one was a long fic, huh? I hope the wait was worth it guys, I really liked how this turned out ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و also the end bonus was just a silly little thing, i'm not sure if I would want to expand on it, it was just a throwaway line that sounded ominous and i'm a sucker for that :3 anyways ty for all of the support you've been giving me, I can't believe it honestly— I just want to thank all of you lovelies ! stay tuned and tell me if you want to be tagged next time I post !

what did you think ? don't be a silent reader and let me know ! °ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ°

tags : @carlslvr

[sanguinesmi1e]

A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (you're here) Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Art of LBM

Danny was still lying under the Specter Speeder, mind reeling as the words “they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms” ran in a loop through his head. Could that really be true? Is his death attached to the portal, forever lodged in the doorway, preventing it from closing?

The guy clearly knew what he was talking about. The bit about why his ghost friends and frenemies caused so much chaos as they unleashed their obsessions on Amity Park made so much sense. It would certainly explain a lot of his interactions with ghosts after he died. 

 Danny silently cursed himself for not destroying everything in the lab before they got here. He and Jazz hadn't worried about the portal schematics, because they honestly didn't have any way to open a portal, only cycle energy in a recursive loop that shouldn’t have done anything. No one, not he and Jazz, not their parents, not Tucker or Technus, had been able to figure out why it had worked when Danny was inside. But if the machine was able to sustain a portal that was already opened. . . He wondered idly if he could light a fire that looked accidental and would both destroy the lab and leave the two men enough time to escape. It’d probably be too risky. And who knew what destroying the portal would do to him. Fully kill him? Destroy him completely and shatter his core? It might be worth it to prevent anyone from gaining this knowledge. 

No wonder Lex Luthor was interested in this business. A child was murdered in this basement, and for all Tim knew, the child’s soul could still be trapped here fueling a Lazarus Pit that connected the world of the living to the afterlife. What Luthor could do with an interdimensional portal or even a single sample of Lazarus water. . . Tim shuddered to think.

On the one hand, he was grateful that Wayne Enterprises secured the business before Luthor had the chance. On the other hand, he felt rather ill to think his family had directly enriched mad scientists who performed child sacrifices. At least he had full faith that between him and Oracle, they’d hunt the Fentons down and make sure justice was served.

“What is to be done for the child?” Tim asked Constantine. “Is his soul tied to that machine?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s just his death.” 

“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me, ‘cause I’m not sure I see the distinction.” Tim said wryly. 

“I guess. . . Hm. You could think of it as the moment of transition drawn out endlessly like a plucked string whose note never stops vibrating. Like life is the anchor point of one end of the string, and the afterlife is at the other end, and the child’s death is the note created when his soul crosses from one side to the other. The soul is the bow causing reverberations, but the reverberations are the actual death itself. The effect of the soul’s passage. And in this case, the portal is amplifying the death so it doesn’t end like a normal death ‘note’ would.” Constantine leaned in to examine some of the runes that were part of the array. “Not a perfect metaphor, obviously, since you bow perpendicular rather than parallel to the string, and death and souls are nothing like music, but you get the idea, right?”

Tim was still caught on John Constantine saying the words “death note” together unironically in a sentence. He was going to have to share that with Steph later. Maybe with the whole family group chat, even. “Yeah, the metaphor makes sense, as much as any of this occult stuff does to me.”

“Whatever. As for whether there’s anything we can do for the child, I think we’ll have to try and summon him if we can.” The Brit started pulling items out of his trenchcoat’s inner pockets. “We need to ask what the spirit wants done, before we go messing with things we don’t understand.”

“Alright, need anything from me?”

“Yeah, move this stuff out of the way so I can draw a circle.” Constantine directed Tim to shove aside a few stacks of boxes, something called a Fenton Ghost Weasel, and together they shifted a coffin-shaped iron maiden that for some reason was labeled Fenton Stockades. Then he set to work chalking a circle and runes on the ground.

Finally he sat back and dusted chalk off his hands. “That should do it.”

“Will this be bright too?” Tim asked warily.

“Eh, might be? Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Tim grabbed an auto-darkening welding helmet with a green “Fenton” sticker on it off the workbench and slipped it on.

“Alright, here goes.” Constantine began the summoning ritual.

While Danny debated arson, the other two had finished clearing a space and chalked some kind of circle onto the floor. He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the trenchcoat guy begin a traditional incantation for a summoning. Were they trying to summon him? Danny really hoped it wouldn’t work. 

When people tried to summon the Ghost King he could almost always ignore the pull. This pull, however, was very strong and immediate. It seemed proximity made a difference, or this guy was just better at summonings than the average cultist. Before Danny could accept the inevitable, he was pulled bodily — literally! — out from under the vehicle and across the floor, still flat on his back on the Fenton Under Car Creeper, with the Specter Speeder’s ecto-engine hugged tightly to his chest. The wheels of the Fenton Creeper (not to be mistaken with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick) sped him straight to the summoning circle. Still very much in human form. 

This was his first real look at the guy called Constantine, and he couldn’t help a horrified yelp. “Eugh!! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude!?!!” 

His lapse in attention made him lose the battle with the summoning spell, and it gripped him, pulling him through the convolutions of the spellwork even though he was already lying half across the circle, and forcing him to change into Phantom in the process. It was such a disgusting sensation, like he was one of those squishy water filled tube snake toys that look like a fleshlight, and someone squeezed really hard and abruptly so he turned inside out and went flying to go splat against a wall (or in this case, against the ground inside the circle of chalk). He tried and failed not to retch.

The younger man in the crisp suit whom he’d already identified as Mr. CEO-Timothy-Drake-Wayne looked at him in startled bafflement, while the older blond, still smoking his cigarette, (gross, and was that thing never ending?) was probably looking at him. Maybe. It was really difficult to tell, because he was a frankly vile sight. Danny winced and swallowed down nausea. “What have you done to your soul?”

“I — what?”

“Trypophobia central, man! Ugh that’s gotta be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t you cover it up?”

“Who are you?” Timothy Drake-Wayne interjected.

“I’m the dead guy? You literally just summoned me.”

“Constantine said you were a child”

“I mean, I was?” Danny looked down at his obviously twenty-something year-old self and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I was fourteen though. These things happen.”

“Not typically, no. The dead tend to be pretty unaging.” Constantine said. 

“Dude I’m not having a conversation with you while your soul looks like Escher’s swiss cheese nightmare. Anyways, some of us do. Heck, I know a guy who constantly shifts from infant to old man and every stage in between. It’s pretty distracting when you’re trying to get him to let you fix the timeline again.” Danny continued to look anywhere but at the blond man. “But if it’s so important to you, I can —” He got an abstracted look, and slowly de-aged himself until the two men stood over a fourteen year old boy with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

“That does not help. No.” The guy whose soul looked somewhat like a bleeding tooth fungus said. He turned away and started doing something magical. Danny hoped it would mask his soul in some way, but so far all it did was make Danny feel like he needed to pop his ears.

He also felt particularly uncharitable, so he didn’t revert to his natural age, and instead tried to see how young and cute he could make himself appear.

“So are you just haunting this basement? Seems hazardous, given the former proprietors.” Timothy tried to redirect the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as distressed to see the ghost of a child, but his eyes darted surreptitiously to the Lichtenberg figure Danny used to always hide under gloves.

“Nah, haven’t been back here in years. I mostly live in my Infinite Realms haunt these days.”

“You . . . live? Is that just a figure of speech?”

“It’s rude to ask about a ghost’s nonliving status, you know. Highly taboo to ask how a ghost died or poke into the circumstances of our deaths without permission.” Danny admonished. Making himself younger than fourteen took more effort than he expected.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Timothy raised his hands placatingly to the boy who now looked younger than Damian. “What brings you back to Amity Park?”

“Uh, you summoned me? Are we still not clear on that?”

Tim looked pointedly at the Fenton Creeper and the engine Danny still held. He’d shrunk down to the size of a four year old, and the engine really should be crushing him given it was bigger than his torso now. He quickly set it aside, and turned his biggest puppy dog eyes on Tim.

“You were in here already, and you looked pretty alive for a moment there.”

“I can look lots of ways!” Danny focused really hard on looking as cute, small, and nonthreatening as possible. He thought it was working when all of a sudden there was a pop! and he was smaller than he’d ever managed before. 

Timothy Drake-Wayne looked like a giant. The other guy, who had thankfully managed to put away his soul somehow, wore scuffed oxfords bigger than Danny. Hell, he could probably fit his entire self into one of Constantine’s shoes if that wasn’t a bizarre thing to do, and they weren’t already full of stinky feet. Holy shit what happened to him!?

