#Inception-confessions

[valeriley]

Headcanon that Arthur's weirdly ugly yellow tie is a gift from Eames.

I mean, based on what we saw of his wardrobe, it doesn't really match his usual style, and yet here he is, proudly showing it off with no jacket or waistcoat to hide it (thanks for noticing @thenwhatthefukcisthis).

Maybe Eames gave it to him as a sort-of-joke one day, claiming Arthur’s wardrobe needed a bit more color, but didn't really expect Arthur to wear it. And to his knowledge he never did.

But Arthur is a sentimental fucker and so he wears it from time to time even though he doesn’t really like it, especially when he misses Eames, because it reminds him of him and makes him smile when he sees it... But also never when Eames is there too for fear of giving himself away.

Till inception.

I choose to believe finally wearing the tie so that Eames could see was a statement in and of itself. And paired with Arthur's charged "Eames, I am impressed" it makes for a subtle yet powerful declaration.

No wonder Eames was so thrown 😁

[dareduffie]

so get this there's Guy 1 who's thinking Man, it's just too bad he doesn't want a relationship and that the only intimacy that I can have with him is sex. But I'm not going to bring this up in case talking to him scares him off and then I lose him completely. and THEN there's Guy 2 who's thinking Man, it's just too bad he doesn't want a relationship and that the only intimacy that I can have with him is sex. But I'm not going to bring this up in case talking to him scares him off and then I lose him completely. and then they don't have a meaningful conversation for the next 50k words and by that point they have both made themselves miserable but they both view the other persons misery as a reflection of themselves rather than a reaction to weeks of emotional unfulfillment. and then they die.

[verabraun-art]

Alright, who snatched the Miraculouses and wished for a new animation style in the next season? ⠀ ‼️ SPOILER ALERT ⬇️ ⠀ But seriously, I’m really going to miss SAMG. The animation in the special was amazing—textures, effects, movement—everything was on point and beyond impressive! ⠀ The storyline was pretty solid too. Even though it was a time-travel episode, it felt logical. Lila’s new look? Stunning. Granny Alix? Absolutely adorable. And you know what? The yellow suit wasn’t bad at all, especially with the design nods and that final fight scene giving off serious Miles vs. Spot vibes. The music was incredible too, like something straight out of Inception. Oh, and Ladynoir, hugging with the Eiffel Tower in the background—that's exactly what we've been waiting for! Speaking of Ladynoir…

I had a feeling Marinette wouldn’t tell Adrien the truth, but I really wanted her to confess to Chat Noir! That would’ve been the kind of drama I’d be totally hooked on in the upcoming season—I’d even forgive the new animation! After 10 years, don’t we deserve at least a half-reveal? If she’d told him as Marinette, not Ladybug, wouldn’t Chat have understood? The fact that she said nothing to him made me question her character development. I mean, she gave Bunnyx’s Miraculous to Chat at the start of S5, and now everything’s back to square one? So yeah, looks like jealousy and spying are going to be real in S 6… Oh no, please! ⠀ But these thoughts on Ladynoir are probably just wishful thinking—Chat Noir will likely stay a secondary character. My biggest disappointment in the special is…

is what Marinette wrote in the notebook. ‘Ladybug = Gabriel Agreste’? Seriously? You could’ve written a fake name to throw Lila off, or even used Alya to create a fake Ladybug and set up a trap! Or written, ‘Ladybug knows who took the Miraculous.’ You could’ve even given a fake address to lead the villain into an ambush. So many ways to mess with the new villain and drive the plot forward for Season 6! It was so frustrating that Marinette didn’t take advantage of that moment. ⠀ Writing scripts for long-running shows is definitely no easy task. I’m just holding out hope that the story isn’t going the way we expect because they’ve got something bigger planned. As a special, it felt weaker than the previous ones, but if this had been a double episode and the Season 5 finale, I would’ve loved it!

[yuurei20]

Where can you read the twst novel? I really wanna learn more abt Yuuya

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! ^^

The novels are listed for sale in a variety of places, all conveniently viewable here on the Square Enix website!

If you would prefer them in English, I have seen that the first novel is available for pre-order from Amazon and Barnes and Noble, to be released on August 27th! 🎉

Some small information about the novels: while they are not being written by Yana herself, they are being written by Hioki Jun, who has been responsible for co-writing/supervising event scenarios and vignettes for the game since its inception!

So she is not an outside hire that they brought on for this project but someone who has been involved since the beginning (and maybe even earlier--she is a member of Yana's studio, D-6th, which produces her manga), which is maybe why it might not be impossible for the novels to be correcting small inconsistencies in the game 👀 (ref: Are the novels canon?)

On the subject of Yuuya specifically I was so sure that I made a Yuuya-info-compilation before but now I cannot find it anywhere, so here is a new version! :>

Novel 1

・What Yuuya Remembers ・Yuuya, Alone ・Yuuya Dreams ・Yuuya's Confession ・Ace Almost Apologizes ・Yuuya's First Class ・Yuuya and Deuce ・Yuuya at Night ・Yuuya and Ace ・Yuuya Fails ・Yuuya's Guilt ・Yuuya Apologizes ・Stubborn

Novel 2

・Yuuya and the Rumors ・Yuuya and Grim's Club ・Yuuya in Class ・Meeting Malleus (pt1) ・Meeting Malleus (pt2) ・Jack and Yuuya ・Cater and Yuuya

[fazedlight]

Bitter (from 5x06 Confidence Women)

The plan was simple.

Lena smashed her glass coffee table to the floor as she explained the plan to Andrea. She would beckon Supergirl to her, then jam all signals from the DEO. Andrea - as the shadow - would be able to sneak in and free Russell. The ex she’d do anything for, Lena’s mind shot back bitterly.

Lena handed off her q-wave device, which Andrea would activate to incept the DEO agents to do no harm. Lena didn’t tell Andrea of her plan after the escape was complete - she would get the medallion from Andrea, and she had no qualms in using the same device to force it. Which won’t be necessary if Andrea makes this easy, Lena thought. After all, she was owed.

Andrea nodded to Lena's explanation, fading to the shadows as Lena activated her watch, taking her place on the floor. It was only a matter of time.

Thoughts danced somewhere in Lena’s mind as she closed her eyes and waited - Andrea’s face as she lied to her in the jungle, mixing with Kara’s endless stuttering deceit. Andrea’s smug smile in London as she wore the medallion proudly around her neck merging with Kara’s surprised grin at her new supersuit. Kara had just confessed to lying to Lena for years - to destroying everything they had ever had - yet it had been easy for the kryptonian to switch to delight just from wearing pants.

Lena swallowed back her bile as she heard the double tap of boots. “Lena,” came the blonde’s voice, “Lena, Lena-”

“Kara,” Lena murmured back, pushing herself off the floor, “Thank god you’re here, it was horrible-”

Kara’s concerned face and warm arms brought a traitorous flutter to Lena’s heart, almost distracting her from the task of sliding her fingers over to activate the DEO jammer. Lena felt herself choke slightly as she tried not to melt into Kara’s embrace, trying to keep the cold protective layer between them.

But her mind couldn’t help but linger for a moment. This was the warm embrace that held her when Jack died. Who hugged her when she had been freed from prison, who believed in her name. This was the concerned face of a friend who brought her flowers and Belly Burger, who stood tall in the crowd amidst the Luthor haters in a show of support. It was never real, Lena thought, her mind going back to the footage of Kara burning away the evidence of her deceit, Kara, Andrea, they were never real.

Lena forced herself to let go - desperate, reluctant - and began the false tale of her home invasion. She tried not to spend too long looking into those soft blue eyes, instead reminding herself of the medallion she’d have by the end of the night.

Maybe then, she could have a piece of herself back.

[anacdoce]

New Beginnings

Chapter 1 - New Year's Eve

The beautiful screenshot above is from @iizven, and I'm so in love with it!

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer with no magic anymore)

Rating: T

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: post game events; fluff; Astarion is trying his best; a bit of angst to spice it all; sequel of "I wish" and so Astarion is mortal again.

Summary: After your recovery you decide it's time to move on and follow Astarion's plans. Neverwinter awaits you, as does the end of the year that is almost upon you.

Will this new beginning go as expected?

a/n: I confess, it was not my intention to make a sequel from my first fic "I wish", but a dear friend of mine, inception me with some ideas, and here I am, sharing on the last day of the year the continuation of a story that is very special to me.

As a thank you, I gift this small sequel to @iizven, not only because she is responsible for it, but because she has been a true friend, giving me the support and motivation to keep writing.

This is for you, my dear. Hope you like it. <3 (a late Christmas gift if you want).

To wrap up my ramblings, I just wanted to mention that what was originally meant to be a short one-shot ended up being much longer than I anticipated. As a result, I decided to split it into two parts.

Now please, enjoy it.

Happy New Year to everyone!! ❤️

Next chapter

Read on oa3

The end of the year draws near, and you’re preparing to leave Waterdeep to reach Neverwinter before that. 

It’s been a few weeks since you had Shadowheart’s blessing for your departure. Your wounds have healed, your body is mended and nothing holds you in Waterdeep anymore. There is no hope to recover your lost magic, so everything that could be done has been done. And despite Gale’s continuous pleading, you feel it’s time to leave. Not that you’re uncomfortable or anything, nothing like that, because there is no better host than Gale—he really makes you feel at home—but you know Astarion is waiting. He never tells you he wants to leave, always placing your well-being above all else, but since you heard from Shadowheart’s mouth that you no longer need her by your side as a cleric and that you are released from her hands, he started to gather things—making your packs, collecting maps and goods for your future journeys together. And you don’t want to delay that any longer, because the more you wait to leave, the more he’s growing impatient.

And finally, that day has come.

“Are you sure you want to travel at this time of the year? The winter in the north can be harsh.” Gale tries once more to convince you not to leave while he’s helping you to put your backpack on.

“It’s not that bad in Neverwinter. You know that, wizard.” Astarion replies with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Well… I know, but…” Gale mumbles, clearly unwilling to give up his fight. “But it can be very windy!”

“It’s fine Gale. We’ll be alright.” You try to reassure him for what feels like the tenth time on that day.

“Oh, Darling, he’s not really worried about me.” Astarion remarks dryly.

Gale snorts, darting Astarion with a deep and hurted glare. “That’s not true. You know that.” 

Astarion clicks his tongue and turns to fetch his cloak, and Gale seizes the opportunity to get closer to you, holding your arm, and lowering his voice just for you to hear. “Stay until the Wintershield celebrations. At least until then. You would make me very happy if we could celebrate the start of the new year together.” 

“I know you would… But, and after that? You would ask me to stay until the end of winter. And after that, until the snow has melted, and after that until the flowers have bloomed…” You state as he shakes his head in denial. 

“No. I promise. I won’t ask you that.” Gale insists.

“It’s fine Gale, it’s time to leave.” You smile at him, staring into his eyes trying to make him realise that you’re ready to move forward with your life. You need this.

“But… your magic? I haven't given up on that yet.” He nervously adds. His eyes, restless replying to your stare.

“Let it go Gale. I’m fine. I have accepted it. You should too.” You place your hand over his, holding it affectionately. 

It’s not entirely true, you think about it everyday, because you miss it… desperately. But there is nothing you can do about it, and there is no point to dwell on that any further.

“Never.” His face, serious.

Shadowheart approaches, pulling Gale gently to her side. “Alright, that’s enough. This is not a goodbye, is it? We’ll see each other again, shortly. I’m sure of it.” And Astarion huffs from behind you, displeased. Shadowheart ignores him and continues, “I’ll stay in Waterdeep a while longer, and we can celebrate the new year together.” She places her arm over Gale’s shoulder, making him smile at her gesture.

“We’ll keep in touch. And it’s like Shadowheart has said, we’ll be together in no time.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s all very touching.” Astarion interjects with an exaggerated sigh. “Now, shall we go?” 

You nod. It’s time.

Hugging them both, you remember the last months together. They meant so much to you. They're truly your friends, and you’ll miss them dearly. “Thank you for everything.” You mutter. “No words are enough to express my gratitude for both of you. I will never forget everything you have done for us.” You squeeze them against you.

“Oh shut up…” You swear you can hear Shadowheart sob. “You’re going to make me cry.” And she releases you breathing deeply, trying to control her emotions.

Gale, on the other hand, holds you tighter. “Please, take care of yourselves. I’ll always be here if you need me.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek before stepping back.

Astarion approaches you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Have you said all your goodbyes, my love?” He whispers in your ear.

You glare at him and smile, your vision beginning to blur as tears gather in your water line. 

They wave their hands at you, and Astarion does the same, almost awkwardly, wanting to go unnoticed. Then he holds your hand firmly and waits for you to take the lead on the first steps of your new adventures together. 

After a big deep breath, you turn around and step forward, moving away from your friends. A few tears escape your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. After all, many things happened in the previous months, and if you’re here today it's because of them.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Astarion asks, concern flickering across his face. “We can stay if you want…”

“No, I don’t want that.” You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss it. “What I want is right here by my side.” You smile at him tenderly.

“I promised to make you the happiest woman who ever lived. And I intend to. I will fulfill my promise, Love.” His words spelled with confidence. 

“Oh, my Star, but you already do.” And nothing in this world is more true than that.

You intertwine your fingers on his, brushing your thumb on the back of his hand, and you proceed your path, leaving behind the sweet and sour memories of the past months of your life.

—

Together, you decide to travel along the road near the coast, taking the shorter route to Neverwinter. You feel more and more excited with the idea of traveling around Faerun with Astarion, the more distant you are from Waterdeep. You need something like this. You both do.

When he was gathering all the things for your journey, Astarion packed a book about Neverwinter—filled with maps of the city, its traditions and costumes, and some important history facts. Each night, as you settle to rest, you read a bit of it, and you finally start to understand the fascination Astarion has with this particular city. You can’t wait to arrive there.

In the meantime, you’re enjoying each and every day of this new adventure together. You missed those days, alone with him. Only the two of you, as friends, as lovers. Never was he so tender with you, something you thought it wasn’t possible. Maybe the events of the past few months left their marks, because… well, let's just say that your near-death experience is something still very present in his mind. There are nights that you catch him hovering over you trying to hear your heartbeat, to make sure you’re alive while you’re sleeping. You can’t blame him. You would do the same… He still worries about you, and you’re sure he always will, as you will with him. 

