#I also hate schmoozing

[shea-like-the-butter]

Thursday, March 23rd 2023

Stuck on a little hot mess

[gooseplumes]

keep hearing from attendees that our wedding was "so refreshing" and "one of the best they've ever been to." it was just dinner and drinks in a private room at a restaurant in the rockies. open air to a balcony. lots of shots. music my husband curated (i helped). like SO low key. didn't even really have speeches. didn't have a cake! and people were especially not invited to the vows. that was for Us and the commissioner and the 2 legally mandated witnesses we had to have there.

so hearing how much everyone loved it is sooo funny like ok you all actually hate ceremonies huh. you're sick of all the tradition. you just want to get drunk in a room together

[gregoftom]

greg laughing the loudest at matsson’s shitty sh*vorce joke right in front of sh*v makes him braver than any us marine

[musings-of-a-rose]

Not Without You

Pairing: Lucien De Leon x f!reader (nickname: Poppy)

Word Count: 2800+ 

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen. I saw that clip of him making out in The Uninvited. That's it. That's the explanation. This is not betad. This one is for the sluts.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Lucien Masterlist

--------

I get out of my car, staring up at the ridiculous mansion in front of me. The sound of the ocean, just out of sight behind the giant home, is soft and gentle in my ears, calming me. Giving me a little mental boost before I sigh, smoothing down my dress. I make my way to the front door, weaving between a few cars that were parked out front. Expensive cars.

It's not that I'm jealous of my childhood friend. Emilia deserves to be happy and she's happy that she married money. Some fancy producer out here in LA that fell for her big eyes and bright smile the second he saw her.

But that doesn't mean I wanted to come to one of her dinner parties, having to schmooze and pretend to be interested in what everyone has to say. I've been here before, met the people, fucked the party boy actor that eventually broke me, and yet here I am, unable to say no to Emilia.

I raise my hand to knock, dreading what the evening will bring but the door flies open before my knuckles touch anything. Emilia stands before me, a few rollers still in her hair, stress all over her body.

"Poppy, you're early! Thank GOD!" She pulls me inside and hugs me, the door closing heavy behind me.

"I always come early because you need me," I smile as she chuckles, lightly punching my arm. "What can I do to help?"

"You're angel, I swear! Can you make sure the table settings are right? There's extra silverware in the-"

"I know, Emilia. Everything like normal?" I'd been to so many of her parties, I know exactly what the set up is.

She nods, her smile growing wider. "Keep it simple and classy. You know me!"

I nod. "So what kind of party is this one? Another schmooze for Mr.?"

She waves her hand. "Yeah something like that. He's meeting with a bunch of actors for some upcoming project. He's hand selected them."

"Cool."

Emilia thanks me again before running off to finish getting ready. I pause for a moment, looking around trying to remember where the dining room is. I head down the hall and into what I think is the dining room. It turns out I remembered correctly, my eyes roaming over the table and making small adjustments to the settings already there. I end up pulling out more silverware, fixing them to Emilia's standards. I hate that I know this stuff, but I've saved her ass more times than I can count at these things so it helps to know what to expect.

As I work, my mind goes back to all the parties past. The ones she brought me to when she first started dating the producer several years ago. She had been so nervous, as if the producer wasn't already head over heels for her. That's where I met-

No. Not going down that road again. I can't do that to myself.

I shake my head and finish the settings, adding some minor touches to the decorations and finally lighting the candles. A knock at the door brings me out of my head and I walk over to answer it. An older gentleman stands there, putting out a cigarette with his shoe. He introduces himself as the director. What an ego.

Several people arrive after him, a mix of actors and a screenwriter. They all mingle in the sitting room for a few minutes before Emilia and the producer make their way in, everyone doing introductions.

The producer claps his hands together, looking around. "We're still missing one, but I doubt he'd mind us getting started. Who's hungry?"

Everyone gives their approval but as they move towards the dining room, a knock raps on the front door.

"That should be him. Guess I tried to start too soon!" Polite laughter at the producer as Emilia moves to answer the door, a quick glance in my direction before she disappears down the hall. The producer is telling some little story about a prior movie he was involved in, one I've heard a zillion times. But his story is short and he motions behind me.

"Just in time! We were about to eat. Welcome, Lucien."

My back stiffens. The room starts to spin my chest heaving. He didn't say Lucien. Did he? Maybe it was another Lucien. It couldn't be my Lucien? No. He's not my Lucien. He made that very clear when he wanted to continue partying and I wanted to settle down.

"Perfect! I'm starving."

Fuck. There was no mistaking that voice, the one that sets my skin ablaze, makes warmth pool between my thighs, the one that told me he needed to focus on his career and couldn't be with me. Not in the way I wanted him.

A small hand on my elbow squeezes me and I know it's Emilia, gently guiding me towards the dining room.

"I'm sorry, Poppy. He invited him and I didn't make the connection until the last minute."

"You couldn't have given me a heads up?" I yank my arm from her grip and swallow hard. I can't let him see how he makes me feel. He doesn't deserve that. I turn, letting the others file past me until he stops in front of me.

"Poppy. I..I didn't know you'd be here."

I'm determined to show him how much better off I am, that he means nothing to me now. I look up into his eyes and all of my resolve goes completely out the window. Were his eyes always that big? That round? So soft? I want to yank him to me by the thin chain around his neck, press my lips to his and never let go.

Way to show him, Poppy.

"I didn't know you'd be here either."

A silence stretches between us, a heavy, loaded silence. His eyes soften the longer he looks at me and is that regret I see? No. I'm projecting. But then he offers me his arm, taking me completely by surprise.

"We can be adults. Shall we?"

Don't do it. Don't take his arm, Poppy. Don't do it, don't do it, don't-

My fingers close on his offered up arm. "I'm sure this is a great opportunity for you."

Fuck, he's still warm. His skin smooth where my fingers touch him. Way to go, Poppy.

He escorts me into the dining room and I feel Emilia's eyes glued to us. He pulls out my chair and I sit, him scooting the chair in behind me before walking around the table, looking for his name card. Which was conveniently placed directly across from mine.

The producer clears his throat after everyone sits and starts making some speech about the project, about handpicking everyone here, blah blah blah. I zone out, trying to use my peripheral to steal glances at him. It's been several years since that night we split, the yelling match that had devolved into quite possibly the hottest sex I'd ever had. No, don't think about that. I need a better look so I turn my head to take a drink and chance a glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, still with the soft eyes. I nearly choke on my drink, managing to swallow it and clear my throat.

He finishes his speech and everyone claps politely, starting to eat and talk amongst themselves. I sit, deciding to choose silence while eating but then Lucien looks directly at me.

"So, what do you think?"

"Uh what?"

Fuck him with those big, stupid eyes.

He gestures towards the producer with his fork. "The project."

"Oh. Well I'm not involved so," I shrug. "I'm just here for Emilia."

He chuckles. "How many rollers were in her hair this time?"

I laugh, my body betraying me. "Four."

"But seriously. A good project?"

"I think..I think it's an honor he hand picked you. I'm not sure what the project itself is, but I'm sure it would be great for your career."

His eyes study my face as I take a bite of my food. "It's not always about the career though."

Anger surges up through me. "Isn't it?"

"How are we doing over here?" Emilia had walked up, cutting off whatever Lucien was about to say to defend himself.

"Great, Em. I'm just going to get something from the kitchen." I set my napkin on the table and push my chair back, Emilia giving me the smallest squeeze to my arm before I turn and head into the kitchen, the door closing behind me and effectively cutting off the sounds of the dinner party.

I lean over the kitchen island, my hands splayed out over the cool marble, trying to calm myself down. I hear the door open, the chatter from the party momentarily loud again before the door swings shut and it's quiet again.

"Em, I'm fine. Really. He just...caught me by surprise. I can hold it in."

"What if I don't want you to hold it in?"

My head snaps up, meeting his gaze, embarrassment making my skin heat up. "Oh. I thought you were Emilia."

Lucien takes a few steps towards me, the light glinting off the thing chain around his neck. "You didn't answer my question."

I stand up straight, crossing my arms. "We've done this dance before, Lucien. It didn't end well."

He smirks and I want to slap him. "I think it ended just fine. In the doorway, on the floor, in the front yard. I had to move my neighbors were too jealous."

My body betrays me with a small smile at the memory but then I reign it in. "I'm still not paying for that end table."

He's closer now. When did he move closer? Almost close enough to touch. His voice is low and raspy. "I'd destroy every end table on this planet if it meant having you under me again."

Fuck. Me.

I turn away from him, not giving him the pleasure of seeing what he does to me. "Flattering. But you made it very clear I was not number one in your life."

"I was stupid. I guess I needed to prove to you, to myself, that I could actually do this acting thing."

Finally composing myself, I turn to face him. "And how'd that work out for you?"

His eyebrows furrow together. "Have you not seen any of my films?"

I had. I had seen them all. I know I shouldn't have, that it wasn't helping me get over him. But Lucien has this pull, this hold on me I've never been able to fully shake.

"Some. But I'm asking your opinion. Off camera."

His jaw ticks a moment before he takes a swig from the glass I only just realized he was holding. "It brought me here."

I scoff. "Yeah, the producer hand picking you is actually a very high honor. I'd be-"

"No, you misunderstand." He shakes his head and sets his glass down on the counter. "I lied earlier."

It was my turn to furrow my eyebrows. "When? You've lied to me a lot."

"Earlier, when I said I didn't know you'd be here. I knew, well...more like hoped you'd be here. Knew it was a long shot but the only way you'd talk to me again."

My heart was racing, nearly bouncing out of my chest as he takes another few steps right into my personal bubble, my lower back against the counter. "I already told you I'm not replacing that end table."

He's right in front of me, the warmth from his body radiating onto mine. "I was a fool, Poppy. I..I love you."

I've waited years to hear him say those words to me again, to hear him actually mean them. To hear them not sandwiched between things like "but I have to focus on my career".

His lips are so close to mine, his breath fanning over my face.

"You broke my heart, Lucien."

"I know. I'm sorry. Let me put it back together."

"Lucien, I-" but he cuts me off with the softest touch of his lips I've ever felt, a whole slew of emotions flooding my body, including the one pooling between my legs.

"I can't do this without you, Poppy."

"Do this?"

"Life. I don't want to do it without you."

Fuck.

I grip that chain around his neck and pull him to me, our lips crashing together, his body pressing into mine. But then the counter scrapes across my spine and I jolt, breaking the kiss to gasp in pain. Lucien steps back, offering me his hand.

"Let's go somewhere where we won't break the furniture."

I shouldn't take his hand. I can still back out. But a small voice in the back of my head believes that he means it. That he wants a life with me, wants what I wanted all those years ago. And right now, I'm letting that voice win. I take his hand and he smiles, that smile that makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world. He guides me out the back door, past the pool, past the changing tents between the pool and the beach, and down the walkway alongside the neighbors cement wall that leads down to the beach.

He spins me and I laugh, tasting the salty ocean air on my tongue. I back up towards the wall and he follows me, lowering himself to my level. His large hands wrap around my hips, gliding down to cup my ass, and I moan into his kiss, my hand gripping his shirt to pull him closer to me. He kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth like it had so many times before. One hand still firmly on my ass, the other slides up my side, cupping my face so tenderly, full of love. He pulls back slightly and looks at me, like he's shocked I'm really here. That he's really kissing me.

"I love you, Poppy. I never should have let you go."

"Then don't let me go. I've always been yours."

He kisses me again, his hips pressing into mine and I can feel him hard, my cunt desperately throbbing, begging to feel him inside me again. Somewhere in my haze of desire, I hear myself begging, whispering pleas in his ear to take me, that I need him inside me before I die. His hands slide my dress up my thighs, reaching under and ripping my underwear in two, tucking them into his pocket. He had ruined so many good pairs of my underwear that way, but I honestly couldn't care less. My fingers fumble with his zipper, but I manage to get it down, reaching in to grip him, a sharp intake of breath when my fingers close around him, pumping him a few times. His hands slide under my ass, lifting me up as he presses me against the wall. He slides into me and the world stops moving, colors are brighter, and I finally feel right, like I'm actually here on this planet. Every thrust of his hips brings him deeper into me, holding me here, holding me to him. His breath comes out in short pants, desperate pleas of love and apologies between our moans as he fucks me against the wall.

And then the light blooming inside me breaks, my head pushing back, my nails digging into his skin, my entire body tingling as pleasure radiates out from where we connect. Lucien follows suit, moaning my name as he spills himself inside of me, pushing as deep as he can. We stay like that for a moment, trying to catch our breaths.

"I want to stay inside of you but my legs are fucking shaking."

I laugh and he yelps, quickly trying to pull out of me as my laughter contracts my body around him. He sets me on the ground and zips his pants as I smoothe out my dress, my laughter slowly fading. I look at him and he looks back at me, his eyes still soft and gentle. He tucks some hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek again.

"I wasn't kidding, Poppy. I was fucking stupied before. I need you next to me. When we're together, I feel...right. like I belong here. I don't think I can face this life without you."

I know it's a possibility this will end the same way it did before, but something in his eyes is different this time. He's had time to think, time to experience life without someone with him. Without me. He's grown, matured - well, matured some at least. But do I want to open my heart back up to him? Knowing that he could shatter it again at any moment?

