#cardboard fic

[cardboardqueen]

In honor of AO3 being down and also realizing that I never posted this fic to tumblr, here’s my Good Omens fic, Unconditionally. [AO3 link]

4254 words, M, Ineffable Husbands, hurt/comfort, mentions of past dubcon but lots and lots of fluff, ace affirmations.  I made myself cry rereading this

           Aziraphale was just as soft as he’d expected, maybe even more so.  Kissing him (gently at first, and then more deeply) was like sinking into bed at the end of a long, long day.  Was like sitting on a rock in the sun.  Was almost like Grace, except without all that pesky guilt.

Six thousand years, and they could finally do this. Six thousand years of watching him from across the garden, the desert, a city square, a table at the Ritz.  Six thousand years of looking over his shoulder, of fluffing up reports, of carrying out a job to the letter so that Hell didn’t have any reason to check up on him.  Six thousand years and an almost-apocalypse and he could finally kiss his angel.

           He brought his hands to Aziraphale’s hips and nudged him backwards towards the loveseat he kept in the living space above the shop.  A loveseat, wasn’t that perfect?  It had been the object of much frustration over the years, having to watch Aziraphale sit there and read with just barely not enough space for him to share without touching. Well he thought now’s our chance, isn’t it?

           So he walked Aziraphale back until his knees hit the loveseat and he had to sit down, breaking the kiss with a breathless, surprised noise.  

           “Change of scenery, dear?”

           “Figured it might make things easier, y’know. Won’t have to worry about falling over.”

           “Excellent idea, my boy.  Now get down here, or I’ll get lonely.”

           “Can’t have that,” Crowley murmured against his lips as he crawled into Aziraphale’s lap.  

           Crowley was no stranger to kissing.  He was no stranger to the bits that came after, either, but this was different than any temptation of a king or deflowering of an important virgin.  This was Aziraphale.  These were Aziraphale’s hands on his waist, on his neck, in his hair.  Aziraphale’s lips on his, more precious that he could ever have imagined.  This felt right and warm in a way no temptation ever could, and he marveled at what he had missed.  It was no wonder humans spent so much time kissing, he was quickly finding that it was one of the best sensations on earth, so long as you actually liked the person you were doing it with.  

           His thoughts were getting away from him a bit. Aziraphale’s kisses were deeper now, harder, and so was the grip on his waist.  Crowley groaned quietly at the rush of sensation (of love too, though he didn’t dare say it yet).  Aziraphale broke the kiss with a grin and met his eyes, bare for once, before diving back in and working kisses across Crowley’s jaw, behind his ear, down his neck, dipping into his collarbone.  He was having quite the difficult time not blaspheming, because the sensations never stopped, they honestly just kept getting better.  Amazing what kissing could feel like when it wasn’t part of a job.

           Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel’s neck and settled more deeply in his lap, pressing their chests firmly together.  His angel was warm, and lovely, and when he wrapped his arms around Crowley tighter still, it made something bright bubble up in his chest. It made his heart skip and his eyes get hot, and so he sat there reveling in it.  Thank anybody that he could simply miracle away the ache in his knees from bending them like this, because he wouldn’t move from this spot, from Aziraphale’s arms, for anything short of another apocalypse.  

           “You know,” Aziraphale breathed against his skin. “If we were humans, this is the part where we would have sex. Do you want to?”

           Crowley froze. A prickle of frost crept down his neck, and then melted to shiver down his spine and into his lungs.  He… honestly hadn’t considered that.  And wasn’t that the understatement of the century, he hadn’t even known that was an option!  Would it even work with a demon and an angel? He supposed they’d had no problem with the kissing up until now, so it was probably fine, but he wished he’d thought of it sooner.  He wished he’d had time to prepare, to do a bit of research, maybe, to brace himself.

           “Crowley, dear?”

           And that was worry in Aziraphale’s voice, wasn’t it? He’d been quiet too long.  

           “Yeah,” he managed, voice rough.  “Yeah, ‘course”

           He caught a small smile flash across Aziraphale’s face and relaxed slightly. He was ok then, hadn’t messed it up yet. With humans it was as easy as dipping your feet into a pond to see their minds, their desires.  Tempting was easier when you could make yourself the perfect temptation, after all.  But angels were different, and Crowley had had to rely on body language, tone, and blessed verbal communication to get this far, and it felt like he was stumbling around in the dark.  

           “Beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered into his collarbones as he undid the top button of his vest. “You really are beautiful, my dear boy.”

           Crowley huffed out a breath at that, distracting Aziraphale with a kiss deep enough that he seemed to forget Crowley’s buttons entirely.  He skated his hands down Crowley’s sides slowly, and goodness that did feel nice.  This is what it’s come to he thought to himself he’s reduced me to words like “goodness”.

           But the cold, wet feeling in his chest was still there, and it seemed to have doused that bright, bubbly thing from before.  Why was that? He had no reason to be nervous.  In fact, he had every reason to be confidant, to take the lead and show his angel the time of his life.  He didn’t know if Aziraphale had ever made the effort before, but he doubted Heaven would have approved.  Crowley on the other hand, had thousands of years and hundreds of temptations worth of experience to draw from.  He could give his angel everything, and he couldn’t possibly fail. He just had to listen, to read it right, find the small grin or raised eyebrow that meant that he was on the right track, and he would be fine.  He could do this.  

           Aziraphale’s hands wandered back down to his hips and traced the waistband of his skin-tight jeans, fluttered over his belt, dipped under the fabric to caress the skin of his hips.  Those beautiful hands dipped lower, below the waistband of his underwear.  They may have bent reality a bit to allow those hands to take gentle handfuls of Crowley’s ass and pull his hips closer still.

           Crowley gasped raggedly, breaking the kiss as Aziraphale pulled him close and he could feel it now.  Regardless of any effort made in the past, his angel was making an effort now and that was.  Perfect. That was perfect, that was exactly what was supposed to happen.  Crowley didn’t know why he hadn’t made the effort himself yet, Aziraphale was bound to notice soon.  

           Ducking his head into the safety of his angel’s warm shoulder, he set his mind to it, called a cock into existence with all of his considerable will and imagination.  It didn’t come.  It had always come before. Instead of a cock there came the pinpricks in his fingers and toes, crawling up his arms and legs.  Those were normal by now, but usually he at least had a cock to go with them.  

           He felt Aziraphale latch onto his neck again, the other side this time, but it felt far away.  His heart started tripping again like it always did before sex, less like skipping though a meadow and more like stumbling down a steep rocky hill.  It went quiet for long moments at a time, trying to find the safest path before jerking to a start and sliding a few feet on loose dirt.  The cold wet thing in his chest was spreading, dripping down to his stomach. It slipped down his arms in goosebumps that turned them to lead around Aziraphale’s neck.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to find the gentle warmth from before.  With a cold start he realized that with his eyes buried like this, he couldn’t actually tell Aziraphale apart from any of his jobs.  He should have been able to.  Aziraphale felt nothing like James I, or Alexander the Great, or Elizabeth I, or Nzinga, or Julie d’Aubigny, or, or, or.