For some time now, he has been trying to teach you how to use a dagger, because now that you don’t have your magic anymore you have to use something else to defend yourself, but you’re a menace with it. He tries to conceal his despair when he teaches you a simple move with the blade, but you can see behind his twitching eyes that the frustration is there. So one day, you suggest trying a bow instead—perhaps you can learn it more easily, which he promptly agrees to. And how joyful he is when he sees that at last you found something you can learn and be good at it. Since then, he has been more relaxed and less alert with everything around you, because now you can defend yourself. But despite all that, in each archery lesson he always ends up confessing: “Even so, I would prefer if you knew how to properly use a dagger…” To which you always retort, “And I would prefer if you acknowledged you’re not a vampire anymore and stopped playing with your knives so recklessly like you do every day…” Because honestly, Astarion’s mortality has given you new worries to care about. This elf is like a wild child on the loose, and sometimes you’re almost sure he forgets he’s not a vampire anymore… and Gods! How your heart wants to jump out from your mouth… Things he always did and never were an issue to you, like playing with his daggers, now gives you shivers all over your body. Your husband enjoys the thrill of danger, a trait you’ll have to learn to deal with, because that will not change. Not now, not ever. 

On one stormy evening, you find shelter in a cave somewhere in the Sword Mountains. After setting up camp, you grab your Neverwinter book again, and curl up in Astarion’s lap on his bedroll, as he drinks a hot cup of tea. You read it for a while, gently cradled by his free hand on your head, brushing strands of your hair with his delicate fingers, and every now and then his hand strays to your neck, stroking the scars, the scars he gifted you some time ago. He often touches them, sometimes without even realising it, sometimes longing for the taste of your blood in his mouth, and sometimes because he needs the reassurance that you’re not going anywhere, that you love him, and that you chose to spend the rest of your life with him. Even after all you have done he still doubts himself… and you believe that will never really change either.

And now he’s doing exactly that—caressing the two dots his not anymore sharp fangs left in your skin, in what seems to be a lifetime ago… 

Discreetly you look upwards, to his face, trying to examine his expression. “Is everything alright, Star?” You inquire, not sure of what’s happening inside his mind.

“Oh, yes. Everything is perfect, Darling.” He flees, as his hand, retreating to your hair.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” You insist, leaving his lap to sit beside him.

Astarion smiles, and you sense some gloom on it. “I know.” He answers. Then, he spreads his legs open, reaches for your hand and pulls you closer. “Come here, my love.” He snuggles you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your tummy. “Now tell me… what did you learn about Neverwinter today?” And he rests his chin against your shoulder, tilting his head towards the book in your hand.

Flipping the book open, indulging him, you clear your throat dramatically before speaking. “So, today I learned about the Feast of Lanterns.” And you try to give your voice a mysterious flourish to intrigue him.

“Uuuh, the Feast of Lanterns? What is that?” He asks, tickling your belly at the same time.

Giggling, you try to escape his tickles, and when he stops you bring the book closer to his face. “It’s a celebration of the New Year. See?” You explain, pointing to an illustration of the city illuminated by lanterns. “Everyone makes a lantern, every living soul in Neverwinter makes a lantern. And on the evening of the new year, they light them, filling the city with a warm glow and making wishes for the year ahead.” 

Astarion pulls back from you, frowning, one finger waving in the air in front of your nose. “No, no! You promised!”

“What?!” You query, confused.

“You’re forbidden to make wishes, remember?” 

“Oh, come on! Are you serious about this?” You exclaim, incredulous. 

“Of course!” Then he leaps over you, making you tumble onto his bedroll, his perfect warm body over yours. “You can’t wish for anything else in this life. I was the last wish you could spell with your soft silky lips.” He purrs into your ear.

“Is that so?” You chuckle, running your hands down his back, until you reach his shirt waistband, pulling it slightly over just so you can touch his bare skin.

“And since your last wish was fulfilled—because I’m here, very, much, alive—no more wishes for you, Love.” His nose, caressing your cheek, slowly reaching to your lips. “But…”

“But?...” You gasp, feeling his breath invading your senses.

“But…” A soft kiss. “You could always…” Another kiss. “Just ask.” And another.

Your hands slide back to his shoulder plates, but this time inside his shirt. “So, I can’t make a wish, but I can ask for something. Is that it?” You try to nibble his lip, but he leans his head backwards just in time to evade your attempt. 

“Correct.” He confirms, his voice like velvet, while he unbuttons your shirt, cupping your breast contained in your bra with his hand next, making you arch your back in response to his touch. “As long as I am what you'll ask for, my love.” 

“Oh, my shining star…” You hold him tight against you, murmuring, “You will always be everything I’ll ask for.” 

His eyes glitter, reflecting the light of the candles nearby, staring into yours. “Promise?”

“I promise.” One of your hands leaves his back to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. 

He keeps just staring at you for a while longer, probably absorbing everything you just said. And from one moment to the next his expression changes, and he’s no longer bearing his soft and reverent beautiful smile, reserved to you when he’s lost in his love for you. That smile turns into a mischievous one, and you know he’s plotting for something. “Well, I could always open an exception.” His voice, provocative.

“An exception? To what, I may ask?” You play his game.

An open, victorious smile, spreading in his lips. “Yes. I will let you wish for only one more thing, at this precise moment.”

“Oh, how generous of you!” You lead your hand into your chest, feigning surprise.

“Darling, you know I can be a very generous man.” He purrs. “Now, if you want, and I know you do want to, I’ll let you wish for a kiss. A warm and breathtaking kiss from the most perfect elf you have ever met.” His tone, turning into a seductive one. “But be careful.” He warns. “You have to formulate this wish very wisely, or the elf may flee and you’ll be miserable, wondering forever how the most unforgettable kiss of your life would have been.”

Such a bastard. You think for yourself, letting out a giggle at his smugness. “Gods… I can’t let that happen. I would be heartbroken… I can’t let this perfect elf escape. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” 

“I thought so, Sweetheart.” His two fingers, running across your chest to your right shoulder, tucking aside the strap of your bra.

“Alright. Lets see…” You stray your eyes from his, looking at the ceiling of the cave, pretending that you’re thinking, while he starts to trail small kisses on your shoulder all the way up to your neck. “This is very… hard… indeed…” You confess, your body reacting to him, butterflies invading your stomach. Even after all this time, this man is still capable of making you feel like a teenager waiting for your first kiss.

“Very hard, Love.” He teases you, pressing his body against yours. “Now tell me your wish.” He demands.

“I wish…” You start, moaning in the middle of it, feeling his tongue on your ear. “I wish to be kissed by the most perfect, beautiful elf that have ever walked on this earth. I wish to be kissed by the one and only owner of my heart.” You pause, holding his chin and making him look at you, painfully interrupting his magical ministrations on your ear. “I wish to be kissed by you, Astarion. Right. Now.” 

“Very good, my dear. I think I can make that happen.” He blows the candles near you, letting the cave be only illuminated by the dim light of the almost extinguished campfire a few steps ahead from you. Then he closes his face to yours, muttering into your lips. “Let's make this wish come true.” He whispers, claiming your lips.

And he wasn’t lying, he never lies to you. He gives you the most perfect kiss ever. Like he always does in each kiss he gifts you with. 

It doesn’t matter how loud the thunders roar outside, it doesn’t matter how strong the rain falls, or how cold the wind blows… in reality nothing matters when you’re lost in his arms, when your bodies are entangled like one, celebrating the love that unites you. Everything else vanishes… It’s just you and him. And you really wish it will always be like that.  

—

A week later, you arrive at Neverwinter, a stunning city in the north, divided in two by the Neverwinter River and now painted in white by the snow that began falling some days before. It’s a really impressive city, facing the Sea of Swords. It brims with energy—very lively but not chaotic like Baldur’s Gate, and very well organized. There are merchants in every corner, showcasing the most exquisite jewels you have ever seen, because these folk are masters in the craftsmanship of jewelry and glass. Their gardens are a marvel too, with their flowers blooming every year round, coloring the beautiful streets of the city.    

Nothing feels out of place here, and despite all the torments the city has endured, it stands resilient, rebuilt time and again with an indomitable spirit. Perhaps it’s the hardiness of these people, of the people from the north, used to surviving harsh winters, that has shaped Neverwinter into one of the most prosperous cities in Faerun. And you’re really impressed by it, as is Astarion. You can see how mesmerized he is, how his eyes glitter, especially when you pass through the jewels merchants… 

“Darling, look at that!” He points to a silver tiara adorned with emeralds and diamonds. A very impressive piece of jewelry. “I would love to see it in your head, my love.” 

“It’s way too expensive, Astarion. And I do prefer the crown of flowers you usually make for me… that is too much.” You try to dissuade him, seeing how enchanted he is already.

“But it would be perfect for you to wear tonight. You would look like a queen, can you imagine?” He leans closer to you, lowering his voice. “And no one said that we should pay for it.” He winks, smirking.

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can utter a word, the merchant approaches you, all charm and good manners. “Ah, I see you liked it.” The man gestures towards the tiara. “You have good taste. It’s one of our most intricate works, and it would look stunning on you, miss.” 

“Yes, it would.” Astarion agrees, stepping behind the man and making gestures with his hand pointing to his pocket, trying to provoke you.

With your eyes wide open you keep glaring at him, shaking your head discreetly. “Thank you, sir. It really is mesmerizing.” You say with a polite smile. “But I’m afraid it’s a bit too extravagant for my taste.” 

“Now, now, my sweet. You should try it at least.” Astarion insists, and you know that by now he’s just trying to annoy you.

“Yes, of course! Allow me.” The merchant removes the tiara from the display case and carefully places it in your head. “There. Beautiful, like a princess. Let me fetch a mirror so you can see how astounding it looks on you.” And the man hurries to the inside of the store leaving you alone outside.

“Stop it!” You huff seeing how Astarion instinctively observes his surroundings, studying a route to flee.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, Love.” He notes, still smirking.

“Astarion, we just arrived! Are you trying to get us arrested on our first day in Neverwinter?” You object, harshly.

“But—”

“No.” You cut him short.

Before he can argue further, the merchant returns from the shop and gives you a hand mirror. “Please, miss, take a look.” 

Reluctantly, you lift the mirror in front of your face, keeping your gaze fixed on Astarion, darting him with your sternest glare ever, while he pouts displeased.

“It’s really stunning.” You admit, finally looking at your reflection. But at the same time you take the tiara off of your head and return it to the men’s hands. “Thank you, once again. We will think about it.” 

“Of course, miss. It was my pleasure to assist you.” The merchant bows his head and takes his leave.

“Oh, you can bet we will think about it.” Astarion mutters.

You pull him to get back on the path, wrapping your arm around his. “Forget it, Love. I will survive without it.” It’s obvious by his face that he’s not going to let this go. You adore him, more than anything, but you have to admit that this obstinate side of him sometimes picks your nerves. You roll your eyes, giving yourself a deep breath. “Now, let's find an inn for us to stay. I need a bath, and we still have to find some lanterns.” You remark, proceeding forward.

“And a warm meal. I’m starving.” He adds, while peeking behind his shoulder to the store you just left.

—

You both knock on every inn door you encounter in the city, but as expected, every one of them is fully booked. No rooms, no lanterns, nothing. 

Astarion senses your growing despair as you follow a tip from the keeper of the last inn you tried. You’re getting tired, he can see by the way you drag your feet over the ground, and  you’re probably starting to believe that you won’t be celebrating any New Year’s Eve tonight. But he’s still hopeful. He knows you will find something. Won’t you?

By the end of the day, you arrive at the Driftwood Tavern, far from the city center but with a stupendous view over the sea. And fortunately they have rooms to spare. No wonder why, with those ridiculous prices for one night! He thinks to himself, not wanting to share his thoughts with you this time, sparing himself another of your infamous eye rolls followed by a snort.

The rooms are really cozy. At least that. He throws himself to the bed, kicking off his boots, and watches you undress your traveling clothes.

“I’m going to take a bath.” You announce with some weariness. “We can look for something to eat afterwards. Want to join me?”

“I would love to, my sweet. But we have to hurry, we still have to find at least one lantern for tonight.” He replies, placing his hands behind his head.

“Forget it. We arrived too late. No lanterns for us, Star…” You mutter, a hint of sadness in your tone.

Astarion raises his torso from the bed by supporting himself on his elbows to take a closer look at you. Tossing your clothes to the floor, you pass through him to the washroom, your face closed and not in the mood for jokes or funny stories. “We still have time, you know?” He tries to uplift your spirit.

But he doesn’t hear a word from you. Only the sound of your steps in the room next to him.

Getting up he reaches the door to the washroom and peeks inside just in time to see you pouring water into the tub and instinctively trying to warm it with your hands. 

“Shit!” You yell, scowling. “I can’t even warm my own water!” You kick the tub, frustrated, regretting it right after. “Ouch!” You yelp, holding one foot in the air giving tiny jumps with the other.

Astarion predicts that this will not end in a good way for you, so he tries to warn you, “Darling, please, be—”

Too late. 

You stumble on the bucket, now empty of water, and you fall to the ground. He steps towards you but stays put in the same place, as you wave a hand for him to stop. 

“Let me have my moment of misery, please.” You hiss, holding your knees and hiding your head between your naked thighs, muffling your voice.

“Love, you don’t need to be miserable—”

“Don’t!” You snap. “Just… leave me for a while.” 

And he knows too well that when you’re like this the better thing for him to do is just to let you curse all the Gods you need to recover your good mood. But he can’t help to tenderly smile watching you like that, sitting naked on the floor, infuriated. It’s obvious he won’t let you waste New Year’s Eve being sad. For him it’s a night like any other, but he knows it’s not like that for you… For you it’s a time for new beginnings, and he knows how much you need that. He will find you a godsdamn lantern and make you smile again. And maybe, on his way to find it, he can sneak into a certain store… Who can blame him for wanting to spoil the women he's deeply in love with? You will be the most beautiful and happy woman walking the streets of Neverwinter tonight. 

But before he can go on his demand, he needs to take you out of there. It’s so cold and your skin is already prickling from the chill, and he can’t have that. You’re not getting a cold because of your stubbornness. Astarion grabs a robe, hanging on a chair nearby, and walks to you, covering you with it, kneeling beside you. You lift your head from your legs, ready to protest, but he doesn’t let you. “You can sulk all you want, but you will do it on the bed, in the comfort of the warm blankets and not on this frozen floor, my love.” Without waiting for your permission, he lifts you up from the ground, holding you in his arms. As he expected, you don’t resist, you let him carry you, wrapping your freezing arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. Even against your will, you find solace in his arms, and he smiles again, leading his cheek to meet the crown of your head. 

Placing you in the bed he tucks the blankets around you. “I’ll ask the innkeeper to send someone to warm the water for you. Then I’m going to get us something to eat and a bottle of wine.” He pinches your chin softly. “I’ll be back in no time.” Reaching for your forehead he presses his lips against it, murmuring. “I love you.” And he kisses you.

