#and i can go out the entire summer and fall without having to worry about school the next day

[so-you-melted-22]

i am so ridiculously excited for life after highschool! the abitur will be absolute hell, but everything after will be so fantastic!

[barbiiecams]

doubts

drew starkey x younger!reader (like 19/20 sorry not sorry 😭), reader calls drew “papa” *not in a weird way*, smut, in love w the age gap concept cus of @native2princess ! <3

you watched yet another video on the internet of drew down at disney world without you, but with his friend group that all had a few years on you.

he would send pictures of everything that was cute or that reminded him of you, and you really did appreciate it. but it still didn’t swallow the lingering feeling in your gut.

you weren’t even invited. it was obvious why since you couldn’t even buy a drink legally, let alone not even close with half of them, but for some reason it still hurt and had you questioning things even further about everything.

you swore that you guys were drifting apart.

not only did that make you sad, but it also left you scared and questioning everything.

the only thing that made you wonder why you two were drifting like you thought you were was because of the age gap.

was he getting tired of you? was the age gap starting to become a burden? were you just too immature?

and let’s not even get started on how drew acted around his female friends — that were once again a lot older.

all you could do was just cry. it was a dumb reason to cry about, but you don’t wanna lose drew yet you really think you are. he was your first and you hoped he’d be your last, but who knows where you two may end up?

seeing how he acted with his friends currently was already ruining you. now you found yourself down a rabbit hole of searching through old videos of him before you were even dating.

it was crazy, of course you were aware of that. but it did nothing but further increase your worries seeing how he would act around these girls. all older than you and all more outgoing.

so now here you were, stalking your own boyfriend while you sat in your bed, silent tears streaming down your face.

currently, drew was now in paris for the fashion show. he wanted you to come, but it would be too difficult for you. plus school had just ended and both of you knew that you were planning to spend more time with your family this summer.

regardless of that, this feeling was awful. you’ve had old puppy-love heart breaks during highschool with guys you dated just to say you were in a relationship, but this is real. a real committed relationship you’re in with a guy a little over 10 years older than you.

he’s so mature. so are you, but not entirely. you still had a lot more to experience and learn, and he was always so patient.

but maybe now that patience was wearing thin.

you sniffle one more time before closing out all your apps and throwing your phone on the nightstand next to you. wanting to sleep it off and praying you’d wake up feeling better, your insides just were not letting that happen. not to mention you couldn’t fall asleep without at least getting a goodnight text from him.

laying down was no use. as soon as you tried to lay your head down on the pillow and just relax, the overthinking just continued to grow. there was no escape from these thoughts and it was just eating you straight alive.

you huff while turning over, switching sides and seeing if that would help. spoiler: it didn’t.

all you could do now is groan while sitting up. a certain thought ran through your mind that you really didn’t want to go through with, but did you have a choice? you already felt as if the end of things are near, so why let him break your heart (even though you’d be expecting it) when you can just do it the hard part first?

with a sigh, you reached over to grab your phone and open drew’s contact. everything was making you sick. you just stared at the screen, skimming over the conversation you had earlier.

it was the usual. ‘hows your day’, ‘i miss you’, ‘this reminded me of us’, all the cute stuff.

but it just didn’t hit the same. that feeling of him leaving you because of your age wasn’t going anywhere, and it was making you feel insecure on extreme ends

your fingers started typing. there were no real thoughts, just your pure raw emotions. you hit backspace a couple of times, you sat there and thought about the next few words you were going to say, but eventually you got it all put together it pained you type, but it pained you even more contemplating on whether or not you should send it.

‘hey drew. i’ve been missing you a lot recently and i know it’s weird and you’re going to question why i sent this after you read it, but im sorry. i really do feel like you’re leaving me soon and it’s taking a toll on me badly. i don’t want this to end but i can tell that it is and i just know + feel like we’re drifting apart. i feel like it’s because of my age so i really do understand and respect that. we can talk more once you get back because i hate to do this over text but i can’t just bottle my feelings anymore. goodnight 🩷’

a few more seconds of contemplation, you hit send and stared at the screen. you didn’t know how he would respond so you should’ve been shutting off your phone and running away.

but you didn’t. you stared at the screen and waited until he read it.

thankfully, it didn’t take him any longer than three minutes to open your message, and soon after, the dots were bubbling.

drew himself was lost. confused wasn’t even the word for the long paragraph you just sent him. he even started triple texting you.

‘???’

‘what are you talking about baby?’

‘i’m so lost’

you sighed reading his texts. he didn’t get it, realistically you shouldn’t have expected him to. it was out of the blue, and little to your knowledge, he didn’t think for a second anything was wrong between you too.

when you didn’t answer him as soon as you read it, he went back to typing.

‘answer me’

‘i’m really confused and worried. it’d be nice if you stopped leaving me on read’

‘call me now’

you didn’t even have a chance to start typing because you had an incoming call with drew’s name on it. you didn’t wanna pick up, but you knew you had to because if the roles were reversed, oh you’d definitely be throwing a fit.

swallowing quickly, you hit the green answer button to drew’s facetime call but moved your face out of the camera.

he’s walking, most likely back to his hotel with furrowed eyebrows and an expression that you think showed… annoyance?

drew’s the first one to speak up, “y/n, what the hell are you talking about?” he says sounding very confused and very upset as well.

“i feel like we’re drifting apart apart i don’t know.” you replied. your voice isn’t even a third as stern as his. it’s not stern at all nor convincing.

“where is that coming from? what are you talking about it’s our ages?” he questions you again.

you really hoped a fan wouldn’t come up to him. not because it would interrupt the call, but because they would be walking up on him pissed off and getting a taste of his very apparent bad mood.

you sighed, “it’s just how i feel. maybe i’m not mature enough for this.”

his face scrunches with confusion even further. he then looks down to his screen to see the ceiling you were showing.