"I'm still not replacing that end table."

He smiles and it lights up my entire world. "That's ok. I have plenty more furniture we can ruin with our love."

-------

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[poppy-metal]

selfish, rotten girl you'd always been and let this caring, fragile, scared little girl you were startin’ to become go - like petals in the wind.

oh and you ATE with that. the hurt/comfort??? i’m literally in awe of your writing and your ability to take the scraps of my ideas and turn it into something beautiful.

i imagine reader feeling so conflicted after the storm because oh my god he was so kind and loving to her but she feels sick because she’s thinking of his girlfriend who has been nothing but kind but also the extremely buried cynical part of her (that thinks no one can love her ever bc she’s sososo awful and rotten) thinks that maybe it’s a ploy. that art was just being loving to her to get her back into his bed, but that thought is easily squashed because it’s art. he has a heart of gold that makes you want to be better than what you thought you could be.

so you do what you have been doing, avoiding him as much as you can. the peach tea being the only moment of connection between you two—the passing brush of fingertips and you ignore the ache that settles in your chest when you feel his warmth. you choke back sobs every night knowing that you’ve ruined that poor boy. and you do what you do best: hate yourself, belittle yourself, break yourself down because you don’t deserve good things or good people. you don’t deserve art donaldson.

it’s the last sunday service you’ll attend before you return home. the plane ticket is booked for friday; your grandma asked if you wanted to stay for longer, and a few weeks earlier, you would’ve said yes. but you need to cleanse this town of you. you need to cleanse art of you. your grandma’s been telling you about that engagement ring he’s been carrying around all month and how he’s thinking of proposing next weekend during the end of summer festivities. “such a shame you can’t stay till then,” she says.

“my parents have found it in them to forgive me,” you respond, “and they found someone who’s willing to marry me.”

ah yes, the big overcast over your summer was the engagement you would find yourself come summer’s end. while your summer was rearing animals, cooking breakfast for the ranch hands, and watching over some of the town’s children while their mamas picked peaches from your grandma’s trees, your parents had been busy schmoozing up and down the east coast, remedying your reputation and finding some brad, chad, or richard the second to marry you off to finally cleanse their hands of you.

you grandma tsked. “you could’ve found love here, dont understand the big fuss over finding you a husband in connecticut. we’ve got some fine honest men here.”

yes you do. in this moment of weakness you steal at art and envision what life would be like with him. would he hold you in the mornings? care for you while sick? play with the children you would bear for him and show them the ropes of ranch life just like he’d done for you many months before. warmth settles in your stomach but quickly curdles when lucy turns around and sends you a wave. you nod in response and focus your attention to the front; the pastor is just beginning his sermon.

atonement. that was the lesson of pastor zweig’s sermon. you rolled the word around in your head as you fried up bacon for the farmhands monday morning. it’s become a ritual. you making breakfast for the 10 folks who help make your grandma’s life just a little bit easier, and while you grumbled the first week, you became a little infamous amongst the town’s women of being the best cook in town: feedin’ their husbands bellies better than they can. at least, that’s what your grandma jokes.

when you place the final plate of buttermilk pancakes down next to the homemade blueberry sauce and the farmhands cheered, you beamed with pride. perhaps you did have the ability to create, to nourish, to be good. art sat at the head of the table, and you caught the little smile on his face, the chuckle that passed his lips at his friends’ antics.

"i will say, your cookin' can make an honest man out of me," patrick jokes. art stills in his seat as you refill his cup. he steals a look at you, but you seem unfazed. no, you seem tired. sick even. but it's quickly replaced with a coy smile that you flash his best friend's way.

"now we all know here nothing can make you an honest man," you joke, "no matter how much your daddy prays and prays." the farmhands break out into a roar.

"and what would you do if i got down on one knee right now? i swear, if it means i get your cookin' for the rest of my life, i'll make you my wife right now, and even give you a few kids too," he says with a wink. you and the farmhands are laughing, but art is gripping his fork.

who does patrick think he is? you're his.

"well it won't do you any good, patrick," you respond breezily, "my parents finally did good on their promise and it looks like i'm getting married by the end of the year." the room falls silent. you let an awkward laugh slip out, "now now, this ain't no funeral. don't people usually congratulate the blushing bride."

art's seeing red. you're getting married?

"well is he nice?" someone asks. art doesn't care if that man won a fucking nobel peace prize; you are his. and he can't believe you. waltzing into his life, ruining him, rendering his emotional state in shambles, only to waltz right out into the arms of someone else? but shouldn't he be relieved? the engagement ring in his pocket burns hot.

"i don't know, haven't met him yet."

"i'm going to go check on the horses," art gruffly says. he leaves behind a whole plate untouched. the farmhands pay him no mind; the youngest taking his plate for himself. patrick smirks into his eggs, well aren’t things getting interesting.

tl:dr art is experiencing emotional constipation! reader is accepting her fate! patrick is,,,meddling? but there’s only 4 days left until reader leaves and allegedly 5 days left until art proposes 🤔 much to simmer, much to cook

originally envisioned patrick as the rich old money new englander who’s equally fucked up and is who reader is engaged then married to and time skip! grandma passes away and leaves behind the ranch to reader and ofc the newly married couple moves there to build a new life away from prying eyes of their families and art is confronted with the fact that you are not his and you have moved on,,,but have you moved on? but there’s smth much more salacious to me (!) about black sheep pastor’s kid!patrick who’s only a ranch hand bc art got him the job as a promise to the pastor to help get patrick on the right track just like he’s been doing since they were kids. patrick who’s aware of the tension between you and art and wants it to bubble over—bc wouldn’t it be fun to corrupt the person in his life whose main job was to make him good? but now both ideas are equally hot and Important to me 🙂‍↕️

also horny thots re: ranch hand!art exist but tbh,,,i’m in my angst, hurt/comfort, plot/character development bag—more to come~

- 🤠

AURRRRR NOT THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE BACK HOME !!

I need them to get into a big fight - like I need art to shout at her with veins popping in his neck yelling at her asking her why the hell she got into his head and twisted him all up in knots when she's just gonna go and fuck off at the end of the summer - get hitched to another man. the jealousy hot in his veins, the possessiveness he suddenly feels foreign to him because he's never felt this way before. not for his sweetheart - never got jealous when patrick flirted with her or anything like that. you're making him feel all these bad things - these sinful things - and you aren't even gonna stick around to take accountability for the damage you've done to him??

need that passionate, knocking the cowboy hat off his head kind of kiss with his hands gripping your cheeks - need that kind of dick that feels equal parts making love as it does fucking - he's touching you in more intimate ways than he ever has before - he's branding you, in a way - marking his territory. making you remember him the way he knows he'll never be able to fuckin' forget you. making you watch how his cock slides in and out - making you tell him how good he's gotten at fuckin', the bull you've trained -

aurrrr ranchhand!art drama save me SAVE ME

[k-pepp]

With the final season of YR coming up, I’ve been thinking about Wille’s journey again. Because he’s 16, we won’t know if he actually chooses to renounce his title or remain in his role as future king, but I have a feeling this season will give us an indication which way it will go. So, before we get any type of confirmation, I want to get my current thoughts out. I’m aware that a lot of YR Tumblr skews toward King Wilhelm so my pro-renounce post might not resonate with anyone and that’s ok. I just want to put all my thoughts together before S3 comes along with something that totally blows all my opinions and assumptions out of the water 🙂 I understand the idea of wanting Wille to be King because he could be such a great leader. He is kind and compassionate and can be good at taking charge. BUT just because a person could be good at something, doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. My number one reason for being in favor of Renouncing his Title is the sheer fact that Wille doesn’t want to be King. He doesn’t want the title. He doesn’t want that life. Wille has been shown a multitude of times talking about how he struggles with the duties that come with being a prince. Whether it’s with Erik:

Or August:

Or Boris:

(honestly, this boy will spill his guts to anyone who is willing to even half listen to him. My god. I’m so glad they gave this poor kid a therapist) He's also talked about how he feels trapped in this position. For him, to renounce the throne would be freedom. Freedom to live a life he actually wants.

Even the mere idea of staying in his current position makes him physically ill.

Some people take the end of episode 2x06 to mean he’s moved beyond all that and accepted his role as the future king. I didn’t personally see it that way. I saw it as a combination of a few things. 1) When come face-to-face with it, he just couldn’t let August give the speech (But the fact that he was initially willing to let someone who distributed revenge porn against him become king really speaks to how much he definitely doesn’t want that position) 2) He didn’t want Simon to have to compromise his happiness and give in to a situation he didn’t actually want 3) He didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted to be himself. Wille is a person who craves authenticity. Which brings me to a bigger point… Life as the Crown Prince / King is inherently inauthentic. One of the main pro-King arguments is that he would blaze his own trail and do things his way. But how? Being a member of the royal family is a job. The basic responsibilities of that job are to do things like diplomatic visits, hosting events, being part of photo ops, schmoozing with people… pretty much all things having to do with putting on a public persona. It’s great that he could be himself in the sense that he would be the first queer Crown Prince / King, but the baseline duties he would have to fulfill are still inherently inauthentic. And I don’t know how he would “do it his way” aside from just not doing it. He hates putting on fake smiles

the photo ops

the schmoozing with people

Erik even told Wille, the way to get through that stuff is to just pretend to be someone else.

We know he’s capable of doing it. We saw how charming he could be at Parents Day weekend. But that was because he wanted to sit with Simon and impress Simon’s mom. Other than that lunch, he mostly hid in his room. And it goes back to my original point. Just because someone may be good at something doesn’t mean they should be forced to do it. (And yes, even if he walked away from the line of succession, he could still have familial obligations, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of what is expected now) At this point, Wille is only continuing as Crown Prince because of a commitment to his family. Mainly Erik.

He doesn’t want to let him down or feel like he’s betraying his legacy. To Wille, Erik was perfect. We only saw two full conversations between them and in both conversations, Erik was telling Wille to get his act together because “it’s not that hard”.

That quote is probably something he told Wille a lot. So much that Wille later regurgitates it to Boris. Three different times.  

Going on to say that Erik could handle everything easily.  

Based on the fact that Erik was going to Boris, he probably wasn’t managing everything with ease. But in Wille’s perception, he was. Wille is basically chasing a ghost. Self-imposed pressure of unattainable perfection. He bears a guilt that pushes him to want to be someone he thinks Erik would be proud of.   The problem with that is, Erik was a monarchist. Maybe he struggled a bit (which is why he went to Boris), but based on the things he would say to Wille, he backed the monarchy / family completely.

Ultimately, I just want Wille to be happy. Maybe S3 will completely change my outlook and I’ll root for him to become king because that’s what he wants. But right now, I think he only wants it out of a sense of obligation to Erik. And honestly…maybe my most controversial opinion…if he did stay in his position because of Erik, he probably wouldn’t change that much within the institution. I mean, he couldn’t change much even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to do big things without the consent of the Swedish parliament and maybe a public referendum. And I doubt he’d even have the capability to make small changes. As already pointed out by @piebingo in this great post, Kristina didn’t actually want August to be next in line. But she was overruled. The Royal Court has a lot of power and making any sort of reforms or independent decisions is not that simple. Especially within an establishment that relies on keeping everything exactly the same. But even if that weren’t true. Even if Wille could snap his fingers and make all these huge changes… part of me doesn’t think he would. I know a lot of the folks who are pro-King Wilhelm want him to become the king just so he can completely destroy it from within. But to me, in Wille’s eyes there would be no bigger betrayal to Erik’s legacy than Wille burning the institution to the ground. And if he wants to live up to Erik’s legacy. Not betray him. Not let him down. He will act as he thinks Erik would act. If Wille becomes king because of Erik, he’ll maintain the establishment because of Erik. And he would be miserable doing it. Miserable and without Simon. Yes, my other controversial opinion. If Wille stayed as king, Wilmon wouldn’t make it. Simon is described to us as a socialist. One of his introductory scenes is him calling the monarchy the country’s biggest welfare scammers. I can’t imagine Simon giving up his musical dreams to join an institution that he hates. I also can’t imagine Wille letting him do that. That was such a big part of Wille’s growth in Season 2. Wille wouldn’t let Simon sacrifice his happiness for the sake of his own happiness (being with Simon). Even if Simon didn’t end up pursuing something in music, he made it clear in his talk with Rosh and Ayub that he wants to work hard to make something of himself.

I mean, look at him. Look at this sweet baby angel’s face when he’s told he has an opportunity that will open doors to his future. I can’t imagine him giving up his ambitions or autonomy to become prince consort. Having to live every day under royal rules and protocols. Maybe he would. I personally can’t see it. And finally, I know a main reason people like the idea of King Wille is because we like the idea of a queer king. But as much as we all want queer representation; I don’t think it should be anybody’s responsibility to be the political representation that people want to see. Wille shouldn’t be in a position he hates because he’s queer. A queer person living their life and getting out of a toxic situation is also good representation. A person can’t fix the problem by becoming part of it. Having him be the face of an institution that’s been about exploitation and oppression isn’t going to solve it. It's always been said by Lisa and Edvin that Wille’s problem is not that he’s queer. It’s that he’s a prince. Everything about what’s making him unhappy is about him being prince / the future king. Him walking away from his title would be about him escaping a future that would make him miserable. Personally, that’s what I’m hoping for.