He basks in your small smile for a moment, and then he leaves you. He needs to hurry, there is a job that has to be done.

—

It’s already dark when Astarion leaves the inn, and there’s no living soul in the streets. Snow falls steadily, blanketing the cobblestones. It’s cold and it’s almost dinner time, so perhaps it is not that strange that he doesn’t see anyone but himself sulking the streets of Neverwinter at that time of the day. He buttons his coat all the way up to his neck, protecting his chest against the cold, and starts walking, the snow crunching with each step he takes. The tiara’s store is still far away and he doesn't have much time. 

It's an easy and simple plan. He will get in and get out from the store without any setback, preferably with a particular tiara on his pocket, a well deserved gift for the one who makes his heart flutter every day. Oh, he’s picturing in his mind how stunning you’ll be with that jewel on your head, enhancing the preciousness of the real treasure that is you. And grateful, you will be very grateful for his gift, “Astarion! You didn’t need to! But I love it! Thank you, Love!” you will say hanging your arms around his neck. Yes, he can’t wait to see you smile again. He will give you plenty of reasons to smile again tonight. And in the meanwhile he’ll look for a lantern, of course. He can’t forget about that. Maybe he can steal one too, from someone. But he can’t return to you without—

Silence.

Only the sound of the wind and the snow falling around him. And it bothers him… Why in the sweet hells is this bothering me so much? Something is odd. Well, he already pointed out all the motives for the emptiness of the streets… but still, something isn’t adding up. He may not be a vampire anymore, but he’s a rogue after all, and his instincts are still very sharp. 

Stopping in the middle of the street he looks around one more time, his eyelashes starting to become filled with the white snow, like his hair.  

Nothing.

There is nothing stepping out from the ordinary.

When he’s about to start walking again his eyes catch a movement far ahead from him. A kid crossing the street, running at a fast speed. The sound of his steps echoing for a time after he disappears from Astarion’s sight. Was he scared? 

Stepping away from the lamplights, Astarion turns his stealth mode on and walks silently in the shadows. And just a few steps before reaching the corner from where the kid appeared fleeing, Astarion stops again, hearing what appears to be the clanking of metal. Metal hitting metal. He recognizes that sound perfectly. The sound of armor.

What in the hells?

Now he needs to see what's happening. Why is he hearing like there is an army gathering around the corner?

More cautiously than before he crouches and approaches slowly. At the end of the wall he freezes, pressing himself against it, and holding his breath to let his elf ears catch all the sounds they can get. And just like he predicted, a group of men stands just around the corner.

“Remember.” He hears a man whispering. “We must stay together until we are inside the castle.”

“After that, everyone knows their role to play.” Another voice adds.  

Astarion’s heart races, adrenaline flooding his veins. He shouldn’t be there. Nothing in this smells good. What are they talking about? What castle? 

Looking into the horizon he sees the dark silhouette of the imposing Castle Never in front of him. No way… He widens his eyes. Who are they? 

He tries to listen to more of their plans but the beat of his heart is bumping in his ears, like drums beating loudly, and he seems unable to concentrate. Mortality has its downsides it seems, and he's still getting used to it. But his curiosity makes him stay a little longer, and he ventures to peer around the wall. Counting them, he says there are about twenty men there, armed to the teeth, like if they’re going into a fi—

Whistles.

Dogs barking.

More armed men marching into them. Into him. 

Fuck.

In a blink of an eye they are surrounded by guards, Neverwinter guards, probably. 

“Greycloacks!” One of them yells.

And the chaos erupts in an instant. Guards rush forward, unleashing their dogs. Swords are drawn and the clash of steel fills the air, and he has stayed long enough. It’s now time to leave.

But when he spins on his heels a guard is behind him accompanied by a growling dog, his short sword pointed at him, the cold metal of it against the skin of his precious neck.

“Easy, easy.” Astarion protests, raising his hands in the hair.

“By order of Lord Neverember you’re under arrest.” The guard sentences.

“Me?” He asks in a high-pitched tone, incredulous. “But I have done nothing yet!” He exclaims with the continuous sound of men yelling and fighting around the corner as background. 

“Kneel!” The guard commands, and the dog approaches Astarion’s legs showing him his dangerous teeth.

“Just wait a moment!” He waves his hands nervously in the air. “You’re arresting me on what charges?” Astarion tries to gain some time. There must be a way to get out of here. Mustn’t it? 

“On the charges of conspiracy and treachery against Lord Protector of Neverwinter!” 

Astarion laughs. And he laughs so hard that the guard seems to be confused, diverting the sword for a moment from his neck. “Oh, this was fun.” He catches his breath before speaking again. “Well, it seems this was all a very big misunderstanding. You see, I was just passing by. Walking down the street as a normal citizen of Neverwinter.” The clamour of the fighting is calming down, and by the protests he can hear, the so called Greycloacks are losing. “I’m just visiting, I may add. Me and my wife. Can’t wait to celebrate the New Year with you folks. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get back.” He steps aside from the guard but almost instantly the man reacts, throwing him against the wall and the dog starts barking in anger.

“If that were true you should be with your wife right now, and not wandering the streets alone. You’re a Greycloack, gathering here to conspire against our Lord!” 

After the big commotion on the street has calmed down, people start to appear, opening the doors and windows of their houses to see what’s happening outside. 

“I’m not! I told yo—”

“I said kneel!” The guard growls, exalted, and Astarion concedes that, maybe, this time is better to oblige than to try to dissuade him. He stretches his neck to the side, trying to alleviate the pressure from the sword that is there again, remembering him of his fragile mortality, lowering himself to the ground just as the guard commanded.

“Fine!” He agrees against his will, huffing.   

Stupid son of a b—

“Astarion?” He hears a very familiar voice calling his name. He closes his eyes in the hope that when he opens them again everything was just a dream and none of this is happening. After a while he opens them, turning his head to the side, seeing the one he hoped had never left her room, standing there, staring at him with so many questions in her eyes.

“Why, hello, Darling.” It’s the only thing he can think about to say right now. Shit.

“Hello? But… What happened?” You ask, approaching him quickly.

The guard blocks your way to Astarion, extending a hand to you. “Sorry, ma’am, but this man here is under arrest for breaking the law. I ask you to not interfere.” He tilts his head upwards suggesting you to step back. “Now, move away please.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but this man is my husband! And I want to understand what’s happening!” You argue, stepping forward, defiant.

A small smile of pride tugs into Astarion’s lips, you can be a pain in the ass when you want to, he knows that too well. “See, this is my wife.” He mutters to the guard.

“Ma’am I told you to step away! This man is a Greycloack and he was caught conspiring against the Lord Neverember!” 

“A what?” One more step forward. “You’re making a mistake, he’s nothing of that sort!”

“I won’t ask you again! Backwards!” The guard yells at you, spitting in his anger.

“Sweetie, please—”

“Shut up!” The guard orders, kicking Astarion on the leg.

At that moment Astarion knows that if you still had your magic your closed fists, alongside your waist, would be sparkling with electricity right now, because your eyes are burning and twitching, and that man would be doomed. But since you no longer are able to cast your spells, the only way you have to release that growing warth is to jump to the guard and start punching him the fastest you can. “You will not beat him in my presence!” You keep punching him, giving Astarion a window of opportunity to escape. 

But when Astarion is about to get up from the ground and try to take the short sword from the guard that is clumsily trying to defend himself from you, other guards approach, stopping Astarion before he can do anything.

It takes three of them to stop your fury and to restrain you beside Astarion, your hands tied together. 

“As you were so eager to join him—there! Arrested together!” The guard scoffs. “Some nights in prison will do you good to calm your temper, you crazy woman.” 

“Hey!” Astarion scolds, frowning. No one is allowed to insult you in front of him. But the guard ignores him, moving away.

“And what about him? What is going to happen to him?” You inquire.

The guard turns once more and answers, shrugging his shoulders, “We’ll see if he’s a Greycloack or not.”

“He’s not!” You hiss.

“If he’s not he has a lot to explain. Now shut your mouths or I'll split you right now!” And with no more words the guard steps away, moving to reunite with other guards ahead from you.

Astarion hears you sigh deeply, and then you lean your head backwards, meeting his own. 

“I’m sorry, Darling… I really am. I didn’t want any of this to happen…” He apologizes. 

“Not now, Astarion. Please.” You retort, your voice laced with sadness. 

His heart shrinks with your reply, because he truly means it. He’s truly sorry. The only thing he wanted was to make you happy, to make you smile, and he failed. Miserably. 

Stupid. How could I be so stupid?   

He holds your hand, squeezing it right after, and he waits. It takes a while, and he’s starting to get worried, but finally you hold his hand back, squeezing it softly too, tranquilizing his insecure heart.

Everything will be alright. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll fix this.

Watching the guards gathering the new prisoners, he hopes that they’ll get you out of there soon, because the snow is not giving signs to stop falling in the near future and it’s getting really cold. He’s getting really cold, and you, you’re getting cold too, by the way your hands are freezing already.   

If you get sick because of me, I won’t forgive myself.

It’s enough already that he, with no right to it, had robbed you of the chance to properly celebrate New Year's Eve. 

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

Lots of love 🖤

[koiiiji]

HIII!! I've been reading your work for awhile🛐🛐 BUT I HAVE BEEN CRAVING MORE OF THE WAY YOU WRITE WOOIN ACTUALLY me and my friend have been reading your fics for awhile and go feral for them no specific scenario in mind TBH I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND THE WOOIN REQUEST!!🫶🏻🫶🏻

AHHH BIG LUV SIS APPRECIATE THAT U ENJOYING MY WORKS!! don't worry, my boy wooin are always welcomed here😌😌

im actually curious if you meant like possessive wooin? bc if so, good news, i have more here xo - xo

warnings : obsessive!wooin, my fav trop with him unrequited love, intrusive thoughts

notes : prob gonna do pt. 2 of this, bc this one kinda short, but not sure if u up to.. let me know!!

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Wooin would never dare to confess his true feelings for you. especially since that bitch Sangho said that someone should keep an eye on such misfits as Sabbath and let him and Ryu Juwon know that they didn't cause any other problems. yet, deep down, he couldn't deny the pull you had on him. despite the fact that you and Sung been just + 2 to Yoo Bin, he couldn't overlook your talents in cycling and your captivating beauty. but hell, he would ever say something romantic in your direction first.

it didn't faze him that you often accompanied Yoo Bin, he immediately noticed that although you and he had a close relationship, you two shared only brotherly bond, one that made him feel like an outsider longing for more. yet, there was something about the way you looked at the Joker, the way you talked to Hyeok or any other random or nouname from the competition who thought he had a chance to get to know you. it left him restless, trembling with jealousy whenever you disregarded him. how could you? wasn't he a vibrant personality, adorned with all his piercings, splitted tongue and a bright fashion style? since you join crew, hell even from inception of Sabbath, he had been there, injecting humor, exuding charisma, demonstrating sharp wit with his abilities to find source of income, and in his honest opinion, displaying less sullen and gloom than the rest. he thrived on the spotlight, assuming the role of leader effortlessly. but you, little bitch, still decided to play hard to get with him and ignore him.

when once again he saved you from some annoying piece of shit who kept begging for your number, you look at him over your shoulder with those incredulous, innocent eyes and he felt the earth disappear from under his feet. ah, those eyes of yours... Wooin never imagined he could be ensnared by someone's gaze. with just a flutter of your lashes, and he forgot his prepared excuses or jokes he was about to use as an excuse for the fact that he once again found himself alone with you, and again, rescuing you from unwanted attention.

he despised this feeling, yet he couldn't bring himself to admit that it was you he liked. no, it was something deeper, something sinister. it was an obsession, boiling loathing and hatred of everything around you, and that's all you voluntarily turned your attention to, but not to him, even when he was desperately struggling.

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

AHHHH SORRY!! I PLANNED TO MAKE IT DARKER BUT I FINISHING THIS ON LECTURE IN UNI sooo... u know... promise, i will do it darker, again if you guys are up to💋💋

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 28-29 Speedrun...

I'm trying to play catch up after falling behind a bit, so here's just a highlight reel/speedrun (as much as I can speed...which is not very much tbh). The meta has dwindled down to nothing; I do apologize. This is very much just reaction-based. Also, I'll probably have to stay out of the tag once the express episodes come out, unless the site I'm watching on uploads those eps too.

Spoilers incoming!

Ep 28

Heh. ZYC's plausibly deniable jealousy is back and boy have I ever needed it. His cursing better be more intense now that he's basically confessed to ZYZ several times over lmao. And oh how precious he is, taking Ying Lei's ice marks comment seriously enough to double check his neck.

Ah. Watching WX's convo with Princess Longyu while knowing what happens in ep 29, the irony of her lie about being poisoned...Good (and terrible) stuff...

Oh god oh dear I was watching the whole acting ordeal through my fingers with preemptive second-hand embarrassment for ZYC. The moment WX pulled out her little booklet but we were cut off from seeing the msg, I knew, esp given the very pointed shots of the fish right before their whole convo haha. Not bad of a set-up imo, more subtly natural than usual which I like since I prefer explanatory flashbacks to have a bit more premeditation baked into the original scene for viewers to pick up on in real-time, which this show doesn't always do.

But oh my. I have to say this. I apologize in advance but it's in my damn handle so forgive me but—ZYC is so fucking lovely when sulky and embarrassed. I'm smitten. I had seen the director post those shots of TJR all dramatically lit and beautifully framed months ago and I had no idea it was going to be used for this. And this is coming off the heels of the previous episode's mpreg joke, which I'm still not over. This show's commitment to flustering ZYC's character needs to be studied and replicated in fanfics. Who said that? Not me. Anyway.

I've seen mixed reactions to ZYC not being in on the acting, but just for me personally, I like that it wasn't intentional for them to leave him out, and I really am glad to have heard his honest feelings in that moment. It felt significant to see him make that decision against even the rest of their family, and I'd personally rather it come out while the rest of them are playing at discord than actually seeing them fight internally just to witness ZYC draw his ultimatum so genuinely and seriously. It feels like yet another moment where the narrative is creatively committing subtext into text for us and for ZYZ to hear, without having to torment us with somehow worsening the stakes within their group to the extent that would elicit such a reaction.

WZY and Chongwu Camp really invest in a lot of latex skin huh?

Oh my god I love that PSJ sucks at acting too. Her panic at having to pretend lmfaooo. Also, this gets at something I really should have realized much earlier on, but the way ZYC and PSJ have so many similarities in disposition and belief, and also how WX and ZYZ overlap a lot in their inclination for acting and playful tricks and teasing—I love that. WX and ZYC each gravitating towards respectively familiar personalities in romantic partners, which actually very much happens irl. Basically seeking out personalities similar to their comforting (pseudo-)familial bonds. Also explains why I love both ZYC and PSJ so much.