“why do you all of a sudden feel this way? you are mature. if you weren’t, this relationship wouldn’t be a thing in the first place.”

this was something else you wanted to avoid; him being mad at you. you hated making him upset and now that you were already upset, and he was just getting annoyed with you, it wasn’t helping and it made you feel worse.

“show me your face baby. you know i don’t like talking to walls.” he says once you don’t respond to his actual voice this time.

reluctantly, you put your face in the screen. sitting up and cuddling onto your bed sheets.

“y/n, nothing is wrong. we aren’t drifting apart at all so i don’t know why you feel otherwise. we’re okay and you know this, baby. stop overthinking.” he reassures you.

before you could finally respond with anything else, you heard a few girls calling his name from the other side of his phone. good luck to them!

“i’ll call you back. we’re not done talking.” he says, then swiftly hangs up.

you wanted to puke. you hated being in any type of conflict with people, let alone being in one with drew.

a headache was starting to form, and it forced you to lay back down and sleep. you kept your phone right next to you on your bed, just in case drew woke you up by ringing your phone again.

—

you weren’t sure when the previous night you fell asleep, but you didn’t wake up until 12 the next day. and that was due to your doorbell ringing multiple times at once.

you whined at the fact you had to leave your warm bed, but you slowly made your way down your apartment’s stairs, rubbing your eyes and forcing yourself to wake up.

opening the door ready to curse out whoever had the nerve to wake you up at this hour, it was drew standing at the door with flowers in one hand and his stuff in the other.

now this is what really woke you up.

“how are you here…?” you questioned.

he exhales, “soon as we hung up yesterday i checked out and booked a flight here. we really need to talk in person.

you step to the side to let him in, then he shuts the door behind him and hands you the flowers.

both of you take a seat at the table. “i need you to fully explain what you’re feeling. that paragraph honestly made no sense and as soon as i read the whole thing i knew i had to get down here.” he says.

you press your lips together before speaking. “i’m sorry.”

he makes a face of puzzlement and also motions for you to keep going.

“maybe im not mature enough for this, drew. i don’t know.”

“what makes you think that? what happened or what did i do that has you questioning everything?” he asks, reaching out for your hand.

you sniffle before continuing, “i just feel like im holding you back. you’re buying drinks, going to clubs and hanging out with your friends who are all around your age and im still in school. it’s not working-”

he cuts you off before you can finish that. “those aren’t reasons, baby. it is working. do you feel left out or something?”

“no it’s just,”

there’s a pause before he says something again, “just what? i don’t understand what’s got you so in your head.

“i don’t know how to explain it. i just think you’re drifting from me because of where we’re at in life and i hate it.” the words finally form, and you can feel a little bit of weight being lifted off your chest now that you’ve got it out.

his expression now shows a face of understanding, then he’s standing up and swiftly making his way over to you, lifting you up before securing your legs around him.

you let out a squeal at the action. when he was balanced, he made his way upstairs to your room with you in his arms.

stepping into your decorated room, he throws you down on the bed then hovers over you. “i’m gonna prove to you that you deserve this relationship.”

his lips make their way to your jaw, leaving little lovebites on them, then down to your neck and chest.

your hands fly to his buzzed head. you let out soft sighs at his lips being on your body, a feeling you loved the most.

his hands travel to your pajama shorts then dipped into the waistband of your panties. as hes taking them both off at the same time, he distracts you by now placing his lips on yours, slowly making out with you.

now your hands are taking action, working to get is shirt off to see his toned body once again. when it’s off, one hand is still on his head while the other goes down to his abs, feeling on him.

now he’s starting to get quick, fumbling with his belt and pants, ready to do you into the mattress.

sooner than later, both of your clothes are off and in random sports throughout the room.

his middle and ring finger are inside you, stretching your out as you moan and grind into his hand.

drew’s cock is laying there on your stomach, practically reaching your ribs. this was just another reminder of how deep he really goes when fucking you.

you could barely keep your eyes on him while his fingers worked you. “that feel good?”

you moan out a “yea.” you definitely couldn’t let him go. the way he could make you fall apart with just his fingers is crazy as it is.

“i bet, baby. already so wet. you know what you want huh?” he coos.

this makes you nod. “want your cock, please.” you reach your hand down to where it rested on you, but he moves your hand away.

“i know you do. but i need this pussy stretched and ready for me.” he responds

“i can take it! promise! just give it to me,” you whine.

drew gives in at your begging. he removes his fingers from inside you before sticking them in your mouth.

he grabs his cock before lining it up with your entrance. he slowly pushes in, making you whimper around his fingers. it hurt a little bit, but the pleasure overrode the pain.

“shhh,” he hushes you, putting his cock in all the way and forcing you to take all that he gave you.

you continued to let out sounds because of the pleasure he was giving you. drew was letting out groans of content himself.

“feels so good, baby. so fucking good.” he throws his head back.

his words did nothing but turn you on more. your eyes squeeze shut before you guide his hand out of your mouth and onto your throat, signaling what you want from him.

he smirks before moving his other hand to your throat, choking you slightly but enough that you can still breathe.

“yea you like when i go hard on you, right baby? this pussy just loves when i go rough on her, doesn’t she?” he teases.

“mhm!” you squeak, loving the feeling of just taking all of him so deep and so rough.

he makes your legs cross completely around him before leaning down into your neck.

this was your favorite position. you being on your back, him groaning in your hear and putting hickeys on your neck, it was so much at once and you loved it real bad.

his lips are right next to your ear. “i’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

he lets out another sound before continuing, “you’re not leaving me either. neither of us are going anywhere.

your breath catches in your throat when he says this. maybe this was all you needed. some reassurance, and a good pounding to go with it.

he sits up before pulling out to turn you around. now that you’re flat on your stomach, he slides right back in with a hand on your lower back right before your butt and the other pushing your head down into the pillows.

you screamed out when he started thrusting all over again. it hurt so good, you just wanted to do this forever him.

you tried to move away slightly because he was just going ham on your poor hole. but all it took was you reaching one hand up, gripping the sheets and trying to pull away before he yanked your head back by your hair. he then brought your back up to his chest and held you by your throat.