           He was starting to tremble.  He could feel it, barely, just like he could feel Aziraphale move away from his neck and nudge him backwards gently.

           “What do you want, my dear boy?”

Crowley pulled his brain back into his head and met Aziraphale’s eyes. They were dark with arousal, and so deeply adoring that it nearly took his breath away.

           “I… what?”

           A wry grin crept onto Aziraphale’s face.  “What would you like to do, Crowley? Don’t get me wrong, kissing you is a dream, but if we’re going to do things the human way, there’s a lot more to it than kissing.”

           Crowley managed a chuckle at that.  He was overreacting, clearly.  Aziraphale was here, and he was himself.  Crowley could feel the warmth slowly seeping back into his legs from where he sat on the angel’s lap.  

           “Have a lot of experience doing things the human way, do you?” he asked, throwing a grin back.

           “Well,” Aziraphale finally seemed a bit flustered at that.  “You know how much I enjoy the comforts of earth.  I figured, if I’m going to be living here, I’ll need to be familiar with the experience. That was the excuse I prepared for Head Office anyway.  After a while, it was just because I enjoyed it.”

           “Angel!” Crowley laughed in mock astonishment. “An angel of the lord inciting lust amongst men! The scandal of it all!” This was good.  Crowley could do banter, and his heart had stopped slipping down hills

           “I don’t know how much ‘inciting’ I was doing, they seemed to have it all worked out on their own.”

           A wide grin stretched Crowley’s face as something occurred to him.  “So you did fuck Wilde then!”

           “I…” “Well Crowley I never…” “A gentleman does not kiss and tell!” was what Aziraphale finally settled on.

           “I always thought it was odd that you had three signed copies of The Importance of Being Earnest.  You were the Jack to his Algernon, only you actually got to fuck.”

           “Crowley really,” he said, but he was grinning. “This is hardly the time to talk about what Oscar and I may or may not have been up to.  I was asking about you!”

           Aziraphale’s perfect fingers began tracing the crease in Crowley’s jeans where his thigh met his hips.  Right next to where his cock would be, if he had managed to make the effort.  His heart stumbled another few feet, and had trouble finding solid ground again.  

           “What about me, angel?” he asked with a teasing grin.  He was sure he could manage it if he just had a moment, just another moment.  

           “What do you like, dear?  What would you like to do?” Aziraphale’s voice was lower and a bit rumbly, and any other moment Crowley would be thrilled.  “Or what would you like me to do to you?”  

           His fingers were creeping closer to Crowley’s zipper, nails dragging against the weave to send tiny vibrations through the denim.  He was going to feel it, the lack of it, any moment now, and Crowley will have really fucked things up.

           “I… I don’t,”

           “Crowley, my dear?” And there it was, because Aziraphale’s voice was back to normal, maybe even a bit higher, and his eyebrows were drawn together. “Is everything alright, dear boy?”

           The pet name nearly broke him.  He felt his eyes grow hot and his lip tremble and honestly considered praying for deliverance.

           “Oh my sweet boy, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale was pulling away now, putting space between them, and Crowley should have seen this coming but it still hurt to have lost him.

           “Crowley my dear, please talk to me.  You know I can’t read your mind.”

           And wasn’t Crowley grateful for that, it was a mess in there at the moment.

           “I don’t think…,” he managed eventually.  “Would you believe me if I told you this was a bit fast for me?”

           “Oh my dear, of course I’d believe you!” Aziraphale face seemed to break open, partly from relief at getting a full sentence out of Crowley, and partly in dread.  Would he believe…?

           Crowley drew back further, as much as he didn’t want to, and Aziraphale set to making him a comfortable spot next to him on the loveseat.  He settled there gratefully, pulling his feet up and resting his chin on his knees.  He nearly reached for his glasses, but Aziraphale had miracled them away earlier, and he didn’t know where they’d gone.  

           “My boy,” Aziraphale said eventually, turning to face Crowley on the couch. “You’ve been patient for however many centuries, I can be patient too.  We can do this at whatever pace you’d like.” He reached out and gently stroked Crowley’s hand where it rested on his ankle.  “I can wait as long as you’d like.”

           Crowley should have been relieved, he wanted to be relieved, but the courage that he’d mustered up shriveled in his chest.  Aziraphale seemed to notice, because his eyebrows pinched again, and he leaned forward.  

           “My dear, will you tell me what’s the matter?”

           Crowley couldn’t meet his eyes.  Aziraphale’s gaze nearly burned on him, but he didn’t seem angry, so maybe he could salvage this.

           He moved to rest his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder instead, and felt the angel wrap a warm arm around his body, felt the other come to rest on his knee.  “You ever get tired of blessing priests, or whatever it is that Heaven sends you to do?”

           Aziraphale took a moment before he spoke.  For all his faith was sometimes naïve, he really was quite clever.  “I suppose they got a bit tedious at times, but I don’t think I ever got tired of the blessings themselves,” he said quietly, carefully.  “Especially the ones that I got to choose.  The seventeenth order to bless this or that bishop or monastery definitely got repetitive, but once I got there, got to know people, it was always rewarding.  And then I could usually afford to bless a few people on the street, because Upstairs was already expecting to process a few miracles.”

           “And now, after everything, do you still…?”

           “I still bless the occasional stranger,” he said gently. “Even more now that Heaven won’t come chasing me down.”

           “Oh.”

           Crowley could feel Aziraphale watching him out the corner of his eye, but his angel didn’t ask.  Just sat there and held him.  He waited. That more than anything is what prompted Crowley to talk.

           “For us,” he started, a bit roughly.  “For demons, you know, a lot of the jobs are Deadly Sins.  Most sins you can trace back to a Deadly Sin if you’re generous.  Corruption is really just Sloth.  Bribes are really just Greed.  Even the M25, I called that Wrath on the report.”

           He felt Aziraphale smile and press a kiss to his hair.  He pushed on.  

           “’Course, some of them are more specific.  ‘Convince this person to kill this person at this place and time’, ‘Attend this party and cozy up to this or that noble’, ‘Join this queen’s harem and whisper these ideas in her ear’.”

           Aziraphale’s hand (the one not resting gently on Crowley’s arm) was picking at the fabric of his trousers, deep in thought.  Crowley carefully moved his own hand so that it just brushed Aziraphale’s leg.  

           “And, you know, ‘sex sells’.  I’m pretty sure that was one of ours, that whole strategy, but it was hell’s policy long before it hit advertising.  Lust’s the quickest, easiest way to cause trouble, usually, and it comes wrapped up with Greed, Envy, Wrath, and Sloth too.  Somebody’s husband gets angry, somebody else wants to be fucking whoever you’re fucking, somebody abandons their duties in favor of ravishing the new toy. Nobody’s going to trust some weird new guy in the odd glasses with government secrets.  But get the weird guy in your bed, wait to see if he kills you, after that you can probably trust him.  And even if you can’t you at least want to keep him around.”