Lmfao Ying Lei's theme song kicking in as he volunteers to hold onto the dragon scale really does get me. His song captures his character so well.

Any day I get to watch TJR inception-act as Ao Yin acting as ZYC is a good day for me. That little snarl of a reaction after Ying Lei pulled out his weapon is some good shit. I love that even the texture of his voice and the cadence of his line delivery is different (the stark contrast when actual ZYC shows up in the next scene is *chef's kiss*). And he is uniquely suited for batting his eyelashes, I must say.

Okay! Onto Ep 29:

First ZYC forgets how to count when he calls them a group of five...now ZYZ tricks Ying Lei into giving his all to protect an empty box...when will the grievances against Ying Lei end?

My live reaction to finding out WX's been fatally poisoned: ZYZ, ZYC, Bai Jiu, and WX passing around the hot potato of mortality.

I'm glad for some more emotional development on the Li Lun!Bai Jiu front! I feel like he's been on the back burner for a bit with the ZYC demonizing (which he caused anyway, lol). I am certainly intrigued by Ying Lei being around to hear Li Lun!Bai Jiu's monologue and what this may lead to. And it's been said but LZY (Bai Jiu's actor) does soooo well here it's such a great watch.

Also...Li Lun wants a roof (well, technically, eaves) to shelter from the rain and a lamplight in the dark? Sounds like a throuple with ZYC and ZYZ really might fix him tbh.

Justice for WX in ZYC's flashback from two years ago. She does not say "Are you stupid?" but more along the vibe of "Don't be silly" as she and ZYC discuss his snake bite. The subs are too literal here it makes her sound so out of pocket lmao

God I'm so glad PSJ slapped all of WX's will to live back into her in ep 27 because yes girl!!! Fight for your right to live!! Also, speaking of, where tf is PSJ ): Her girl is dying, why doesn't she get any screen time to react? Do I assume she knows or not?

But yay! The contract ripping was cute. As an aside, I do wish I personally felt enough of a spark between ZYZ and WX to ship them on my own because the writing is there for their pairing to be pretty solid. Like I've said before, they're sweet and good together but they just don't rot my brain. I wonder what's missing for me because I honestly like their acting much more than I expected to. Perhaps it could also be a matter of contrast, as some dynamics in the web of relationships stand out to me in terms of chemistry more than others, even if we're not talking strictly romantic (I mean, I'm of the belief that TJR could have chemistry with a brick wall if he wanted to). Anyway though, I'm going off topic. ZYZ and WX cute (and tragic)!

I gasped at ZYC going to meet WZY. That's what I call desperate measures.

Ha, ZYZ asking ZYC to protect him while he's weakened from the Ever-Burning Wood reminds me of CQL c:

Yooooooo ZYC grabbing the newly reforged Cloud Light Sword and all that gorgeous light. What a hero. Smitten, I say.

Ohhhh the Li Lun/ZYC superimposed images, the way I was holding my breath and worried for a second that ZYZ would call ZYC by the wrong name !!!! That's some legit ex-vs-current-lover storytelling like whew. But I needed ZYC to catch ZYZ a little better than that when he fell like embrace the man already pls

The cave scene!!!!! I'm looking through my fingers. I feel like I'm intruding. How many jade pendants does ZYC have on his person for ZYZ to drink at any given moment? And oh wow something about the framing of ZYC's hand on the wine bottle as he mixes it—what an intimate ritual. Feels like I watched ZYC make three separate confessions just seeing him pull out the jade, mix the drink for ZYZ, and hold it out to him with his eyes averted...And then he goes and lays his heart bare (again! once more on top of the conversation in ep 26 like he is really not letting any chance of misunderstanding arise he is trying to show his hand as much as possible wow). But yeah who's gonna gif the wine mixing for me?

Fuckkkk, they're zhiji, they said it, I'm going insane.

I love ZYZ's pause right before he drinks the first cup. Watching the gravity of this moment and ZYC's absolute sincerity hit him, settle on him. Such a meaningful and significant breath between actions. Like, we are allll aware of how serious this is.

ZYC holding intense eye contact while drinking the second cup??? Uh??? I really should be turning away now right? And ZYZ's stare back is truly indistinguishable from his openly loving looks at WX. I am on the floor.

All of ZYC's toasts are about ZYZ being a savior of some kind ;-;

Another live reaction: WHEN DID ZYC BECOME A SURGEON THEY JUST DID SURGERY ON ZYZ'S CORE IM CRYING.

ZYC most dramatic surgeon I've ever seen did you see the way his hair caught the wind? God but his nonchalance is killing me. Yes why not bare your heart and soul over some wine you mixed specifically for ZYZ and then operate on ZYZ's core in one sitting? All in a night's work I guess. Also ZYZ's still recovering from the Ever-Burning Wood oh my god someone take ZYC's license away what is this medical malpractice. Bai Jiu is out of commission for a little bit and all of a sudden everyone thinks they're a doctor smh.

All I have to say about the WZY meeting is sometimes I get so distracted by ZYC's eyelashes. Also goodbye and good riddance WZY! Unless the drama decides to pull a fast one on us, which is never beyond the realm of possibility here. But at least he burned.

PSJ is back :D Head empty except for how pretty her red cape is.

Ouuugh Li Lun who is constantly possessing people and obsessively making others look at the real him and Ao Yin who is constantly impersonating people and now asking to be remembered for how she actually looks. What a pair, I can see why they stuck together all this time. Also Ao Yin's true form is so pretty. Girl I know you killed a bunch of people and continuously framed our heroes and caused so so so much heartache for them but I'll remember your true form dw )-:

The borrowed sympathy Li Lun gets while in Bai Jiu's body is quite poignant and so complicated and tbh I want more of it. As someone who doesn't want him to go down this unfortunate path any further, I have hopes about the potential there, but it's probably safer to expect the worst.

Not sure if this more surface-level commentary is still fun to read, but this will probably be all I have time for from now til the end. And since I'll be staying out of the tag soon, it'll just be me shouting into the void for the next few days. Thanks to anyone still sticking around and reading these!

Also sorry I don't add more photos on the regular, I'm watching the show in pretty shitty resolution and on a player than is awful to screenshot from (-:

[zaraquinn]

i wish you love.

chapter iii | valentine

—————

summary: after an odd parallel dream, reader and robert’s affections start to show; progressing their relationship to the most desired path.

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tw: MDNI!! smut (p in v, no protection {wrap before tap}, depictions and mentions of domestic abuse, manipulation and a toxic relationship

word count: +2.7k

female!reader x robert fischer (inception)

author’s notes and additional notes: sorry for the delay but here is the next chapter of i wish you love! a little confession: this chapter was in a stalemate status for a while. I thought since the second chapter didn’t get as much feedback and traction as the first chapter i thought interest quickly disappeared. but i had many people wondering for the next chapter, and it made me happy that people were still interested! thank you for all that have been waiting and reading, it means a lot. also, if you want to be part of the tag list, comment below and i will add you to the growing list on the series masterpost. it will be updated every time there is a new chapter uploaded. it keeps everything together in one (both the location of the tagged accounts and the chapters of the story) so it’s easier to access. anyway, enjoy the new chapter :3

xoxo

- zara q.

—————

! masterlist !

! series masterpost + tag list here !

—————

Robert blinks a few times, finding himself standing staring out his window in his high-rise office. His suit jacket hung on his chair and his sleeves were rolled up, showing his forearms. His ears feel muffled at first but everything comes back for a moment, and the voice that has been beckoning at him now becomes clear.

“Robert? Are you okay?” Your voice echoed through his office. He turns around with a confused look. His cheeks suddenly felt wet, and touched his face, realizing he was crying. You stepped forward, your smaller hand gently reaching towards his face to wipe away the tear falling. Your face, as angelic as ever is perfectly lit from the soft sunlight coming from his windows in the office.

Your hand then rests on his cheek, his hand immediately meeting yours and intertwining your fingers with his. He brought his other hand to cup your cheek, mirroring you. He looks at you with such adoration in his eyes, a sparkle that only intensifies when he closes his eyes to relish in the moment. Robert closed the gap between the two of you, his lips finally gaining the courage to touch land on yours.

His lips were so soft. They fit so well like it was meant to be there all along. Relishing in the kiss, he pulled away suddenly, taking a breath for a moment. His eyes stayed closed as he could feel the rush of emotion fill his body and flood his eyes. Your soft fingertip wiped away another fallen tear as one of his hands held onto yours on his face—keeping in place with such softness.

“I’ve dreamt every night about doing that to you.” He mutters; his voice as gentle as a whisper. You smile. “Me too.” You close your eyes and lay your forehead on his. Both of you breathe in each other’s scent as he moves closer to you, closing the gap once more.

He pulled you close, his hands travelling to your waist and all over your body. He wanted to relish in this moment, wanting to memorize every single part of you. You took a breath and moaned at his touch, feeling his lips travel from your lips to your neck. He gently pushed you back onto his desk, his hands now making its way up your skirt. Robert felt the soft fabric of your panties and slowly pulled them down your legs to the floor, using his hand to lay on your slick heat. You were already soaking, his hand already collecting your juices. You instinctively lifted a leg to wrap around Robert, and he adjusted accordingly, giving you more room for you to spread your legs. You felt your pink slit touch his pants, and Robert, as hard as ever frantically started to unbuckle his belt.

He let go of you momentarily, and you whimpered from the loss of contact. Once he was able to get his cock free he quickly attached himself to your lips and lined himself up at your entrance. “Make love to me Robert.” You moaned, desperate to feel him inside you. All he had to do was nod before he slowly slipped right into your dripping cunt. Your total slickness making it easier for his thick cock to fit right in. “Robert!” You yelped in pleasure as you felt him inside you, filling you up to the brim, making you feel full. He held you close, making sure to steady you on his desk as he slowly pulled almost all out of you. He then snaps his hips forward, filling you back up and just hitting that sweet spot that made you moan out loud. He makes a slight grunt, being in absolute paradise between your legs. “Y/N,” he said breathlessly.

He looks into your eyes as he starts a steady pace, sweat starting to build up on his forehead. His perfect brown hair bounces as he buries himself deep into your soaking cunt. “Y/N…” he says in between breaths. “Yes, Robby?” You return his words, moaning and squeaking through each pleasuring thrust he gave you. “I—”

Suddenly, his office doors burst open. His father and another man appear surprised in the hallway. That surprise suddenly turns angry as they yell the pair’s names at the sight. Robert stops and hugs you tight, protecting the scene and your body with his. You go completely still at the moment.

“Robert?” “Y/N?”

Maurice Fischer's voice booms in shock and disgust as Y/N’s boyfriend fumes in rage at the sight. His voice, louder than Maurice’s, echoes through the room. He quickly pulls out a gun and men start swarming the room, pointing it at both Robert and Y/N.

“What the fuck is this?” You quickly push yourself off and Robert fixes himself up. Afterwards, he pushes you behind him. One arm holds you close while the other is stretched out towards his father and Y/N's boyfriend.

“Let’s calm down, okay? We can sit down and talk about this. All of us.”

His voice is shaky but remains soft. You clutch onto the back of Robert’s shirt as you step beside him, holding your other arm in surrender. “Please, let us talk.”

Maurice gives one look at you, then to his son, and then the man you hated calling your boyfriend. He sighs. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Y/N.” You look at Robert with pleading eyes as he grabs your hand. Maurice Fischer nods ever so slightly, and in a blink of an eye, Robert’s on the ground. A bullet through his chest and blood on the ground. The bullet coming from your boyfriend’s gun as he points it at Robert’s head.

Before you can even react to stop him, one of Maurice’s men’s guns goes off behind you, and for a split second of pain, it is also gone.

—

You wake up in a cold sweat and sit up from your pillows. You check the time on your bedside and realize it's 7:30 AM. Turning around slowly, you see the sleeping figure beside you with his eyes closed; like a dormant bomb, ready to go off. Pulling the sheets off you take a breath and get ready for work. The memories of your dream rush through like a current of rushing water. Robert’s gentle but fiery touch on your skin as his hands travelled throughout your body, the way his cock felt inside you and the next was the fear, panic and pain that ended sooner than it started. You open your eyes and look in the mirror for a moment; shaking your head of the dream before it further distracts you from getting ready.

Robert’s eyes shoot open and he sits up from his bed. Lonely and all alone. He holds his head in his hands for a moment, replying to the last bits of the dream he had before it slowly fades away. He checks the time on his bedside table; at 7:30 AM. Tiredly flopping back down on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling for a moment. His eyes close for a moment and parts of the dream relapse in his memory: the way your soft skin felt when your hands admired your body, to how tight and warm you felt wrapped around his cock and then the sheer devastation his heart felt when he caught you on his arms with a bullet hold through your head. He had no time to react when he too, felt a pain hit his temple and then the dream was over. He gets up from his bed this time, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

—

You get to work, holding the coffee and breakfast sandwich you knew Robert favoured in your hands.

You felt slightly nervous to see Robert—even though it was a dream, you were worried that the feelings you had floated to the surface of your face and he would notice. So, you kept your eyes downcast when you knocked on his office door.

“Y/N.” his voice, gently beaming from behind you appeared as you turned around. You softly gasp as he puts his hands up. “It’s just me. I’m sorry I startled you.” Robert chuckles and glances at a coffee cup in his hand before handing it to you. His other hand making its way into his pocket. “I brought you this.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you giggled at the sight. “Robert, you do know it’s supposed to be the other way around? The coffee should be in my hand, for you.” You playfully answered. He nervously chuckled. “Yes, but…” he paused and took a breath, gathering his thoughts. “This is a thank you; for last night. I needed something to take my mind off of and dinner with you helped.” You felt your smile grow wider at the gesture, and the blush creeping on your cheeks started to grow. “Thank you.” You replied, gently taking the cup from his hands.

“Plus, this could be an extra perk if you were having an…odd morning today.” He gives a small smirk, and you feel yourself stiffen for a moment. Does he know? Flashes of the dream reply in your mind for a split second and you let a small giggle escape your lips. “Um, yeah. I’m glad I’m not the only one.” You hint back to Robert with a smirk. His cheeks slightly burn pink at your reply and you feel yours do the same. You look down at your hands and you almost forget the coffee you got Robert as well still in your other hand. “Right, I almost forgot. Here’s your morning coffee for your day as well.” Robert gives a warm smile, taking the cup from your hands. “Thank you, Y/N.” his touch lingers on you a while longer before you let go of the cup with your blushed smile. You shyly turned around and headed to your office until…

“Y/N?” Robert said quickly. Approaching you slowly he let out a quick breath before chuckling to himself nervously. “Would you—“

*RING RING*

Your work cellphone interrupted Robert’s words as you immediately picked it up, before saying sorry as the habit of working kicked in for the day. “Fisher and Morrow. Yes, this is his assistant speaking.” Robert opened his mouth and then closed it, hesitating on what he was about to say. He clenched his fists and realized it wasn’t a good time.