Tim blinked down at the cat? Snake? Ghost. . . thing at his feet. What the fuck. A moment ago he was talking to an adult man whom he’s pretty sure was dead and he’s very sure was trolling them. Now his interlocutor had turned into an adorable creature with soft white paws, a long twisting tail, big pointed ears that swiveled like a cats, and a humanoid face that should’ve been creepy but was actually eliciting cute-aggression in him. Tim blinked again. The little baby ghost creature blinked enormous green eyes back at him. Then it yawned, revealing three rows of needle sharp teeth that looked like a cross between what you’d find in the mouth of a shark and a cat. Yikes.

“Does that mean the interview is over?” Tim asked him.

The creature just blinked up at him again, then zeroed in on his shoelaces, pupils expanding until only a narrow band of green ringed them.

Yup. The interview was over. Those paws hid some wicked claws which could apparently slice through leather with ease. Oh, Tim really hoped ghost scratch fever wasn’t a thing. At least the ghost looked sufficiently contrite after he yelped, and it waited while he removed a shoelace to sacrifice as a toy.

If Damian ever met him, there would be a new member of the family. Maybe he should name the creature preemptively so they didn’t have a cat-snake named Bat-Ghost in Wayne manor. 

“Do you have a name, little baby cat-snake ghost? Little baby ghost man?” He cooed as the miniature monster dashed back and forth, intent on shredding his shoelace.

The ghost paused long enough to chirp, “Li’l baby man!” before launching himself at the string. Even shocked, Tim’s reflexes had him whisking the toy out of the way, and the ghost went careening under a cabinet.

He wedged himself in the gap, landing face first in a dust bunny, and quickly wriggled backwards with an indignant squall. His wordless protestations cut off as he fell into a violent sneezing fit that thankfully dislodged him from beneath the cabinet.

Tim suppressed his laugh, and asked, “Little Baby Man? Is that what you want to be called?”

The ghost pawed most of the dust away from his nose, but spider webs covered his face and a big dust bunny perched atop his head like a fascinator with a cobweb lace veil. He looked Tim right in the eyes and nodded, dislodging the dust in his hair and setting off more sneezes.

“Li’l Baby Man” he confirmed. He placed a paw on Tim’s shoe and chirped, “Tim!” Then he pointed his tail at Constantine and said, “Gross!” with narrowed eyes.

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when he invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari, in Shanghai.

Word Count: 7,918

Warnings: Jealousy, anxiety, overthinking, angst, FLUFF, Lewis being the cutest ever. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Just want to say thank you all SO much for your kind words, it means so much to me to hear how much you're enjoying it, and I hope this next bit makes you happy! I have two more parts planned if anyone would be interested to see where else the story goes, let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list! Thank you SO insanely much for reading, please let me know your thoughts! 🤍

The early morning air of Shanghai kissed your cheeks like ice. The track was just waking up as you arrived, the morning sun shining across the asphalt in soft golden rays. The quiet hum across the paddock and the squeaky rolling of carts was a jarring contrast to the commotion of arriving in the afternoon, when screaming fans and media had flooded in alongside the roaring of engines. 

You kept your head down, scanning your pass against the gates and moved quietly as a staff member guided you along the edge of the paddock. This weekend was different to your time in Melbourne. You weren’t here with a group or even Isabella. It was just you and Lewis this time.

This time however, it had to stay quiet. Media was relentless, and the last thing you needed was to end up in the background of a photo, with millions of people online asking who you were to Lewis and why you were invited again. The world had its eyes on Lewis and any lucky lady he would be spotted with, so arriving extra early and discretion when interacting was important in order to maintain your own privacy.

You adjusted the firey red Ferrari jacket around your shoulders, still faintly warm from your body heat. It had been waiting for you in your hotel room when you checked in at the late hours of the night, set neatly beside a handwritten note which had been scrawled in quick, familiar handwriting:

Can’t wait to see you. Hope this fits. - L

Your heart skipped a beat the moment you saw it. After the long, hazy hours of flights and the uncertainty that lingered in your mind when you were alone or away from him, it was like releasing a breath you’d been holding for days. You weren’t sure if it was just the exhaustion, but you had just stood there in the early morning silence for a bit, reading the words over and over, giddy like a girl receiving a note from her crush in school.

You hadn’t expected the gesture, after everything he’d already done and set up for you. It made your heart swell with hope for the coming weekend.

You rounded the last corner toward the Ferrari garage and saw him immediately as you entered.

Lewis was speaking with a Ferrari engineer, who pointed to something out on a tablet screen. He was already dressed in his race suit, the sleeves of his overalls knotted around his waist. His intricately braided hair was tied back revealing the long eyelashes that framed his brown eyes. His eyebrows furrowed as he nodded at something the engineer said, until he looked up and saw you.

His whole face shifted, with a smile that always made it feel like the world paused just a little and you were the only person who existed. 

Lewis handed the tablet back to the engineer, nodding that he would speak to him later. The engineer greeted you politely before walking away, leaving Lewis to stride over towards you. You met him halfway, suddenly conscious of the way his eyes trailed over you.

“Good morning,” you smiled as you approached him, leaning into the hug he wrapped you in immediately.

“Good morning,” he replied softly, stepping back after releasing you to motion towards your outfit with a grin. “You look great, red suits you.”

You thanked him with a blush, touching a hand to the red fabric laid over your torso. “Thank you, by the way. For all of this, the jacket, the trip, the hotel...everything. I know how busy things are for you right now, and you didn’t have to go out of your way like this.”

He didn’t answer right away, he just looked at you in a way that made the rest of the world soften and slip away.

“I wanted to,” he answered, his sparkling eyes locking onto yours sincerely. “I like having you here with me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart fluttered at his words. You liked being here too. With him…more than you probably should.

Before you could speak again, he gestured toward the stairs leading up to the driver rooms. “Come with me for a sec, I need to grab something.”

You fell into step beside him, the sound of the Ferrari crew in the garage fading behind you.

“How was your flight?” Lewis asked as you climbed the narrow staircase.

“Early,” you shrugged with a slight laugh. “But I slept through most of it, the seat was so comfy.”

“You didn’t text me when you landed though.” He touched his hand to the small of your back delicately, concern in his voice.

“I figured you’d be asleep, it was pretty late when I landed,” you explained as you reached the top of the stairs.

“I still want to know you’re safe. Even if I was asleep.” He opened the door to his driver room, letting you walk in first.

You glanced at him before stepping inside, your heart tugging at the way he cared. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The door clicked shut behind you as you took a seat on the small bench along the wall, your eyes trailing over the room, taking it all in. It was the first time you’d seen his driver room in person. It was simple, neat, and definitely all his. You’d pictured it once or twice, sure, but you never really thought you’d find yourself inside.

Lewis crossed the room, heading toward his belongings on the table, picking up his helmet under one arm, notebook in hand on the other. Then he paused, before putting the items back down and reaching for something on the shelf.

A red Ferrari cap with a big 44 on the brim.

He turned back toward you, scanning your face like he was already amused by your reaction.

“Almost forgot,” he stepped in front of you and gently pulled the cap over your head, adjusting it with a quick flick of his fingers that brushed against your temples. “Perfect.”

“Do I look official now?” You lifted your chin, smoothing your hair along the sides under the cap, amusement in your voice contrasting with the warmth that dusted across your cheeks.

“Absolutely,” he chuckled, grabbing a little film camera from his desk and raising it to his eye.

“Wait, I’m not ready!” You moved to adjust yourself for a better angle.

“Nope.” He clicked the shutter and the camera flashed. “Caught you.”

Your lips pursed as you shook your head, rising to your feet with narrowed eyes and reaching for the camera. “That was a bad angle.”

“It wasn’t. You look beautiful,” he complimented, moving the camera away from your grasp.

Lewis always managed to take your breath away somehow, you never got used to it. The teasing in your chest fizzled into a warm sensation. You met his eyes, unsure what to say, before blinking down at the camera in his hands, heart thudding a little harder. 

“Fine.” You held a hand out, unable to hold back the smile pulling at your lips. “Your turn then.”

He paused, before placing the camera in your hold, and shifting back. He propped his helmet against his waist and gave you a smoldering look with his chin tilted slightly, as though he was on the set of a photoshoot.

“Seriously?” You snorted as you looked through the viewfinder, his serious pose making you giggle. “The smoulder? Really?”

“Hey, you said it was my turn,” Lewis shrugged, a grin brightening his face.

“Alright, Zoolander.” You laid your finger over the shutter, ready to take the photo as soon as you could catch the right moment.

Just like that, there it was. Your favourite laugh, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling as he beamed, spreading all the way across his face. You snapped the photo quickly before he could pull it back.

“That one’s mine.” Your voice was light and teasing as you lowered the camera.