           With the utmost care, Aziraphale brushed his free hand over Crowley’s, and when he didn’t pull away, held it gently but firmly.  

           “Y’know, for a long time, I didn’t know it was called ‘love making’.  I thought people were talking about something else, I dunno.  It was a tool for me, I figured it was a tool for everybody else.”

           Aziraphale hummed quietly.  Crowley gripped his hand a little tighter.

           “Did you enjoy it?” he asked. “With Oscar, or whoever?”

           “I did,” Aziraphale said quietly after a moment.  

           “Huh.”

           They were both quiet for a long time before the angel spoke.

           “Did you not?  Enjoy it, I mean.”

           “I dunno.” Crowley thought for a long moment before he managed to put it into words.  “It was never for me to enjoy, y’know? It wasn’t about me, it was about the temptation. And you know humans, they’re so transparent.  Five minutes and I knew everything they had ever wanted, every fantasy they had ever had. It was easy to just do that and not think about it.  It got the job done.  And at least when I got to be somebody else for a bit, it was less… I dunno.  ‘Scary’ makes me sound like a toddler. ‘Painful’, maybe.” He was quiet again, but this time the hand not in Aziraphale’s started picking at the couch.

           “I kind of figured that angels and demons weren’t like that,” he said at last. “We haven’t even got the bits unless we make them, I figured nobody really wanted it, and everybody else was just better at sucking it up and doing the job, y’know?”

           Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath.  It only shook a little.  

           “I didn’t know,” he said after a moment.  

           “I mean, neither did I, I can’t blame you for that.”

           Aziraphale finally turned to look him in the eyes.  His angel looked heartbroken, and oh, he did that.  

           “Oh no,” he said, pulling him into a hug. “No it’s fine, angel it’s fine, it’s nothing.  What’s that face for, get rid of that face.  I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.  I can fix it, I promise.”

           Aziraphale started at that, and pulled away, though not far enough to let go of Crowley.

           “My dear, sweet boy, you will do no such thing,” he said with the most force he had used all night.  “There’s absolutely nothing to fix.  Except perhaps having a stern word with your superiors.  My boy, I never would have asked if I’d known.”

           “Oh G-S-whatever, angel, believe me, a stern word won’t do much down there. And it’s fine, I’ll get over it. I just need a bit of time and it’ll be fine.  Humans do it constantly, I’ll figure it out.”

           Aziraphale had that look again, and Crowley scrambled for something else to say before he cut him off.

           “Crowley, that night, after the trials, you said that you’d wanted to kiss me for thousands of years, do you remember that?”

           Crowley was blushing furiously, but he managed to nod.  

           “In all that time, have you ever imagined having sex with me?”

           Crowley’s stomach dropped, and he went cold all over.  He refused to meet Aziraphale’s eyes.  

           “My dear, I don’t mean to upset you.  It’s not a trick, I just want to know.”

           “Once,” he whispered.

           “Once?”

           “Yeah.”

           “And what was that like?”

           Crowley’s brain ground to a halt.  What had it been like?  It hadn’t been like much of anything because he couldn’t get his brain to go past taking off his angel’s waistcoat.  It all just stopped.  

           “’t was after I woke up.  When I figured out you and Wilde had been a thing,” he said after a while, still not making eye contact.  

           “You really are hung up on Oscar, aren’t you?” Aziraphale chuckled.  

           “Yeah, I was.”  That was angrier than he had meant it to be but, well.…

           “Oh.”

           “Yeah.”

           “Whatever for?” Aziraphale asked eventually.  

           “Well you never shut up about him.  Kept talking about his bloody plays, and his book, and that damn cigar lounge.  And he’d had quite a reputation.”

           “I know gossip is a sin, but I thought you were better than to go around judging people-”

           “Not like that, angel, just…. I think that was the first time I wondered if I was meant to enjoy it.  You seemed to have liked him so much, and he had that reputation so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that you and he might have…. And it couldn’t have been a job for you, so you must have enjoyed it.  And anyway, I thought, well, maybe I could enjoy it.  If I tried.  So I tried. And I couldn’t.  It wouldn’t work.”

           “What wouldn’t work, my dear?”

           “My blessed brain couldn’t even imagine it properly!  Completely bloody imaginary and I still can’t get it right.” Crowley was tense all over, nearly shaking from anger, or frustration, or whoever knew what.  

           “Dear boy,” Aziraphale said, gently pulling Crowley back to rest on his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s something that you get ‘right’ or ‘wrong’.  I think it just is.  If thinking about it upsets you, then it’s not right for you to think about it. It’s meant to be a thing of love, it’s not supposed to upset you.”

           “Yeah, that’s what I’m figuring out,” he mumbled into Aziraphale’s neck. He was still strung tight, but the atom bomb in his chest felt a little less like it was going to explode when he was being held like that.  “If that’s it though, then it’s just me, right?  Like, you enjoy it, which means that other angels and demons probably like it, which means it’s just me.”

           “I wouldn’t say it’s just you, my love.” The pet name made him go warm, but he didn’t dare interrupt.  “And even if it was, it would hardly matter.  There is nothing on this earth nor beyond it that could make me willingly upset you.  It doesn’t matter how much I might enjoy it, it’s nothing if you’re not enjoying it too.”

           “I can figure it out,” Crowley mumbled, but he was losing steam.  He didn’t know how a punch to the gut like Aziraphale’s could feel so good, but it did, and he wasn’t about to argue.  

           “That’s just it though, there isn’t anything to figure out, is there?” Aziraphale nudged Crowley enough to meet his eyes.  “This isn’t something that you should have to ‘figure out’.  I’ve enjoyed sex in the past, but it’s certainly not a requirement.  I also enjoy sushi, and I collect misprinted bibles.  But I don’t expect you to eat things you don’t like, and I certainly don’t expect you to help me repair books that will hurt you.”

           “You don’t need a partner to eat sushi.”

           “No, but it’s nice.  And to be honest, you don’t really need a partner to get off either, do you?”

           “Angel!” he chuckled quietly. “Surely you’re not advocating for the deadly sin of lust!”

           “Hush, you.” Aziraphale pulled at one of Crowley’s hands and laced their fingers together.  “I have loved you for centuries.  I have wanted to kiss you for decades at least.  I may have been a bit slow on the uptake, but I know that for sure.  There are thousands of things I want to do with you that don’t involve sex.  There are no conditions on loving you.  If all I ever do is kiss you and hold your hand, it will be more than I ever thought I could have, and more than enough to keep me happy.”

           Crowley fought back tears that really shouldn’t have been possible with snake eyes, but fuck it.  

           “Angel?”

           “Yes, my dear?”

           Crowley managed a deep breath and a shaky exhale.  He just needed one more thing.

           “What if I never figure it out?”

           “My love, then I will continue to be the happiest I have ever been.”