Removing the phone from your ear and closing the call, you gave a sombre look to your boss. Who oddly enough, looked defeated. “I’m sorry that interrupted you Robert, but, you have a meeting to attend to at 11 AM for the draft and another lunch-in with—“ “Associates and finance. I remember.” Feeling defeated, Robert put his hands in his pockets.

“What were you saying though?” You quipped softly. The look you gave him almost wanted him to blurt out what he was going to say, but instead, he sighed. “It’s okay. When we have time, I’ll tell you.” He gave a tight smile, but you know it was bothering him. Although you didn’t know what it was, you made it a goal today to make sure he said his piece.

“Okay, no worries. I’ll come back once the day’s finished. Does that work for you?” Those words he’s heard ten thousand times from your mouth, but this time, it warmed his heart differently. He chuckles nervously once again looking down at his shoes before challenging himself to make eye contact with you.

“That sounds perfect.” That tight-lipped smile turned into a genuine one. The one you were always happy to see. You nodded in agreement and walked away to your office. Butterflies fluttering all over your stomach tenfold. Little did you know, Robert felt the same way.

———

Time passed faster than expected, as Robert didn’t realize it was the end of the day. He was anticipating what he would say and how to say it when you came knocking at the door. The meetings he was in were just white noise, and time to spend thinking about your arrival.

It was rare for Robert to be nervous. Especially like a man of his stature and reputation. This persona he had to uphold for the company’s reputation and face. He learned quickly after switching off auto-pilot on the businessman facade it drained him of his energy. You were the only saving grace to his work and made him still have the energy for late night hours at the office to thank-you-dinners.

That’s why he has to make this right. He doesn’t want to let you go. The company is on the verge of being at its most vulnerable and Robert knows he had to play his cards right. It’s now or never.

The three familiar knocks broke Robert out of his thoughts. He quickly put away his papers and tidied his desk, giving a short ‘Come in’ before you walked in. Holding your organizer, you stepped in and started to delve into today’s completed tasks and tasks for tomorrow. Then, you stopped and closed your organizer.

“So, what did you want to tell me, Robert?”

Robert could feel his heartbeat in his ears. His stomach felt like it was about to drop but he couldn’t stop staring at your dreamy presence. He took a breath and shook his head and finally looked at you. “Would you like to go to dinner with me? And not as a work duty.”

Your expression softened tenfold and you could hear the slight shake in his voice. You’ve rehearsed this moment thousands of times in your head, and you knew the answer before he could’ve even asked. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He let out a relieved chuckle and his smile grew wide, like a child of Christmas. “Great. Let's say tomorrow night, and I’ll pick you up at eight.” He says, almost beaming. “I would love that.”

——

Once you got home, you excitedly twisted your keys and entered your home. Startled at your boyfriend waiting for you, standing in the middle of the living room staring at you. “Jesus, you scared me.” You said softly, as he put your keys back in your pocket and laid your jacket and purse on the coat rack and foyer table.

“Where were you?” His tone was still, almost like he was keeping his anger on the surface. You looked away, avoiding eye contact. “Work, like always.” You said back, albeit softly. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, so you continue to play his bit so it can be done quickly. “Who drives you home?” “I took a taxi.”

That was when he charged at you. Slamming you into the wall and trapping you with his towering frame. The hit at the back of your head throbbed in pain. “I knew you were lying to me. You’re cheating on me aren’t you?” He held you trapped between the wall and him and you shook your head. “No!” Fear ran through your blood and you began shaking. “I called your work, and the receptionist of the building said you got a ride from Fischer. You’re cheating on me with your boss!?” He exclaimed loudly.

Your fear quickly subsided into rage, as you felt yourself getting quite tired of the abuse. And the mention of Robert was the last straw. If he was scared of Robert replacing him, he should be.

“You know what? I did lie. He did give me a ride home.” You said back, almost seething. Your boyfriend felt the rage boil at his fingertips. “You what?!” You yelled, his voice cracking as he felt betrayed. You reached for your keys in your pocket and with all your might, struck him on his head. Giving you ample time to escape being trapped between him and the wall, you scurried off, leaving lots of space between each other. “And I wasn’t cheating on you, because we’re no longer together. So get out of my house.” You held your keys tighter in your hand, ready to strike again. He held his ear, seeing some blood dripping from the skin. He glared at you with rage.

“You’re gonna pay for that, bitch.” Opening the door he steps outside into the cold night in nothing but his shirt and sweatpants. “Have fun fucking your boss and getting fired.”

And with that, he took his car and drove off. No amount of relief hit you more than that very moment after his car was out of sight. You closed the door and smiled.

——

! masterlist !

! series masterpost + tag list here !

[thestalwartheart]

Inception confession- Sometimes I think about the sharp emotion and genuine anguish when Arthur said “Sorry” to Cobb about jeopardizing the mission even though it was Cobb’s fault and I just want to punt Cobb a little 🥲

You are in a safe space here, Anon. There is not a day where I don't want to punch Cobb.

[animehideout]

Suguru Geto Timestamp.

Warnings: ANGST

a/n: First time writing angst, but imma write a oneshot based on this timestamp as a continuation with a happy ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{ 7:30PM }

You stood under the rain, a scant distance between you and Suguru. Crazy how people can change in a mere span of hours.

Hands trembling, tears salty and mingled with rain drops.

You locked eyes, begging him to stay.

It was only yesterday, you both bared your souls confessing your feelings, crowning it with a first tender kiss.

But now you realized your first kiss was a farewell and not the inception of a love story.

“I know why you're here, so go ahead and end me”

“End you? I love you Suguru” You wept.

“Some things do transcend love”

“Stay” you pled.

“I'll return when I've crafted a better world for both of us, a realm only for sorcerers” he said disappearing into the darkness.

[thedensworld]

Lover | Kim Mingyu

Officially Dated!

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x Fashion Editor!Reader (ft. Joshua)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Series

________________________________________

A memory from last week continued to linger in Kim Mingyu's mind. Well, he might have forgotten some details after consuming three and a half bottles of soju, which was his limit. But the fact that he woke up in a hotel room that wasn't his own, shirtless, with you soundly asleep on his arm, was etched into his memory. There was a glimmer of hope when he woke up that morning, finding you beside him, though your baby blue shirt you still wore in your sleep had him slightly disappointed. He had wished for something significant to have happened, a step towards reconciling with you. However, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret that he had hoped for anything other than a genuine, sober reconnection – the kind he truly wanted.

But that was best forgotten for now.

Let's shift our focus to the pivotal moment when you finally mustered the courage to confess your feelings for him. That night stood out as a beacon of light in Mingyu's otherwise busy week. Amidst his hectic work schedule and mounting stress, your presence added a layer of complexity to his thoughts. He wouldn't necessarily say that you were the cause of his stress, but you certainly had him contemplating more than ever before. Since the day you two reconnected after all those years apart, he had found it nearly impossible to stop thinking about you and the emotions that had never truly ceased since their inception. The truth was, he hadn't dated anyone since he met you. And he struggled to pinpoint the reason behind it. Why had he become so irrevocably attached to you?

Your confession from that night continued to play on a loop in his mind. He could vividly recall the excitement that had surged through his veins upon hearing your words, "I also have that feeling, Mingyu. The one you feel.." In that moment, he felt as if he were soaring, carried away to the stars. He had been waiting for that very moment for what felt like an eternity – and it had taken merely three bottles of soju and a dose of honesty for you to reveal your feelings. Mingyu wondered why he had waited so long to hear those words.

In moments of introspection, he pondered this question. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed when his hairstylist posed a question to him. Tonight, he was set to meet you once again. An excitement brewed within him, fueled by the anticipation of encountering you. He knew you would be occupied with the fashion show, but your affirmative response to his text asking, "Are you attending the after party?" provided enough hope to keep his optimism alive throughout the event.

Y/n: Yeah, gotta gain all those blood, sweat, and tears that have already been spent...

He had chosen to wear one of Mrs. Gia's summer/spring collection from the previous year to the fashion show. His attire exuded a natural charm, and his confidence radiated effortlessly. As he entered the venue, the flashing of cameras and the attention from the media greeted him. Among the throng of unfamiliar faces, he was relieved to spot his friend Yugyeom from GOT7. At least, he had a companion to help him navigate his desire to see you.

Wandering his gaze around the venue wasn't a novel practice for Mingyu; he had been doing so since the moment he reconnected with you. Learning about the meticulous preparation that went into orchestrating a fashion show had made him appreciate the efforts of those working behind the scenes even more. While most people focused on the guests and models — besides the clothes, Mingyu had learned to notice the intricate web of creativity that interconnected various elements – concept, visuals, and production – to create a mesmerizing show.

Amidst this thought process, Kim Mingyu's attention was captivated by your presence at the front of the house. Clad in all black, a headset covering your ears, you seemed to effortlessly command the chaos. Your lips moved in sync with your directions, conveyed through the microphone of your headphones. A smile formed on Mingyu's lips as he watched you assume your position, poised and ready to guide the show he was about to witness.

Ironically, the show itself was a blur for Mingyu that night. He found himself captivated not by the runway, but by your charismatic presence as you orchestrated the entire event. Instead of the nervousness he had anticipated, he observed you relishing in your role, moving to the rhythm of the music while directing your team through the microphone. In the midst of all this, you radiated an ethereal glow that drew his gaze.

*

The after party was a lively affair, and it became even more enjoyable the moment you stepped into the venue, accompanied by your colleagues. Yugyeom playfully nudged Mingyu, having noticed his intent stare.

"Why the fixed gaze on Director Y/n?" Yugyeom's question caught Mingyu off guard, revealing that his friend was acquainted with you.

Yugyeom went on to explain that he had worked with you on several occasions during his time in Paris. By chance, his manager had been your college classmate. Mingyu inquired about your personality, and Yugyeom's response left him satisfied. You were described as intriguing and captivating, possessing a youthful maturity that had enabled you to ascend to such a significant position at a young age.

"Why the sudden interest, Kim Mingyu? Do you have a crush on her? Need a wingman?" Yugyeom's playful tone evoked laughter from Mingyu. Little did he know that Yugyeom's jest was closer to the truth than he realized.

If only Kim Mingyu could reveal to Yugyeom that you felt the same way about him.

*

"Congratulations!" Mingyu's simple words were met with a warm smile from you, acknowledging his sentiment. In a playful jest, you graciously nodded as if you had just single-handedly averted a war – the type of nod that subtly exuded your awesomeness. The clink of your liquor-filled glasses echoed the sentiment, a cheerful toast to the moment.

Seated on barstools next to each other, you and Mingyu turned your attention to the bustling crowd. With a mirrored movement, you both faced the scene. "Do you recognize anyone aside from Kim Yugyeom?" you inquired, gesturing towards the throng.

Mingyu nodded confidently. "Almost everyone," he replied, his gaze shifting to meet yours.

"Quite the network you've built," you remarked, acknowledging his impressive ability to connect with a wide array of people within the industry. Mingyu returned your compliment with an appreciative smile. Curious to hear your side, he posed the same question to you.

Your head shook slowly in response. "I recall having worked with a few of them, but I doubt they remember me. I'm not exactly memorable," you said with a light laugh.

Mingyu's lips curled playfully, and he nudged your side. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, his tone suggesting otherwise.

With a mockingly skeptical glance, you eyed him up and down before rolling your eyes, followed by a soft chuckle. "What I mean is, I tend to stay in the background. No one really pays us much attention – not that we're seeking it. I just believe that those working behind the scenes deserve more recognition than they get, although we do get paid," you added with a laugh.

As you spoke, the cadence of your words, the passion in your eyes as you shared your thoughts and opinions, succeeded in captivating Mingyu's attention. Your intelligence and charisma never failed to divert his gaze. Your conversation was engaging, your brilliance shining through, and he found himself distracted by your presence. Mingyu was aware that it wasn't the most opportune time for such thoughts, but he couldn't help but wish to hold you close, to kiss you in that very moment. Swiftly snapping out of his reverie, he redirected his focus to your words.

"Wanna leave this place?" Mingyu suddenly interjected, interrupting your conversation. The gentle touch of his hand landing on yours halted your words, your eyes locking onto his gaze. You took a moment to contemplate his proposal, your gaze momentarily flickering to your colleagues on the opposite side of the venue. Signaling him to wait, you quickly sent a text to your personal assistant before nodding and rising from the barstool.

Guiding your steps, Mingyu led you towards the exit. A signal to his manager, a halted taxi, and he gestured for you to get in first. An unusual sense of comfort and trust settled within you – a sense you rarely experienced with strangers, and certainly not this quickly. While your relationship had been progressing positively since last week, it wasn't typical for you to be so at ease and trusting with someone. Mingyu mentioned a location unfamiliar to you, leveraging your trust to lead you wherever he had in mind.

"Is it far?" you inquired as you settled into the cab, observing him. He nodded in response.

"I have my car with me," you noted nonchalantly, prompting a facepalm from Mingyu, who was stifling his laughter. Chuckling along with him, you wondered why you had opted for a cab when you had your own vehicle.

"It's fine. We were drinking anyway," Mingyu replied, attempting to rationalize your decision.

Silence settled between you two momentarily before he softly uttered, "You must be tired," while patting his shoulder, implying that you could lean on him for support. Shaking your head, you offered a smile, but he insisted, tapping his shoulder more firmly until you relented, leaning into the spot he indicated.

"Rest. I'll wake you when we arrive."

Unexpectedly, it was the depth of rest you experienced, and you were roused by a gentle tap on your arm. The motionless cab indicated that you had reached your destination. Blinking in confusion, you surveyed your surroundings, greeted by the sight of a beach, its entrance adorned with the words 'Blue's Sanpo.'

You and Mingyu had arrived in Sanpo, a location three hours away from where you had started. A mixture of confusion and amusement colored your expression, which elicited a shrug from Mingyu. Taking your hand in his, he guided you forward. It seemed that neither of you had anticipated the spontaneity of this moment. The attire you both wore was sufficient to shield you from the evening sea breeze. Mingyu kicked off his expensive shoes, and you followed suit, sprinting towards the water with the exuberance of a child. Mingyu's eyes gleamed with adoration as he watched you, his smile widening when your gaze met his, your expression is a testament to your approval of his choice.