He walked back over as you held it out to return it, but as he took it, your fingers brushed slowly. His skin was warm against yours, the touch sending a tickle up your spine that only made you want more.

Neither of you said anything right away, a comfortable exchange of chuckles filling the silence, until a knock came at the door. The voice on the other side informed Lewis that the car was ready for him, and he replied that he would be down in a moment. 

“I'm gonna spend some time with my baby before the sprint,” he explained as he reached for his helmet and notebook again.

“Your baby?” You questioned with a slight tilt of your head. 

“My car,” he clarified, excitement laced in his tone.

“Ohh. Yeah, no worries.” You nodded, a strange sense of relief washing over your shoulders. “I’ll go find somewhere with a good view, don’t wanna miss it.” “You can head to the team lounge if you’d like, I’ll come find you there after the race?” Lewis placed a hand on your shoulder, warm and grounding, like he was reluctant to leave just yet.

You gave him a nod in response, then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips to his cheek quickly. It was just a fleeting kiss, but it made his lips part slightly in surprise. His fingers tightened just barely on your shoulder as you moved back to your previous position.

“Good luck out there, I’ll be cheering for you the whole way.”

The sprint race came quickly that morning and you found yourself watching from the Ferrari suite through both the floor-to-ceiling length windows and the overhead screens. Glasses clinking and conversation filled the air, blending with the sound of the cars zooming across the track. 

You had found a comfortable, cushioned seat near the window, watching for Lewis with anticipation as he made his way through the track from pole position. The lounge was elegant, with sleek leather, espresso machines humming, and a panoramic screen that streamed the race in real-time.

This was meant to be a more private area for you to watch the race, without the eyes of the media to spot you and cause rumors to spiral. And yet, you felt eyes on you in a slow, assessing glance from a man a few feet away, lounging with a casual confidence that came from too much money and too little to prove. He didn’t approach, but his gaze lingered a moment too long. 

You ignored it, focusing on the Ferrari you were holding your breath for as Lewis weaved through each corner from the front. He was in control, assertive, clean, and relentless in his pursuit of victory. The camera followed his car with growing intensity, and every lap felt like it was leading to a glorious win.

And then, Lewis crossed the line first.

“LEWIS HAMILTON WINS FOR FERRARI FOR THE FIRST TIME!” 

A burst of cheers rang out across the lounge, fuelling the excitement in your chest. You brought your hands to your face and squealed quietly to yourself as the screen cut to Lewis stepping out of the car and waving to screaming fans. There was a sea of red in the grandstands, with giant posters and flags in support of Ferrari and Lewis himself.

He then rushed towards the Ferrari team who celebrated him at the barrier outside, with pats on the back as he moved along the group, before returning to his box and slipping his helmet off, his eyes lit with passion and joy.

Your heart swelled with admiration as you watched his grin spread ear to ear at the sight of the crowds in support of him. He tied his braids back and ran towards the grandstands again, showing his appreciation for the love with more waves.

It wasn’t just a sprint win, it was his first win in red, as well as the first sprint win for Ferrari. You could see just how much it meant to him, even through the screen. The proud look on his face and the energy in his voice said it all in the post race interview, before the small round trophies were handed out.

You slipped out quietly, wanting to beat the crowd and find your way back towards the garage to see Lewis once he’d finished with his team debrief. The corridor outside the lounge was lined with glass and steel, echoing with footsteps. You were halfway toward the connecting walkway when a familiar voice called your name.

Lewis jogged up, his race suit pulled halfway down to his waist, his Nomex shirt clinging to his frame. His braided hair was covered with a red cap matching yours, cheeks still flushed from the warm air and the rush of victory. You moved towards him, excited to congratulate him and celebrate his win.

“I only have a few minutes,” he said before you could open your mouth to speak, his voice was breathless yet bright, “but come with me.”

His hand found yours without hesitation, warm against your fingers as he tugged you away. You followed him toward the stairwell, his race boots tapping against each step while you climbed side by side speedily.

“You were unreal out there!” You breathed as you walked into his driver room, turning to face him. “I’m so proud of you! That gap was-” 

He cut you off by pulling you into his arms and scooping you off the ground, spinning you around once as you laughed, breath catching in surprise. 

“Lewis!” You exclaimed, arms braced on his strong shoulders as he held you tightly. 

He was laughing too, the sound bright in your ear as he held you for a second longer, like he didn’t want to let go. The warmth of him, the strength of his arms around you, made your heart thud loud in your chest.

When he set you back down, you were both breathless, your hands resting on his chest like they hadn’t gotten the message. His eyes glittered with excitement, and the way he looked at you made your stomach dip.

For a second, you wanted to kiss him then and there. It wasn’t a new thought for you, but this time, you wanted to act on it more than ever. How close he was, how warm his hands still felt on your waist, how good he looked in red, still glowing from his win. You bit the inside of your cheek, grounding yourself while your pulse fluttered.

“I don’t have long,” his voice broke you from your thoughts as he stepped back. “But I just wanted to celebrate with you for a bit.”

Lewis was so many things. Calm, yet driven and fierce, but it was the softness in him that always caught you off guard. His thoughtfulness, the way he carved out space for you, even in moments like this, when the world was moving entirely too fast. He didn’t have to, he could have just gone about his day, but he did it anyway, without hesitation. However fleeting the time was, it was his instinct to share this win with you.

That was just who he was, the kindest and sweetest soul, in ways he probably didn’t even realise. Somehow, that made it all the more impossible not to fall utterly in love with him.

Lewis turned to grab a towel and his change of clothes folded neatly on the shelf, so you instinctively stepped back, edging toward the door. “I’ll give you a minute.”

“No, stay,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was calm and gentle, yet commanding at the same time.

You paused, before turning slightly, suddenly aware of the narrow space and the soft sound of his clothes shifting. You returned to the seat you had taken earlier that morning, and faced away from his moving figure. You tried and failed to keep your gaze away from him, catching in your peripheral vision.

Lewis stood with his back to you as he peeled off his race suit with a smooth motion. His Nomex shirt followed, leaving nothing but the curve of his bare shoulders down to the taper of his waist. His skin was still flushed with heat, still glistening faintly from the race, and his muscles flexed effortlessly with every small movement. He was toned, lean, and powerful, with the kind of strength that was built from years of control and discipline.

Your eyes caught on the broad expanse of his back, and suddenly, you forgot how to breathe again.

The tattoo on his back stretched between his shoulder blades, a cross, edged with wings. The gleam wiped away as he rubbed himself clean hurriedly. You didn’t want to stare, but you couldn’t seem to look away.

A flush trickled up your neck before you even realised what you were doing. Your heart raced as though it had joined the sprint he just won, your stomach stirring with butterflies.

You moved your gaze back to the wall quickly, your eyes wide, and your pulse thudding in your ears. It was just a glimpse, barely a few seconds, but it was enough. More than enough.

You swallowed hard, drawing a shaky breath and chewing your lower lip, trying to quell the storm inside you. Trying not to imagine what it would feel like to softly trace the ink with your fingertips. To press your palms against the warm skin of his back and feel the muscles flex beneath your hand.

Nope. Absolutely not.

“Okay, I’ve gotta run,” Lewis’ voice came from behind you as he wiped his neck down once more with the towel.

He was dressed in a Ferrari polo with wide blue and white pinstripe pants, spritzing himself hurriedly to freshen up before the press conference. You rose to your feet and followed him out the door, his luxurious fragrance trailing behind.

“I’ll find you after?” His eyebrows raised in question as the two of you reached the bottom of the staircase, placing a hand on your upper arm.

“I’ll be around.” You offered a smile and nodded, before you both split off in separate directions.

You made your way back to the Ferrari suite, where the buzz of voices greeted you as you stepped inside. Guests were chatting over champagne and canapés, with the post-race broadcast filtering through the space, showcasing replays and interviews.

You picked up a fresh drink and found a seat at a small table by the window, eyes fixed on the screen as Lewis appeared on the curved sofa. He remained calm and collected, even with the edge of joy still in his voice. He grabbed his microphone and responded to questions from the press, alongside Oscar and Max.

You were still smiling faintly to yourself when someone stepped into your line of vision. He was very tall, probably in his late twenties or thirties, with tailored clothes and a charm about him, as though he was used to walking into rooms and finding attention waiting for him. He held a glass of champagne, with a self-assured smirk.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, motioning to the empty seat across from you.

You blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “Uh, sure.”

He eased into the chair without hesitation. “Appreciate it. The place is packed today, you’d think they were giving away passes with every drink this weekend,” he joked, offering his hand across the table. “I’m Nathan, by the way, with HP.”

You shook his hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”

Nathan sipped on his drink as he continued. “It’s not a bad gig. The perks alone make it worth it.”