“stop running, baby.” he growls into your ear.

“it’s so deep tho, papa.” your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth hangs open.

he kisses right below your ear, “you’re fine.”

that bubbly feeling started to form again. you were about to cum, and somehow drew could always tell too.

“know you’re gonna cum, mama. hold that shit.” he tells you as he pushes you back into the sheets.

right now that request just didn’t seem possible. “i can’t!”

he gives your right cheek a firm slap. “you can and you will. don’t make me say it again.”

you guys stay in this position for a while. him just hitting it from the back deep and all you needed to do was lay there and take it like a good girl.

his good girl.

suddenly, he flips you back over, then lays down himself setting you on top. now he’s got his feet planted on the bed, thrusting up into you.

at this angle, you guys can see the belly bulge happening from how deep his cock was. just proving how big he really is again.

“see that baby? that’s me. all up in those guts.” he says to you.

you throw your head back, but he cups the back of your head to bring you down into him, chest to chest.

“y’the only one who gets fucked like this. y’know that? only one who deserves it too,” his arms wrap around your waist now. “only fucking one.”

his lips are practically on your ear as he says this. you’re only able to nod, but he wants to hear your voice.

“tell me you understand that baby, say it.” his thrusts slow down, but there still deep, and he’s angling it to make sure he’s hitting that good spot.

“i…”

another slap hits on to your cheek. “say it, princess.”

“yes! i understand!” you finally moan out.

“yes who, baby?”

“yes papa!” your voice is weak now.

he smirks at your submission and continues to fuck you hard. more than just a few thrusts later, he’s letting out a lot more groans than what he already was.

“shit baby… y’gonna make me cum soon. you gonna let me put it in you, hm?”

“drew…”

his hips are starting to stutter. “know you’re ready to cum too. been holding it in like papa told you too, good girl. fuckk.”

his arms are really really squeezing around your waist, keeping you still so you can’t try and move from his brutal thrusts.

“cum with me baby girl. got a big load for you.” he moans.

“don’t knock me up.” as good as the moment felt right now, you were dead serious about that.

he chuckles, “i won’t baby. know you wanna feel that cum all in your stomach tho.”

you moan one last time before finally cumming around him. you couldn’t hold it back anymore, no matter how much he told you to wait for him.

but your own orgasm sent his off. he felt you come undone around him, and two seconds later you felt his hot sperm fill you up.

drew’s arms moved from around your waist to seriously gripping your hips down, not letting you waist a drop of what he had to give you.

moans and deep breaths were coming from the both of you. that was the most intense sex you guys had for a while, not to mention the first time he’s actually came inside you.

when he finally came down from his high, he slowly pulled out of you and just let you rest on his chest.

“thank you,” you quietly speak up.

he doesn’t respond, but he smiles and kisses your forehead.

minutes after just sitting in silence, he sits up against your headboard and takes your face into your hands.

“baby, when i say youre what i want i mean it. if you weren’t mature enough for me, i wouldn’t still be here.” he says. you don’t actually answer, you want him to keep going.

“i love you so much, sweetheart. nothing about that is going to change and nothing can make it change. i don’t know what you saw or if i did something, but im sorry. okay?”

you nod with a smile. “okay.”

he smiles back at you then pressed his lips against yours, giving you a nice firm kiss. which slowly turned into a makeout.

you guys pull away just to catch your breath, “we gotta get you packed up, sweetheart.”

“for what?” you ask.

“i’m taking you back to paris with me.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I keep going to the river to pray

Written for the March pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: spring

Rated: M

Tags: Italian Steve Harrington; naiad Eddie Munson; past lives

CW: child molestation (not from MC); nudity; fade to black sex

Notes: Moooom, hype is turning the blorbos into water creatures again!

Steve is five years old and the water whispers to him. 

“Steven, come back inside,” Mom scolds and yanks sharply on his hand. “Nonna told you the woods are off limits. The water is too dangerous. Heavens, I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?” 

Steve wants to cry. To thrash and kick and scream at the injustice of it all.

Because she is leaving him alone. All alone in this strange country where there's nothing fun to do and where nobody speaks his language, for an entire summer. How's he even supposed to listen to Nonna when he doesn’t understand her half the time? 

The only place where he finds comfort is the spring. The little pond with its crystal waters surrounded by crumpled pillars. He doesn’t know why, just knows there's something here that calls to him. 

Mom doesn't understand, and Steve is too small to fight as she drags him away. Something splashes behind them, like a large stone sinking underwater, but by the time he turns, all he can see is ripples on the surface. 

He doesn’t know why he says it, because there's nobody here. Nobody he can see. It feels like the right thing to do, though. 

“Don't worry,” he whispers to the water. “I'll be back, promise.” 

The water whispers back. 

*

Steve is thirteen and a man follows him into the woods. He's been lurking in corners and doorways in the village all day, smiling, staring, speaking saccharine words in broken English. 

Pretty boy, sweet boy, come here. 

By the time Steve notices he's trailing behind him on the lonely road in the fading daylight, it's too late to cry for help. He ducks into the shelter of the trees without thinking, not looking back when he hears the man give chase. Darkness is falling around him, but he doesn’t need to see. 

All he needs to do is follow the pull. 

The spring reflects the moon and stars, silver waves bouncing off the trees and pillars. 

“Help me,” Steve whispers, just as a hand grabs his wrist and spins him around. 

The man's face is a mask of primal hunger. His eyes glint, dark and unblinking- 

-and then they catch on something behind Steve's back and bulge. All the color drains from his face. He stumbles back, releasing Steve’s wrist, muttering a word in Italian that he doesn’t understand. Then, he turns and runs. 

Steve stares after him, heartbeat roaring in his ears. By the time he remembers to look behind him, there's nobody there. The spring lies silent in the starlight, but the water isn't smooth anymore. A circle of ripples is spreading, not far from where he's standing, waves lapping against the shore. Steve imagines he sees something slipping out of sight in the water, like dark tendrils of seaweed. Then he blinks and it's gone. 