Side by side on the sandy shore, you and Mingyu turned your attention to the local fishermen, immersed in their labor on the sea. The ethereal beauty of their boat's lights created a captivating spectacle, adorning the waters like jewels. The ambiance was picturesque, a canvas painted by the lights dancing on the waves, announcing the arrival of fall.

"Y/n," Mingyu's voice broke the gentle rhythm of the night.

You shifted your focus to him, responding to his beckon. This night was reminiscent of a movie scene, an intimate tableau of the two of you sitting in companionable silence on the beach. Words were unnecessary as you reveled in the tranquility of the moment, relishing each other's mere presence. Anticipation hung in the air, and you could feel the warmth of his breath in the small gap between you. Gradually, he inched closer, a silent question on his lips. "May I?" he whispered.

His inquiry caught your breath, leaving you in contemplation. After a beat, you nodded, giving him permission. Without delay, he bridged the gap between you two, closing the distance. The kiss that followed was deliberate and tender, an embrace of intimacy. The backdrop of crashing waves and the chirping of crickets contributed to the symphony of the night. Every touch of his hand against your skin, every sweep of his lips against yours, resonated deeply. The sea air, laden with a hint of chill, only heightened the sensory experience.

The kiss came to an end, both of you withdrawing as you took a deep, shared breath. Opening your eyes, you found Mingyu gazing at you, his eyes filled with depth and unspoken emotions. A chuckle bubbled forth from both of you, as though you were momentarily transported back to a different reality, where such intimate exchanges were a thing of whimsy. His arm extended towards your shoulder, urging you to draw closer, an unspoken need that your body instinctively answered. Leaning into him, you rested naturally against his side, your attention still focused on the captivating tableau before you.

And then, his voice, soft and tremulous, broke the silence. "Please, be my girlfriend," his words hung in the air, a question and a plea, simultaneously vulnerable and filled with earnest desire.

*

Pledis Entertainment's Announcement: Seventeen's Mingyu Reveals Non-Celebrity Girlfriend

On December 29th, Pledis Entertainment released an official statement disclosing that Kim Mingyu, a member of the global boy group Seventeen, is currently in a relationship with a non-celebrity. The news was met with a mix of surprise and support from fans. At the same time, Mingyu took to Weverse to share his sentiments with Carats, Seventeen's dedicated fanbase. Here is the message:

"Hello, Carats! This is Seventeen's Mingyu.

I want to take a moment to express my gratitude for your unwavering support and love throughout all our ups and downs.

Though I haven't had the chance to greet each and every one of you properly, please know that I always hold good thoughts for all of us.

I'm so thankful to Carat for loving and supporting both Seventeen and me.

Moving forward, I promise to work even harder on creating music and delivering great performances.

Thanks to your positive energy, I've been fortunate to encounter only good people.

I hope that Carat can experience the same positivity.

My wish is for us to continue sharing positivity and love only.

Always with love, Carat 💎"

[girlbossblackbeard]

ROUND 3 LET'S GO

[toytle]

can i see 5 + 6 plsssss 🤲🏾

5) bedtime story [halbarry]

i must confess, this was simply a pre-sleep scenario playing in my head while i was settling into bed, no plot, no punchline. sometimes your brain just plays movie scenes of your fav characters, and you have no choice but to get back up to write it down before you forget. not much happens after this, but i wanna save it jic this does end up being drawn bc, well, i think it’ll be even cuter visually ☺️

6) pretty ugly [t4t hb au]

at the risk of word vomiting my process, i planned their first meeting since the very inception of the t4t childhood friends au, but i keep delaying it bc frankly. idk if i trust myself to handle kid hal yet. he was such a sweetheart back then, but every time i look at the way i portray him, it doesn’t feel like i represent the full picture

kids act differently around peers than they do authority, so i thought i would still be able to maintain his “childhood innocence” if i threw in some arrogance/ignorance to reflect how easily influenced he is by his environment too. i’m not sure if i strike the balance. i worry that the way i push his more immature qualities misrepresents him as a simple-minded meathead stereotype instead

i also have mixed feelings abt this one bc even tho i wrote this before i found out, i keep getting flashbacks to the childhood hal + carol first meeting retcon where hal goes from “no way, you wanna be a pilot too??” to “psh, girls can’t be pilots!” which is not at all supposed to be the read on this. not to mention, this particular au has slight dcshg influences, so it’s also an expanded characterization, but maybe a counterintuitive one. as if this wasn’t complicated enough, like how the hell is anyone supposed to know any of this thru a jokey comic lol

and btw, i don’t think this is smth anyone would criticize or even think abt, fanart tends to get way more leniency than fanfic from what i’ve seen. but this isn’t abt anyone else, this is between me and hal, and unfortunately those are just the types of things i have to consider when it comes to my personal quality control

[ask game wip list]

[aviancataclysm]

cata loredump/writing with effort.

[REMINISCENCE -- INCEPTION. 15]

The cube gave up. After countless retries. 80,000 deaths and counting. The cube gave up.

It would be a premature release for that time. After all, nobody has done this before. A monster in creation. And its creator was consumed by it. And so he released the chains and let him go.

He was invincible. And he knew that. Another cube down. And another cube down. Did not even make it past 20. "I would love to see you try again. And fail. Fail rightfully…"

He did not truly believe in his purpose of being there. Undefeated, but perhaps unfairly so. They were frustrated. He was frustrated, too. Why did he have to let him go free? He enjoyed their comments on how impossible it was to fight him. But it was a guilty pleasure.

[REMINISCENCE -- FALSE HOPE. 15]

First defeat. The level saw his first defeat. They were proven wrong. And perhaps it was bittersweet. Cataclysm bowed in respect to the first victor, who then turned to a round of applause.

"Congratulations... and use some rest."

He was not sure how to feel about it. His pride should be crushed but there was instead a sense of relief.

That mirage was shattered later on by a confession of betrayal.

[REMINISCENCE -- DAYBREAK. 15]

Then came along another challenger. Soon to be victor. He had been anxious about it. What if it was another fraud?

He was not lied to this time.

Another two of them persisted. They got what they wanted. Fruitful struggles. He was satisfied for a long time.

The hardest level in the game, and yet it was still fair. That meant his status was justified.

He sat atop of his throne and crossed his legs. And he was what defined the upper limit.

[REMINISCENCE -- DEATH AND RENEWAL. 15/16]

The birth of his sibling. He saw his rise. He saw one of the cubes who defeated him also defeat that superior younger brother of his.

He rose from his throne and his gaze was fixed on Bloodbath. The two exchanged bows.

He stepped down, and handed over the crown.

"It is only right this way, dear brother. As long as they remember me."

Later on, he underwent some improvements. Saw that very same soldier come at him once more. And after a whole year, he was new again.

… Except it did not really change much.

[REMEMBRANCE -- FALL. 19]

There was a list of levels now. A list of levels superior to him. A list of levels more powerful. Newer. More aesthetically pleasing.

The list was vague as less people kept track of it back then. However he saw it solid. Concrete. That his worst fear is glaring at him.

No longer relevant.

Would he be?

The players all saw what is newer and what is more difficult. They hardly talk about him any more. Not in the same fashion as back then, at least.

[REMEMBRANCE -- PREDICAMENT. 21]

One of his comrades back in the day, that level named ICDX, was stripped of their status as an extreme.

One of the levels that people talked about alongside him.

One of the levels that people often compared difficulties with. They more or less agreed that he was stronger than them. Some said the otherwise. He was scared that the authorities would say the same.

Curled up inside his room under his table, now in disorder from lack of care, he cried for the first time since he stepped into the world.

It was most undignified.

But does it matter when his dignity was already almost non-existent from his point of view?

[REFLECTION -- BECOMING. 24]

He's still there.

He's still talked about.

He never faded into obscurity, And perhaps never will, from the legacy he has made.

… Still. It is strange.

Such a formidable opponent of the past, now just an average guy. An average guy goofing around with levels alike, not just the top field.

Nowhere near the top field, a lot of the times.

Is he content? Perhaps not fully. But not unfulfilled either.

It's just that, sometimes in a moment of recollection, he looks at his behavior now compared to then. And that allows some form of shame to surface.

He tries not to think about that.

After all, nothing is to be changed forevermore onwards.

[NOW IS THE PRESENT TIME HAS FOR US ALL]

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hi there...I understand you're taking requests 👀. Could I please get an Ashton Irwin x reader friends to lovers? Maybe he confesses his feelings to reader who feels the same but doesn't think they should be together because he has to go on tour (distance). But they end up together with some smut. I hope you can write this one, if not I understand. Thanks so much 😊

Hi, thanks for dropping a request. I hope you enjoy it doesn't get steamy, if I'm honest. I hope that's okay. If it's a problem, please let me know!

Requests are open briefly until the 24th. Any NSFW content (smut, etc) must be requested off anon to ensure no minors (those 17 and below) are requesting the content.

Feel free to look through my masterlist for more. You can submit a request through my asks.

________________________________

It’s a tradition, one that you’d personally be damned in trying to pinpoint when it had grown into such. But lack of clarity on its inception doesn’t undermine the tradition that brings you here, two nights before the tour sitting across from Ashton. He’s giggling at his own story, napkin clutched into one of his hands. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing at it as well. You and Ashton are always here two nights before any tour with dinner. Whether he cooks, or you cook, or you eat out--it doesn’t matter. The two of you make sure to set time aside for each other regardless. 

“I’m so serious,” Ashton giggles. “Guy straight up offered fifty bucks for the t-shirt I was literally wearing. Right off my back.”

“The real question,” you start, setting your bottle down after your sip, “is did you actually give this rando your shirt off your back for fifty bucks?”

Ashton’s smile changes, the bright honey curve of his lips morphs into something softer and more mischievous. “I got a good lunch afterwards though.”

“Ashton!” you scold, tufts of laughter bubbling from your chest. You know the possibility always exists with Ashton. It would be hard to imagine that he wouldn’t do something just for the story of it. 

“I didn’t take the cash! But he treated me to lunch, since I did sort of give him the shirt off my back.”

“You didn’t sort of do anything,” you huff, finishing off the last pieces of your food. Ashton’s plate sits with just another bite or two of the pasta. Somehow the food’s gone faster than you two have even calculated for, but that won’t stop you. With the settling evening, Ashton’s backyard is a comfortable solace, a nice place to rest for a little. 

“Guilty as charged,” Ashton returns. He scrapes up the last of his food as the conversation lulls for a moment. He watches though, the way you stare up and behind him, like your mind’s taken you to places behind the court of his house. “But how’s work? For you?” 

You’d asked Ashton how his life was going and it sent him spiraling. He can go a mile a minute but he’s never far from always checking in on you. You shrug at Ashton’s question. Your life has fallen a little mundane though your work is anything but. 

You’d fallen into Ashton’s world when he frequented the record shop you worked out in the last year of your master’s program. You needed the cash on the side. Though the days were long between school, work, and homework, you found a little slice of quiet in that shop. It was a local gem, hidden in the debris of a crumbling shopping center. But locals knew the record shop well and would take the hike to unearth the treasure. 

Ashton was one of those locals. He spotted you as you placed prices on new arrivals and asked if anything specific came in worth looking for. You shrugged in response, but lifted out some limited edition vinyls with a yawn. You’re not sure what joke you made specifically, but it was enough. Ashton laughed like his life depended on it and more and more he came into the shop. You two exchanged names, then numbers, growing closer and closer as time passed. In just a year, you could tell that Ashton was going to be someone important in your life. You’d never imagine the scale, and still can’t. But you told yourself even if Ashton was there for a season it would be spring and bring forth all sorts of new life. 

Now, you’re four and half years into your friendship and it still grows and grows. You’ve left the record shop, settling into talent management and running in leagues adjacent to Ashton’s. It’s not the most glamorous job on the planet, but it pays the bills. The only downside to the field is that drama from others becomes your drama just by association. You have to get in the dirt sometimes as much as you definitely didn’t want to. And Ashton knows how much you dislike some of the aspects of your job. 

“Is that a shrug that means same old, same old? Or is that a shrug that means big shit?” Ashton questions. “I’d hazard a guess closer to the latter.”

“You win another year of friendship,” you laugh, finally focusing your gaze back on Ashton. His honey eyes are melting with concern as he gazes up at you. It makes your stomach flutter and you hate the feeling. Hate that the two of you were always dancing. 

“I wasn’t worried for a second about that. You’re stuck with me. It’s in the contract.”

“I signed no such thing,” you tease. “I need to see that one.”

“It’s written in invisible ink,” Ashton snorts. “But seriously, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just a mess.” You’re not supposed to get into specifics, but it’s never once stopped you when it came to Ashton. “It’s sensitive information really and not something I want to spread around even if it’s to safe ears.”

Ashton nods. “I’m sure you see and hear a lot of shit.” He knows you’re working specifically with someone up and coming. They’re young and if Ashton knows anything from his younger years, it’s that trouble comes with freedom and excitement. Some mistakes though just need to be learned the hard way. So Ashton assumes it’s something big for you to even keep it quiet. 

“Too much shit. We’re talking with lawyers,” you divulge. 

Ashton whistles. He’s no stranger to lawyers but he knows that when they get into the mix it gets messy fast. But they aren’t there for no reason, no little reason that is. “Fuck. Is this like…criminal?”

You shake your head. “It’s technically a civil matter but it could easily get criminal with my client’s hothead.”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Ashton comments. Once before the two of you were catching up over lunch and your phone rang. Not the first time Ashton’s been inside a police station but it is the first time he’s been in one where he thought a crime might happen right next to an officer. To say he thought you could spit fire that day is not eloquent enough for your rage. “Well, I hope it doesn't get criminal. I know it’s gotta be a nightmare for you though. You’ve only been working with them for what? 6 months?”

“Eight,” you correct, “but it’s not long enough to be dealing with lawyers on a first name basis.”

Ashton reclines into his seat, arms folded over his chest. You rest your cheek against the flat of your knuckles, elbows resting on the table. Though you’re smiling, Ashton knows just how unamused you are at the situation. “How long have you been dealing with this situation?”

“Two months? Maybe a little less, but like we’re about to get the two month mark.”

“God damn.” 

You can only nod, a hum leaving your throat. “Yeah, but that’s boring and a buzzkill.” 

Ashton doesn’t miss the way you spin the bottle of alcohol free beer in a circle. He laughs but nods. “Fine, fine. Want another?”

“No, no, I’m good. You excited for this tour?” Ashton hadn’t talked it about in the same way he had the others. He adored what he was doing. He spoke passionately about the tour. But you were fuzzy on some details. Normally, he was brimming with every twist and turn the tour had. He’d trip over himself to tell you. You hate to think it was somehow a sign--that maybe Ashton’s retracting. 