[pocket-watcher]

So I (female) suck at holding eye contact in informal/social situations but can maintain a hard stare in professional/serious ones, even if I'm not fully paying attention. Could I have a hypno-fic about someone taking advantage of that?

Hi lil Watchling! No problem, I’m sure I can whip something up for you…

We first met at a bar.

They were wonderful, really. Very interesting to talk to. Engaged in what I had to say. They asked me about my interests, where I worked, what I did for pleasure.

Such a charming person.

And attractive too, not that you could tell I thought that from the intense gaze I had on my half-empty glass.

The night had continued and they began to trail off… most people didn’t last this long. Only friends who knew how hard it was for me to keep eye contact. I was so interested, though. I just couldn’t fully express it in a way they’d understand.

The second time I met them was at this little after-work thing.

I hated not leaving as soon as the clock hit 5, but it was important to build good relationships with coworkers or something like that. My manager had suggested it.

In fact, she stood about ten feet away schmoozing with the CEO’s son.

Wonderful,

That was when I bumped into them again, and learnt their name was Kai.

Again, they really helped guide the conversation to myself as well as their own input, which I greatly appreciated.

And once again I could feel them pulling away slightly the more I stared at my nails instead of at them.

We were sitting in a small booth when my manager approached.

“Hey Riley, can I run over some proposal stuff for tomorrow? There’s been a few tweaks and I don’t want you to be caught unaware tomorrow.”

My eyes locked onto hers as she slid into the booth.

That was when I heard Kai make a sort of choking sound.

“Are you okay?” I asked, watching my manager spread documents out on the table.

“Yes, fine thank you. Is it alright if I stay and listen?”

My manager looked quizzically at them.

“Not at all, are you interested in working here?” She said.

“I am, actually. I find your work miles ahead of the industry.”

Kai could charm anyone. I was sure of it, as my manager smiled at him and turned to talk me through the next day’s proposal.

I could feel Kai watching me, but I didn’t pay them too much mind. They were thinking, though. About what, I had no clue.

The next day went incredibly smoothly.

A week later my manager put me in charge of interviewing for a new role in our team. I told her I wouldn’t let her down.

The first applicant seemed nervous, and couldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t hold that against them though. They warmed up as the interview continued and by the end I saw them as a strong contender.

The next told me to smile and that my stare was unnerving. I told him to go to another company.

The third was, surprisingly, Kai.

“I know, I probably should have warned you… I hope you can be impartial with me?” They smiled, and for the first time I held eye contact into those deep, warm brown eyes.

It was no bother though. Of course I could remain impartial.

I rattled off questions and Kai answered them confidently.

Their eyes lit up as they talked about confidence and taking charge, making the role their own. I felt myself losing focus on the interview at hand.

Under the desk I pinched myself awake slightly, continuing, but my thoughts drifted back to their eyes.

The way they caught the fluorescent lights above. The way they seemed to almost shine. It was mesmerising.

“Um, are you okay?” They asked me, after I’d been silent a beat too long.

“Yes, fine.” I cleared my throat, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Sorry, the question was what makes you feel like you deserve this role?”

Kai fidgeted for a moment, not once breaking eye contact with me.

“I think because I’m trustworthy. I’m someone who’s reliable and you could trust to take care of any problem, big or small. I’m strong in the face of resistance, and I’m good at leading others. I’m also a great people person,” they laughed, “I don’t know why but it seems that most people tend to like me.”

My pen dropped to the floor, my hand now entirely limp.

Something about it all had just captured me so thoroughly,

Kai stood and leant over the desk.

“Finally, that was more of a chase than I expected, but I got you in the end, didn’t I?” They tucked my hair behind my ear.

My mouth hung open, and my mind was empty.

“Now, how about you give me that job and I can make you feel this nice and relaxed and fuzzy every day?”

[supershot73199]

Hey everyone here is chapter 4 of my Dawn's Big Daddy story. This is the actual Gala from a few different characters perspectives.

I'll also put it under the read more

Jason Todd usually hated going to galas but tonight might just be the best he's ever been too, and it's all thanks to his baby sisters new paramour. This man who made his sister so happy was attending the Gala in a dress, especially since he looked better in that dress than many of the rich bitches that would try to cause trouble for his sister.

Honestly the two were sickeningly sweet, almost like gomez and morticia and it was hilarious how mad it made the high society stiffs. Jason stifled s laugh as Danny clearly said something that the socialites were offended by and he smiled like the cat who caught the canary.

This continued with the socialites getting more visibly upset and Cass getting more amused until a cheerful laugh came from across the ballroom.

Damian had Dawn standing on his feet while they "Danced" together. Seeing Damian interact with the little girl definitely showed that he was Bruce's kid more than any declaration of being "The Blood Son" ever could.

There was a sudden chill that had Jason turning back towards Cass and Danny their posture had changed from dopey in love to glacial wrath, from the rapidly paling face of one of the more racist leech that exist in Gotham high society they must have said something about Dawn and Damian.

The rich prick quickly rushed off dropping a hastily written check into one of the staffs waiting hands. Cass and Danny watched them go before returning to their Addams family act as they went to the dance floor though Jason could see the icy rage still in their eyes.

Tim was used to galas having been in high society all his life though he doubts he would ever enjoy them. He and Bernard were schmoozing with some of the investors for Wayne Techs newest project when his sister and her boyfriend start dancing.

Tim narrowed his eyes no matter how much he looked he couldn't find any history on Danny or any of his family, it's like he's a ghost. He didn't like his sister being so close with an unknown no matter how nice he seems.

"Stop glaring at your future brother in law. You're being overprotective." Bernard said as he bumped shoulders with Tim.

"I'm not overprotective I just don't like that we don't know anything about him." Tim defended.

"Look babe, we both know that is just an excuse because you don't want to admit you are worried about someone breaking Cass' heart. But look at them he adores her." Bernard gestures to the couple who have their eyes locked on their dance partner adoration clear to see.

"Just because he seems like he adores her doesn't mean he can't hurt her. Besides there are plenty of people with mind control abilities in the world who says he hasn't been brainwashed. That's why I won't give up until i find what he's hiding." Tim responded as Bernard sighed.

"Have you tried asking him?" Tim snorted at that.

"Oh please like that would work."

The night was coming to an end and Barbara was about to hit Dick.

He was moaning and groaning about how "that harlot is corrupting my poor innocent baby sister look at him in that dress hanging off of her" all damn night.

"If you don't stop whining about Cass falling in love I swear to God I won't be the only one who needs a wheelchair!"

She finally snapped.

"I'm sorry Babs but she's my baby sister."

Barbara sighed "I know but look how happy they are. Doesn't Cass deserve someone who makes her smile?"

The two watched the dancing couple for a few more minutes until the song ends. With the songs ending this one particularly annoying trust fund baby approached the couple and asked to cut in. Dick was about to jump up as this particular brat has harassed Cass before. However before he could take more than a step Danny had said of course before taking the man's hand and pulling him into a dance while he had a look of bafflement on his face.

Cass made her way towards the two vigilantes with humor clear on her face.

"I don't think he will bother me again." She said as she reached the table.

"What do you think Danny will do?" Barbara asked.

Cass looked at the two before responding. "He's unnerving him triggering his fear responses without doing anything else. Rich will be paranoid but otherwise will be left alone.

Barbara and Dick looked at each other before looking back to where Danny and Rich were dancing and it seemed like Cass was right about Danny somehow freaking him out if the way his eyes were darting around were any indication.

As the song ended Danny clearly gave an expected farewell while Rich all but ran away looking over his shoulder as he did. Danny after walking over to the table pressed a soft kiss to Cass cheek.

Barbara couldn't help the warm feelings bubbling up in her chest as she struck up a conversation with the pair of lovebirds.

Duke Thomas was many things, the only Meta on the team, the only dayshift hero, Hal Jordan's self proclaimed worst nightmare, etc, but one of his own personal favorites was Cass least likely to be beat up brother if only because he knew how to mind his own damn business. Despite that he couldn't help but be intrigued by the newest additions too her life.

Danny and Dawn looked rather unique to his power granted sight. Dawn was the easiest of the two to figure out her aura strengthening her body and vice versa, while not confirmed he assumes that she's a Meta with some unique energy manipulation power. (Duke would later look back at this and decide it was a pretty close guess.)

Her father though? While initially very similar to Dawn, Danny's power seemed too radiate out of him often covering people around him, if it wasn't for the fact that the energy very clearly does not actually enter anyone Duke would have been worried there might have been mind control involved.

As he watched the happy couple he enjoyed the way Danny's aura seemed to dance around Cass coating her almost like her cape does in her suit. He also looked at the energy that seemed to coat his daughter, resting on her like a warm hug or beloved blanket.

It was then Duke finally realized what the aura was seemingly doing. It was radiating safety in a unique way to each person it touched. The aura around Damian looked almost like what Duke would describe as respectful armor.

Duke gleefully watched and cataloged the way it interacted with people. When he noticed one of the more drunk guests started trying to cop a feel on a waitress. But before he could do more than take a few steps he saw a tendril of aura reach out and cover the girl right as Danny called the drunk out.

Duke only listened to the ensuing verbal smackdown with half an ear much more interested in the way the aura was behaving. It was honestly giving off what Duke could only describe as brotherly protection keeping the bulk of its energy on the side of the waitress that was nearest to any patron.

Duke really hopes Danny comes around more often, this aura show might just be Dukes new favorite use if his power. (OK second favorite cause fucking with Hal Jordan will always come first.

[queenimmadolla]

hi babes

word? Chronic

character? Steve

genre? Humor

trope? First time

xoxoxox

atomic betty, you have no idea how excited i was to see you in my inbox! i love your shit so much, this one is for you! i hope you like it, you wondrous woman ♡ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

  Steve’s nervous.

  Steve Harrington is very nervous. 

  And Steve Harrington is rarely—when not in mortal peril—ever nervous. Ever.

  Regardless of discussion pertaining to the size of his head, Steve Harrington is blessed  with genetics that leave most envious. He’d been an adorable baby, who’d grown from a cute kid turned heartthrob teenager to a handsome man. 

  Steve has also gone through every stage in relation to those age frames. He’d been one pompous asshole when he was a teen and he’d grown significantly as a person in the years since. 

  The crown of King Steve was left behind, encased in the glass display of trophies and framed headlines of high school glory days. He’d traded it in for a new outlook on life, trying his hardest to remove himself from the claws of his father’s control and live a life completely of his own.

  He’d gone into the Business world right after he’d been able to move out, climbing, schmoozing, and sometimes low balling his competitors, to reach the top. Complete financial independence was finally his, and when Steve’s parents were ready to move on from Hawkins, he’d purchased the Harrington home from them—intent on filling those once lonely walls in that big house with laughter, love, and his own family. His kids. And…his wife.

  Steve’s love life fared more notoriously in high school than as an adult. 

  It’s not that he lacks charm or the interests of women—he’s had numerous hookups and one night stands since—when he’d been building a career, romance hadn’t been on the top of his list of priorities. He’d just wanted to scratch the itch; fuck a lot, and get back to business as soon as he’s had his orgasm, and she’s had her several. Personalities didn't matter. He didn’t need anything other than a willing body, warm mouth and wet holes. That was made clear to all his sexual partners, not a single one of them went in expecting more, though a few had left it craving so.

  Steve was sure all of them had fled the earth by the time he was finally ready to provide. 

  He had the home, he had the income, and he had all the love to give. And not a single woman he encountered in two years of dating since, clicked with him. There had been a couple he thought would be more permanent, stick around longer. It had been wishful thinking. 

  None of that mattered now, though. Not with you perched on the edge of his swimming pool, bare legs dangling in the water as you watch him do a few laps.

  You’d been dating for a couple of weeks now, and it almost terrifies Steve how much he cares for you. 

  It had started off as a friendly encounter, though Steve was immensely attracted to you, and when you didn’t seem to hate him, he’d gone in with some flirting. You’d returned it, he asked you out on a date, and the two of you hadn’t stopped; sharing something intense and electrifying in the best of ways. With you, he felt a level of comfort he hadn’t ever achieved before—which surprised him, as he once believed Nancy was his soulmate given how comfortable he had felt with her. You made him feel safe in ways he hadn’t known he was desperately searching for.

  He’s pretty sure it’s going to be you that shares his home with him. You whose belly swells with his babies, ready to fill the rooms. Or at least he’s hoping, praying, ready to beg whatever deity he has to that it’s going to be you. 

  That’s still not why he’s nervous.

  Steve Harrington is nervous because he’s pretty sure the two of you are gonna fuck tonight. 

  He’s fucked a lot, alright? He’s probably slept with more women than the average man, but it was all in good fun for both parties and solely based on getting off. 

  This is not one of those encounters. 

  He’s not just fucking you. There are so many strings attached and he cherishes each and everyone of those strings, so he’s nervous because a lot is riding on this, and while he’s eagerly looking forward to the possibility of you riding him, he doesn’t wanna fuck this up. 

  He’s pretty sure you’re it for him, The One, and he’s also pretty sure he won’t last the second he’s inside you, can feel you around him so yeah—he’s really fucking nervous.

  Apparently, it shows.

  Once he’s done trying to tire himself out—maybe that’ll make him last longer—he wades over to you and uses your lap to prop his arms up on.