You raised an eyebrow, remaining cordial. “Yeah? What kind of perks?”

He leaned back, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Let’s just say the view’s pretty good, and the champagne doesn’t hurt either.”

You gave a light laugh, nodding as you turned your attention briefly to the screen where the press conference was quickly coming to an end, but not before you caught the way Nathan’s gaze lingered on you.

“That sprint was something else, huh? Hamilton held onto that lead from the first turn,” Nathan remarked at the replay of the first turn on the monitor.

“Yeah, that tire management got him right through to the end without losing pace,” you agreed.

Nathan raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You sound like someone who knows their way around a track.”

“Something like that,” you replied, keeping your voice light, not wanting to give away too much.

He studied you for a few seconds longer, not unpleasantly, but with an interest that always came with a follow-up question. “So what brings you here? Hospitality invite, or are you more of a…paddock regular?”

“I’m just here supporting a friend.” You traced your thumb along the rim of your glass, keeping your voice neutral.

He tilted his head, unconvinced but entertained by your response, before pressing further. “A friend in the paddock?”

You didn’t answer, bringing your drink to your lips for a taste.

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the mystery. “Alright, I’ll bite. Supporting a driver then?”

You glanced at him with a careful curl of your lips . “Does it matter?”

Nathan grinned, tapping a finger against the base of his glass. “Only if I’ve got competition.”

You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself and shook your head slightly, lips twitching upwards reluctantly. He was good, too practiced and polished, but charming in a way that made it hard to fully dismiss him.

Nathan leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just a touch. “Tell you what. If your friend forgets to come find you, you let me buy you a drink after quali.”

He reached into the pocket of his blazer, then slid a sleek, embossed card across the table to you. White with blue lettering, his name next to the big round logo, and a phone number beneath.

“You’re welcome to use it for business.” He winked. “Or pleasure. No pressure though.”

 “Subtle.” Amusement was laced in your voice as you picked up the card, your fingers brushing his as you did.

Your heart skipped with a faint pang of guilt at the interaction. Before you knew it, some time had passed and a familiar voice cut cleanly through the noise of the suite.

“There you are.” 

Lewis was a few steps away, his expression calm as it always was, but this time he seemed more alert. His posture was casual, but the quick glance he cast toward the business card in your hand didn’t go unnoticed. He masked, loosening his tight jaw, but there was a subtle flash of annoyance beneath the surface.

He gave Nathan a quick nod, “Hey man,” casual but measured.

Nathan stood smoothly, holding out his hand with a half-smile. “Lewis, nice to meet you. I’m Nathan,” he greeted, and Lewis returned the handshake politely, recognising the importance of keeping things professional.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lewis’ eyes were tight in a way you’d only notice if you were really looking at him.

“So this is the friend you mentioned, huh?” Nathan’s gaze shifted between the two of you curiously as if sensing the tension. He raised his glass with a small chuckle. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to get in the way of…friend business.”

As Nathan slowly drifted away, you noticed him look back once or twice, loitering just a moment longer than necessary. 

You turned your attention back to Lewis, who gestured towards the exit, his hand grazing your back gently as you stood. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You walked out side by side, your eyes watching for the guests that might see you leaving together, but Lewis continued leading you out to the corridor.

“Didn’t know you were making new friends,” he remarked lightly, eyebrows raised just enough to make you wonder what he was really thinking. 

“He just sat down,” you explained quickly, almost feeling guilty that Lewis had seen you having that interaction. “I didn’t even know his name until a few minutes ago.”

Lewis waved a finger for you to hand him the business card still between your fingers, humming before he read it. “Nathan.”

You chewed your lower lip, watching a small smirk play across his mouth as you passed by the bins near the team lounge, where he smoothly tossed the card into the waste.

“Lewis!” Your jaw dropped, whacking the back of your hand to his muscled upper arm softly in amusement.

He snapped his head towards you with a frown that didn’t mask that smirk on his face. “Were you planning on calling him?”

“Hell no!” You snorted incredulously, a little too delighted at his reaction.

“Good.” Was all Lewis said as you entered the lounge.

The tension that was coiled in your chest loosened. You couldn’t put a finger on whether he was jealous, or just disapproving of the man, but his reaction lit a small fire in the pit of your stomach. He was somehow more attractive at that moment than ever.

You spent the short break tucked into a quiet corner of the team lounge, sharing a quick meal together. He talked quietly between bites, telling you how the car had felt in the sprint and his hopes for qualifying, among the hum of comms chatter in the background. You asked a few questions, just to keep him talking. He always looked more relaxed when he could talk with you candidly, like it made the rest of the noise fall away and only the two of you existed, no matter how busy the lounge was. 

His deep eye contact and the way your knees brushed under the table was more calming than you had expected, the nerves that usually came with this type of subtle contact with him dissipating. 

The bubble you were in was soon broken by Angela calling for preparation before qualifying begins. 

As he stood to leave, brushing his hands on a napkin, he glanced back at you. “You should watch quali from here,” he said, nodding toward the monitors in the lounge. “Less chance of…Nathan.”

You gave him a dry look, followed by a roll of your eyes as you watched him vanish into the sea of red again.

Qualifying was intense, but Lewis had handled it with his usual quiet focus, earning him a 5th place on the grid. You didn’t see him again until much later, after the paddock had mostly cleared and the floodlights began to cast long shadows on the ground.

Neither of you had much energy left to spare. You’d arrived that morning with minimal rest after a long-haul flight, while he’d just come off the back of a sprint race, media, and qualifying. There was talk of catching up later, but in the end, both of you were too exhausted to follow through.

Still, he had found you before the night ended. Just a few quiet minutes together before parting ways, nothing more than a shared look, a quiet word about the day, and whispered goodnights.

Race day arrived under a hazy Shanghai sky. This time, the paddock was already alive and ready to go by the time you got there. You’d only seen Lewis briefly that morning, just long enough for a quiet good luck, exchanged in passing as he headed off toward race prep. He looked composed, focused, but with a fire in his eyes that told you he was ready to fight for that podium. 

You returned to the team lounge, same as you had for qualifying, surrounded by the hum of engineers and staff, but your eyes stayed mostly on the screens, fidgeting with the bracelet you had worn and your heart in your throat with every lap.

Lewis had driven a strong race, remaining composed despite a small incident and the team order to swap with Charles. He held his own through the track and fended off pressure until the final laps, crossing the line in sixth. It wasn’t a bad result, but you knew he had been hoping for better after the success at the sprint. 

You’d just started to exhale when the tone in the lounge shifted. Whispers filled the space of an issue as the FIA examined the cars. You strained to listen, piecing together fragments through the ambient chatter, hoping you’d get a glimpse of Lewis soon so that you could understand what was happening. 

As the hours passed, murmurs of disqualification moved through the garage and into the lounge.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach before the confirmation even reached the world. Not long after, the penalty was announced, both Lewis and Charles disqualified for different technical infringements. The lounge fell into an uncomfortable silence of shock. You could only imagine what Lewis was feeling in that moment, after everything that had happened this weekend.

You lingered between the lounge and the garage, waiting quietly as it slowly emptied out, hoping you might see him and have the chance to check on him. As time passed, there was still no sign of him. You knew where he was though, behind closed doors with his team, weathering the disappointment and looking for answers to where they went wrong. It gave you comfort to know that he wasn’t alone, but surrounded by people who had been in this fight with him.

Your heart ached for Lewis, in more ways than one. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him.

You understood, of course you did. This wasn’t about you, but as the minutes ticked on, you felt a familiar sting begin to claw at your chest.

It reminded you of Melbourne, the feeling of watching him from a distance and wondering if he’d already left you behind. You knew this time was different, the disqualification changed everything. Still, the weight of being outside that world, of being someone he sought out only when the storm calmed, pressed in just the same.

So you stayed, just in case. Hoping that maybe, when it was over, he’d come find you too.

You stayed until the light outside shifted to darkness. Until the room that had once buzzed with energy had gone quiet, emptied out like the last breath of a long day. No one came.

You tapped your nail against the back of your phone, contemplating sending Lewis a text to check on him, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Then, it buzzed in your hand. A text from Lewis, but flicker of hope was gone just as quickly.

I’m still in the garage. Gonna be a while, lots to go through with the team.

Go back to the hotel if you’re tired, okay? I’ll catch you later.

You stared at the screen, re-reading the text as your heart plummeted even further. Not because he didn’t come, but because you knew why he didn’t.

He was probably still in his team kit, his voice hoarse from the radio, the interviews, and the endless debriefs. Frustrated and disappointed, but trying not to let it show with that calm demeanour of his.

All you wanted was to see him. To hug him and tell him it wasn’t fair, that you were proud of him anyway, that he didn’t have to carry it alone. You knew this wouldn’t change the outcome though.