Steve smiles.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. 

*

The water murmurs back. 

Steve is eighteen and everything is bullshit. He perches on a fallen pillar, toes dangling in the water, watching the sunset behind the trees, and feels sorry for himself. 

He can't protect his heart from being broken, can't get into college, can't even get his parents to love him. They probably believe they're punishing him by sending him back here, he thinks with a laugh. Idiots. They know nothing about him, nothing about the pull he feels towards this place. He's been feeling it more and more lately, even with an entire ocean between them. 

“Have you finally come to stay, sweetling?” 

Steve doesn’t startle. Simply blinks back from his thoughts and lowers his gaze, like it's always been the two of them out here. Maybe that’s true. 

“You're not scared,” the boy from the spring observes. His head is poking out of the water between Steve’s legs, long dark hair brushing his ankles. He's naked under the water, skin pale and smooth as marble. “Do you not fear me?” 

“Why would I? You've never given me reason to.” 

The language that slips from his lips is strange. Not English. Something closer to the butchered Italian he's picked up over the years. He frowns, briefly, but the boy's lips - pink and full and glistening with tiny droplets - curl into a smile and he forgets to wonder about it.

“Clever child.” Long fingers curl around Steve's calves, sliding up his legs. “I'd never harm what's mine.” 

The fingers slip under the hem of Steve's shorts, gracing his inner thigh, and he gasps. 

“Yours?” 

The boy hums, pulling himself from the water a little, so that his shoulders emerge. His hair is a dark, tangled halo around his pretty face. It tickles Steve’s skin as the boy noses along the inside of his knee.

“Yes, mine. You feel it, do you not? The pull.” 

Steve nods breathlessly and the boy smiles against the soft flesh of his thigh. 

“Of course you do, sweetling. It has been forever since I met someone as responsive, but you? You remember, don't you?” 

Steve pauses. Is that what pulls him here? Memories of a time he shouldn’t recall? Of a place far more splendid than the crumbling ruins around them, a place filled with song and laughter and the strange but familiar language that keeps tumbling from his mouth? 

The boy - the god - watches the shift in his face and smiles. Nimble hands settle on his hips, pulling him closer, and Steve slings his arms around slender shoulders as the pillar slips out from under him. 

His god's eyes are bright as he walks them to the middle of the pond. 

“It has been so long, sweetling, and I hunger for worship. Will you give yourself to me again?” 

“I do not need to,” Steve smiles as he is slowly lowered into the cool waters. “You've always had me.” 

His god smiles and pulls him in, and Steve sighs against those beautiful lips. 

The water welcomes him home. 

In Roman mythology, naiads (better known under the name of their Greek counterparts, nymphs) are nature spirits most commonly associated with water, guarding rivers, springs and the like. Some were worshipped as local deities, with shrines built in their honor.

[mightiestofmumblers]

Simon Riley, who's been surrounded by death for longer than he can remember. It's become harder and harder to remember the years without it. Whether the ones who fall are the soldiers beside him or enemies at his own hands no longer matters to him, not really, not like it should.

Ghost, who becomes used to watching that final spark leave a set of eyes before they become glossy and empty. It takes him years to notice that final little thing. Nothing more than a reflection, but She's there.

Ghost, who questions Price and Soap, quietly and reluctantly, but they don't understand. They don't get it like he does. And it doesn't make sense, he knows it doesn't. Soldiers are known to go insane after too long in the field, perhaps that's what's happening to him.

It's after not sleeping for 60 hours that he sees Her after all, sweeping or floating through the battlefield, draped in every colour on the spectrum and not a single one of them. Ghost has never seen a face like it, and he knows he never will. All of Her reeks of paradoxical features and curves that swirl and change whenever he thinks he's finally grasped some aspect of Her. She bends down, soft and caring, as the final light slips from his teammate's eyes, and She carries him with her while his body remains.

The second he tries to stop Her, reach out and touch her, his hands slip through her. For one moment lasting years and less than a second, She glances at him. He doesn't blink, but She disappears anyway.

Years pass. Ghost recognises her. Always. In time, she watches him through reflections. She follows him wherever he goes. But there's nothing cruel about it. It's impossible with the sad smile shining from Her. It's not something she does but rather something that she is.

Ghost, who no longer has any true fears on the battlefield. It's simply another work day. But it changes when he sees Her. How She looks at him. He isn't afraid of Death but he manages to stagger back. Running is futile, he's seen others feverishly try to crawl from Her, fingers scraping at the ground until the skin wears away, a bloody trail following the leg no longer there and all of it with no use. Fighting is quite the same: as impossible as this entire thing is improbable.

"Shhh." Something beyond a voice, coming from his own head, he's sure, coos. "So close to me. You rarely ever are. How long has it been? No... you're alright, my love."

Ghost stops. She's infinitely tall yet he looks down at Her. Her smile isn't sad as She stretches a hand towards him, lifting the bottom of his mask, and that's when an inkling of fear finds him. For years, She's been his sole comfort on the battlefield. A single neverending entity he could always trust to be with him no matter how many years were to pass, but after wishing for so long to see Her, have Her closer, he wants nothing more than hundreds of miles to separate them.

"Is it time?"

"Afraid not, love." She smiles with a thousand pleasant summer days and cosy winter nights. "I have a job to do, but you've been close to me for so long. I want to see your face before I go."

Death lifts the skull, removes every layer until his scarred skin is visible to Her.

"How can I see you?"

"What a wicked thing it is." A sigh falls from wonderful lips as She caresses his cheek with a cool touch. "I'm sorry, Simon."

"Simon..." He repeats, tasting the foreign word.

She's fading.

"Wait! How can I-"

"Don't worry, love. No matter what, you'll see me again at the end."