  “You okay?” You ask, amusement coating your voice as you run your hands through his wet hair and Steve has to pry his eyes away from your tits. Letting you convince him to skinny dip with you after he’d cooked you dinner had also proved fatal to his libido. There’s no way you don’t notice what’s going on with him under the water.

  “Wha─? OH! No, yeah, I’m fine. Just. Swim.” 

  Your tits also seemed to do his brain in. God—you look so good.

  “I saw. You swam a lot. Looked like you were training for the Olympics.” 

  “I could have made the Olympic team.” He blurts out and you push him off of you to dunk him in the water instead. He emerges laughing as he wipes water from his face. When the two of you just started dating, he might have bragged a bit about his time leading the swim team enough to make it a taboo subject and now he does it to playfully annoy you.

  “So, what exactly are you nervous about?” You lean back, torso stretching out and hands on the ground behind you. Steve has a difficult time remembering how to speak English. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling.

  “Huh? Nervous? Me? You’re mistaken, honey.” He knows he’s caught. You already seem to know him like the back of your hand. It makes his heart flutter and his dick twitch.

  “You were nervous at dinner, too, not like right now but I swore I saw you sweating.” You muse aloud, legs swirling in the water again and Steve’s eyes fly to the space between them just as they close to conceal it. 

  He glances up to see you hadn’t even been looking at him, your stare focused on the lights he’d had strung up above the pool for night swimming as you ponder. You were just unknowingly teasing him.

  “No, no. Not nervous, remember?”

  “It can’t be the house, I’ve been here before…” You trail off.

  “So, we’re just pretending you can’t hear me.” 

  “But this is the first time I come over so late,” The smirk on your face is dangerous and Steve is positive he’s not lasting tonight, “Stevie, am I making you nervous?”

  Your demeanor is so teasing, Steve can feel his face heating up despite the allocation of most of the blood in his body being below hip level.

  “…You’re very beautiful.”

  You throw your head back as your pretty laughter rings out and Steve grins, happy to amuse you and reap the benefits of watching your chest.

  When you're done, your head lulls around and the smile you offer him would make his knees go weak if he was using them, “I might be able to help with that. Can I offer you a smoke?”

  “A cigarette wouldn’t hurt,” He muses, eyeing you curiously. 

  “Not a cigarette, Stevie, though I know you’re a chronic chainsmoker.” You pull your legs out of the pool and stand to retrieve something from your purse. Steve proves the phrase hate to see you go but love to watch you leave applies to your relationship as he unabashedly stares at your ass the entire time.

  When you return, you’ve got a yellow prescription pill bottle in one hand with your lighter in the other. 

  “Think it might calm your nerves.”

  Steve is on you the moment you re-settle yourself, crowding his upper half onto your lap as he smirks, “I think you might be right.”

  After you pull out a joint from your stash jar, and the filter is between his lips, you spark a light and he mumbles around it, “It’s been a while, be nice.”

  You know what that means, so when Steve takes his pull and hands you the joint for your turn, he immediately begins violently coughing and you expect it.

  You don’t expect him to be so focused on his violent coughing that he somehow forgets to float and immediately sinks into the pool. You let out a little shriek, toss aside the items in your hand, and push yourself into the pool after him, water rippling enough to splash over the sides.

  A few moments later, you both break through the surface of the water, Steve spitting out water he’d inhaled when he’d been coughing and gasping down there, and you lead him to the wall of the pool. Steve grips onto the edge, and you grip onto the sides as well.

  After Steve’s done coughing, he starts laughing hard, leaving you to throw him a bewildered look. It only makes him laugh harder, and you truly fail to find any humor in the situation until he wheezes out, “That was so embarrassing.”

  You roll your eyes, but a chuckle sputters out of you and soon you’re laughing with him, despite having ruined your hair and soaked the joint you’d left on the ground.

  “We are telling no one about this. It stays in this pool.” He declares around his laughter. You move closer to him and Steve’s laughter stops but his smile remains, soft eyes filling with lust as you’re nearly nose to nose.

  ”I won’t tell anyone.” You promise in a whisper and Steve barely has to lean in to claim your mouth, the taste of him and chlorine flooding your tongue. He dominates the kiss, mouth easily working yours as he pulls you in closer. Despite his slip up moments ago, you trust him to keep you afloat and press yourself to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands move to grip your ass, hauling you up and you can feel his head nudge against you.

  Steve doesn’t last long at all. But he makes up for it in recovery time and you go at it again in the pool. And once more on one of the lounge chairs, again immediately after the two of you make it inside, then in the shower, before finally ending in his bed.

  Turns out, he had nothing to be nervous about. You’re completely satisfied with everything he’s got to offer.

[danieyells]

ALSO. ALSO.

CONFIRMATION THAT YURI DID NOT START IN MORTKRANKEN???

But the question is where is this referring to him going to Mortkranken from? On one hand Romeo's saying it--was he from Sinostra first? On the other hand there's reason to believe he was in Frostheim before--and Romeo could have known because he spent a lot of time in Frostheim before he started to hate them?

JUST. I HAVE THOUGHTS AND IMAGES IN MY HEAD. OF ROMEO SCHMOOZING WITH FROSTHEIMERS. AND THE FROSTHEIM FRIEND GROUP IS JIN, HAKU, AND ROMEO. AND THEN YURI COMES IN. AND THEN YURI LEAVES AND TOHMA REPLACES HIM BECAUSE HE ARRANGED FOR DARKWICK TO LET HIM CHANGE HOUSES EARLY(SECOND YEARS CAN TRANSFER WHENEVER, BUT YURI'S A FIRST YEAR AT THIS POINT.) AND THEN ROMEO LEAVES AND HAKU DOES TOO, MAYBE NOT IN THAT ORDER?

Idk idk idk.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

I have a Story Stuck in my Head!

Hybrids Mafia Princess Series

I want to know if anyone thinks of something similar because this one has been running through my head for months. You know the story you tell in your head to fall asleep to? This has been mine for a while.

Mafia!Bucky Barnes and his girl have been together for years now and have a daughter, she has been the light of her fathers life since the day she was born, spoiled rotten.

As she got older though they grew apart, Bucky having no clue what to do with a teenage daughter, he still adores her of course, but she feels as if he has forgotten about her for years…

Cue Klaus Mikaelson!

Y/n meets Klaus at some party her father is forced to bring his wife and daughter to, schmoozing with all of the political idiots New York has to offer and Klaus (who has only recently broken his curse mind you) realizes that Y/n is his wolfs mate, one he has craved since the day he first killed and turned into a werewolf over 1000 years ago.

Klaus introduces himself, getting his girl a drink and flirting, barely noticing all of the looks he receives from the men around the room who all know better than to get that close to James Barnes daughter. They end up in a corner talking about anything and everything, both of them loving how honest they are able to be with each other for what feels like the first time ever, until of course one of her fathers men shows up. She quickly tells Steve to fuck off before pulling Klaus outside, insisting he leaves, giving him time to get away from her father and though Klaus doesn’t care about the man, he sees her fear and he does as she asks.

Later that night, after her mother scolded her all the way home for leaving her security (something that she’s sure was really her fathers issue but he had forced her mother to bring it up, making her feel like her father was avoiding her again) she hears a knock on her window and opens it to find her sexy Hybrid waiting for her to invite him in. They spend the whole night talking and Klaus tells her everything, knowing that his mate would be the one person that wouldn’t judge him or leave him. Y/n also told Klaus about her life, about who her father is and how she feels unloved by him and trapped in this house, and Klaus swears to save her, promises to give her a life away from her fathers business and cruelty (not that Klaus’ cruelty is any better but at least he won’t ever let her wonder whether he loves her or not, she will always know and that is a comfort to her in every way she needed).

One of Bucky’s men sees Klaus sneaking out her window before dawn and informs his boss, running a background check on the man and finding 5 different identities, this convinces Bucky that the man was sent by one of his enemies to hurt him by getting to his daughter. Bucky berates her for being so stupid to fall for this and though she knows the truth she can’t tell him about Klaus, she swore she would tell no one and she won’t break her promise. Bucky breaks Y/n’s heart, believing her so dumb and naive but she allows him to think this of her, already believing her father hates her anyway, which is why she does not hesitate to run away with Klaus later that night.

Bucky searches for her for months, his heart broken at the idea that his daughter thought she was unloved by him. He needed her to know that it wasn’t true and he was just an idiot who didn’t know how to care for a teenage girl. Eventually he finds a man who had been dealing with Klaus lately, clearly not knowing that he was a vampire and ending up injured beside Steve with the rest of his men all slaughtered.

It’s then that Y/n shows up, more beautiful than Bucky had ever seen her, screaming at the creature and demanding he explain why he believed he had the right to harm her family, shocking Bucky and Steve both at how terrified this man was of her. They quickly realized however that it wasn’t really Y/n that he was afraid of as Klaus shows up…

Honestly I have many different endings to that story at this point but it’s been rotting my brain for a while now so I thought ‘maybe someone else will like it too’ and here we are🤣

Mafia!Bucky’s Daughter is Klaus’ Mate Moodboard

Hybrids Mafia Princess Masterlist

[awyeahitssam]

Harry/Tom; Broken Promises + Pillow Forts, unresolved angst. Weirdly soft for them.

Harry may love his boyfriend, but he was also the first to admit that Tom Riddle was a stubborn prick.

They had been dating for seven months - fighting for longer - and, naturally, Yule was no different. They spent the majority of the day schmoozing at Black manor, Harry having allowed Tom to use his political position as both the Potter and Black heir to score an invite. It was a dreadfully boring and headache inducing affair, especially because Tom abandoned him several times to whisper his plans for World Domination into the ears of enthralled purebloods.

And now that they were back home, Tom was refusing to honor his end of the deal.

“We’re both exhausted, Harry,” he sighed, replacing a stiff dress shirt with soft cotton. “Another time.”

Harry doubted that. Plus, it was important to watch today. When Harry was young and Lily alive, every Yule had been spent on this very couch, bundled under blankets with a mug of hot chocolate and Christmas specials playing.

“We just spent most of the day playing politics because you wanted to, Tom, something I only agreed to because you promised we would do this tonight.”

“We left early because you said you were exhausted,” Tom rebutted. “Which means you need sleep, not to watch muggle Telly programs.”

“Fine,” Harry snapped, pulling Mrs. Weasley’s annual sweater over his head to conceal his hurt expression until he could get it under control. “Do what you want, but I’m watching this.”

Tom didn’t have family traditions. He didn’t have family. So it was understandable that he didn’t know how important this was to Harry.

But Harry had watched these with Remus once his mother died, and doing it alone, now that they were both gone, felt wrong.

Not that he had ever truly explained the importance of this to Tom. His lover probably thought of it as a silly whim, a favor. Perhaps he just detested muggles too much to care how his turnabout would affect Harry, and had never been planning to watch at all. It did rather sound like him.

Harry curled into a ball at the edge of the sofa and twisted his wand. Pillows zoomed from every room of the house, blankets floating behind them, and Harry heard a grunt as Tom -- presumably -- dodged one as they piled around him, building a fort that made him feel more cozy and less alone.

“Harry,” Tom hissed, in that all-too-familiar tone of frustration.

“What?” Harry snapped, turning on the Christmas special. His chest felt tight and he could feel his eyes welling with stupid, traitorous tears he refused to let fall. There was a pause, and then a blanket was pushed aside, allowing Tom to peer into his fort.

He was frowning, but it was more concerned than annoyed, and Harry looked away quickly. Not quickly enough, it seemed, because Tom sighed heavily and stepped into the fort, gently grasping his cheek.

“What is it, darling?”

Harry shrugged, pulling out of Tom’s grasp.

“Nothing,” he said through a dry throat. “I don’t like it when you make me promises you have no intention of keeping.”

Tom tensed, but didn’t deny his claim. “You’re typically not so upset.”

Harry turned to face him, anger only making the tears stronger. “Just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it,” he snapped. “As much as you hate liars, it’s interesting what you’ve become, isn’t it?”

But Tom did not snap back, or fly into a pique as he was wont to do when Harry criticized him. Instead, he crouched down before him with a frown, hesitantly touching his knees. “I’ve truly upset you,” he noted, then offered, “I’ll stay. We can watch the program together.”

Harry grimaced, pulling away from the tentative touch. “I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here,” he said, heart panging. “Why don’t you go back to Malfoy’s? I know he was talking about the after-party half the night.”

But Tom only frowned at him. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “You’re upset with me.”

Harry’s chest tightened. “When has that ever stopped you from leaving in the past?”

“Well, if you would just tell me instead of expecting me to know!” Tom snapped. “I’m trying here, Harry!”

“Maybe I need time,” Harry returned, just as fiercely though his own voice was quiet. “I don’t have to tell you everything, Tom, and I’ll tell you nothing before I’m ready to. I had your word that you would do this with me. Excuse me for believing that would be enough.”

From the fleeting expression on Tom’s face, a punch might’ve landed gentler. Neither of them trusted easily. Tom, because he’d never had reason to trust. Harry, because his faith had been broken so many times in the past.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holiday seasons! Something about jaskier being the equivalent of the Beyonce of the continent (geraskier, yeraskier?) Also thoughts on Liam Hemsworth as the new Geralt? Love you! <3

a continuation of 1

Yennefer is in the middle of the very important work of schmoozing her way into a baron’s good graces when Jaskier and his husband enter the ballroom.