So instead, you typed a reply.

Okay. I’m here if you need anything.

Then, you gathered your things and began walking towards the exit. The walk back through the paddock was quiet, bright lights casting a pale glow on the path. Mechanics and engineers moved around you in slow patterns, their voices low, and their energy spent. No one looked twice. It was always strange, this part, after the roar and adrenaline had faded into the night as though the whole circuit was exhaling.

You called the car that had been organised for you and returned to the hotel. Your room felt colder than you remembered when you walked in. You didn’t bother with the lights at first, just kicking off your shoes, dropping your bag, before sitting at the edge of the bed, the weight of the day catching up to you all at once.

You pulled out your phone again, just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. You read his message once more, then finally set the phone down beside you. There was nothing else to do, no way to fix it. All you could do was wait and hope he’d come back to you when he could.

Even if he didn’t say it out loud, you wanted him to know that you were still here. Always had been and always would be, for him.

You changed into something more comfortable and tried to get some rest, scrolling through your phone and messaging Isabella. The bed was plush, the lights were dim, and the city was quiet outside the window, but your mind wouldn’t still.

You lay there for hours, placing your phone face-up on the nightstand, which glowed faintly whenever you checked the time. It was nearly midnight when your phone buzzed again. You picked it up thinking it may be Isabella again, but your breath caught when you saw Lewis’ name on the notification.

Just got back.

Just three words, but they landed heavy in your chest. You sat up slowly, your pulse picking up before your fingers moved to type. You hesitated at first, tapping your thumb along the side as you considered your words.

I know you must be exhausted, but want some company?

You stared at the message momentarily before hitting send. The air was quiet and thick as you waited, barely breathing. Then, his name popped up again.

It’s pretty late…

The lump that formed in your throat tightened at what felt like a rejection, until the three bubbles moved again as he typed.

But if you’re not busy then yeah

That was all you needed, so you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed your hoodie and slipped on before stepping out into the hallway as the silence of the late-night wrapped around you with still hotel corridors. 

When you knocked, it was soft, more of a question than a statement. The door opened just a crack at first, and then fully. Lewis stood in a grey hoodie and joggers, looking fresh out of the shower. His eyes looked tired from the day, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

“Hey.” His voice was soft as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you greeted and walked through into his large suite. 

The room was quiet, save for the low murmur of the TV left running on the welcome screen. A water bottle sat half-full on the table, his red fireproofs folded in the corner, while the city glowed faintly through the curtains, casting soft light across the room. The air smelled like soap and his signature woody fragrance.

You dropped your shoes near the door, hesitating in the middle of the room at first, until he moved to take a seat on the large sofa. Following slowly, you lowered yourself next to him, watching as he stared at the coffee table in front. 

Neither of you spoke a word, the silence stretched heavily. You didn’t try to break it though, you didn’t need words for him to know that you were there for him, and that you felt his pain.

Then, after a few minutes, the silence broke when he exhaled slowly, touching his fingers to his facial hair.

“I’m sorry I had to stay late and made you wait so long,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t be. I wanted to be here.” You turned your head, catching the guilt in his expression. “Did they figure out what went wrong?”

He nodded once, but didn’t look at you. “Yeah. They think the setup was just too low. The skid block wore down way faster than we expected, got thin enough to breach the minimum thickness rules.”

“Could they have caught it earlier?” you asked gently.

“Maybe, but wasn’t much anyone could do once the race started. It’s just racing.” He gave a small shrug, but it felt hollow. “I don’t know. I just—” His voice faltered as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and focusing on the ground. 

You stayed silent, giving him space to think for a moment.

“You know, I came to Ferrari because I thought it would be different,” he said after a long pause. “A clean slate and a chance to live my dream, surrounded by red. And it is, but after today…I don’t know. It made me think, what if it’s always going to be like this here too?”

The honesty in his voice and the weight of his words made your chest ache. You could read how difficult it was for him to open up about this.

“After 2021, things just changed, and I’ve been chasing that eighth title for four years now,” he said. “I thought I might have a better chance here, that something new might refresh me, but…sometimes I wonder if I already had my shot and I missed it.”

“Hey.” You shifted closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder with a comforting squeeze, your voice gentle but firm. “It’s only the second race. There’s a whole season ahead of you, and you’re already adapting. New team, new systems, new everything. You’re doing everything you can.”

Lewis reached for your hand on his shoulder, holding it with a light grasp. “I know. I do believe in what we’re building here, but days like this…I don’t know, they just get in your head, even if you don’t want them to.”

Then, he tugged your hand from his shoulder, moving it down to thread your fingers with his own, and you let him. You waited with your pulse racing as he ran his thumb over yours, the silence stretching just long enough for him to fill it. 

“I’ve done this long enough to know how to keep perspective,” he continued. “Sometimes I just wonder how many chances will I really get. How many more times can I come close, only for it to slip away again.”

“Lewis, you’ve broken the most world records in the history of Formula One.” You reminded him, squeezing his hand. “You’ve changed this sport in all the best ways.”

He didn’t say anything yet, keeping his eyes on your intertwined hands as he sat back up onto the sofa. 

“When days like this get in your head,” you added, “I hope you remember who you are. Sir Lewis Hamilton, eight time world champion.”

This time, his gaze found yours, his eyebrows relaxing as if hearing those words from you made them real again. Behind those same eyes that had sparkled with excitement and joy the last few days, swam a tired look. A tiredness that lived under the surface, etched into the quiet lines at the corners of his mouth, and tucked into the silence between his words.

It was more than that though. Lewis was always kind, driven, and positive in the face of adversity. He was special, and while some thought it was all a mask, you knew it was far from the truth. You knew it because it wasn’t just Lewis Hamilton the driver, or the world champion sitting next to you. It was Lewis in all that he truly was, a man, with a heart full of goodness, and the ache that came from chasing something as big and fragile as a dream.

In that stillness, you felt everything shift.

You felt it like a thrum beneath your skin, in the way your fingers were laced together and your arms brushed. The air between you seemed to thicken, wrapping the two of you in an electric bubble. The space felt suspended, as though time had paused just to see what you’d do with it.

It wasn’t just tension, it was history. Your first handshake, the hours spent in deep conversation both over the phone and in person, the bond that grew between you every single day. Every glance, every almost-touch, every word that meant more than it should have. It was all there, and you could feel it all at once, like a thread pulling tight at your heart.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” he asked warmly and continued stroking your thumb with his.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse fluttering a little faster under your ribs as you chuckled with a whisper. “Maybe I just know you better than you think.”

He breathed a silent laugh in return as his gaze flicked down to your hands, then back to your eyes. He shifted closer, his knees meeting yours, and this time you felt it like a spark, warming the narrow space that remained between you.

You didn’t move, you couldn’t have, even if you wanted to. You’d wanted this for so long, only ever imagined it in the back of your mind. Now it felt more real than ever, fragile, sacred.

Lewis brought his free hand up, almost hesitantly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek, then running the back of his fingers down to your jaw slowly like a feather tracing along your skin. His eyes searched yours as though asking for permission, the same wanting you’d been carrying quietly, now reflected right back at you.

He leaned in first, giving you the encouragement to meet him closer with a shaky breath, your noses almost brushing. You could almost taste his lips, the anticipation stirring in your stomach as your heart thudded in your ears.

And then, a loud, rhythmic buzzing began between you on the sofa.

The sound cut through the quiet like a needle, small yet sharp. You blinked, startled by how close the two of you were, by how close you’d let yourself get.

There it was again, another reminder.

You didn’t need to look at the screen to know it was likely more work. It always was. Calls, meetings, debriefs, media obligations, his world moved at a relentless pace, and it rarely slowed down for anything or anyone. Not even for moments of peace like this.

Part of you shrank back instinctively. Though it wasn't in fear, but understanding, because this was what it would be like, wouldn’t it?

He lived in a world of fast cars and cameras, of constant pressure and performance. Even in quiet hotel rooms away from the track, that world followed him. It pressed in through vibrations on his phone and fleeting moments that slipped between the gaps.

You started to shift away slightly, eyes flicking down to the screen, then off to the side, giving him space to answer it. However, the phone continued to vibrate between you, and you felt his warm fingers at your chin, slowly turning your face back to him.

“They can wait,” he whispered simply.

It shouldn’t have made your chest feel like it was about to cave in, and yet it did. He sounded so sure, like it was obvious already.

It didn’t even feel like a decision anymore, not one either of you had to think through. It just was. The pull, the inevitability, the aching closeness that had been building since the day you met him.

Now it was happening, for real.

He leaned back in carefully, as though he was giving you every chance to stop him, but you didn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed silently as he hesitated mere centimetres away, and your heart fluttered in your chest rapidly.