Ghost becomes worse, more than he's ever been. With enough blood on his hands and enough souls at his feet, he can see Her again. He haunts the battlefields like never before, staring into the eyes of his victims for the mere chance of catching a glimpse. However long, no matter how many bodies it takes, he will see Her again.

« ⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑⌑ »

I've had this in my ideas doc for, like, years, and I just needed to get it out lmao. I'd love to write a full fic but unless I'll get 30 hours in a day, I don't have that kinda time lmao.

[mondaymelon]

— "𝗶 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗶 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂." ♥

:feat~ xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader: 

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside,@ilyuu

XIAO has never felt… so enamored over something as foolish as a human.

But the way you smile at him, the way you laugh whenever he’s around, the absolute look of adoration that dons your face whenever you catch the very sight of him, it’s almost addicting. Your voice is like music to his ears, something that seems to revive him, and it stuns him how such few words can bring him back to life.

And it almost scares Xiao, with how loud his heartbeats have become and how the heat rising on his face has easily become familiar. It unnerves him, because he knows that you are but a mortal, and he is an adeptus, and the two should never mingle. Yet, he can’t bring himself to turn away from your warm touch and soothing words, no matter how much he wants to, or tries.

It’s a silent night, your head in his lap, him gently stroking your hair while you sleep.

And under the moonlight, his voice is barely a whisper, his eyes shimmering pools of gold:

“I…I think I might be falling in love with you." ♥

CHILDE is well versed in the ways of capturing people’s hearts, so imagine his surprise when you manage to sway his.

The fact that you seem to be completely unaware of his feelings, however, is a different topic entirely. You just have the innate ability to make his heart race, even without knowing it! Childe’s not even sure whether he should feel impressed or not.

All he really can be sure about is that he’s fallen in love. Completely, utterly, and there’s likely going to be no way out. He knows that truth, and it rings in his head whenever he can hear his heart pick up its pace as you laugh, or as you smile at him warmly, like he’s your favorite person in the world.

Is he?

If you tell him yes, he’ll stay by your side for eternity, forever and ever, and never let you go.

“Hm~ You’re always so oblivious, aren’t you?” Childe gazes longingly at your sleeping form, a half-smile forming on his lips. “It’s not fair.”

“...I think I might just be falling in love with you.” ♥

ZHONGLI is a composed man, and just about no one can refute that.

So why exactly was it that he always found himself stumbling over his own words whenever you appeared? Why was the heat that rose to his face always so passionate?

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not again, not after what had happened to the one he loved before. He shouldn’t hold on, he couldn’t hold on to these fleeting feelings, yet his heart ached for something to fill its void, and there you were.

There… there you were.

Those eternal moments between the two of you on warm summer evenings that seemed to last forever, the way you held his hand with such a sparkle in your eyes… all of it made his heart ache for something he couldn’t decipher.

“Zhongli, what’s wrong? You keep staring off into the distance… you aren’t sick, are you?” You glance at the man, worry evident in your gaze.

“Nono, it’s nothing…” He smiles reassuringly, before standing up abruptly from where the two of you are resting off the side of the road. “I must go.”

“E-Eh? Okay…?”

As he strides away, rounding the corner, he finally falls to the ground, hand over his mouth as his face flares red. “Hah…”

“Archons… I think I might be falling in love with you.” ♥

(a/n) i have been revived

the method: listening to xiao playlists on repeat

event has around 2/3 spaces left~

[george-weasleys-girl]

Can you do a smut - George x reader - Where they're a week without spending time together, maybe cause of their work, they come home tired, anyway...

And when she talks about it, they decide to spend a night alone

"I just want you to be happy! And perhaps a little bit naked." or "When was the last time we had an entire night together, just the two of us?" 🧡 happy october🧡 and sorry, my english is rusty

Alone At Last

Warnings: pure smut, shower sex

18 +only

George Weasley x fem!reader

~•~

George collapsed on the sofa, glancing at the clock as he made himself comfortable. Y/N should be home from work soon. He smiled at the thought of having three glorious days together without having to worry about either of their jobs.

They'd both been looking forward to this little mini vacation for weeks. George had even bought Y/N a lacy little nighty just for the occasion. There was once a time when their sex life consisted of more than exhausted quickies before they passed out for the night. They both missed the days when they could just go at it for hours on end.

The thought stoked the fires of George’s desire. "Mmm," he palmed his growing erection through his pants. Obviously, his mind wasn't the only thing that missed those carefree days. He was half tempted to pull out his cock and start masturbating, his mind drifting back to the many times of one of them walked in on the other pleasuring themselves. It always led to a sleepless night filled with hot, passionate sex.

With a shuddering sigh, he decided against it, not knowing how tired Y/N would be when she got home. He didn't want her to feel pressured to do things she wasn't up for. The Ministry was working her to the bone lately, and this past week had been the worst. They'd barely seen each other at all, and George was missing his wife in more ways than just one.

~•~

A few minutes later, the familiar sound of the lock turning in the door alerted him to Y/N's arrival. He jumped up, meeting her at the door with open arms. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he sighed as she leaned into his embrace. "Another rough day, sweetheart?"

"I think I was being punished for taking a couple of days off," she tilted her head up to give George a kiss. "But it was nothing I couldn't handle."

"My poor love," George commiserated, leading her over to the sofa. "Glass of wine?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Y/N smiled, flopping back against the cushions.

"Any thoughts on dinner?" George asked as he poured them both some wine. "We could maybe go out if you wanted."

Y/N thought for a moment. She was very tempted. It'd been a while since they'd had a proper date. "Maybe tomorrow night, I don't feel like going back out again. And besides, Fred's at Angie's tonight. When was the last time we had an entire night together, just the two of us?"

"Excellent point, milady," George handed her a glass of wine. "The night is yours, then. What would you like to do first?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course," George said, sitting next to her.

"A hot shower," she admitted. "I just feel need to wash away this horrid day."