Ashton’s nod is fast and hard. You watch him, eyes dropping from you to the green glass bottle in his hands. “I’m very excited. But I don’t want to spoil it,” he offers. It’s soft and you think that the words are somehow going to crumble onto his lap. 

“What do you mean spoil it?” you question. You don’t want to start pointing fingers and claiming that he’s not telling you things like before. You don’t want Ashton to go onto the defense. 

“I-it’s so silly,” he laughs. 

“No, I’m sure it’s not silly,” you offer. 

“But it is. I just-I kind of want you just to see it without me telling you anything about it beforehand. I know I normally tell you everything but this time I just want this to be a surprise.”

“Want me to go in blind, Irwin? Trying to give me a heart attack? I’m supposed to have insider knowledge, you know?”

He smiles again. For that, you’re grateful. “No, you do. I’m sure you have more than enough insider knowledge. I just--” His words fall short. He loves telling you everything. God, Ashton loves sharing his world with you. It makes him smile to see you smile. He wants to be there, when he can be, for you. When he can’t be, he wants to know that he’s still one of the first people you call even through the distance. And he does know it. When you got offered a position with the management company, you called Ashton mere minutes after the email came through. When Ashton nailed a drumline, he’d ensure you got to hear the initial take or two. 

But there’s something different about this--he wants to watch you when everything comes unraveled. It’s unlike anything else they’ve done. He wants the show to keep some of its magic. That and he wants to keep an excuse to see you again. You visit during the hometown shown normally and you still plan to this time. But he’s hoping to convince you to visit at least one other show too. Because no two shows are exactly alike. 

“Are you sure you can only make it to the LA show?” Ashton questions, finally looking up at you. 

You pause, nails picking at the label and the label scrunches just a little with your work. “I might be in Dallas too.”

“Really? You mean that, no bullshit?”

You shrug, your own lips failing to hold back your smile. Ashton catches on though and pushes up in his seat. His plate scratches over the top of the table as his forearms move it to the side. Your skin warms. It’s not embarrassment, it’s not even fear or shyness. You just feel alive in a way that only Ashton seems to make possible. You hold up your hands to slow his roll before it’s begun. “I’m supposed to be working the night before but I extended my stay by a couple days.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll take it easily.” Ashton reaches for your hands. Your palms are softer to the touch and it’s not lost on Ashton how the hairs on his arm stand up at your touch--electric in ways that he’s sure he can’t be alone in. When he looks up through his lashes, your gaze is dropped down to your intertwined fingers. Your fingers stroke gently over the top of his hands, over his knuckles. 

“You’re such a sap,” you tease softly. 

“I’ll have you know that I don’t care,” Ashton hums. His bones are melting at your touch. 

“You all packed up yet?” Ashton’s not necessarily a last minute packer, but he does occasionally cut it down to the wire. More than one of your pre-tour dinners has ended with Ashton needing to pack up his suitcase. It almost feels like it wouldn’t be a tradition without that fact. 

Ashton shakes his head, tracing the veins on the top of your hands now. It’s a dance, your hands trading who leads and who waits. “Stylist got the show outfits last week. Everything else is sitting around the suitcase waiting for your magic touch.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you laugh. “You taught me how to pack!”

“And I must say I may be one heck of a teacher, but I swear I almost miss something without you.” He pouts at you, lower lip rolling out. 

You roll your eyes but tap at Ashton’s forearms. “You clean up the dishes and get me another beer and I’ll get started.” You’d cooked over at Ashton’s place. Your apartment doesn't have the appropriate kitchen space and you hate how cramped it can feel, so Ashton offered up his place. 

Ashton squeezes at your forearms in response, “Thank you. Dishes will be squeaky clean.” 

It’s all the two of you need before you push away from the table, plates and bottles in hand, and carry on back inside of the house. The floors are cool against your feet and the house echoes in a way that lets you know all is silent. Ashton most often keeps music playing, saying it makes the place feel lived in. You’re not sure how it can’t feel lived in. Ashton’s couch is covered in blankets, walls lined with plaques and photographs. The living room is a bit echoey as it opens up into the kitchen more directly, but there’s plenty of life, if anyone was to ask you.

You set your dishes on the counter next to the sink, listening to the click of the ceramic meeting the marble. “One of these days you’re going to have to pack yourself,” you tease. 

Ashton closes the door to the fridge with his hip, holding two bottles in hand. “Don’t you dare say that. You’ll always be my pack checker.” He wants to say more, wants to say the reason you’ll always be there is because you’ll be with him. Forever might be a scary concept, but he wants to see what that could look like with you. Though if Ashton puts anything more than friends out there and you shoot him down, it’ll shatter him. 

He’d recover, he knows. But it’s selfish. He’d rather not have to lose you or hurt himself like that. 

“Hmm, my tax might get higher,” you tease, sliding the bottle opener off the counter. 

“I’d pay it in a heartbeat,” Ashton huffs. And as the two of you get closer, you reaching for the bottle, Ashton wishes he’d just be more direct. He really ought too. He wants to tell you but also worries that it might break everything. 

You work loose the top to both bottles. “That’s a lot of game, Irwin. Let’s see if you can back it up.” 

“Promise, I can.”

Only a hum leaves your throat before your sip pauses you. “I’ll be upstairs packing your suitcase.”

“Thank you!” he calls out as you push towards the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, just pay up, Irwin.”

Ashton watches your exit, the stairs taking you further and further from sight. It feels like it’s bubbling up his chest. All the words he’s held onto for years. But if he’s going to be honest, this might be the most selfish thing he’s going to embark on.

You sigh as you enter Ashton’s bedroom. His closet door is open, suitcase splayed on the floor. Inside of the case, you can see his toiletry bag, clothes stacked neatly inside and a couple pairs of shoes on the floor outside the cas. You assume this is all the stuff he’s taking with him on tour. It’s a scene you're familiar with, having grown fond of the ritual as well.

You can’t shake the soft echo of Ashton’s voice earlier, I’ll take it. 

It’s eating away at your tongue. What will Ashton take? It certainly couldn’t be just one extra show you’d catch. It certainly wasn’t that. But there was something desperate and earnest in his voice. You think it might mean more. You want it to mean more. The crush on Ashton started slow, so slow you almost can’t pinpoint when it surfaced. But you know it had surfaced. 

You longed for his touch and when he was around, you felt like everything made sense. Even if it didn’t actually make sense, there’s a sense of comfort in his presence that slows your racing mind. You don’t have butterflies, but it’s a warm feeling buzzing beneath your skin. A kind of calm that cuts through the noise. 

Ashton could have his pick of whomever. It’s a fact made possible by his occupation and his good looks help too. Yet, you’ve noticed a decreasing lack of conversation surrounding relationships. You weren’t sure if he was looking less for them or if he was just keeping that information from you out of respect. You never hated that he talked about other women. You’d sort of grown accustomed to that topic, having talked Ashton off many ledges about love in the midst of drama, familial trauma with relationships, and his own stubbornness. 

You’re not less of a suspect about the topic either. You stopped talking so much about your own love life with Ashton as well. Part of it due to its slow death. With work and your crush on Ashton you sort of resigned yourself to a state of limbo--temporarily at least. You know you can’t linger on this crush and unknown forever. But you hadn’t been so bold as to bring it up before. 

Perhaps, it was time to breach that line again. 

The clack of Ashton’s slippers on his floors lets you know he’s moving up the stairs and closer to the bedroom. You keep your focus on the tuck of his jeans into the bottom of the suitcase. Your heart races though, the closer and closer Ashton gets. 

Would you really bring up this conversation now? Two days before tour? It was beyond shitty timing. Yet, opportunity feels like it’s slipping through your fingers if you don’t make a move now. Like if you don’t say something now you won’t say something ever. You’ll resign yourself to swallowing back down everything you’ve been brewing over in the ten minutes you’ve had apart from Ashton. 

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Ashton teases, slipping out of his house shoes. His descent beside you on the floor is a little slow and he groans just a hair as he gets down. 

“Bad knees,” you return with a laugh, taking a shirt from the pile to fold and roll. 

“You’re a fucking comedian,” Ashton huffs. He takes another one of his shirts and is acutely aware that he should probably handle his undergarments to spare you. 

It falls quiet around the two of you. You’re focused now on folding, rolling, tucking into luggage. You run your fingers over the items. “Got enough bottoms? I’m not sure how often you’ll be near a washer and dryer.”

“We find ways,” Ashton laughs. “Also I’m counting the pants I’m wearing on the first flight,  so yeah, I’m good.”

“PJ’s?”

“A couple sets to swap out,” Ashton answers, lifting up to display some shorts and t-shirts beneath his normal attire. 

“Space for souvenirs?”

Ashton laughs. “Take me for a rookie, baby?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” It falls quiet again. The scruff’s grown thicker and now might be enough to constitute a beard. “Going to let the beard grow out or shave it?”

Ashton shrugs. “I’ve got some shaving stuff packed just in case I choose otherwise. It’ll only need a couple days to grow back,” he laughs. 

Now, as the two of you lock gazes, you see something swimming in Ashton’s eyes. His brows are pulled together. “Everything okay?” you ask. Though the two of you are separated by a suitcase, you still inch closer. 

“Can-can I ask you something?”

You nod. “Anything.” And it’s so easy to say that. Because you mean it. Ashton can ask you anything and you’ll answer it. But you’re not even thinking what that might mean to someone else until Ashton’s stumbling over his own words. A man normally so confident, worrying his lips over and over with his teeth. 

“I just--I know we’ve been friends for a while and with the tour coming up so soon, I’m not sure this is even fair to ask now.” Ashton pauses. He wants to take the knot of your brows as rejection but he watches for a moment longer and the pieces are clicking. Your eyes narrow, then widen like the bulb might’ve just gone off even before he’s gotten all the words out. “I don’t-I don’t want to ruin anything! I just need to ask.”

The possibility you hadn’t fully wanted to let yourself consider seems to be crash landing into your lip. If you’d conjured up this moment, you were afraid that you’d give it too much weight and care about it a bit too much. You worried that if you did open the door it would slam close, so you let yourself just think, but never dream. 

“Ashton, I’m going to ask this because I just need it explicit. What are you asking?”

A beat. Then two. 

Ashton moves the suitcase top up and over to shut the half packed suitcase close. He moves closer to you, taking your hands. “I want to ask if I should ask for a romantic relationship with you if the answer might be yes? I-I know we have a lot to work out and I’m gone for 4 months in two days. But, god, I had to ask. I have to ask.”

There’s a lot of unknowns. It’s jumping off the deep end. But the things you do know is that you and Ashton have had years. That surely had to count for something. “It-it could be.” The words make your own teeth chatter for a second. Your guts hurt at the thought that you might even be inching closer to something. 

Ashton’s palm is large--it swallows your cheek as he brings your face up closer. Your foreheads brush and you can smell the garlic from your food and the subsequent mint you’re sure Ashton snuck on the way up here. 

His smile radiates over his entire face. You can feel the heat of it ghosting over your face and you smile too. “It could be?”

“It could be. I like you. A lot. You make me feel safe. But you’re leaving so soon and I don’t know if right now I can say anything definitely.”

Ashton’s lips brush over the tip of your nose. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t ask anything sooner. But please know I’m happy at the possibility. We’ll talk. I promise.”

As Ashton draws back, you surge forward, locking him in with a hand on the back of his neck. Ashton had asked but still you need the words. “Promise me we’ll talk at least weekly while you’re on tour? Promise me that there’s a possibility back?”

“I promise there’s a possibility. I mean, more than that too. But it’s--it’s not something you just waltz into. We’ll talk. Weekly at the absolutely least.”

Ashton swears his chest is going to burst when you kiss the tip of his nose. His fingers curl and he wants to do nothing more than to take your waist into his hands, kiss you until his lungs burn. But he won’t do that. The two of you had only promised an exploration, something to talk about more in depth, nothing full fledged. Ashton can’t lie that he doesn’t take that promise to bed like treasure. He can’t lie that he doesn’t lets it bury into his chest. He can’t lie that his dreams don’t water that hope. 

He can’t lie that when he wakes to a text from you, Take care of yourself today, with a red heart instead of the pink ones that something ike joy, or maybe just a stronger hope, blossoms.

Your phone shakes and you pull the glasses off your face with a huff. You’d been buried into your laptop trying to read over the headlines about your client and you already know it’s going to be a mess, yet this is all you have just a mess. 

Ashton’s name greets you on the screen and your bubble of frustration shrinks. “Long time, no see, stranger,” you tease, taking in the shaky and choppy picture of Ashton. 

“Hey, stranger,” he teases. You can tell by the way his hair sticks to his forehead he’s recently either gotten down with a show. “What’s it like on the west coast?” he asks. 

“Sunny and on the verge of collapse.”

“Verge of collapse? Your client?” Ashton questions. 

“Isn’t it always? I’ll figure it out, I know. Just buried right now in tabloid bullshit. How was the show over there? How’s the east coast?”

“It’s a little cloudy. Heard some stuff about potential hurricanes. I’ll be glad to be further west next week.”

You nod, scotting down a little in your chair. “This time of year is hurricane season. Must be an active year though if you’re catching wind of it.”

“Our tour manager said the same thing. We’ll be getting out just in the knick of time. Just worried about the folks who live out here. Hurricanes don’t sound fun.”

You shake your head. “Mother Nature is always to be feared--fires to hurricanes.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“How are the shows though?” you ask, knowing that you may not get all the time you want with Ashton on the phone so you try to get the best of it you can. 

“They’re fucking phenomenal. Amazing. Not quite the same as when you’re around, but they’re going really well.”

“And you’re taking care of yourself? If I ever get another text from you about being in a fucking hospital, I swear to God.”

Ashton laughs, a kind of laugh that you know is a bit uncomfortable, but he’s hearing you. “No, no, you won’t. Promise.”

“Good, I do not need a repeat.”

“No repeats. But question, is one of your dream dates still to get dressed up to go visit a museum?”

You give a pause, trying to assess with the somewhat clear picture of Ashton on your phone. You know you’d briefly mentioned it once, maybe twice. But you didn’t think it was enough for Ashton to still carry around the knowledge. You nod though at the question. “It is.”

“Why’d you say it like that? Are you getting suspicious of me?” Ashton teases. 

“Maybe just a little. Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“If you must know,” Ashton starts, accent morphing into an almost decent English accent, “I am attempting to court you. Dates are a part of such activities.”

Your laughter falls easily, cheeks heating at the thought. “You do not have to say it like that,” you huff with a smile. “Is your dream date still a picnic and painting?”