           Crowley lost to the tears then and did his best to press them into Aziraphale’s shirt instead of letting them run down his face.  

           “Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, pulling him into a tight hug and easing them both down to lay on the loveseat.  “There is nothing in Heaven or Hell that could stop me loving you, least of all this.  God Herself could come into this shop and tell me to be rid of you, and I would have no problem disposing of Her like I do every other impolite customer. There is nothing wrong with you, and so there is nothing to be ‘figured out’.  If you want to try having sex someday, let me know and we can try.  But if that day never comes, I won’t be any less for it, and neither will you.”

           The bright bubbly feeling was back.  The bubbling was slower, and his chest was stuffed up from crying, but warmth radiated from every inch he touched his angel, and he had this figured out, at the very least.  

           “I love you, angel.”

           “I love you too, my dear, sweet boy.  Unconditionally.”

#good omens #Ineffable Husbands #fanfiction #asexuality #nonsexual intimacy #cardboard post #cardboard fic

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

#zee writes #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #the adventures of cardboard joe #<— starting that tag just in case 👀

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

#genshin impact #genshin impact yandere #genshin yandere #neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #yandere furina #yandere furina x reader #fic tag #pats neuvillette this noodle dragon can be so pathetic #aiming for pathetic desperate and slightly guilty. it gnaws at him knowing he's keeping you like a bird in a cage #esp if you react extremely negatively hes like a kicked puppy #not outwardly but internally hes a MESS. sobbing crying wailing #furina and neuvi sopping wet kittens u found in a cardboard box in an alley #vs arle thinking abt all the crimes shes going 2 commit in the process w/o an ounce of guilt. blackmail? check. kidnapping? check. #a little murder for flavor. as u can see im coping horribly w being practically snowed in rn i need 2 be put down #its like 4 degrees out rn (fahrenheit) and getting colder ueueueue i am dying.......... #only thing keeping me going is my furinameow plushie coming. eventually. staying strong just for her................. #also needs 2 be mentioned all the stories r separate ksjfkhdsf #no not everyone in fontaine is yan and trying 2 kidnap sorry for getting ur hopes up.. #yet #anyway u cant convince me arle isn't bribing (or just straight up forcing) her agents into doing stupid shit so she can “save” you #and make you owe her #two silly goofy little creatures vs the personification of gaslight gatekeep girlboss (heavy on the gaslight) #also split this up in 3 parts bc. lol. lmao. im not writing 9 characters at once goodbye #also all the masks do actually have significance i have an entire essay on why i gave each animal to specific characters okay

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about how the Olympic village is basically an orgy of strongest people from all over the world so let’s think of Olympic athletes Zoro and Sanji meet at the Olympic Games:

Zoro as a Japanese martial artist (karate? Judo? Taekwondo?) kind of athlete since Kendo is not an Olympic sport and fencing wouldn’t feel right for this man. He can have Law and Kiku as buddies from Japan on his team

Sanji as a French gymnast , coached by his adoptive father Zeff

Sanji spots Japan’s sexy flagbearer (a bit oiled up or shirtless maybe 😏?) during the opening ceremony and is very flustered. He doesn’t know Zoro notices him too- not just from then but because Sanji was in a promo video for Paris 2024, doing some hypnotizing gymnastics and looking gorgeous, sweaty and laughing on camera , and Zoro definitely didn’t pause and stare at his definition a couple dozen times, no sirree.

(Alternate idea: the flame needs to be passed on from Japan to France (Tokyo to Paris) What if they fight and extinguish it by accident and dislike each other at the start?)

They run into each other constantly at the Olympic village- staying in nearby rooms, at the cafeteria, at parties, etc, their friend groups accidentally mingling and bringing them together over the course of the games

The sexual tension is PALPABLE AS FUCK Sanji can’t stop staring at this infuriatingly sexy and usually composed man with an impressively large chest and arms while Zoro can’t stop thinking about getting between those corded muscles on those juicy thighs and die happy there

Zoro definitely attends Sanji’s events and gets so hot and bothered

Nami (team France, Friends with Sanji) notices Zoro staring at his ass of course and tries to get them to get it out of their system, bringing Sanji to a team Japan event or completion where Zoro is likely to attend- everyone runs with the urban myth that athletes at the Olympics perform better when having sex anyways right?

At a party, drunk after a win, Zoro and Sanji try to reason with themselves that that’s the reason they’re doing this, nothing more, as they fall into each others (cardboard?) beds again and again, seeking each other out (if they’re cardboard like for Tokyo 2020 they MUST break one)

There can be some second language English miscommunication, as a treat

Despite their emotional constipation Sanji can’t stop himself from being himself though and shows his sweet side, showing Zoro around and sharing French culture with him, and Zoro is enamoured as fuck, and Sanji tells him he’s always dreamt of coming to Japan, if not at least for the food-then for the culture (Fun fact Japan and France have a long long history of romanticizing the fuck out of each other so it’s so perfect)

Sanji originally plans to bring just Zoro on a romantic outing in Paris but ends up bringing the whole ragtag group they accidentally formed - Robin insists they need to visit the catacombs (lol) Chopper wants to eat Berthillon Ice cream, Usopp wants to visit the botanical gardens, etc robin wins and Chopper and Usopp are terrified the whole time because these are real human bones lol

Bonus stuff: Usopp is in sharpshooting or archery, Luffy is in trampoline, Chopper is in equestrian, Nami is in sailing, Robin is in table tennis (or is a coach?), Franky does Paralympic Greco-Roman wrestling, Brook does fencing, Jinbei does surfing

#Zosan Olympian Au #Olympics au #zosan #Zoro x sanji #sanji x Zoro #zosan Olympics au #cw: bones #they would have the most energetic sex ever lol #I can’t get over the sturdy cardboard beds from Tokyo 2020 #I Hope they break one #Zosan fic idea

[zyonsay]

People do not appreciate Max's thighs enough so Max x male reader where reader just appreciates his thighs 🙏 maybe suggestive? Tysm 😭

You look good MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Getting to know Max a little... better

Reader: Male

Warnings: Suggestive

Now playing: 'Brooklyn Baby' by Lana del Rey

AN: ANON YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THAT. I've been thinking about his thighs so much lately istg. Like they are so meaty i just wanna bite into them. Thank you for the request anon, i hope you enjoy!

You’ve been ogling him for the whole evening, little did you know that Max was well aware of that. Currently, you were enjoying some margheritas on a sleek, white yacht in Monaco. The night settled in; you didn’t know what time it was though. Originally you had arrived with a small group of friends, but by now all of them either left with a man or were currently emptying their stomachs over the rim of the toilet bowl.

You were part of Redbull’s PR team, so you’ve gotten to know Max and Checo a while ago. Though you worked more with the editing of videos and social media posts than actually talking to the two drivers. From time to time, you all shared a hello or a goodbye, but nothing more.