"A shower it is then," he said, kissing her cheek. "And while you're doing that, I'll order in some food. Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Nah," she said, taking a heafty sip of wine. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

~•~

The water felt wonderful, washing over Y/N like a warm summer rain. She let her mind wander, thinking about where she'd like to have dinner tomorrow night. Maybe that little Italian place that has the dance floor. It'd been forever since they'd went dancing. The memory of her scorchingly sexy husband dancing the tango reminded her of another fond memory. One which involved her moaning George's name as he pressed her against the shower door, the warm water pouring over them as he fucked her senseless. Y/N didn't even realize her hand had slipped down between her legs until her fingers began circling her needy clit, a soft moan falling from her lips.

George couldn't decide between Thai or Greek and headed into the bathroom to ask Y/N her preference. She rarely took long showers and would be getting out in a minute or two anyway. Her moans hit his ears before his eyes took in the beautiful visage of her pleasuring herself, causing his pants to become suddenly and painfully tight. He all but ripped his clothes off and proceeded to slide the shower door open slowly.

Just a quick tease, she thought. Then after dinner I'll fuck George until neither of us can see straight.

~•~

"You are so fucking hot when you moan my name," he purred, stepping into the shower with her. "But I wanna hear you scream it."

Y/N's went eyes wide, her hand stopping all movement but not pulling away from her aching pussy. Startlement shone clear on her face, but not a hint of embarrassment. She'd gotten over that long ago. Instead, she smiled, and reached out to stroke his cock. "I was just thinking about the last time we showered together."

The memory went straight to his dick and George groaned at the exquisite pleasure of her soft hand around him. "Good times," he mummered in her ear as his fingers slipped between her silky folds. "Damn baby, you're tight as a vice tonight." He grinned, pumping his fingers in and out of her as she shifted from slowly stroking his full length to quick, tight strokes around his sensitive head.

Their eyes remained locked on one another's face while their hands moved with expert precision. "You're so fucking hot when I'm jerking you off," she sighed, watching his face contort in pleasure. George responded by pressing his thumb to Y/N's sensitive nub. "Fuck, that feels so good," she moaned, throwing her head back. "I'm already so close."

"Me too," he groaned. He could feel his juices churning deep in his balls. "But I want to cum inside your tight, little cunt." Then, before she could respond George pulled his fingers out, sucking her juices off each one as he stepped back out of her grip and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. Y/N braced herself, placing her hands against the tile, and, bent over, thrusting her hips up, offering her pussy for the taking.

And take it, he did. Gripping her hips tight, he pushed forward slowly, savoring every ripple and pulse around him until he was balls deep inside her, forcing a long, loud moan from Y/N's mouth. "Fuck George, I love your fucking cock!"

"I know you do, baby," he grunted, thrusting into her. "Fills you up so perfectly."

"Yes," she gasped. "Makes me feel so good. So full."

Her words sent a surge of pleasure pulsing through his veins, and he picked up his pace. Their moans filled the room and mingled with the sound of their wet skin slapping together, creating a symphony of ecstasy that drove them both right to the edge. George shifted his angle, hitting the special spot deep within her that only he could reach.

"Fuck yes, George! Right there!" Y/N screamed, clenching hard around him as her orgasm ripped through her. George followed seconds later, groaning her name into her ear.

~•~

They sank down into the tub, a jumble of arms and legs. Y/N leaned over and turned off the rapidly cooling shower before collapsing back onto his heaving chest.

"Damn, that was incredible," George chuckled. "I need to interrupt your showers more often."

"You definitely do. Especially if it's going lead to that," she agreed, then shifted so she could face him. "Why did you come in here anyway?"

"I couldn't decide between Thai food or Greek. Thought I'd let you be the tie-breaker."

Y/N thought for a second before answering. "Thai," she grinned. "Let’s keep with the hot and spicy theme."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw

[abiiors]

we went to winter wonderland 🎄// matty healy x reader

twelve days of christmas - day 2

a/n: i've been slightly sad about...everything and writing is hard atm but i also don't want to abandon 12doc so have something that's loosely based on my irl relationship. it's really short, sorry :( cw: none, just fluff wc: 1k

the last ever winter they spend apart is quite shit to put it bluntly. 

matty’s a million kilometres away in LA where winter’s only a concept while she’s in their bed, alone and begrudgingly cuddling his hoodie in lieu of him and cussing out her boss and her boss’ boss and so on all the way to the top until she’s googled the ceo of the parent company that owns her firm and cussed him out too. matty laughs shamelessly the whole time. one, because she looks as threatening as a baby penguin all angry and swaddled in blankets, and two, because it’s her. 

she’s never failed to make him laugh. ever. 

“baby…” he tries to pacify, “it’s alright.”

“no it’s not!” her tone is firm. "i should be with you in LA! not rotting here in our bed because work got in the way."

her nose is slightly red from being out in the cold (it was the first snow of the season after all, matty knew she would be out) but he tells her to get tea regardless. and now, armed with a steaming mug of herbal tea and the saddest pout a girl could have, she looks all the more cuddly. 

“okay how about this,” he suggests, “you have your switch don’t you? go get it.” 

her face contorts in confusion. “you don’t have yours.”

“i’ll just steal hann’s.”

“matthew!”

but she gets up regardless, even if it’s after a few grumbles of “ugh, i just got cosy!”

matty, through their facetime call, wanders through the house with her. he has to admit—it’s lonely and quiet without him there. their home—perfect for two and too big for just her. he can’t wait to get back though. even sunny LA is a touch too cold without her there. 

“what do you wanna play?” she asks once she settles in bed again and matty’s ready with the answer. 

“animal crossing.”

“babe… we haven’t played that in ages, it’s gonna be so shit!”

he frowns at her stubbornness. “just turn it on will you? it will have snowed on there. you always love making those anatomically challenged snowmen!”

there’s a small giggle that follows. she’s well aware of what he’s referring to—they almost have a competition of sorts about who can make the most deranged-looking animal crossing snowman. 

as predicted, it’s weeds and more weeds everywhere the minute the game turns on. her little avatar exits her house, looking dishevelled and still in curated summer clothes. oh well… 

matty grins. “so i was thinking…”

“yeah?”