(Geralt had irritated her the last time they’d crossed paths so she’s currently only referring to him as Jaskier’s husband to his face. He secretly loves it, but it does cause a bunch of annoying questions for him that he hates, so it’s still a net win as far as she’s concerned.)

The baron gapes. “Is that – surely it can’t be – the bard Jaskier?”

There are more excited titterings around the ballroom, everyone looking at Jaskier with the hungry gazes that she wanted them to direct towards her. Rude.

“Yennefer!” Jaskier shouts, crossing the room to her side, Geralt trailing a half step behind.

“You know him?” the baron demands incredulously.

She’s a sorceress of almost limitless power and he’s impressed because she’s crossed paths with a bard. This has to be some sort of curse.

“We were looking for you, we could use some of you help with some, um, stuff.” He darts a look back at husband then looks at her meaningfully, as if she wasn’t perfectly capable of picking up his incredibly unsubtle hint herself. Geralt just looks resigned, and a little grumpier than normal, which means he really does need help. Anything that can get a witcher – especially Geralt – looking for help can’t mean anything good.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” the baron says, shoving her to the side to grasp Jaskier’s hand and shake it eagerly. “Are you available to play? We’d love to hear you. We can pay of course, and we have accommodations for you and your companion, if you’re interested. Even just one song would be wonderful.”

They already have live music. What’s the big deal? Just because he can carry a tune doesn’t mean he warrants all this.

Jaskier is pointedly not looking at her and doing his best not to smile, which absolutely means he knows what this is doing to her and finds it hilarious. “If Lady Yennefer can be persuaded to help my companion, then I suppose I can be persuaded to play.”

The baron turns his big pleading eyes onto her, paying her more attention than he has the whole night.

She mentally denotes Jaskier to Geralt’s husband.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I’d love to hear your analysis behind MM schmoozing with the Kardashians. I know you’ve touched base on it before, but I’d love to know more. It seemed like, back in 2020 when Meghan first “returned” to California, she felt she was above that scene. Now, she’s doing what she can to attach herself to them…but I feel the timing is way, way off. She deigned to lower her standards enough to latch on to the K-train as it’s going off the rails. The eldest is basically cutting her ties from the fam. Kim lost a ton of credibility throughout her marriage to Kanye and she’s on the losing side of a feud against one of the biggest stars on the planet (and she was booed last night at the roast of Tom Brady!). The entire family doesn’t mind coming across as messy, or dumb, or promiscuous which seems to be the opposite of the look Meghan tries to achieve (they do, however, work very hard, and for the most part are very family oriented). Is this another backfire on Meghan’s behalf or do you think she has sound networking reasons behind this connection?

Old ask from May 6th

I think Meghan likes the Kardashians because who they are today is what she wants for herself; they're accepted by society, they have huge businesses and companies, they're cultural icons. But what Meghan doesn't understand is that the Kardashians have authenticity and American culture places a really high value on authenticity. You could be the worst person in the world, but as long as you're authentic in who you are, what you believe, and the things you do, we'd generally accept it and support you.

(Authenticity, by the way, is Kim's issue. Something happened and people don't see her as authentic anymore, and that's why she's getting booed and may not be as well-liked as her sisters are. Maybe it was the feud with Taylor. Maybe it was Kanye. Maybe it was something else altogether.)

After all, Meghan has been trying to network her way into being momagered by Kris. Love her or hate her, Kris is one of the more effective talent managers right now. Look at everything her family has now - brand deals, marketing deals, multimillion dollar companies, a general respectability, acceptance - and remember, all of this came from a sex tape. Somehow, Kris lassoed the wind from that storm and brought her family into Emerald City.

That's what Meghan wanted; she wanted to leverage the controversy of marrying into the BRF to roar into Hollywood with multimillion-dollar brands, sponsorships, celebrity friends, acceptance, and relevance.

Except her marrying into the BRF wasn't controversial. Yes, there were a couple of racist articles (which were handled immediately) but by and large, the press accepted her, the public accepted her, and the BRF accepted her. So Meghan had to create the controversy she wanted, and that's where everything fell apart. It fell apart for her the same way it's falling apart for Kim - the lack of authenticity and death by a thousand cuts exposing how she manipulated everything to be seen as the victim.

Anyway. I'm not sure it matters anymore. The Kardashians seem to have successfully pushed Meghan away because Meghan is back to hanging out with Oprah and Oprah's '90s crowd.

Also, I think trying to get in with the Kardashians and their crowd was Meghan's way of trying to upgrade her fame strategy. Hear me out:

1980s - 1997: Fame was best represented by Diana and the paparazzi stalking

1995 - 1999: JFK Jr brought the Kennedy name back into global fame

1998 - 2011: Mid-1990s, Oprah changed her talk show from tabloid trash to what it's now best known as; motivational, inspirational, celebrity interviews. From that time through her last show in 2011, Oprah and The Oprah Winfrey Show were considered the top "get" for celebrity PR. If you made it onto the Oprah Show, you were famous. Oprah's successor was Ellen DeGeneres and The Ellen Show (which began in 2003) and like Oprah, if you were on Ellen, you were famous, you were popular, and you were cool.

2003ish - 2007ish: Paris, Britney, Nicole, Lindsay/Perez Hilton/TMZ era. Fame was cute young twenty-something girls partying in LA.

2007 - 2016: Kardashians on the rise. The Kardashians peaked in 2016/2017 in terms of their press coverage, and they've been steadily (albeit gently) declining since.

2010 - 2016: William and Kate get engaged and the BRF enters a new "golden phase", becoming globally popular again.

2016 - 2022: (I have no idea. It was such a weird time. See the * note below.)

2022 - today: peak Taylor Swift

So if we look at Meghan and her fame "trajectory," she's emulated the lives and PR of the most famous pop culture icons of the last 40 years, trying to catch some of their stardust.

She married Diana's son, tried to get the paparazzi to chase after her the same way, and copied Diana's outfits.

She cozied up to the Kennedy family and connected their surname with hers.

She got the Oprah celebrity interview and inserted herself into Oprah's circle. Then she got the Ellen celebrity interview and inserted herself into Ellen's circle.

She cozied up to the Kardashians, copied their outfits, makeup, and hairstyles.

She cozied up to William and Kate, tried to be their besties, and tried to out-duchess Kate at game Kate herself created and owned the copyrights/trademarks to.

So was Meghan buddying up to the Kardashians so Kris could be her momager and get her the riches of the world as she desires? Or was Meghan buddying up to the Kardashians to collect them for her gauntlet of infinity stones so she could one day snap her fingers and be the most famous person in literally all of history and culture combined?

*I feel like politics dominated much of the conversation 2016 - 2020 with Trump, Brexit, and the rise of the far right and so much so that it consumed much of pop culture in a way we hadn't seen before and I'm not sure if there was anyone famous-famous or tabloid-famous that rose above it to dominate the way Diana, JFK Jr, Young Millennial Hollywood, the Kardashians, and Golden Era of Cambridges did. Then obviously 2020-2022 was COVID, with The Queen's death in 2022 being, in my opinion, the door that slammed the door shut on the 2016-2022 era of chaos, which - in a weird way - let pop culture as a whole kind of shift and regroup. I could probably write a much longer essay on this but I'll spare y'all since my stomach's rumbling and it's lunch time.

[offside-the-lines]

Am I Ready (To Be Loved) | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Nate is not known to be impulsive, especially when it comes to love. So what happens when he gets a crazy idea while hungover the day after the Avalanche Stanley Cup parade. a/n: Happy Holidays folks! My first fic back (on this new blog) is a reworking of a fic I wrote for my Winter Prompt request last year (for @fallinallincurls). Thought I needed to start somewhere. This is obviously set in 2022 because I can't stand the idea of the avs squad being different. It also features some of our fave tropes. Pairing: Nathan McKinnon x Female!OC Words: 8K Warnings: alcohol Requests: Open | Masterlist

Charlotte hated these fancy functions. The schmoozing and the small talk were things that made her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin. No matter how much she would normally enjoy conversation, this just felt fake. And she knew how ridiculous it was. She worked in media. She was always in front of cameras. She took this job knowing this was a requirement. It doesn’t change the truth that, at her core, she would rather be on the couch watching some TV show on Netflix.

Although this wasn’t the first formal event she’d ever been to, this was the first Colorado Avalanche donors’ function. It didn’t help that she had only been working as a correspondent for Altitude TV for a few months; so many knew her name and her face, but no one really knew her personally. So, it was just smile, small talk, comment on the Avs, rinse and repeat.

After an hour or so of this, she was feeling done. Heading to the bar for a drink and found a cocktail table in the corner of the room, tucked near the obscenely large Christmas Tree, where she could just stand and watch. Charlotte looked around the room and wondered how long she had to stay before it was not inappropriate to leave.

“Hate these parties too, eh?” a familiar voice rang beside her.

Despite her shattered solitude, the voice brought out a smile on her face. “What do you mean? I don’t hate this?” she replied, not putting in much effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She turned to face the voice and the sight almost startled her a little as she felt her face warm. There stood Nathan Mackinnon in his perfectly tailored navy suit, eyes shining in the dim lighting. She takes a drink quickly to distract herself, reminding herself to be a professional.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “hiding in a dark corner isn’t avoiding the party, Charlotte.”

She shrugs as she turns her eyes back to the party.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in her ear, making her neck tingle a little, “I really don’t like these parties either. I would rather be at home on the couch with my dog watching TV.”

As he leaned back to sip his drink, she turned to him in surprise. “Oh yeah? Like what? More hockey tape?”

After a bit of light banter, they find that they have the same favorite show, much to Charlotte’s surprise. In the dim corner of a fancy event, they are quoting their favorite lines to each other, trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, hiding themselves behind their drinks so as to not draw too much attention at such a fancy event. Charlotte’s laughing so hard she snorts a little, causing Nate to look at her in surprise before continuing to laugh even harder, drawing some looks from the donors and teammates closest to them. After a while, when they both finally calm down, she feels herself relax a little.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before Nate spoke up again. “You know, Charlotte. You ask me questions all the time, but I don’t think I really know anything about you other than your name and your job title.”

“I mean, I only really ever ask you questions about the game or the team,” she responds.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me,” he said pointedly, but softly. He had a point; it was her job to know as much about the players as possible.

“Okay, I know about NHL Hockey Player, Avs’ Center, Forward Extraordinaire Nathan “Nate the Dogg” Mackinnon,” she says, flashing her hands in front as if to signal an imaginary banner, “I don’t know Nate “a dude who sits on his couch with his dog watching dumb shows” Mackinnon.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he responds deep in thought. “Fine, how about we play 20 questions? You ask me a question; I ask you a question.”

“How very high school, Nathan,” she pauses to think about it. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about this new friendship. On the one hand, it is her job to get to know the players. Although, she was pretty sure that the fraternizing was only supposed to be in professional contexts. On the other hand, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. And at the end of the day, it was Nathan Mackinnon, and he wanted to get to know her. Besides, she knew that he didn’t really date anyway, so she felt safe that there was one of them keeping their feelings in check. Eventually, she responds with a nod, “Sure.”

“Okay!” He said excitedly, his blue eyes lighting up, “Where are you from? Where did you grow up and go to college and stuff?”

“Nathan, that’s two questions. Should I deduct points from you?”

“There are points now?”

“I’m just kidding.”

And so, they went back and forth getting to know each other, talking animatedly, and laughing heartily, until they got through the 20 questions each. At one point, they had migrated to a table to continue sitting down because Nate noticed she was shifting on her feet from the heels. Charlotte was pretty certain that Nate now knew her better than anyone else in Denver.

Eventually, EJ came over and tapped Nate on the shoulder at which point she looked up and realized that most of his teammates and donors had left and they were a few of the last people remaining in the event space.

“Hey,” EJ smiled at you in his signature toothless way, “good to see you’re having fun, Charlotte.”

“Thanks, EJ,” she smiled back.

“Mac Daddy, you’re kind of my ride home, so… are you ready to leave?” EJ said laughing and looked at Charlotte, “I don’t think I’ve ever had to pull Nathan here away from a party before. He is usually begging me to leave.”

Nate bumped his elbow into EJ, not drawing much of a response, as he quickly looked away from her. She could have sworn his cheeks were turning a little pink, but that could also be the lighting.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s late and I want to be up for morning skate tomorrow, unlike you lazy idiots,” Nathan grumbled standing up.

She stood up too, only now realizing how tired you were. “Yeah, damn, it’s late. Well, I had a great time talking to you Nathan,” sending him a warm smile and a nod, “EJ. See you two later.”

As she started walking away, she heard some whispers behind her before Nate called out, “Hey, Charlotte, you good to get home? I mean, do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um… Actually… Sure. That would be nice. Thanks!”

She saw EJ whisper something in Nate’s ear before he was quickly shoved away. Suddenly feeling awkward, she trailed behind them quietly to Nate’s car. As soon as it was in sight, EJ called shotgun and started making a run for it, slipping a little on the ice, making Charlotte and Nate snort with laughter.