“And if it is?” Ashton questions, a bit of a tease lilting his voice. 

“Then I’m buying paints, good sir. As simple as that.”

“I can’t argue with that. Okay, two good things about your day? Yeah?” It’s a thing--whenever you talk to Ashton now you two share two good things about your day. It’s a nice way to break up the conversation, spin the frustration of the day into something positive. You recline into the cushion of your couch contemplating your day. After you share the good things you ask Ashton about his. Of course he mentions the show. 

Conversation winds through dreams--literal and things about that you want out of life. It’s nice to just let the conversation go where it wants. Ashton mentions being inspired on tour for new scents for his candle company and you let that take you to conversations about the smells of your childhood home. Ashton teases that he’ll have to make that another scent. When you ask about the smells of Ashton’s childhood, you notice he gets a little quiet. It’s a slow answer and when it comes, you listen to all the weight he gives the words. 

“Mum--she did the best she could you know. I think if I had to describe the smell of my childhood home it’d be a bit of vanilla, grass because god the house was always brimming with our ruckus.”

“Grass after it rains is a nice smell,” you offer after Ashton’s bout of silence. “We don’t have to push it. I appreciate you sharing what you did.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Just hard sometimes.”

“I get it. It can be hard sometimes. But I appreciate you listening. It means a lot, you know? That you’re willing to let me work through it at my own pace.”

“Life’s hard enough,” you concede. “No need for me to make it harder.”

“But we have Dallas to look forward too.”

You nod. “Yes, we do have Dallas. I’m excited.”

“Good, me too.” Voices echo from further down and Ashton bids his goodbyes, sad and quiet but you ensure to send a message as follow up, I’m here, when you need to call or text or vent. Got plenty of space. You attach a picture of your bed you splayed across the queen sized mattress. 

Ashton’s response comes about twenty minutes later, God, that looks comfy as hell. Thank you. A red heart is attached too. 

Ashton’s not one to freak--he’s done plenty of it on his own and knows it’ll get him nowhere. But the night before the Dallas show, his phone shakes. Your name lights up across the screen. He thinks it’s just about tomorrow. Maybe an inner monologue about you trying to decide what to wear. But when the message starts with, I’m so sorry, Ashton knows it’s bad. 

He doesn't even read the full thing, pushes back from the bar counter and presses to call your number. It rings, and rings, and rings in his ear. “Please pick up,” he mutters to himself. 

“Hi, I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now. Please leave a message with your name and number and I’ll be sure to return your call,” your voicemail greets Ashton. 

He listens for the beep before speaking, “Hey, it’s me, Ashton. I-I admittedly only read like two percent of your text, but I wanted to call, to see if everything is okay. Please give me a call back when you can. Please. I’m worried.”

There’s so much more to say but Ashton can’t get his tongue to cooperate so he leaves it at that and hangs up. Pushing the hair off his forehead with one hand, Ashton swipes back to your text. I’m so sorry about this. Currently at the ER and will probably be on crutches tomorrow thanks to an ill placed step on some gravel. I’ll be sure to update you and call as soon as I know for certain. 

You’re hurt, but not terribly so and that’s a win. It’s not enough to quiet the thunder of Ashton’s heart. What had you done? Where had you been? He can only think to type out, Which hospital are you at? Are you going to be okay?

“Hey, Ash, everything alright?” Calum asks. His voice is soft as his question falls. Ashton’s not sure how he even catches Calum speaking if he’s honest, even as he gives a head shake no to the question. “What happened?”

“Just-I need them to text me back. Figure out how far the hospital is from here. I can think then.”

“Yeah, of course. But it sounds bad? Who’s hurt? When you get the name, I’ll see how quick we can get an Uber.”

Panic does no one any good, but Ashton’s not going to talk himself off the ledge of panic when it comes to you. He waits and waits and Calum waits with him, finally getting the pieces of your text in relation to a potential fall. The two men hover in the lobby of the hotel, drinks long forgotten by now. Though Ashton felt the waning of adrenaline leaving his body from the show just a couple hours before, he feels wired. He watches and watches his screen for it to only come alive by the shake of his hands. 

I’m sure you just got done with the houston show and would probably prefer some rest. It’s a pretty bad sprain, I’ll be okay, reads the text after a long 45 minutes. 

His fingers shake and he nearly can’t get a steady enough press to dial your number. The phone rings--once, then twice. Your voice is the sweetest sound he could ever hear as it floats in through the receiver, “Hi, Ashton. I’m sorry to give you such a scare, I know.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Nasty fall. Really bad sprain. It’ll be annoying for the next couple of days. But I’m not dead.”

“Which hospital are you at?”

“Uh, Baylor something or another. I’m getting discharged now actually. I thought I’d be able to call after the initial run of test but they diagnosed it fast. And a lot sort of happened before I could get my hands on the phone again.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Do you have someone that can get you back to your hotel safely?” He needs that answer to be yes. He’s not sure where you are though and that’s the thing that’s killing him. Ashton does have the name of the hotel you’re staying at, as you shared your itinerary with him earlier in the week to see if you’d be at the same hotel. Your hotel is about 10 minutes or so from his. Happenstance you both knew but right now it feels like a godsend. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got someone that can drive me.”

“I’m going to meet you there okay?” You start to protest but Ashton’s quicker. “I know you probably don’t need me. But please, just let me get eyes on you so I know you’re not going to keel over, okay?”

You sigh. “Fine, Irwin. But you better be there before me.”

A smile lifts his cheeks. “I will be. Promise.”

“Are they at Baylor University still? I got the address,” Calum offers when Ashton hangs up. “And yes, yes I was eavesdropping,” he laughs at the pull of Ashton’s brow.

Though Ashton won’t admit this, he’s glad for Calum’s care. “Nah, no, they’re about to head back to their hotel. Getting discharged now. I’m-I’m going to go there and I’ll meet up with you guys for the truck in the afternoon before it leaves for the venue.”

“Sounds good. Keep us updated though? Should anything else happen?”

“Of course, man. Of course.”

Ashton’s quick back to his room to grab his bags. They’re not many, thankfully. All the while he tracks his drivers approach on his phone as he waits at the elevator door. It’s a slow descent, or at least it feels that way but the doors open and Ashton’s back into the lobby. Just as his feet hit the concrete of the sidewalk a car eases to a stop. 

“Picking up for Ashton?” the driver asks through the passenger side window. 

It’s a quick ride and Ashton thanks the driver before climbing back out into the thick humid Texas air. It’s heavy on his skin but all Ashton continues to think about is getting into that lobby before you. The glass doors are heavy but they reveal a mostly quiet lobby. No one at the front desk and he settles off to the side. Ashton halfway considers calling you to see how far you are, but before the thought can blossom anymore than a hair, the doors open again. 

Someone holds open the door and there’s a click and clack that’s distinctly hollow. “Thanks,” you state, working the crutches up and forward. 

Not what Ashton expected but you’re whole--together, in front of him. A wrap on your left ankle. “You’re late,” Ashton huffs, a faux annoyance. But it’s all you need to grin. The ache in his ribs eases. 

“I’m moving a little slower than normal.” The two of you meet in the middle, or maybe less than that as Ashton does cover more ground than you. But it’s not like you care. Though you are mindful that you are still sort of on the clock. And Ashton catches on too, when you don’t lean in for a hug or more. 

“Do-do you have any bags you need me to carry?” he asks. 

“Personal effects,” you tease, throwing a look over to Savannah who’s got your shoe in a plastic bag from the hospital. You take the moment though to introduce the small group you’re with--mostly other staff on the team. “Everyone, Ashton,” you conclude with a nod of your head. It’s a quick conversation to ensure you’re all okay and set to go. Once you confirm that you’re good and that Ashton won’t let you do anything to further hurt yourself, the group slowly thins. 

You and Ashton remain as the others move towards either the hotel bar or the elevators. You wait, trying to ensure that the group is gone before you sigh, shoulders rounding with the action. “I hope your heart will be able to withstand the show tomorrow,” you tease. 

“Oh, quit it. I’m not that old.”

“I don’t know you told you were old anyway.”

“Oh, society says it everyday. Aren’t you listening?:

“Absolutely the fuck not,” you laugh. 

Ashton’s glad to hear the sound. “Yeah, I thought you might say that, let’s get you to your room yeah.”

It’s a hobble, still unsteady on the crutches a little but thankfully once you’re inside the elevator, you know it’s a quick walk to your room. Ashton retrieves the keycard from your wallet for you and holds the door open. The room is cool--like all hotel rooms seem to be as they surely must double for freezers with the temperatures they are set at. But it’s clear that maybe you hadn’t been planning to be out--your laptop’s still on the bed. Your bag rest on the lounge chair open, clothes peeking out from the depths of it. 

Ashton drops his bag next to yours. 

“So what happened?” he asks. 

“We got back around 8 or so, a much too early night if I’m honest. So, I did a little work to pass the time. Then around 9 Devin, the stylist, asks if I want to go out and grab a couple drinks. I say yes, we’re sort of bar hopping to find the right vibe. I had like two drinks max at the bars we’d found. But on the way to another bar, coming down off the sidewalk, I just misjudged the distance or something. All I know is that I was up one minute then I was down.”

Ashton’s gentle as he kneels, taking a quiet moment to inspect your foot. “You ought to be elevating it,” he offers. 

“I sort of want to change, but I need to shower too. And that’s just awkward all the way around,” you laugh. “Haven’t even taken me on a date yet and I’m already on the verge of having to ask you to help me undress because of my stupid ankle.”

“They don’t mean that,” Ashton directs to your injured joint. “And I am working on that date, you just need to give me a few months.” Though Ashton hopes he can do it sooner. Though with this injury he’s not sure if his plans of stealing you away one day during the break will pan out still. 

You know you should be responding. Ashton’s gazing up at you from practically between your legs as if waiting for an instruction, but you’re too caught up in the way his face holds his beard, honey eyes dripping still as they look at you. “You’re handsome, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Some might say you just did.”

“Well, you are,” you return more confident. “You’re very handsome.” Maybe it’s just easier now. You can freely admit to such attraction because you know the possibility exist that you and Ashton have more. You know the tour is just a temporary thing, but it gives you two something to work from. Rather than just the comfort of ease and accessibility, you and Ashton have to make conscious efforts to communicate while he’s away. The discomfort makes you work. It reminds you that nothing worth having has always been easy. 

Your fingers trace the line of Ashton’s jaw, from the bottom of his ear to his chin. Feels like his body is melting but he remains frozen, kneeling on the thin carpeted floor of this hotel room. It’s a sort of limbo that if Ashton were to ever work through a metaphor, he might call it the seconds in a summer blaze with ice cream. You know the ice cream won’t stay solid forever, but in the first few moments, everything is as it always will be. The ice cream will still have a shape and the sun will still have a ray, but those paths had not crossed just yet--not long enough to have an effect. Yet, Ashton knows that while he holds still now, while he waits to see if you say or do something more, he is the sun ray. He will cause an effect. 

“You, however, sweetheart, are so incredibly dangerous,” Ashton whispers. 

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Besides absolutely wiping out and being a danger to your literal self, I do have to say that you are dangerous because if you keep scratching at my beard like this you are going to open a whole new can of worms that we will not be able to get back inside.”

You know it’s a warning. You don’t think you want to heed it though. “Just a kiss?” you ask. 

Will it ever be just a kiss, Ashton does not know. “You speak of me undressing you to shower and change and rest your ankle that is still injured by the way, and ask for just a kiss?”

You nod. “Yeah, just a kiss.”

Ashton pushes up, hand capturing your cheek as his lips capture yours. Your lips taste a bit sour, maybe the drink or two you’d mentioned before. But Ashton thinks he could swallow the taste and tattoo it into his lungs. He would tattoo it into his lungs if such a thing were possible. 

You swear you’ve never been held in such a more confident and gentle way as Ashton pulls up closer into your body. His hands find your waist, a grip that pushes into the flesh of you that makes you whimper. It’s a pathetic sound and you can’t help but laugh at yourself, interrupting the kiss. Your kiss ends with an echoing pant between the two of you, nose to nose as you hold his face between your palms. 

“You can make fun of me for that later, understand?” you huff. 

Ashton’s laughter falls out more like a groan when you brush your hands down his chest. “I don’t really think I have ground to talk, so.” Ashton presses another kiss, lighter, but still long against your lips. “I just--I’m a little ill prepared to go any further tonight.”

“Are you, Ashton Irwin, rockstar and drummer for the hottest band, 5 Seconds of Summer, telling me that you do not have condoms?” you snort. 

“It may be that. In all fairness, the spare I had I had to end up passing along to a couple of the other guys so, it’s not that I didn’t have them.”

“You just don’t have anymore,” you conclude for him. 

“Exactly.”

“No worries. My spare expired, so same boat. Besides, I did ask only for a kiss.”

“That you surely did. And I think this is our last stop on this train lest we decide to risk it tonight.”

You giggle, fingers playing just a little at the hair at the nape of Ashton’s neck. “I think this is my stop anyway.” 

“Can I ask for one more kiss though?” Ashton’s grin is small and sheepish, like he knows he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. But you can’t say no as you capture his lips one last time. It’s softer now, rather than holding for fear of life lost, now you know you can taste and taste without worrying about losing your chance. 

Though it should be awkward to get yourself changed and cleaned up, you find that it’s easy. Undoubtedly, it’s intimate to have Ashton help you get your pants on and off, but it’s easy to laugh and converse around your work. By the time you’re both settled in for the night, your leg slightly elevated thanks to some of the spare pillows, the blue hue of the TV screen is just an accent to you and Ashton’s laughter, 

“You had to have a crush on at least one cartoon character,” you huff. 

“No, I’m normal.”

“Ashton, you are anything but normal. So just fess up. Was it Lola Bunny?”

Ashton laughs. “No, it was not Lola Bunny. Who even is that?”

You ignore Ashton’s question and pry for an answer listing Roxanne from A Goofy Movie as another potential. It gets shot down immediately. “C’mon, Irwin! Just give me an answer.”

Your response is only Ashton pressing a kiss to your cheek with an adamant but giggled filled, “Goodnight.”

It’s not what you imagined how the first time you shared a bed Ashton would go, but you can’t think to change anything about it now. It’d always be a story to tell, one to hold close to your heart in the future. You reach over, finding Ashton’s hand easily under the cover. His response is immediate as he threads his fingers through yours. 

The TV remains on, a quiet hum and over the soft music of some commercial you’re sure you catch the rumble of a snore. “Thanks, for being here,” you offer. Even if Ashton is still asleep you need to say it. 

“You’re more than welcome.”