“we won’t get to go to a winter wonderland this year!”

“yeah,” she pouts again. 

“i was thinking we could make one.”

“in animal crossing?”

“in animal crossing!”

for a moment she’s quiet and matty worries that it’s a stupid idea. it is a little lame if he’s honest but there’s not much they can do with an entire ocean between them. but just as he feels his grin slipping, hers widens on her face. 

“matty! you are brilliant! i love you.”

“what was that?” he teases, laughing when she pokes her tongue out. 

“last to finish is the loser,” she declares. and before he’s even had a chance to plan a heist for adam’s switch, she’s shouting “go!” amidst protests from him and maniacal laughter from her. 

matty doesn’t care though—this is almost a complete 180 turnaround in her mood in quite a few days. 

two hours and a worrying amount of bickering later, they’re ready for the grand reveal. 

“mine is so much better!” she declares as soon as matty’s little avatar lands on her island. even her fucking avatar looks adorable, all bundled up in a big coat and matty’s ready to declare her the winner right there. still, he indulges her. 

he already knows it—hers is so much better! she’s always had an eye for all things cute (him included) but he stays and he listens. 

soft snow falls behind her on the facetime call and it’s clearly visible through the giant windows and the switch almost casts a perfect glow on her. not that matty’s entirely focussing on her tour of her animal crossing winter wonderland; he’d much rather stare at her while she’s talking but it’s over far too soon and before he knows it, her avatar is on his (hann’s) island and she’s laughing hysterically at his attempt of a wonderland. 

“matty!” she shrieks. “baby, this is so bad”

“what? how dare you, take that back!”

“there are weeds in the middle of your ‘skating rink’.” 

“uhhhh…” matty ends up shrugging much to her amusement. 

“yours is so shit!” she teases. “we agree that i’m the winner, right?”

“got you out of your grumpy mood though, didn’t i? so who’s the real winner here?”

“still me!”

and so he relents. two hours and a shit in game winter wonderland is a fantastic trade to make in exchange for her laugh. 

ten more minutes and she gets a little emotional again because of course she does. matty watches some of the joy in her eyes drain away, replaced by a tinge of the same sadness from before. 

“i hate being without you, especially during winters! it gets so cold.” the corners of her mouth turn down and a soft ache fills his chest. 

“i know, darling… i hate missing christmas but you’ll be with me next month, yeah?”

“yeah.”

much to his relief she doesn’t let it get her down this time, she tries to change the topic and talk about everything she’s been up to and all the plans she has with her friends. matty’s mind is made up though—this is the last winter he's willing to spend without her. come january, the ring hidden in his suitcase will find its place on her finger. 

lemme know what you think <33

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[jisungsdaydreamer]

Love Playlist #1: HOME (Han)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» 

"For a really smart person, Jisung can be so dumb sometimes."

Pairing: Han x Fem!reader Genre: college au, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, fluff, mutual pining Warnings: mild swearing Word Count: 7k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

You have three strict rules that you must follow. One, no going out after eleven. Two, never leave the house without your cell phone. And three, never, ever, fall in love with Han Jisung.

Unfortunately, you’ve broken that third rule already. In fact, you’re still breaking it, charring it to a crisp, and throwing it out like the trash you both begrudgingly take turns with. But how can you not? Because when it comes to your doe-eyed best friend who is serenely sitting in front of you, the whole rulebook is torn up. 

Jisung quietly flips through his growing stack of manga, blissfully unaware of the way your heart accelerates whenever he reads a particularly entertaining segment and his eyes light up in amusement.You should remind him to stay on track, but you can’t bear to stop him because of how cute he looks, his legs unconsciously swinging under the table and his fifth banana lollipop of the day shoved into his mouth. 

You’re both sitting together in the library at your special table beside the big window, the place that is always secluded no matter what, as if some higher power knows to keep it aside for you and Jisung for whenever you desire. Both of you are supposed to be studying for your finals, the objectively worst part of the entire year. You’re both seniors, so the slew of exams coming up should be a piece of cake for you, except both of you have grad school next year— you’ll be starting on your PhD, while Jisung, a computer engineering major, will be working towards a master’s degree— so you still have to worry about all of your final grades.

“I hate this.” Jisung looks up from the book in his hands, closing it shut. “I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s almost over. Then we’ll finally graduate and get to enjoy our summer,” you reply. “And then our lives begin.”

And the elation building in your chest is real, because although you have a tough couple of days ahead of you, the end of this year will be a testament to everything you have accomplished. You have your summer mapped out already; you’re going to be completing groundbreaking cancer research at an esteemed biologist’s lab, days filled with productivity along with exciting nights exploring adulthood and freedom with your friends. Even though you’ll still have school, you’ll only have to be doing what you’re passionate about, leaving behind the mandatory literature and calculus courses that brought you so many tears over the duration of college. 

“Not for me.” Jisung sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “It’ll never end.”

Lately, Jisung has become increasingly stressed about graduation. He doesn’t come from a wealthy background, with his mother being a grocery store cashier and his father out of the picture. You’re aware he’s under immense pressure to do well in school and then get a good job that will take care of both him and his mother, when she’s unable to provide for herself. Worst of all, Jisung had to ditch his dream of becoming a musician and instead focus on something more practical, which ended up being a profession in computers. Of course, like anything else he puts his effort into, Jisung excels in computer engineering, and he’s come to terms with giving up his passion, but you know it doesn’t hurt any less.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand. He accepts it, but he turns his head to gaze at the street beyond the window.

“It’s okay.”

You don’t press any further, because you know that it will just break him down, and neither of you can afford that right now at such a crucial time. Instead, you resolve to brighten his mood, like he does with you anytime you’re down. “Let’s just hope we don’t get food poisoning tomorrow.”