Nate offered a hand to guide her across the slippery ground and opened the car door for her, keeping his hand on her as she climbed in. She directed Nate to her apartment, thanking him and EJ quickly as she left. Once she got into her apartment, Charlotte leaned against the door and just smiled for a bit.

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the car, EJ was basically yelling at Nate.

“Dude, you dog, what was that?”

“EJ, stop.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never seen you talk to someone for that long. Not even Barrie or Sid.”

“She was easy to talk to. And it was a good way to get through the event.”

“Nate, don’t give me that bullshit.” EJ’s voice is rarely serious, but it is now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” Nate shrugged.

The rest of the ride to EJ’s house is quiet and as Nate pulled into the driveway, EJ finally spoke up again, “Tell me you at least got her number.”

“Shit,” Nate let out under his breath before he could stop himself.

“Oh my god, you idiot. You didn’t get her number.”

Nate let out a groan and tapped his forehead firmly on his steering wheel in frustration. As EJ shook his head, and said his goodbyes, Nate’s head was whirring with thoughts. There was no smooth way to ask for her number now. It’s like he missed an exit on the freeway and there was no way off now. The alcohol and the adrenaline meant he didn’t sleep much that night and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t make it to the optional morning skate, much to the surprise of everyone.

The rest of the season flew by as the team soared through the playoffs. Nate kept thinking about ways to ask Charlotte for her number but just couldn’t stop overthinking it and psyching himself out; eventually deciding to table the topic until after the season was over to focus on the Cup. But he reveled in every intermission or postgame interview where they got to talk, or the little conversations they would get to have in the arena or on the plane. Occasionally, he’d even slip in a hug, taking in her perfume, under the guise of celebration.

The gossip had now spread through the group — not surprising since EJ has never once kept a secret — and had been an ongoing chirp for Nate. It didn’t help that at the two galas since, Nate was the first one there excitedly scanning the room, but Charlotte wasn’t at either. He’d learn she was covering the Nuggets or the Rapids those nights and would then leave as early as possible.

It got even harder to not think about her as he neared the end of the season, where every phone call with his mom would eventually turn to his cousin’s wedding in the summer and whether he was going to bring a date. Family weddings were the one time he felt he couldn’t leave early, forcing himself to endure the suffering that was being single in your late twenties and watching people be in love. Not to mention all the comments and questions: wanting gossip, wanting a date, feeling sorry for him.

*          *          *

Charlotte was happy with the casual platonic friendship that she had found with Nate. She always looked forward to talking with him at games because he was always more relaxed with her than the other boys, even occasionally giving her a sweaty hug after a good, exciting win. Her co-workers had made some comments about how unusual it was, but she just chalked it up to them knowing each other better now.

The job kept her busy, busier than anticipated. And it felt like the year had flown by before she found herself at the celebration gala for the newly crowned Stanley Cup Champions. The atmosphere was different from the last event she had been to. That one was for schmoozing. This was only for celebrating. The energy in the room was intoxicating and she had a big smile plastered to her face as soon as she walked in.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd and congratulated everyone she saw and recognized. Eventually, she stumbled into Gabe.

“Congratulations, Gabe!” you yelled.

“Lotteee! Thank you!” he yelled back, pulling her in for a tight hug before spinning her around. He was so drunk, but he did look unbelievably happy. When he finally put her down, he grabbed her by the arm and very dramatically whispered in her ear while pointing, “Nate’s that way.”

She looked at him confused and surprised, but he didn’t let her say anything before not so gently pushing her towards Nate. And she didn’t protest, because when she finally saw him, she felt her heart speed up again. He looked jubilant, swaying slightly with EJ, face pink and hair messy. She had learned over the last month or so that she really liked the way he looked with the playoff beard.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to disturb whatever EJ and Nate were doing, but once EJ saw her, he let out a screech so loud she had no choice but to turn toward them. “Charlotte! Lotte! Lott Ness Monster! Come here!” But once you got here, he immediately left, vanishing to leave her standing in front of the very flushed Nathan Mackinnon.

“Hi Nathan, congratulations! Well deserved. It’s been an absolute privilege watching you this season,” she said, unsure what to do as her heart kept racing faster at the way drunk Nate was looking at her.

“Oh, stop with that professional speech and give me a hug,” he slurred, pulling her in tightly.

She chuckled and let herself enjoy the warmth and the firm contours of his body against her before forcing herself to pull away. He only let her get so far, leaving one arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at an event like this,” she said softly.

“Well, I had to! You weren’t at the last two of these, so I had to find a way to entertain myself with EJ,” he said, pouting. She had certainly never seen him pout, but she was even more surprised that he noticed and cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I had work. Sorry.”

“I know. Who even cares about the Nuggets.” he mumbled under his breath before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “GO AVS!” that was followed by a loud round of cheers. After a few seconds, he piped up excited again, “Are you enjoying yourself today?”

“Um… I think so! It’s nice to see everyone so happy and energetic.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling until she caught Gabe and EJ staring and pointing at them. Before she had the chance to ask Nate what that was about, he was pulling her towards Mikko on the other side of the room.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, laughs, and the warm firm feeling of Nate’s arm around her shoulders. With each passing drink, she found herself leaning into it more. She was sure her face was so red that it rivaled JT’s hair. But if the boys noticed, which they were too drunk to notice, they didn’t mention it. And even if they did, she doesn’t remember.

*          *          *

The next morning Nate woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He had collapsed on top of all his sheets fully naked, and so he also woke up with a slight feeling of shame and dread at what he might have done the night before. When he finally reached over to check his phone, it was blowing up with messages.

gabe the babe (INCOMING): dude did nate finally hook up with the lott ness monster

JT (INCOMING): omg nate, you have to tell us if you did

mooseman (INCOMING): he definitely did, did you not see how he literally didn’t stop touching her the whole night

Nate buried his head in his sheets and groaned, trying to rack his brain for memories of himself being an idiot around Charlotte last night. But he was drawing a blank. After minutes, he finally lifted his head again and opened a private text to EJ.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): ej, please tell me you remember if I did something stupid last night

EJ (INCOMING): yeah. you did.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): FUCK what did I do

EJ (INCOMING): you didn’t take lotte home with you you fucking idiot

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): what

EJ (INCOMING): you just fucking disappeared in an uber without even saying goodbye. and EYE had to make sure she got home okay

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): oh, well it could’ve been worse

EJ (INCOMING): HOW

EJ (INCOMING): HOW COULD IT HAVE BEEN WORSE

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): idk if I did something stupid or said something bad

EJ (INCOMING): dude, you have got to ask her out, you two clearly like each other

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): i have no idea what you’re talking about. we're just friends. we just work together. like you and me

EJ (INCOMING): YEAH RIGHT DOGG if you were touching me all night like that, we would be having a very different conversation ;)

EJ (INCOMING): please tell me you at least have her number now

Nate paused and thought back to the night before, but it was such a blur he didn’t know. But when he looked in his contacts, her number wasn’t there.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): nope

EJ (INCOMING): you are so fucking hopeless. i hope you find a pair at home this summer so you will finally do something about this crush

EJ (INCOMING): or maybe when we come back in the fall, she won’t be so single anymore and it won’t matter

Nate felt his stomach turn and he groaned. The hangover finally hit him but he was typing a sarcastic response when another message interrupted his thought.

Sarah (INCOMING): congrats again bro! are you bringing someone to the wedding?

Nate (OUTGOING): wow, really cutting to the chase this morning.

Nate (OUTGOING): and no.

Sarah (INCOMING): what you’re telling me a stanley cup winner can’t find a date

Nate groaned again and muffled a scream in his pillow. He knew that his sister and mom would not drop this subject from the moment he got home. He knew that they would probably try to set him on dates, or worse introduce him to every single woman at the wedding. He lay there, head on his pillow, for a long time, until finally, he had an absolutely insane idea. An idea that can only come to someone after the happiest day of their life followed by the biggest hangover of their life.

Nate (OUTGOING): fine, I’ll bring someone

Sarah (INCOMING): OH MY GOD WHAT WHO

Sarah (INCOMING): NATHAN RAYMOND MACKINNON IF YOU’VE BEEN DATING SOMEONE THIS WHOLE TIME AND HIDING IT FROM ME, I’LL KILL YOU. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE WON.

Nate (OUTGOING): nope, not telling

Sarah (INCOMING): you are a child and i hate you

Nate (OUTGOING): I love you. See you soon.

Sarah (INCOMING): URGH

Sarah (INCOMING): Love you too. I’m calling mom.

*          *          *

Charlotte woke up with a splitting headache and the room spinning at 6 am. And despite how horribly she felt, she couldn’t get back to sleep. She could still feel Nate’s arm on her shoulder, and his lips against her ear as he whispered something unintelligible, and the scent of his cologne lingering on her hair would waft into her memory every few seconds making her heart skip. She was absolutely certain that he was more drunk than she was, and that he was a touchy drunk. She felt even a little guilty for taking advantage of his touchiness, getting as much as she could last night.

After a few hours of being unable to get back to sleep, she peeled herself up and drew herself a bath with a cup of tea. She still wasn’t able to stomach food yet, but she felt her body relaxing in the warm water, finally letting Nate slip from her mind. Eventually, she got up and padded around the house thinking about the long summer ahead. It was her first summer with not a lot of work to do, and since it was her first year in Denver, she also didn’t really know many people or have any concrete plans.

She had just sat down at her computer to research ideas when she heard a buzz on her apartment intercom. She looked down at her phone confused, but there were no texts there from the few friends she had made so far.

“Hello?” she stutters cautiously into the intercom.

“Oh my god, thank fuck,” a familiar voice rang back, “it’s you. I’ve been buzzing every apartment and I swear your neighbors think I’m a crazy person.”

“What?”

“Um. Oh. Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Nate.”

She was stunned silent. Stunned and confused.

“Um… Nathan Mackinnon…” He filled the silence nervously, “You know… From the Avalanche.”

That snapped her out of her trance as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my god Nathan, I know who you are. Sorry. I was just confused. How do you know where I live?”

“Um, well when we first met, I dropped you off here. So, I made the gamble that you still lived here and just buzzed every apartment to see.”

“Oh. Wow,” she says, stunned, confused and flattered, “Um, is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He paused. “You know, I just realized how dumb this was. I’m really sorry to disturb you—”

“No!” she says louder than she intended, “No, Nathan, wait. Let me buzz you up.”

“Oh, okay, yeah! Thanks!”

She paced around her entryway, thoughts racing. The door knocks still startled her, and as she walked over, she looked down at her sweatpants and realized there definitely was no time to change and prayed she looked okay.

“Hi, Nathan,” she smiled, opening the door, “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” he hesitates and makes a gesture to hug her before chickening out, pulling away and stepping past her.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today?”

“Your apartment is cute.”

“Thanks. It’s not NHL superstar level, but it’s pretty good to me.”

He chuckles and leans a hip on the kitchen island, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly trained on the ground. She wasn’t really sure what to say, so she moved behind him to start making them both some tea. He studies her as she moves around and wonders how it’s possible she looks so good in your sweatpants and messy bun when he feels like his entire guts might just drop out of his body.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Um, so I realized I didn’t have your number.”

This made her laugh, a proper belly laugh. “What,” she manages to get out, “you came all the way here because you don’t have my number.”

“Well…” he hesitates, “Yeah. I mean, I never asked for it I guess.”

“Okay, do you want it now?” she was still laughing.

“Um, yes?” He was shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck with his hand, leaning awkwardly on the countertop.

“Okay,” she reached a hand out.

He looks at her confused and gives it a slap.

“That was for your phone, silly. Not for a five,” she was laughing even harder now. And his cheeks turned bright red as he handed her his phone, not meeting her eyes. She passes the phone back to him along with a cup of tea, “There you go. So… What was the huge rush? You could’ve emailed me or something for it.”

He paused and laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. I guess my brain doesn’t work very well when I’m hungover.”

Charlotte took a seat next to him on the kitchen island as they sipped their teas.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not why I came over. I mean it, but it isn’t the main reason.”

“Okay?” she encouraged.

“I had a really stupid idea and it was stupid at the time, but now I’m here it’s even dumber. So, I’ll just settle for the number.”

“Okay, Nathan, you can’t just say something that cryptic and not tell me.”

His face went bright red again and he shuffled in place. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to interrupt my hangover recovery and not tell me why.”

He sighed and looked away. After a while, he mumbled under his breath very quickly, “Fine. Icameheretoaskyouifyou’dcometomycousin’swedding.”

“What?” she said, not sure if she misinterpreted the mumbles or if she was dreaming.

“Um… Well, my cousin, back in Nova Scotia, is getting married in a few weeks. And my mom and sister keep bothering me to bring someone. And I just had this stupid idea. Because you’re the only person I’ve had fun with at those big events. So, this morning, in my post-Stanley Cup alcohol delirium I thought Hey, I should ask Charlotte if she wants to help me survive a social event and get my parents off my ass about not having a date? So here I am. But obviously, that was insane. So don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte looked at him, mouth open, in shock for longer than acceptable, and felt her own cheeks redden. A little lightheaded, before she could really stop to think, she responded, “Sure! I mean why not? What’s the harm in me going? I don’t have any plans.”

His head snapped up to meet her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and Charlotte is captivated by the way his sharp blues light up in response. It was when she saw the smile take over his face and her heart sped up that she knew this was probably a huge mistake. But a mistake she didn’t want to take back.