But this evening was different. After Christian had urged you to relax, so you took a couple days off. This was also when you saw that Charles Leclerc would be hosting a yacht party. ‘perfect’, you thought. This was your chance to let loose and maybe meet some new people.

Not a new person, but Max Verstappen himself came up to you. He signaled the bartender to bring you two drinks, while keeping his eyes on you. His smile was sweet, but something playful glinted in his eyes.

“You look really nice.”, it was a simple, direct compliment, but it was the way he said it and the look he had in his blue eyes. His smile was as sweet as honey, and he looked at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky. You felt a warm feeling flush over your face and your heart skipped a beat. Thank you, you too though.”, feeling a bit nervous you began playing with the hem of your satin dress shirt. “This might be sudden – but I want to get to know you.”, he stated it so bluntly, but after all it suited the type of person he was. Your eyes widened lightly as the meaning of his words kicked in. Though shortly after a shy smile made its way to your lips, before you took a swig of your drink. “Me too.” Max was enjoying seeing you all flustered and smiley. He slid a careful hand onto your thigh, though stopping his movement a bit above you knee. His eyes met yours, as if asking for permission. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting, but suddenly he was glowing in golden hues and everything around you two became a blurry mess.

A string of curses left Max’s form as he tried swiping his card key. His posture was a bit wobbly, and his skin felt like it was burning. Your hands roamed his chest as you kissed along his neck, sucking, and nipping occasionally. Finally, a quiet beep erupted from the lock and Max let out a grateful sigh. He pulled you inside, closing the door and slamming you right against it in quick motion. While groaning lightly, your hands found the buttons on his shirt, tugging at them and opening them one by one. Max was also working away at opening your shirt and pants. His tipsiness didn’t stop him from undressing you surprisingly fast though.

But this night wasn’t going to go the way he intended, no. The room was dimly lit by a lamp on the nightstand, you could barely see enough. With a mischievous smile, you pushed him backwards with your hand on his chest. He obediently backed up until the back of his legs hit the bed. After giving him a sweet peck, you pushed him onto the bed. His eyes widened lightly as he fell, but soon after hitting the mattress, he propped himself up with his elbows while a slight smirk played across his face. The night was clear, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. The stars sparkled and shimmered while the moon watched over them. You crawled onto the mattress, caressing Max’s legs and thighs.

One last look into his eyes and you began kissing the inside of his right thigh while massaging the other one with your hand. A desperate sigh escaped the man under you, he now threw his head back while panting with passion and anticipation. His skin reddened quickly as you sucked and bit it. One of your hands reached up, lacing your fingers with his. His thighs were littered with love bites and sweet bruises. Your teasing had Max seeing stars, just like the ones outside in the nights sky.

His hand found its way into your fluffy hair, tugging on it as he whined desperately.

You chuckled darkly, “Use your words”

#lmao #i made a cardboard cutout of Oscar piastri btw #male reader #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #reader insert #x reader #male reader insert #max verstappen x male reader #f1 fanfic #gay #x male reader #male!reader #male x male #f1 imagine #f1 fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #ZyonsRequests

[befuddled-calico-whump]

an underrated aspect of the whump community is once you've been in long enough, you acquire a certain level of creative audacity

start getting doubts about a new project? there's always room to say "well, I've seen worse."

and then after a pause,

"... I've done worse."

#to be clear this is talking about the torture not the quality #whump community #me: *making a monstrosity out of paper mache and cardboard* well at least this isn't as wild as that one blorbo torture fic i wrote

[zuppizup]

Finnegrin's Wants

So, I've been thinking a lot about Finnegrin's Wake (what Rayllum fan hasn't and yes, as is usually the case, this is because I'm a-fic-ing in this space), and so I've been pondering what Finnegrin's end game was when it came to Rayla.

Finnegrin is about trying to control everything. His crew, Archdragons, the ocean itself. He of all people knows this is impossible, but he's pretty damn good at working around that. His ship, his crew, and even Scumport marches to the beat of his drum.

So, when it comes to the Dragang, what's his ultimate plan? He wants Callum to give him the Dark Magic spell to take down Domina Profundis, and he seems to think he can bargain for this.

Instead of immediately revealing his trump card with the blood freezing spell, he tries to bargin with Callum, offering freedom for a "simple" exchange.

So, once he realises Callum "completely lost himself" seeing Rayla in pain, why dispose of her? Was it to try and completely break Callum? That runs the risk of only alienating him further, though. Rayla could have been the ultimate leverage. Why not subject her to the freezing spell in front of Callum again? Control him that way?

Or did he want Callum desperate? Did he intentionally leave him with the slugs hoping he'd break, resort to Dark Magic in a desperate bid to free the person he clearly cares so much for? Did Finnegrin gamble on Callum realising he was willing to do Dark Magic if given the sufficient incentive.

Was he bidding on him coming to Rayla’s rescue, only to fall victim to the freezing spell himself?

Was he then planning to subject Rayla to the spell once again, hoping to push Callum to agree to doing his Dark Magic bidding in exchange for her release from torture?

Did Finnegrin ultimately underestimate just how far Callum was willing to go for Rayla? He has no idea this is the same boy who jumped off the Storm Spire for her with only the desperate hope he knew how to do a spell the might save them both.

How could Finnegrin ever have known that the depth of Callum's love for Rayla would allow him to unlock hidden depths within himself and ultimately understand a new Arcanum?

#i have many thoughts #and sure it could be as simple as pushing the plot forward but let me indulge damn it! #he could have held them together #tortured her in front of Callum and he'd have folded like wet cardboard #i like to think he thinks he has a lot more control than he does #bad Ocean mage #the dragon prince #tdp #rayllum #rayla #callum #tdp finnegrin #sometimes I meta and usually regret it #it’s always fic related

[blorb-el]

we shall be free; we shall find peace chapter 7! it is 7.2k and i had to add a few additional warnings for suicidal ideation so mind the warnings. Clark Does Not Like Answering Questions: The Chapter.

#if i ever try to write a 7k chapter again someone bonk me (gently) on the head with a cardboard tube. it will happen again btw #An Women gets to say more than one sentence. happy belated international women's day #also swapped the timkon tag from a pairing tag to a minor tag #bc if you click into this fic expecting timkontent. well. there's not a lot at the moment #it'll get more narrative focus Later i Prommy #but the more. hardcore timkon ppl were probably annoyed by False Advertising in the meantime >.> sory #my writing #wsbf

[dodgerkedavra]

Stand in the Shadow of the Moon

“Thirty seconds,” Lee says. The clouds have thinned, like they’re apologising for being in the way. “Prepare to observe shadow bands, Baily’s Beads, and the diamond ring.”

Draco curses under his breath. There it is—the diamond ring, a flare of fire jutting from one side of the sun, the last of the light before totality.

“Ten seconds,” says Lee.

“Marry me,” Harry says as the molten light beams into the surrounding sky.

“I will,” Draco answers, sounding as serious as he did when Harry proposed the first time, on one knee by a burbling fountain at the Manor.