Then finally, finally, the distance closed.

Lewis’ lips were soft against yours, moving delicately as though you were the most precious thing he had ever touched. The kiss was slow, unhurried, an accumulation of every moment that had led to this one. He kissed you like he was certain, as though he’d thought about this too, like he knew what this meant.

He tasted sweet and minty, like he’d just brushed his teeth before you came to the room. The light, neatly trimmed scruff on his face tickled your skin as his lips molded onto yours, like they were made to kiss you. He always felt like home, but now even more so as you drank him in, pressing your lips back to his.

He found the nape of your neck, bringing you impossibly close, while your hand curled around the front of his hoodie, grounding yourself in the reality of him. This wasn’t a daydream anymore. It was Lewis, and he was kissing you like you were everything he wanted.

Your heart was tumbling in your chest, fluttering so fast it felt impossible to breathe. It wasn’t from nerves, but from the feeling behind it, the tension between you snapping, and the ache finally easing. You’d imagined what this might be like more times than you could count, but nothing had ever come close to this.

Lewis pulled back slowly, just enough to breathe, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was soft, rough at the edges.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For everything.”

Your eyes met and there was something tender in his expression, as though he was still processing that this was real too. You couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across your face, and you leaned in again, meeting his lips in another kiss that spoke for you. It wasn’t about hesitation or questions anymore, it was about presence. About being here with him in the quiet aftermath of everything.

This time, it was deeper, with no room to doubt. His hand cradled the back of your head, grounding you, while you gently tugged at the collar of his hoodie. The warmth in your stomach stirred at the soft sound of your lips smacking lightly with each kiss. Your head spun at the feeling, not wanting it to end.

But then, again, the phone buzzed between you, cutting in like it had been waiting for the moment to strike.

You both paused, lips still brushing as Lewis groaned quietly in annoyance. You giggled, a breathy, surprised sound as you separated. He chuckled too, resting his head briefly against yours before leaning away. 

With a soft sigh, he picked up the phone. You laid your head on his shoulder, watching as he set the Do Not Disturb function on, and placed the phone on the coffee table.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he breathed with a shake of his head.

You didn’t answer, just shifted closer as his arm came around you instinctively, drawing you into the warmth of his side. He kissed the top of your head, then leaned back into the cushions with you curled against him, your arm laid across his abdomen. You held each other, a warm sense of belonging and comfort engulfing you both. Home.

The silence that followed didn’t need to be filled. You felt the calm in your chest, the rhythm of his breath beneath your cheek as you both relaxed into the furniture. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, wrapped up in the comfort of him as sleep found you, when it hit you that this was real. The beginning of something you’d only ever let yourself imagine. 

Taglist: @sltwins

[occasional-yan-stuff]

Yandere!Meta!Otome Love interest X GN!Isekai!reader

details: Isekai, angry yandere, reincarnation

warnings: man handling, nonconsensual kissing, threats of violence (not towards reader), possessive behaviors, obsessive behaviors, implied stalking, allusions to infidelity, death by old age

You didn't feel it when you died. You were already so old. It was peaceful in your sleep. When you awoke you noticed so much had changed. Your skin was smooth and no longer loose. Your hair was soft once more and all the pains in your body were gone. The room wasn't one you recognized either. Well... it was familiar but you couldn't remember from where.

You approached the mirror and your eyes went wide when you realized. You hat turned into the protagonist from your favorite phone game! The very game you had spent so many hours in when you were stuck in your bed and could do nothing else but play games and watch TV. Your grandchildren always said that it was "cringe" for someone your age to play games like that but you didn't care. The boys were so pretty and charming.

Your favorite boy was one named Caspian. He was aloof and mysterious and his route was only playable when you had romanced all the other boys. The thing was, you didn't have to wait that long. You had played his route so many times you practically knew it by heart. You knew just the ways to act differently from the original route to make him curious about you. You knew everything to say to wiggle your way into his heart.

Kissing him in real life was so different from how the game had always described it. He tasted like black berries and moonlight. You never understood what the game meant when it described him like that but now... you did. And you understood how sweet and passionate he was. It was better than any man you had ever kissed in real life. He was better than any man you had ever loved in real life.

You got to redo all of your favorite scenes with him. When he saved you from wolves, when you cooked together, even some of the scenes you had originally had to pay money for. You knew what to say. You had payed for the knowledge in your past life. You lived through the whole route, just as you remembered it. Part of you had worried that when you finished the route it would all go black and you'd just be gone but... it didn't. You got to live on and experience everything beyond the story.

It was hard to know how to act at first since you didn't have the guide but eventually you just started expressing your real personality. Surprisingly, that didn't put him off. Being who you really were made you love him even more. You got married and moved in together. Each day he would come to wake you with a smile on his face that you hardly ever saw in the game.

"Good morning, beloved!" he would always say.

The two of you grew old together and eventually you died, just like the death you had had the first time. Still, although you two had a whole life together, you never truly did come to see him as anything more than a character.

When you woke up again you were back at the start of the game. Oooooh. So this is how it worked. You preceded to date and have a life with every single boy. Issac, a flirty bad boy, Terry, a golden retriever, Leo, the princely type (and the actual prince), and Gregory, the tsundere. Each one was an amazing experience but you noticed something odd... Caspian didn't act like he did in the game.

In the game, he would always avoid the MC and treated them like they werenent worth their time. Now, he was always catching you berween scenes, trying to strike up conversations in the hallway and listening to you silently in group scenes. He never payed any attention to the MC... what was different. Not only that, but every route you went through, he seemed more and more intent on interacting with you and getting to know you. By the end he was even flirting with you on occasion and sometimes, in payed scenes, you could swear you felt eyes on you through the window. This... wasn't supposed to happen.

Finally, you had been through all the routes. This life was going to be very exciting because you had a huge plan for this one. You were going to go against the script of the game, act as your self, and see what happened.

That's what you thought, anyway.

Shortly after waking up on day one, you heard a knock at the door. This definitely wasn't how the story went. Hesitantly and with much confusion you approached the door. It opened with a creak and there before you was Caspian. He was tall and dark and angry. Before you had time to say anything at all, he grabbed your face. Not hard enough to hurt terribly, but enough to press your inner cheeks up against your teeth.

"Good morning, beloved," He said through clenched teeth. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

"Have we ever met before?" your eyes darted around frantically as you tried your best to make your smile look clueless. Surely, he couldn't have remembered you. How could he? You had both died and none of the other characters had remembered.

"Don't play dumb with me," he snarled as he released your face, grabbed your arm, and pulled you up to his chest. Maybe it had something to do with you romancing him first? By not waiting to unlock him like you would in the actual game, something in the universe was rewritten, making him aware, like you.

"H-how did you-" you could hardly push a thought out.

He held you firmly by the waist before tossing you into a carriage. He locked the doors behind him after joining you.

"Do you have any idea what its like," he asked, crossing his arms as the carriage began to move, "To watch the person who pledged themself to you pledge themself to four other men?"

"Well, I didn't think yo-"

"You were supposed to love ME!" He was livid. You had never seen him this mad before. There was really no way to respond. He was leaning in so close to you now.

"Where are we going?" Was all you could bring yourself to ask.

"I'm taking you to our house," he said, "the house with all of our memories."

The tension was so thick. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything as he stared you down for the entire ride, occasionally taking a break to look you up and down. As angry as he was with you and the men who had taken you from him, he was also so very excited to have you again.

You pulled up outside of his mansion and he unlocked the doors. Your body was slung over Caspian's shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he carried you inside. He plunked you down in your usual spot on the couch. It was so familiar. Almost nostalgic.

"You are never leaving our house again," his voice was acidic, "if you try to then I'll have no choice but to make you regret it," a sadistic smirk appeared on his face, "and if I find out that you left me to go be with one of those men," his hand floated to the knife on his belt, "well, I'll just have to deal with him, won't I?"

Not a single word could be extracted from your lips. You were too full of fear. A creaking sound could be heard when he sat down on the couch next to you. You shuddered when he put his arm around your shoulder. He cupped your chin, more gently this time, using his thumb to part your lips.

"You'll always be mine," his smirking face was so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your face, "in this life or the next, you'll always be mine."

He pressed his lips against yours, hungry and demanding. He forced his tongue into your mouth. Despite your fear, he tasted like black berries and the harsh light of the moon.