*          *          *

“So, how long have you two cuties been dating?” the fifth person in a row asked. Charlotte wasn’t sure if this was an aunt or a family friend, but she forced the smile back on her face as she responded.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We work together, kind of.”

The lady looked between the two of them, and Charlotte could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle again as she was acutely aware of Nate’s hand resting on her lower back.

“She’s here as my date, yes, but we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends,” he replies gently but firmly, the same way he had been doing all weekend, before changing the subject.

But she was lost in thought. She had been here for a few days, and she had to admit that Nova Scotia was beautiful, and Nate’s family and friends were wonderful. Despite not knowing Nate super well, she had never felt out of place. He had always made sure she was included in conversations, explaining anything that felt like an inside joke. She thought back to all the times she had met a boyfriend’s family — there hadn’t been that many, but enough to know that this was far better than any of them did.

Nate had been awkward and hesitant at first, jumping away every time he touched her by accident on the plane ride over and flinching when their knuckles brushed when he went to help her grab her luggage. But he slowly allowed himself to loosen up a little, reading her lack of discomfort as a good sign. He always prided himself on acting like a gentleman; even though women complained that he was stiff and unromantic, he tried. He found himself putting in an extra effort to hold open the door for her, to pull out a chair for her, to offer an elbow as she walked on the uneven pavement.

If Nate was in his head about every move he made, Charlotte was ten times more in her head. They had only really spent time together at work and work functions. And she wasn’t sure if that’s why something felt different here, more intimate, or if she was just imagining it. She was starting to feel like he was going out of his way to touch her; laying a hand on her knee when they were sitting next to each other, tapping her elbow to show her something, keeping a hand on her back when they were standing.

She had tried her hardest not to lean into his touch every time, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his large hand on her back felt—god, was his hand always this large. It was never too low as to be intrusive; just resting chastely on her mid back to remind her that he was there and was ready to take a break from the socializing at any point.

Whether she was imagining it or not, it was starting to drive her insane. Her skin constantly felt buzzing and hot, tingling in the places he touched, electrified in the places closest to him that craved his touch.

Nate’s low voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she responded as she felt her neck and ear flush with the brush of his lips on her ear.

“Oh, I was just asking if you want to go for a walk,” he murmured, “you’re looking a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, her voice coming out a little shaky with how close his tall frame was to her.

And so, she reached out and took his extended elbow as they slipped out of the rehearsal dinner and wandered down to the waterfront in silence.

“I can totally see why you love it here,” she finally said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“It’s beautiful. The water. With the lights reflecting. And all the beautiful trees. And the fresh air. I can understand why you love coming here in the summer.”

“Yeah, it’s truly something,” he looked over at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were warm and soft. It looked like he wanted to say something for a second before he shook his head and looked away. “I’m glad you came with me. You make these big events bearable.”

“Just bearable, Nathan?” she laughed, trying to break the tension in the air she couldn’t really explain. And his chuckles were quick to join hers in the warm summer air.

And just like that, they fell into a comfortable rhythm again, laughing and chatting. Eventually, he walked her back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms.

“Well, here you go, m’lady,” he joked, letting his arm fall from her for the first time in a while. He began to turn towards his room but hesitated for a second before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. She let herself melt into the hug, embracing the warm buzzing feeling in her chest as she felt his larger frame engulf her. He didn’t let go when she thought he was going to, instead whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what, Nathan?”

“For coming with me. For being so good with my family, even though they keep asking intrusive questions. For just being you,” he said, pulling back. They were standing so close together that she could see every shade of blue in his eyes as they looked at her intently. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before the smallest sharp intake of breath he tried to hide as he untangled from her. She could feel her body ache a little as her cheeks burned.

She didn’t know if it was the glasses of wine or the dizzying tension, but before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, Nathan,” she murmured, “good night.” She smiled as she turned away and opened her hotel room door as quickly as possible.

She didn’t dare to take a peek back at him, but if she had, she would have seen his eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in shock. Instead, she quickly ducked into the room, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against the cold wood, and closing her eyes. What the fuck am I doing, she said to herself, Nate is a sweet guy, who I work with. I’m just doing him a favor. And he clearly thinks I’m just a good friend, as he keeps saying to everyone. Get it together.

She walked away and started getting ready for bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as her mind raced through the moments of the day, all the little touches and glances and the sparkle in Nate’s blue eyes.

 *         *          *

The following day was the wedding, and the morning passed comfortably despite neither of them acknowledging the moment they both wanted to talk about so badly. Soon, she found herself sitting beside him in the church, watching the beautiful bride stand next to her adoring groom.

While the ceremony went on, Nate was having a hard time staying out of his thoughts as the celebrant talked about love and marriage and as the happy couple exchanged adoring words with each other. It was not that he hated weddings, not at all; in fact, he loved them. He loved the celebration and the emotion. But as the years went on, it became a stunning reminder of what he did not have. With every wedding and every failed relationship in between, he felt more alone, like maybe something was wrong with him.

Charlotte noticed that Nate seemed emotional, lost in his thoughts. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she could sense that he was troubled. At some point during the ceremony, when Nate found himself particularly emotional, he had reached his hand over and grasped hers. She had to try hard to hold back the small gasp that threatened to escape her lips. But seeing his troubled expression, she squeezed his hand. And, inexplicably to her, his hand never left hers, not during the rest of the ceremony, or the walk over to the cocktail hour space. He only reluctantly let go to help her to her seat once they got to the reception.

Although they both enjoyed the reception food, they had both been so deep in their own thoughts that their conversation with the table was stilted and almost awkward. Eventually, as the night wore on, and the gentle fuzz of liquor started to take over, they both started to relax. Nate, after starting and stopping for almost 15 minutes, finally asked her to dance; his heart rate racing as she excitedly nodded yes.

Which is how they found themselves on the dancefloor for over an hour. At first, it was awkward. They were standing a foot apart, dancing independently; she, laughing at Nate’s horrible dance moves, and Nate, feeling electrified by the way her body moved. Eventually, they got closer and closer together until they were swaying in each other’s arms to some horrible Mariah Carey song, making snide remarks in each other’s ears and not caring how obnoxiously loud they were laughing at the jokes.

A few drinks later, their inhibitions were lowered enough that she found herself with her back against him. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned into his warm, towering figure. Both of them were no longer sure if they were intoxicated by each other or the drinks, but they did not really care. After they were grinding to a Doja Cat song, she swore she felt something press against her back, but she was not sure as Nate swiftly excused himself to use the bathroom.

And that’s how she found herself at the bar by herself.

“Nate really likes you, you know?” she heard a voice say beside her. When she looked over, she saw his mom giving her a knowing glance.

“Oh, Mrs. Mackinnon, we’re just friends,” Charlotte managed to choke out, despite feeling her throat tighten.

“I know, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more there,” she smiled, laying a soft hand on her forearm. She had never felt herself sober up faster.

“I appreciate that, but we do work together,” she strained.

“Please, call me Kathy,” she continued, not acknowledging Charlotte’s weak protest. And when she did not respond, Kathy added, “You know, I’ve met a number of his girlfriends, and he had never looked at them the way he looks at you. Or even treated them the same way. He’s barely left your side since you got here.”

“Kathy, I’m sure that’s not true. You have raised an amazing son. I’m sure he is just as kind to anyone.” She could feel her cheeks feel heat as she started scanning the room, desperate for Nate’s return.

“Sweetheart,” Kathy spoke softly, “I have been married for many years. There is only one reason a person looks at someone the way he looks at you, and that’s love. If you feel the same way, you should tell him. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.”

She smiled as her husband came to stand next to her; and before Charlotte could protest again, she gave her a gentle hug before walking away, leaving her standing there with her head spinning at her words.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the bar and downed her drink in one go once the bartender handed it to her, earning an eyebrow raise. She jumped and let out a little squeak when she felt a warm hand press into her back.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Nate joked before he met her eyes and his brows furrowed, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she croaked out stiffly.

“Are you sure?” he stepped in closer which only made her stiffen more, “You seem… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?” she tried to say calmly, although it came out an octave too high, “What makes you say that? Nope. I’m fine.”

He furrowed his brow more and leaned back, confused, before removing his hand from her back and stuffing them in his pockets. There was a twinge of sadness in his eye as he looked around, unsure what to do. “Okay, then. Do you want to go back on the dance floor? Or I guess not. We could sit back at our table?”

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, finding a normal tone again, “Table sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just watching the other guests dancing, both deep in thought. She was stuck thinking about what Nate’s mom had said. If she thought about it, she could totally understand why an outside observer would see their relationship as something more than friends. But if Nate had feelings for her, why did he so insistently refer to her as his “good friend”? And even if he did like her, she wasn’t sure about the implications for her job. Was she going to get fired? Probably not, if she was upfront with HR. But she was new to the city and relatively new to the field. What if people started to see her as the girl who ‘goes for the stars’ or the girl who’s ‘just here to get in some rich athlete’s pants’. She had worked too hard not to be taken seriously now. And maybe if things worked out, it would eventually blow over. But if it didn’t work out… If it didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she felt it would be bad.

Meanwhile, Nate was panicking; combing through every moment of the evening, trying to find where things went wrong. He was finally feeling like he had an idea of how she felt. Like maybe if he told her his feelings, she would reciprocate. Did he go too far with the dancing? Was Drunk Nate too caught up in the moment and did something inappropriate and unwanted? Nate was never much of a verbal processor — he preferred to stew on things first, —  and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol lingering in his system but he felt the words trying to bubble up in his chest. He didn’t even know what the words would be; maybe words to explain how he felt about her, to make sure he didn’t do something wrong, to make sure she was okay.

When she finally felt the grip on her chest loosen and the thoughts begin to slow a little, she snuck a quick glance at Nate. His jaw was set firm, and brows furrowed. He was staring into the crowd on the dancefloor, but he was clearly not watching them. He looked tense, and she could see the panic she felt reflected on his face. She found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze; a move that clearly surprised him as he jumped a little before smiling and relaxing into it.

“Nate, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’m thinking of heading back to the room. Did you want to stay longer?” she said gently.

He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile, although the worry hadn’t left the contours of his face yet, “No, I’m actually ready to head back too. Come on.” He pulled her onto her feet.

They took the ten-minute walk back to the hotel in relative silence, tethered together by their interlocked hands. Nate spent the whole walk back planning his speech; he was going to tell her how he felt because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Holding hands with her just felt so right. But for her, despite how nice it felt, it caused an overwhelming sense of panic to rush back through her. It was nice. It was too nice. It was going to ruin everything.

Stepping out of the elevator, the words escaped her lips before she had the chance to hold them back. “Nate, I think this was a mistake,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He froze beside her and managed to choke out a “What?”

“Nate,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and backing towards her door, “This is giving me a taste of what I can’t have. And this friendship… I don’t think I can do this.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, still stuck in the spot where she left him, his voice louder than he had intended.

“The touching, the holding hands, the being sweet… It’s too much,” she said, unlocking the door, not meeting his eyes.

“What—” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. Her mind didn’t process that the pain she felt was echoed in his voice.

She sighed, stepping into the doorway, “I can’t do this, Nate. Because if we keep doing this, I’m going to fall in love with you. And I can’t do that while being your ‘good friend from work’. So, I’m going to bed. Good night.” She finally met his eye as she stepped back to shut the door, barely registering the way his face flickered from hurt to confusion to shock to hope.

Charlotte rested her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. She could feel the tears form and slide down her face. She tried to convince herself that it was the right move, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the sound of Nate’s mother’s voice saying ‘Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.’ What if Kathy was right? What if protecting herself from pain was causing more pain itself? What if it would work out? As she stood there, she listened for movement on the other side of the door, but she heard none. Was that hope she saw in his face there? If it was, what did it mean?

Before she could finish the thought, she heard shuffles and a rapid knock on the door that startled her. She didn’t know why, but she opened it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did something earlier that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I'm crossing a boundary now but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say this," he said, looking at her with concern. When she nodded, he continued speaking.

He confessed to her that he had never been this person before, love-struck and irrational. He had always been calm, detached, and calculated, but with her, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help being rash, like inviting her to the wedding or reaching out to touch her and be close to her.

She had told him that she couldn't do this because she was scared of falling in love with him, but he revealed that he might already be in love with her. He had been saying that she was just a friend and a colleague because he was scared, but he had never felt this way before and was afraid he would mess it up.

During the wedding ceremony, he looked around at everyone and realized that he had won the Stanley Cup this year, but he still felt off. He kept thinking about her - how her laughter made him want to make her laugh again, how her smile warmed his chest, and how he could still feel the tingle where their skin had touched even after she left.

He admitted that he had never been sure if he had truly been in love before, and maybe this was it. He thought they owed it to themselves to find out because he believed she might feel the same way. He knew it might not be the most rational decision, but it was everything he had to say.

Feeling a shaky breath escape her lips, she heard the voice in her mind, "Don't stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short." For the first time on this trip, she felt her mind still and smiled as she closed the distance between them. With her chest pressed to him, she looked up at him, admiring his soft and nervous blue eyes. She reached up to cup his neck and met him in a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and soft at first, as she chastely felt their bodies slot together; his hands finding her waist, and hers fisting his suit jacket to bring him closer. After not long, she felt Nate run his tongue along her lip and she allowed herself to deepen the kiss, conveying the emotion that was hard to put into words. The feeling of his firm hands against her waist and his muscular body against hers again made her feel as though she were on fire. And she had to admit, she liked this quite a lot. Eventually, they disconnected and rested their foreheads together as they took in the moment.