“Second contact.” Lee’s voice rings with pride, like he’s the one responsible for the eclipse. A shadow falls over the memorial park, the sky plunging into a dusky purple-blue, and Harry’s heart races. “Totality has begun. It’s safe to remove your glasses.”

Title: Stand in the Shadow of the Moon Pairing: Drarry Rating: E Summary: Husbands Harry and Draco road trip to Maumee, Ohio to experience totality at the 8 April 2024 solar eclipse.

Stand in the Shadow of the Moon on AO3!

#new fic #dodgerkedavra #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #my fic #18+ content #drarry fic #solar eclipse #totality #harry and draco in cardboard eclipse glasses #Harry is a Marriott Bonvoy member #eclipse fic #once in a lifetime event #stand in the shadow of the moon

[vixenicks]

i will hc every character as having borderline or npd or ocd or aspd so help me god

#people get so mad when i say elektra natchios has bpd #as if thats not virtually canon and so heavily implied #you want her to look at the camera and list off her diagnosis??? #also jerome fic writers not writing his bpd or aspd well makes me want to eat cardboard #anyways #also matt murdock w ocd #no reason just because i can #also gwen stacy my little ocd meow meow #i have ocd bpd and npd i can say this stuff ok let go of my throat its fine ok #skyler posting

[yolowritter]

In Offense to Emilie Agreste

Hello there everyone, and- ...okay, put down your pitchforks, I haven't even started yet! Before an angry mob gathers 'round my blog, allow me to explain what today's rant is about. Unlike Lila Rossi, whose existence makes me want to hurl bricks at my screen whenever she appears, Emilie Agreste is actually a pretty interesting character. However, there are things about her (both canon and implied) that have me giving this picture-perfect gal a very intense side-eye. So today I'll be talking about what I think of her character, why I think she could have been written better, why she absolutely isn't a good person, and how the narritive does her a diservice by reducing this poor lass to an insignificant plot device, just so her clinically insane husband can have a reason to bully teenagers in spandex!

Firstly, let's quickly establish what we know about Emilie. I'll explain why I believe anything that isn't directly stated later, now it's just the basics. She and her sister Amelie are coming from a well-off family in England, presumably with quite high standards and expectations. We know little about her early life and it frankly isn't important, but she does at some point take an interest in the creative arts. She firsts meets her husband-to-be Gabriel when she arrives in Paris to further her education, and it's easy to assume they become friends due to similar interests. Then, later down the line, they meet Nathalie Sancoeur, with whom they scour the world to find the Miraculous jewels. After they do find the Butterfly and Peacock in Tibet, they all return to Paris and she creates Adrien Agreste, her son, using Duusu's powers. About twelve years later, she falls ill and "into a deep sleep" because the Peacock Miraculous was broken. This kicks off Gabriel's descent into madness and his crusade as Hawkmoth, which slowly drove him to insanity for reasons seen in this post. But still, this vague timeline leaves us with a lot of questions as to who she was as a person, and how she lived her life.

Before I delve deeper into this, I would quickly want to clarify the sources for the above information. We know from Represenation that Emilie met Gabriel when she went to Paris for educational reasons. I honestly don't remember if her field of study is mentioned, but considering she later stars in Andre's film "Solitude" it isn't hard to derive that said studies could be related. The high expectations from Emilie's family come from the fact that Gabriel had to change his name at some point in life, possibly because Emilie's parents wouldn't accept her marrying some "lowborn". Additionally, we know Amelie's marriage to Colt was arranged, so there definately is a sense of "securing the family lineage" here that exists in what remains of aristocracy today. In Passion, Nathalie is implied to be a treasure hunter of some sort at the time she meets Gabriel and Emilie, though how long she's been at the profession isn't clear. Still, they do work together to find the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous. We see in Evolution that they are occupying the Agreste Manor with the Peacock in hand, so it's possible they purchased the house either right after their trip to Tibet or before. Other relevant information comes from the thumbnails of Emilie's videos and photos from the Passion episode.

As an aside, Astruc better give us that Tibet special, because I need more Agreste family Lore! These people made their drama the entirety of France's problem and while I respect that, I need to know more! Also, Thomas' quote of "a lot can happen when three people are in close proximity for a long time"? Pretty sure that's from Twitter btw, if you want to look it up. I see you, Thomas...I see you...

Anyway, onto exploring Emilie's themes as a character. From the very start of the show, we have a lot of clues that point to her being an angelic, kind and can-do-no-wrong type of character, at the very least in Gabriel's eyes. There is a whole other topic here about him being obsessed with the past and looking at it with rose-tinted glasses, but I digress. The portrait of Emilie in the atelier, her photo in Adrien's room, and Gabriel's fond remniscing all give us the idea that she was a wonderful, lovely person! In fact, we even get a bit of personallity added to her in the Simon Says episode, where Gabriel tells Chat Noir "you have some of her (Emilie's) flair for dramatics". So of course, she was goofy sometimes, which is a trait we see Amelie share at least a little of in the Felix episode, what with her Elsa-style entrance into the manor. For Season 1, we got plenty of information as to her character, even if we didn't know her name quite yet.

In Season 2 we get more of these examples of her being a wonderful person who is dearly missed, such as the whole plot with the above-mentioned Solitude movie, and Adrien wanting to go see it. Why exactly Parisian cinema is playing this movie in the first place considering what we know about Andre abandoning his career as a director is completely unknown and reeks of a plothole to me, but then again so do half the episodes in general. Point is, from very early on in this show we get a positive perspective on Emilie's character. Sure, there's a lot we don't know about her, but I'm sure her wedding day, her early years with Gabriel, their actual relationship, whatever she had going on with Nathalie, and the whole drama with her parents and later Amelie's husband isn't important...right?

Yeah no I'm not letting her off the hook. Aside from the obvious Adrien stuff that I'll get into in a bit, it seems suspicious to me that nobody can ever come up with anything negative to say about Emilie. And I don't mean a genuine character flaw, even if nobody is perfect, I mean just...something embarrassing? An old joke shared between friends from college, a little detail that sheds light at her sense of humor, even a fond recollection of something silly that happened in her youth. There's nothing. Aside from Gabriel saying she had a dramatic flair, which I will talk about, we know nothing about Emilie Agreste as a person. She barely feels alive, almost existing solely to be the "dead wife" archetype of the show. And okay sure, some of that is the fault of whoever was in the writing room when they try to bring her up. But come on, you're telling me Nathalie doesn't have a single memory or photo in that large stack of recollections that shows her being alive for once?

And of course I don't mean Emilie being literally alive, we see plenty of that. But think back to the photo with Gabriel, Audrey, Emilie and Andre for a second. As an example. I can't recal the exact details, but Emilie is standing to the side, closer to being out of frame than anyone else. In the middle of the shot, the other three seem to be having a good time, but she's only giving a polite, proper smile to her friends. Naturally, not every person out there is extremely expressive, but this is a safe space. Emilie is with close friends and everyone is enjoying themselves, yet her face looks like she came out of a portrait. When I noticed that little detail, I went running to find more. Aside from the videos that she left behind, we've never seen her speak or interact with any character excepting that Evolution scene where she first gets the Miraculous. So can we please think about this logically for a second? What kind of person is Emilie Agreste?