[mareastrorum]

That last episode really wasn’t as interesting as the discourse suggests, and that’s pretty much the problem:

First, Ludinus’s fight was not of the caliber expected for a final boss fight, which (in combination with his staff) suggests that it won’t be the last time we’ll see him. The issue is that the audience is generally quite tired of Ludinus because (1) he has made far too many appearances for a villain with a single-minded goal, (2) his interactions with the PCs are uninteresting because his motivations don't resonate with them in agreement or opposition, and (3) Delilah did the whole “Cerberus Assembly wizard who refuses to stay dead” thing in this very campaign (plus it was far more thematically appropriate for a necromancer) and that takes the dramatic tension out of the possibility. No one cast member bears the blame for those 3 issues; Matt probably should have pivoted to give Ludinus additional motivations when the Hells had so consistently demonstrated an inability to commit to the gods question, and the players should have done something to build a sense of purpose in their group (which would be their reason to oppose the villain). Instead we're left with "this guy has rancid vibes, kill him and do what he wanted us to anyway."

Second, the PCs’ decisions leading up to this point have annihilated any semblance of tragedy in the narrative. This isn’t a tragedy because that genre rests on eliciting a feeling that the characters deserved better, but the audience nevertheless understands why it turned out this way. That can arise from paying attention to institutional injustices, the allure of cycles of violence, or the development of tragic flaws (strengths causing a downfall). That isn't C3; this is a bunch of trite flaws (selfishness, short-sightedness, pettiness, favoritism, etc.) turning out to be flaws. It would have been amazing if this had been an example of hubris like we saw in EXU Calamity, but each of those main characters were bursting with pride in themselves, their city, and mortality, and while that hubris brought the Lord of the Hells back, they managed to prevent the worst case scenario using the exact same skills and resources. None of that is present here. Bell’s Hells are constantly trying to shift the captain’s hat to someone else, and their ship has been heading straight for rocks for the past 60 episodes. There was no intention to sail into the rocks. It wasn’t their strengths that led to Imogen accepting Predathos; it was the same indecisiveness that has plagued them the entire campaign. They had 118 episodes to build a proper tragedy, and instead we have a story that took hundreds of hours to say that unreliable people shouldn’t be relied upon. The result has been numerous posts hoping for the Hells to suffer all sorts of consequences (TPK, specific player deaths, refusal of aid from the gods) for failing to commit to a course of action. Why? Because then at least there would be some type of cathartic satisfaction that Fucking Around means they’re going to Find Out. It has nothing to do with imaginary people deserving a better ending and everything to do with feeling like this ending would have been more satisfying around episode 50.

These criticisms are not about facets within the story; it's not about whether X character was correct, whether Y fucked up, whether Z plan was the better choice. It's that sometimes people don't land their bit for improv shows, and that is disappointing after seeing skilled storytellers do so well with prior campaigns.

[artytaeh]

idk if you write a lot about mattheo, but I loveee him heehehe. I feel like Mattheo is the guy that sleeps around A LOT but only has one or two girls he really dates, and is loyal to them. She's probably one of of pansy's friends too, so they are very close in the friend group. He would also make it very obvious and be very touchy, like if there's a group hangout or sleepover he's holding your thigh or waist, and when you guys lay down you're ON TOP of him, like he wants you and will make it knownnnnn. Anyways he's such a pookie even if he's a psycho he's cute.

hey love! omg i love to receive asks, thank you for interacting! 🌷 and you're so right about this.

i mainly write theodore nott, however mattheo riddle is a close second (i have many drafts about him </3) along with lorenzo berskhire, in the future.

I FEEL LIKE MATTHEO RIDDLE avoids getting attached to other people, hence why he rarely sleeps with the same person thrice. two times at maximum, really— specially if mattheo finds them really pretty or a good company.

full-on distances himself: would only stop avoiding them until he's perceived as an asshole and 'not worth it', since it saves him from a possible situationship that could turn out to be a big, big crush.

but you, pansy's friend? oh boy, that was disaster waiting to happen. pansy, from his friendgroup, who gets invited and dragged to each of their hangouts? pansy parkinson, your best friend that brings you with her each time, since the boys don't want to go out without pansy, and she won't go without you.

it's a simple equation, really. no you? no pansy. no pansy? no hangout. for the hangout, pansy must come, which equals to your presence there too. mattheo riddle sees you so many times that:

he'll give up on his friends (never happening. mattheo riddle gave his heart to them and he'd never admit this, but the closest thing he has of a family is them.) so he won't have to see you so many times,

or he will grow some pants and not steal one single glance. mattheo riddle is perceived as a very attractive slytherin amongst other students— he doesn't need your attention.

but god. you're such a cruel little minx, and you don't even notice it.

mattheo looks at you and it's like you have him bewitched, because thoughts and more thoughts silence whatever isn't about you inside his mind. and that blossoms some cravings within him.

like, listening to your voice. will nonchalantly ask pansy about something that you like, as in your favorite subject, or whatever the fuck you do as a hobby.

it could be the most boring thing for mattheo, to the point where he thinks that he might die out of boredom. however, as he smokes a cigarette, staring at everywhere but you, mattheo will find a way to get this interest of yours as the main topic.

and then you won't shut up.

mattheo smokes a whole cigarette (and even a second one, for the sake of having you talking more and more) while he listens to you.

god, aren't you thirsty? you haven't shut up. and you know what? he likes it. your voice. it might get into a very dangerous point where mattheo will smoke, staring at the wall, while imagining this voice of yours as moans. or even worse: telling him reassuring, sweet words.

he's down bad. and he'll blame pansy for it.

he'll sleep with you just one more time. this next party will be the last time that it'll happen. and then, goodbye! because mattheo riddle can deal with pansy parkinson chasing him around with the intent of ripping those dark curls out of his stupid head!

except that pansy is a scary slytherin and god, one warning glare of hers, is enough for mattheo straighten up his posture as he guides you to his bedroom, mid party.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo can look like a fucking hunting dog when he puts some effort to it. sat behind you, as you obliviously go through another boring class— those dark eyes becoming threatening as he carefully looks at each. single. desk.

trying to get one miserable unlucky fool who might have an eye on you. so that he can give a warning that would soon spread around school like a bloody virus.

mattheo waits for you to leave the classroom first. then, menacingly, mattheo will make his way to the prick who couldn't get his eyes off you— a little warning, one that the entirety of hogwarts and their mothers know to be a very serious threat, and baam. 🗯️

no more love interests. no competition. at parties, mattheo is a bloody falcon to anyone who approaches you for a dance. sometimes you might be enjoying yourself, dancing along the beat, drunk in your owm enjoyment to notice how mattheo pushes a guy away from your back, yeeting them to the other corner of the dancefloor.

just in case someone steals you away from him. mattheo justifies his actions as being selfish, because he's a bad person. and bad people selfishly keep what they like for themselves.

and god, mattheo loves your company. even if it's platonic or more than that, he'd be damned if someone got you too busy to be dragged along with pansy to their hangouts.

hangouts become smoking sessions with all the group, some smoking, others making company (and mama blaise making sure that not more than two cigarettes are smoked). smoking sessions become outings to hogsmeade, which mattheo likes to pretend to be dates sometimes.

like, 'really, fuck off theodore i can't hear that fucking accent of yours anymore'— so you'll go with him, right? there's this thing he needs to buy. oh, you need to go to the bathroom? what he coincidence, he needs too. might as well go look for one with you. ahh, so there's this bullshit you wanna buy? mattheo rolls his eyes and sure, he'll accompany you; who knows what a gal like you might stumble against if he's not there just in case.

and as you said: physical contact! will wrap an arm around your shoulders, casually, as you walk with the group or the whole lot of you are standing somewhere, while waiting for class to start. if you're sitting in the common room? hand on your thigh, squeezing it every so often, not even conscious about it as he talks with his friends. or even one arm around your waist, as his fingers feel the curve from your ribcage to your hipbone.

then comes the sleepovers as you said, love! 🌷

it started as a girls' night for gossip. obviously, blaise joins in (he's one of the girls, alright?) and lorenzo follows him instantly because this man knows gossip from many different sources.

draco goes too, hating to be one to be left out. if blaise goes, he's coming too— and theodore, well, there will be snacks; besides, he doesn't feel like being alone tonight. mattheo riddle, on the other hand, was the first one to want to join the girls (you) but was waiting for the others to say the first word, so it's less suspicious for him to join.

this first sleepover becomes a slow tradition for the group; unless there's exams preventing you to do so, then this happens weekly. even if someone has a boyfriend or girlfriend expecting some quality time during this night? nuh-huh, sleepovers at pansy's are sacred.

once, theodore left to spend the night with some ravenclaw; the whole room boo-ed him so bad that theo got seriously offended.

the only problem that might surface is how many people pansy's room is meant to take. you see, if it was only the two of you, it'd be perfectly okay; but now there's five boys expecting a good night of sleep.

nevermind if pansy's plans were to have you two sharing the bed to cuddle; a few hours later, mattheo will have you sleeping on top of him (he's warmer!) and sincerely might have the most peaceful sleep with the reassuring weight of you on top of him. should you fall asleep first, mattheo will glare and shush at the other boys, if they happen to make too much noise.

also protects your sleep. if one of them grabs a pen to draw on your face, mattheo won't let that happen. mysteriously, when the hilarious clown (who suggested this idea) woke up in the morning, his whole face was doodled. ha. i wonder who did it.