“So, are you going to say something?” Nate whispered.

 “Yeah, uh, ditto,” she whispered back, giggling slightly.

“That’s it?!” he leaned back in mock horror, “After I poured my heart out, that’s all you have to say?” She could see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I think for the first time in your life, you have spoken enough words for both of us, Nathan,” she laughed as she gave his chin a little pinch, drawing a laugh from him as well. She leaned back in to place another firm kiss on his lips before saying, “I like you a lot too. Like a lot a lot. It scares me. But, as the kids say, you only live once, and I need to stop being scared and just see where this goes because I think I might be in love with you, Nathan, and I need to find out if I am.”

He smiled broadly; it’s the smile she loves, the one where his nose scrunches a little and she can see the genuine happiness on his face. And as their lips rejoined, she slowly started to pull him back into her hotel room.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he says, disconnecting their lips briefly.

“Uh, right now? Sure, I guess,” she raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you always call me Nathan? Everyone always calls me Nate.” The question catches her off-guard and she laughed as she continued dragging him into your room.

“I was trying to remind myself to stay professional and not fall for you,” she laughed as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Right…That worked so well, I’ll have to remember that one for the future, Miss Charlotte,” he laughed back before kissing her again so deeply and passionately that she forgot whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

For the request game!

Fall With Me - The Wild Reeds

SVT

Enemies to lovers

Ahhhhhh omg ok. Since no member was specified im gonna just choose one :) Warnings: a bad kiss is discussed, also they do make out, lawyer!jeonghan and he's a menace as per usual

The annual best friends’ trip would be going much better if it weren’t for the presence of a certain attorney.

The first time you’d met Yoon Jeonghan had been during a dizzying cross-examination of your expert information in a high-profile criminal case. As a forensic speech-pattern analyst, you had taken your job as an expert witness to testify against an almost-certainly guilty extortionist very seriously, but Jeonghan had managed to twist every one of your facts to the advantage of the man, creating just enough reasonable doubt to get the man off with a slap on the wrist.

You had sworn to hate the handsome, smooth-talking defense attorney for as long as you lived -- so imagine your shock when your friend had brought him along with the group as her plus-one because her boyfriend couldn’t make it. As her cousin, and the closest male relative she had, he was more than happy to tag along, he’d said. 

And now you watch him across the room, schmoozing over your friends, unable to break it to them that he was the evil attorney that you’d complained about for weeks after the trial.

What was even worse about it was that he kept catching your eye from where he sat playing cards with your childhood friends, framed in the big windows like an angel wreathed in light, his fine features sly and knowing, more and more aggravating with every glance. You knew he remembered you by the way his eyes lit with recognition as they’d taken in all the faces in the spacious cabin. You groan internally -- this man must be your own personal demon, sent to torture you for some long-forgotten sin. And he just has to look good while doing it, doesn’t he?

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” your friend Seokmin says, suddenly.

“Oh!” you exclaim, turning back toward him with a sheepish look, but he’s grinning at you.

“You aren’t the only one staring at him,” he says. “Look at Juliette.”

Sure enough, your old college roommate is eyeing Jeonghan in interest. You know that look -- she’s going to do something she’ll probably regret later if she doesn’t get distracted soon. A part of you wonders why it always seems to be down to you to prevent disaster as you excuse yourself from Seokmin with a hurried excuse, making your way over to Juliette with a request for some snowshoeing in the newly-fallen snow outside.

But of course, the odds are not in your favor today. Jeonghan stands up, tossing in his cards after what you clock as his third poker win today. “I’d better quit while I’m ahead,” he says, and then looks up at you. “Did you say something about snowshoeing?”

Well, you can’t exactly lie to his face while all your friends are looking at you expectantly, so you give him a curt nod. “Can I come?” he asks, and there is an amused undertone to his voice that brings your already-hot temper to a boiling point.

Juliette answers first. “Of course!” she chirps, and you have no choice but to trudge into the mud room with them, your jaw set in a hard line and your eyes flashing. You suit up wordlessly while the other two make flirty conversation, somehow growing even more peeved as you listen to them. 

Finally, you’re walking out into the calm, quiet forest, the snowshoes keeping your boots from sinking into the deep layer of snow frosted over the ground. You find yourself trailing behind Jeonghan and Juliette, listening to them chatter happily together, for the entirety of the hike, only finding a brief moment of relief from the anger when you pause at an overlook. Here, white-dusted fir trees spill by the thousands down a steep incline that leads to a small valley, and the sun slowly sinking seems to light everything in a pinkish glow. It’s breathtaking. You can’t help but smile.

Except for when you turn and catch a glimpse of Jeonghan staring at you.

His expression is mirroring your own: complete awe, a dumbfounded smile, eyes wide as though afraid he won’t be able to take it all in. Except he’s not looking at the view — he’s looking at you.

Juliette notices and makes a lame excuse for why she needs to head back to the cabin, ignoring your protests and leaving you alone with Jeonghan. “You remember me, don’t you?” he asks instantly when she’s out of earshot. 

“Of course I do,” you say, bristling. “Liar.”

He chuckles, and you hate how cute he is when he’s laughing at you. “It’s actually ‘lawyer’, but that’s an easy mistake,” he says, unbothered by your venom.

“Look,” you say, trying to keep a moderate tone, “in case it wasn’t already clear, I really don’t like you.”

“Why not?” he asks innocently. “Because I’m good at my job?”

“Because you helped a guilty person escape justice!” you say loudly. A raven in a nearby tree takes off in fear.

His face seems to harden a little. “Tell me what you know about the defendant.”

This request takes you aback. “I don’t know anything about him,” you tell Jeonghan. “Other than his speech patterns and what they indicate.”

He looks at your face — seeming to debate with himself for a moment. Then he speaks. “He is the only caretaker for both his elderly mother, who is blind, and a young daughter still undergoing treatments for an aggressive cancer. The company he worked for was scamming its employees out of money, so he pulled a clever scam back and was able to make enough off of it to pay for his daughter to be treated at a top hospital and for his mother to have a seeing-eye dog. If he went to jail, where would they be?”

The information you’re receiving weighs on you heavily as you listen to him, and you feel your face burn with a guilty flush. “I had no idea.”

He nods shortly. “Not everything is as black-and-white as you think.”

He begins to walk away, back toward the cabin, and you have no choice but to follow him. As you enter the mud room again, stripping off your snow clothed and hanging them to dry, Jeonghan gives a soft chuckle. “Were you really that mad?”

“Yeah,” you admit, allowing him a small smile although your ego is still a bit bruised. “You made me sound like an idiot in court. I’m quite good at my job, you know.” You internally cringe at self. Why do you feel the need to justify yourself to him?

He nods in understanding. “I know you are. And you’re cute, too.”

This boldness shocks you into silence, and he gives a small giggle that almost undoes you.  “I wanted to talk to you after trial, but the look on your face was…”

“Radiant?” you say, recovering quickly with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, you were certainly radiating something,” he allows. “I was scared you’d bite me.”

You laugh. Time to play his game, you think. “I still haven’t ruled it out.” 

You saunter past him as his jaw drops, taking a seat beside Seokmin and letting out a deep sigh. There’s still a nagging tension in the air though, especially when Jeonghan stations himself across the room from you with his cousin and some other friends, only to meet eyes with you every few minutes with a sparkle of curiosity in his wide eyes.

As night falls, the lights dim. One by one, people start excusing themselves to go to bed, until it’s just a gaggle of you left, you and Jeonghan included. You keep expecting Jeonghan to get up and go to bed -- you noticed on the first night of the trip that he tires easily and usually is in bed earlier than the rest of your friends -- but he never does. Instead, the air gets thicker as Jeonghan moves next to you on the couch, as nonchalant as anything, and you feel your cheeks heating up. Eventually he turns to you as the others become engrossed in their own conversation.

“So, if you knew that today was the last day of your life —“

“Are you serious?” you groan. “I’m disappointed in you.”

He looks indignant and taken aback. “Well, I’m trying to get to know you,” he says defensively.

“Yeah, but you’re asking the manic-pixie-dreamboy questions,” you tell him. “Start with something normal, and then maybe I’ll tell you my hamartia or whatever.”

He bites his bottom lip. “Uh, okay. What made you want to be a speech pathologist?”

“That’s much better,” you commend him. “And I actually have a little brother who grew up with a speech impediment that made him difficult to understand, and I spent my whole childhood translating him for others. So I guess it was something I knew I could do. Plus it was interesting to know how to help similar kids.” 

Jeonghan nods. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What made you want to be a lawyer?” you shoot back.

His response is immediate. “I’m a master manipulator, and I wanted to make a lot of money. It seemed like the logical choice.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That’s the reddest red flag I’ve ever heard,” you say. “I should be running for the hills.”

“So why aren’t you?” he asks with a sly smile. 

“Must be colorblind,” you say dryly. “But it’s actually because master manipulators usually aren’t so upfront with their gifts.”

He grins. “Well, I really am good at … influencing people, to a degree. But I guess I became a criminal defense attorney to broaden my view on humanity. There are people I’ve represented in court that I would hate to be alone with, and yet somehow I’ve learned that they all have a level of humanity that would surprise most people. They weren’t all good people, but they were all still people. And I think that’s made me a better person overall.”

You grin to hide how impressed you are. “And the money is good too.”

He nods. “Well, obviously.”

This earns a giggle from you, and Jeonghan turns his body to face yours. For the next three hours, you talk about everything, even as the last of the stragglers disappear with tired farewells into their bedroom. Finally, it’s just you and Yoon Jeonghan, sitting at opposite ends of a broad brown couch, laughing about one of your awkward dating stories. 

“And after all that,” you say, wiping a tear of derision and amusement from your eye, “he has the nerve to kiss me!”

Jeonghan’s eyes go wide. “Did he ask first?” he asks. 

“Well, yeah,” you say.

“Why did you say yes?!” he groans through laughter. 

“I was so taken aback! And also, he was pretty hot,” you admit.

He looks at you skeptically. “If I asked you a question, would you answer honestly?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Give me just this one,” he pleads.

“Okay,” you say, giving in easily at the sight of his puppy eyes.

“Was he hotter than me?” he asks.

Your jaw drops. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

“You said you’d answer the question honestly,” he reminds you.

You begrudgingly consider him. “You’re hotter,” you finally answer, glad he probably can’t see you blush in this low light.

He nods, satisfied. “Okay, go on. What happened next?”

You laugh at the nonchalant way he’s handled this news. “Oh, he was a terrible kisser. All of those looks just for him to have no sensitivity at all. Jammed his tongue down my throat and everything.”

“You should’ve told him no,” he says quietly, moving almost imperceptibly closer.

“I really should’ve. Anyway, that was actually the most recent kiss I’ve had, so my experiences with kissing are all being viewed through that lens, and it’s kind of ruined for me now.” You make a face as you remember the date, and the associated kiss. By the time your shudder brings you back down to earth, Jeonghan has moved just one inch closer on the couch. You pretend not to notice.

He pins you with his gaze, though. “Are you being coy on purpose?” he asks through narrowed eyes, making another small move in your direction.

“What do you mean?” you ask him, suddenly nervous.

“We’re alone, and you openly admitted I’m hotter than the last guy you kissed --”

“After you coerced me into telling you,” you interject, amused.

“And now you’re talking about how bad he was at kissing,” Jeonghan finishes, undeterred. “Tell me what kind of conclusion I’m supposed to draw from that.” And with that, he closes the gap between you, moving so close that your thighs are touching.

You look into his eyes. This was a plot twist you didn’t see coming -- you hadn’t been able to figure out why he’d stuck around when everyone started going to bed, but his reasons for doing so were becoming more and more clear, and although you woke up this morning as his sworn enemy, you have a feeling that everything has changed.

So you stare, wanting to fall, but also wanting to stay in this moment, right here, contemplating the risk. Maybe you’ve got it wrong -- it’s certainly possible. But maybe, just maybe, you’ve run out of options for things to say, leaving just the one thought you had when he’d moved closer and asked you to tell him what to think.

“Well, you’re the lawyer,” you finally answer, barely above a soft whisper. “Figure it out.”

You catch a hint of a smile before Jeonghan’s hands are reaching up to cradle your face, bringing your lips gently, but ever so insistently, to his own. 

His lips are soft and light on your own, a massive upgrade from the clumsy kisses of whoever had come before. You can’t remember that man, nor anyone else, for that matter. You barely register the feeling of the coarse couch cushions beneath you, sinking under your combined weight as Jeonghan pulls you onto his lap to continue the kiss. The light brush of his tongue over your bottom lip has you reaching for him hungrily, pulling him closer to you so you can feel his heart beating against your own.

It takes a particularly loud squeak from the couch for the both of you to realize how loud you were being. You both freeze and look at the stairs, terrified that one of your friends has caught you, before you both realize and explode into quiet giggles, pressing your foreheads together.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” you ask him breathlessly.

“I could never fall asleep with you in the same room as me,” he replies with a wicked grin.