She was born in high society, with a lot of expectations on her shoulders and only her sister for company in her formative years, if Adrien and Chloe's sibling-like bond is anything to go by. And yes that's another post entirely, but they were childhood friends and he had almost nobody else his age to talk to, so I'm drawing a parallel. I won't speculate at all about Emilie's childhood, because frankly it's irrelevant to today's conversation. What I will say however, is that everyone we meet who has interacted with her has fond memories and good things to say about her. And every depiction of Emilie we get, even those not made by Gabriel, she seems to radiate perfection. And that right there is her character's theme. Being perfect. She presumably was the perfect daughter, the perfect (or at least a good enough) student to go to France in order to further her education, so on and so forth. But her family life very much isn't anything close to that. For one, her sister is stuck in an arranged marriage with an abusive a-hole who seems to have been spat directly out of a Texas steretype. There is no indication that Emilie knew about this, but...she also eventually let Colt borrow the Peacock Miraculous to make Felix. Clearly she entrusted Colt Fathom of all people with a magical artifact that can make sentient life, because sure, that seems perfectly reasonable!

Of course signs of abuse are hard to notice even when directly pointed out, but for the purposes of Emilie and Amelie, it seems fundementally against the good, pure and angelic character that Emilie has been presented as to even consider handing Duusu over to Colt. I'm ignoring the issue of Tomoe since that hasn't been explained, but there's clearly something wrong here. And now...now we come to Adrien's home life. We know that he has never been to public school before Origins, which happened only because Chloe enrolled him by the way, and Gabriel does allow him to go at the end of the day. We didn't know at the time, but it does seem reasonable for Gabriel to refuse him completely here, seeing that in hindsight, Adrien's class specifically becomes a hotspot for Akumatizations. But despite this danger, Gabriel still allows Adrien to remain in public school. Additionally, it's completely reasonable to assume that a pre-teen and later teenager would want more freedom to explore the world, and I find it incredibly unlikely that Adrien only expressed this after Emilie keeled over. Surely, this child would have wanted to make friends before then, especially if Chloe would brag about how many friends she has in school, which seems like a thing she would absolutely do to impress him. Sure, that last bit is speculation, but Chloe does act like this all the time in Season 1, so it's natural to consider that she did so before too! The thought of Gabriel being the permissive parent here, and therefore not the one keeping Adrien inside all the time...it really frightens me.

And just to be clear, this isn't a tinfoil-hat "Emilie is secretly evil" theory or anything like that. I'm just saying that she isn't perfect, never has been, and actually made a lot of mistakes during her life. Especially with Adrien. Because doesn't it seem like a loving mother's attitude to want to spend time with her precious son, showing affection and being with him at all times? As a reminder, unless the concept of adoption was never invented in this universe, Emilie Agreste could have just grabbed a child out of an orphanage at any point during her lifetime. But instead, she specifically wanted this one, Adrien. And what does she do to get her precious, perfect baby boy? Why, she scours the entire planet with her huband (possibly to-be) and her definately-not-side-chick Nathalie the treasure hunter to find a magic brooch that gives her the power to make him herself, exactly how she wants! Plot aside for a minute, doesn't that sound a little bit insane to you? The desire to have a child alone wouldn't drive anyone to go to such lengths, and this is assuming she is infertile or has some other problem that a good night under the stars with her pals Gabriel and Nathalie won't fix!

Clearly, Emilie had something very specific in mind when going through all the magical, mystical and half-maddening hoops that she had to go through in order to make Adrien in the first place! She practically dragged her husband and their friend on a worldwide trip just to find some tiny bird goddess stuck in a brooch! Are you reading this correctly? And then after Adrien popped into existence (presumably by being carried to term, etc.) Emilie made sure to shower him with love and adoration. But she also kept him isolated, and secure. This isn't as much speculation as it is just reading between the lines, but Adrien seems constantly awestruck throughout the show when presented with new experiences. Not to mention another disturbing thing, she was put inside the life support pod with Adrien Amok on her finger! That's a huge red flag, right in front of us, but it's been ignored because Gabriel is the one who uses it on-screen. Consider that by the time he does use the Ring, Gabriel is well on his way to utter insanity, considering that Shadowmoth is already unhinged enough to quickly evolve into Monarch once the conditions are right. Gabriel has absolutely no chill when it comes to terrorizing innocent people, or using Adrien's Amok to control him when need be. So why is there an implication of Emilie doing the same when she should have been perfectly sane and not driven to desperation because of a loved one's loss like her husband? Again, go check out this post for a full Gabriel analysis.

I'm not saying that Emilie was evil or crazy or a psychopath or anything of the sort. I'm telling you all that she had control issues. Among all the other stuff we know, and with said information pool being tiny to start with, Emilie Agreste seems so intersting! There should have been a whole plot point about removing the rose-tinted glasses that her death cast down on Gabriel, Adrien and Nathalie! There should have been flashbacks to when she was alive! We should have seen her interact and show love towards Adrien! To her credit, Emilie did see that her death was going to mess with Gabriel's head tremendously, and left him a little video politely asking that he doesn't become an internation terrorist. You know, just as a failsafe. It sure is a shame that she never had that conversation with her husband when she was still awake, or that to our knowledge, never said goodbye to Adrien. The public narrative is that she "disapeared". Are you joking me? Of course Gabriel covered everything up, but this is never adressed!

The writers have a ironically perfect character in their hands! Emilie is a mystery to the audience, she has a complicated relationship with both the show's main villains (Lila doesn't count if she's in barely a dozen episodes), one of the titular characters, and is also literally the reason why the show's events kick off in the first place! But we are shown nothing of her for over one hundred episodes of Miraculous! Even Ephemeral, one of the episodes I hate the most in the whole show, could have given us a glimpse into whatever Gabriel's restructured world would have looked like! It was the perfect oppurtunity for us to see Emilie up on her feet and actually having a role to play, instead of just discount Mrs Freeze! Yes I know her name is Nora, I know it's not the same situation, shush, I'm making a "Emilie is in the basement fridge" joke. The writers and Thomas did this woman so dirty it's not even funny! And I am offended at her, because at the end Emilie serves no purpose than to have Gabriel be "sympathetic" in Season 2! There are a dozen plot threads just dangling around for them to rip out of the ceiling and play with, but Emilie's very existence amounts to absolutely nothing! A gravestone would have served as a better character, because at least there could be something useful writen on it! Some kind of descriptor that gave us any insight into her personality!