HOWEVER, mattheo riddle would also be hot and cold. yes and no, clingy and distant.

as soon as some progress is made, or things are the slightest verbalized— mattheo riddle will distance himself so well, that you'll barely catch glimpses of him for a few hours or days.

then, he's all over you; snatching you from a conversation or full-on passing by you on a hallway, picking you up with him and carrying you for some alone time. might be making out, requiring your presence as he smokes (sometimes, he won't even encourage you to talk your tongue off) or sex. this happens when mattheo can't handle how much he misses you anymore.

those days spent apart are already known by the boys. at first, he's a bit silent, overthinking and distant from conversations. then, mattheo gets increasingly moody, rolling his eyes at everything and telling them to shut the fuck up— which, okay, moody much?

it's at this point that lorenzo and theodore exchange knowing glances, and soon draco joins in to participate on the bet of how long it'll take mattheo riddle to crawl back to you.

blaise thinks the bet is stupid— and so he bets the shortest amount of time with all the confidence in the world.

( unsurprisingly he's the one who won the bet. lorenzo accuses him of having mattheo telling him stuff in secret. )

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

this is in case some romantic, possessive feelings blossom between the two of you, or at least within mattheo.

however, the idea of him having one or two girls with whom he goes out on dates or fucks more than three times, a bit more platonically—that's something i can see happening too.

so hear me out,

this one person that makes it obvious that things between the two of are reciprocated. mattheo doesn't want a relationship, you don't want a relationship. he likes to fuck you, you like getting fucked by him. and things are never blurred lines; it seems natural, really. and so it becomes a weird type of friends with benefits because it's not like a real friendship, more of that person you know, you're attracted to, yet are no feelings envolved.

which is perfect for mattheo because thank merlin he doesn't have to go full-on asshole with you and run away around school, like the other six times he did so.

will ask you out on a date a few times, and accept to go on some with you; dates, because that's what outsiders would conclude at the sight of the two of you. in reality, those are more like hangouts, to suppress that silent craving of something more than superficial attraction.

will wrap his arm around you, indulge you, probably pay for your meal or some bullshit you found cool while window shopping. definitely walks you to your dorm, making sure that you got there safely.

will let you sleepover at his bedroom or rest a little before taking his shit and flee out of your bedroom. is more careless with you (in a way that he'll indulge these little things, overstaying and not running away) than with other girls, since he's not afraid to give you hope on something that won't ever happen.

might go to your bedroom if he's having a bad day, or needing to vent. might smoke a cigarette as he does so— and have the decency of doing this near the window, so he won't get your bedroom all smelly from the tobacco or with foggy due to the smoke. should you barge in his room for something similar, well, mattheo is all ears to you, too.

i feel like mattheo would genuinely care about this girl, even if it's platonically so. sincerely sees her as a friend, even though he won't tell you— mattheo hates to sound emotional or attached.

and if you get a serious fling or someone you like?

mattheo will tell you something like, 'yeah, yeah; just don't come back to my bed.' — which might sound so infuriatingly arrogant of him, but the little smile he gives you, reveals the intention behind it: if you don't come back to him, then you won't continue this friends with benefits thing for the sake of satisfying each other's void for something more that both of you are scared to have, well, then that means that you're happy. that you finally found someone for you.

after that, you'll only exchange glances. if mattheo passes by you in the hallway, he'll greet you, or at least nod in acknowledgement of your presence. things might be over, but i feel like mattheo would still have a space for you in his heart— as in, you've become someone that he actually has a lot of consideration for.

and god forbids this boyfriend of yours turns out to be an asshole; mattheo will gladly land him to the infirmary wing, for the sake of an opportunity to think about what he's done.

hey, mattheo riddle does care about you. you're like, a strange friendship to him. might come to you and ask you if you're alright, if you need anything.

but then he'll tease you— you have the worst taste for men, cuz hey, you remember that you did more than just fuck him once, right?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

what would be funny is if these two situationships happen at the same time. because i feel like this fwb one might give the scolding that mattheo needs.

truthfully, mattheo wouldn't admit this weird attachment to you not even to theodore; that's how in denial he is. however, mattheo will ask this fwb about her opinion, or even seek some advice.

in conclusion: i totally feel like mattheo riddle is pretty loyal to these two girls, in different ways; one of them he'd slowly work on fighting over his commitment issues, while the other is a strange type of best friend whom he'd still defend her honor— nevermind if you don't fuck him anymore.

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— tysm for interacting with me! your ask got me giggling and created a whole brainrot because seriously, i can see this 100% happening.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[collaredkittyboy]

Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.

I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.

I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."

So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.

I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.

No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.

So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.

I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?

I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.

Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."

[maybejj]

what are your headcanons for theo as he gets older? what is he like as a teenager or young adult? or even a young kid (like 6-10)?

i love this question!! this lowkey healed my writers blocked i’m ngl. this also turned out longer than i expected so enjoy! 🫶🏻

theo throughout the years.ᐟ

ᯓ★ theo as a toddler is very shy and quiet. if he’s uncomfortable, he will hid behind his mom or dad’s legs. however, he is wild as a buck around the pogues (jj instigates this behavior) since he’s known them his whole life. pope is lowkey his favorite for sure but theo would never say because he doesn’t want to hurt jj’s feelings although sarah is a close second. he observes everything. he’s always watching every interaction. he’s a very curious baby and has so many questions. he gets scared real easy and is a total mamas boy down to his core. he’s tiny but he’s mighty so don’t mess with his mama. he’s obsessed with superman and legos! loves to build anything and everything his little mind comes up with. for valentine’s day, pope helped him build one of the flower lego sets to give to reader. she proudly displays it as the centerpiece on the kitchen table.

ᯓ★ theo as a young kid is still quite shy. it doesn’t take him as long to open up to people anymore but he’s definitely still cautious. he loves being outside and riding around on his bicycle rafe bought him. he’s starting to enjoy the ocean more and more at this age (wasn’t a big fan of water for awhile) so jj really hops on the opportunity to teach him how to surf. theo ends up loving it! he kinda has a temper in this stage of his life. he gets frustrated easily, has tantrums out of nowhere. he gets overwhelmed easier and will hit the side of his head when his environment becomes too much. rafe and reader work with him on this but it takes time. he loves going to his dads office and looking out the window-it’s very high up so he pretends he’s flying above the city like superman.

ᯓ★ theo as a teenager is very outgoing. once he hits puberty, he becomes very confident in himself. he’s basically rafe’s mini me in the best way possible. his sharp blue eyes are his biggest weapon. uses them to get whatever he wants and it works everytime. he becomes interested in baseball and golfing and rafe gets so excited about this. constantly taking him to the country club on the weekends. buying him all the expensive baseball bats, gloves, etc. he will only have the best of the best. he still lowkey loves superman but he doesn’t want his friends to think he’s lame so he saves his geek out sessions until pope comes over. his love for building things has only increased as he gets older so he takes a woodworking shop class at school and makes his mom all kinds of things. every holiday/birthday/special occasion, he builds her something she can use. at this point, 95% of their house is scattered with stuff he’s built his mom. his still has a slight temper but nowhere near as bad as when he was younger. still very protective of his mother, even more so now that he’s older and is more aware of everything. no one is messing with his mom.

ᯓ★ theo as a young adult is very successful. he goes to UNC and studies architecture. he just loves to build things so he decides to make a living off of it. he wants to start his own business eventually so he shadows rafe for a few months to get the basics down. he’s had a few girlfriends by now but nothing serious, he’s more focused on his career at this point. he’s a great public speaker and always leads all the group projects in college. he doesn’t play any sports in college but volunteers as a baseball coach in his free time for his hometowns little league. he also golfs on the weekends with rafe when he has time. also loves coming into town and having dinner with his parents. he loves sitting down with them and telling them what he’s learned in college and what he’s currently working on. rafe always asks if he’s seeing anyone and reader just rolls her eyes at the typical boy talk. theo always laughs when they start bickering. he’s learned how to control his anger completely by this age and thinks things through before making any decisions. eventually starts his own business after he’s got a couple of years of experience and rafe really helps him out when theo starts to doubt himself. his business doesn’t do as good as he thought in the first year so rafe dedicates a lot of his time and effort into helping his son build it back up and where he wants it to be. definitely still builds things for his mom. it just becomes second nature and he loves being able to give her things that no one else has.