But no, she's a blank slate! She's just some gal that showed up, found a magic peafowl and keeled over, ultimately leading to Adrien's sheltered home life, social awkwardness, and mommy issues! Because you cannot tell me that Emilie's parenting, no matter how well-meaning, didn't screw Adrien's early life up! She could have been the best mum in the world and it still wouldn't have mattered, because she considered him her perfect creation! Can you see the irony here? Can you observe the myriad of metaphors and the hundreds of ways this can get included in a story? Does Thomas Astruc and his team want me to have a mental breakdown??? Like, excuse me, honestly excuse me, but the sheer amount of offense I take both on Emilie's behalf and to her utter uselessness in this franchise is astronomical! I love this character! I really do! Wrote a whole alternate backstory for her where she and Nathalie are college roomates and everything! Heck, I love her so much that I did make her into a crazy psychopath in one of my AUs just so she can play a key part in that story as the Hawkmoth-equivilant! My love and adoration for Emilie Agreste reaches the god damned moon and back, but unless she actually has more than ten seconds of dialogue in some kind of flashback or prequel, I will continue to be offended! I'll continue to be pissed! And I'll continue to pray for the day where she becomes more than a practically irrelevant plot device!

Anyway, I need to cool off. I need to have a drink. I need to relax and take a break before making the post in defense of poor Chloe, because she too got shafted by the narritive, just like Adrien's mum. Expect it sometime soon, or at the very least when I'm not going insane over the fact that despite directly causing every major event in this franchise to occur, Emilie Agreste is a bigger question mark than the dude in a banana costume. Seriously, what the heck is up with Mr Banana anyway? I'll be seeing you all soon, but until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

#miraculous ladybug #emilie agreste #rant post #character analysis #yolo rants #i have a dream #i'm here to tell... #about an emilie agreste that isn't a cardboard cutout! #no i'm not biased #i just want people to understand #that yes #emilie's choices kickstarted the whole show #and that's cool #but she's one of the most important characters #and does nothing! #she's reduced to a wax statue inside gabriel's basement fridge! #and there is actually a fic about that #somewhere on ao3... #but anyhow #point is i'm offended #both because of her #and on emilie's behalf #like please give this woman some dialogue #thomas would it kill you to use your characters properly??? #cuz you not doing that is killing me! #anyway i need to take a break #feel free to give your thoughts in replies/reblogs #i'll go insane #so yeah #i'll see myself out

[cardboardqueen]

I love a good fic where the gaang learns about zuko’s bonkers adventures prior to joining the team

i love fic where zuko has to awkwardly remind the nobility that he was a fugitive for several years

do you also love these fics? Consider, It's not an international incident if it's off the record, a 1.3k fic where Zuko tries to diplomatically tell Chief Arnook that those turtle seal tunnels are a security concern, I’m sure there will be no awkwardness at all, don’t worry about how he knows that

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla fanfic #cardboard post #cardboard text #cardboard fic #fanfiction

[partrin]

just another fic idea that i'm gonna throw into the wind: rin and haru go pro and are featured as ambassadors for the swimwear line of mizuno, a japanese sportswear company (love how this is actually real). after their contracts/campaign ends, rin steals a cardboard standee of haru (or rin and haru) and has to explain why it's standing in his bedroom when haru comes across it one day

#free! #rinharu #matsuoka rin #nanase haruka #fic rec #fic ideas #idek man i was randomly playing a game of 'who is most likely to' with my boyfriend and brother #and apparently they said that i'm most likely to steal a cardboard standee (especially if it were like.. haru or sumn) #AND THEN IT MADE ME THINK OF RIN

[essayofthoughts]

There's this thing, sometimes, when reading fic - not shitfic, because I do read that and I know what to expect from it, but fic with actual thought and nuance, which cares about exploring trauma and fucked up emotional consequences, evenwhen when they're ugly and uncomfortable and awful -, when you realise that while the fic is willing to have the protagonists be angry but get over it with some characters, they just refuse to with others. And it can make sense to a degree - there's always one character that gets under another's skin, and there's gonna be some disagreements that just, due to individual perspectives, are that much harder to overcome. Even though having them work through it - having a character admit how and when and where they fucked up, and how severely, and the degree to which they recognise this, the internal complex, contradictory fuckery - can be fun! Can be nuanced and messy and delicious.

Then you see the fic says "[X Character] Bashing" and you realise you're never gonna get that. That those crunchy, messy, complex, fun scenes in your head? Will never leave it, because the author has decided that while they'll put in all this engaging messy nuance for (so far) literally every other character... for this single one, a flat one-sided view of a character is all they can be arsed to write.

I dunno, yeah, it's fic and you can write what you like, but bashing has always felt incredibly, astoundingly lazy to me.

#i want characters to be interesting! #not flat on-sided cardboard cutouts! #let a character admit that they fucked up! #that they did something out of selfish obsessive sort-of-love for someone #not out of love for the person as their own individual #but out of a love for what the person means to them #have them admit that and that because they felt they FAILED that person in some way they're doing something else #which they hate and feel complex conflicted resentment over #because they blame this other thing as a sign of their failure and what they think they've lost #and NO it doesn't make sense - but when do emotions ever! #and giving them that nuance #having the protagonists understand this hated character #give them better comprehension perhaps even some empathy... #but in no way help them forgive - if anything make them more disgusted and disappointed by them! #THAT IS CRUNCHY #THAT IS FUN #THAT IS FUCKED UP AND AWFUL #character bashing is a fucking DETRIMENT to nuanced and engaging writing #and i will never not be mad that some people choose the lazy way out #fic things #writing things #fandom things #tag meta #my meta #kinda

[madgirlmuahaha]

Linking this here almost a month after posting it because I forgot that I didn’t do it earlier 🙃

Ch. 36: in which Scorpia enjoys a lovely dinner date, and Entrapta proves that, in a manor full of ghosts and vampires, she is the most fearsome cryptid at the dinner table.

#spop #Entrapdak #my fics #April has been a shitshow #a very rewarding shitshow but one nonetheless #CH 37 will be up as soon as I’m no longer living out of cardboard boxes and IKEA bags

[innytoes]

🐑 #and they were roommates #songfic #tw knives #like no one actually gets stabbed but there's still a fight #no beta we die like Willie's gender #friends to lovers

He Ran Into My Knife Ten Times

Alex thought that getting an off-campus apartment was the smart option. At least he wouldn't have to share a bedroom with someone. Sure, the kitchen was a little small and the landlord was a little weird and sparkly, but his roommate Willie was nice. And cute. And amused whenever he got flustered and awkward when they flirted with him. But it was fine.

Until the knives started missing. Not the spoons. Not the forks. Not the spork Reggie got him as a housewarming present. Just the knives.

And it only got weirder after that.

Fake Fic Ask Game

#julie and the phantoms #fake fics #do you have any idea how hard it is to make up a fake song fic when you know zero songs #okay but my best working theory is that Willie sleepwalks #and steals the knives and then stabs the giant cardboard legolas in his room #Willie doesn't know they do this #finally Alex finds out by following Willie and thinks they're a serial killer #until he hears Willie mumble: you won't get to alex you evil burglar #willex