Your attempt works, because Jisung meets your eyes, a smile permeating his solemn expression and before widening into a full grin, at the memory of the time you both first met. Remembrance comes like the summer breeze you look so forward to, washing over you both like a tidal wave. And just like that, it’s freshman year and you’re standing at the bus stop near your old dormitory building. 

You anxiously devoured the notebook pages in your hands, alternating between cramming the tiny text and scanning the road for the bus that was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Your stomach ached from the food poisoning you contracted earlier that morning, an unwelcome byproduct of the dubious cauliflower and tuna tacos served at the dining hall the night before.

This was horrible timing too, especially because you had your first test of the academic year that day. When you should have been bent over your statistics notes, you were cooped up in the bathroom for the previous few hours, clutching the toilet bowl as you watched the clock above you tick menacingly. 

You bounced on your toes anxiously, before a strange, squeaking sound met your ears. You whirled around to see a boy approaching you while struggling to pull a large, bulging suitcase along with him. He finally succeeded, collapsing onto the bus stop bench while coughing and wheezing up a storm that rivaled the ominous clouds in the sky. You reached into the side pocket of your backpack, pulling out your unopened plastic water bottle and handing it over to him.

He looked at your offering hand in surprise, before gratefully accepting. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes while he gulped down the cool water. You watched him finish the entire bottle with a dizzying speed and then recycle it in the bin next to the bus stop. The boy was lanky, sporting an oversized Pokémon t-shirt and battered sneakers, and overdue for a haircut, the locks flopping over his sweaty forehead.

“Thank you so much.” He said.

“Of course. What’s in the suitcase?” 

The boy fondly ran a hand over the worn-out seams of the object of your curiosity. “I promised my roommate that I would give him all of my old books for his class project. I have no idea why he wants them, but then again, art students are weird.”

He looked up at you not even a second later, alarm in his eyes. “Unless you’re an art student! In that case, I didn’t mean what I said.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, I’m a biology major. And yes, I agree.”

He beamed. “I’m Han Jisung. First year, computer engineering. Anime and cheesecake lover. Spicy food hater.”

“Y/N. I’m a freshman, too, and I also love anime and cheesecake. Chocolate cheesecake, to be specific. And I can’t stand spicy food.”

“Chocolate supremacy!” Jisung gasped, clamping a palm over his mouth. “This is meant to be.”

You let out a hearty laugh at his theatrics. “Exactly.”

At that moment, the bus finally arrived, rolling to a stop next to you both. You helped Jisung push his suitcase full of storybooks up the steps of the bus and into the aisle. You sat on one of the seats in the back, and Jisung followed suit, plopping down right next to you. As he did, you noticed him wince, clutching his stomach. Concern bloomed in you for this precious stranger that you just met. 

“Are you okay?”

He clutches his stomach once more, smiling embarrassedly. “I got food poisoning. I should have known better than to trust the dining hall food.”

You pause, as the ironic delight of the situation sets in, allowing the pain to fade away and leaving you to wonder about the odds of meeting Jisung. “No way! Me too!”

Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise. “That’s destiny. Mutual food poisoning. Now we definitely have to be friends.”

Later, after you had exchanged numbers and plenty of laughs, parting ways at your respective bus stops, you would meet again at the university hospital. Both of you had contracted a salmonella infection.

Unbeknownst to you and Jisung, that delayed bus and salmonella would determine the trajectory of the rest of your lives. Over time, you both emerged from the shackles of a hesitant acquaintance to the kind of bond that never breaks, even with time, distance, or the grievances of being young. You witnessed each other grow up, fall in love and out of love, and get drunk on piña coladas at the bar next to the college gym you both pretended to go to regularly. 

Somewhere along the way, after Loser Boyfriend Number Three, as Jisung tried to cheer you up with his horrible jokes and the burned brownies that he nuked in the residence hall kitchen microwave, you realized that you were wasting your time on people who weren’t worth it. Because the only person who was worth it was the one who had been by your side all the time. Jisung. 

Betrayed by your treacherous heart, you began to see Jisung— your person, your study buddy, your fake fiancé when you both were trying to score free dessert with a restaurant proposal— as more than just a friend. In fear of your feelings potentially ruining your friendship, something more dear to you than any form of romance, as you so believed they would, you swore to never speak to Jisung of it. But you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore about the worst. You fell in love with your best friend. 

“What did the farmer say after he lost his tractor?”

“I have no idea, Jisung.”

“‘Hey, where’s my tractor?’ Get it?” Jisung bursts out laughing, slapping his thigh. He doubles over, his whole body shaking with laughter at the unimpressed look on your face, which makes everything funnier for him.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” You exclaim, trying to push him. Jisung just keeps giggling, dodging you masterfully.

You both have given up on your library study session, resolving to take a break at your favorite coffee shop and meet up with the rest of your friends in your circle. The setting sun has streaked the blue sky with its golden rays and puffy pink clouds, enveloping the entire campus in a hazy glow. It’s a pleasant May evening, with the scent of your college’s famed peonies along with the excitement of Spring lingering in the air. The street lights that line the sidewalk are already turned on, but not many people are outside enjoying the weather, except for a few students playing a game of Frisbee on the athletic field. Everyone else is locked away in their rooms or the library, grinding for their upcoming exams.

“Well, I have a better one anyway.” Jisung states, clearing his throat dramatically. 

You roll your eyes as you near your destination, an unassuming red-brick building tucked away in a larger complex of stores. Purple morningstar blossoms border the door of the small shop in clumps of dainty vines, no doubt the namesake of Morningstar Coffee House. Fairy lights are strung around the glass block windows, which offer a glimpse of the inviting warmth inside. 

“Let’s hear it.”

Jisung jogs ahead of you and opens the door for you, gallantly gesturing for you to go first. “What did Y/N say to Jisung when they went to the coffee shop together?”

The comforting smell of pastries and dark roast coffee engulfs you as you step into Morningstar. The strung lanterns and groovy jazz music playing in the background welcome you like a hug from a long-distance friend. You can’t believe it’s been so long since you’ve gone anywhere other than the library, the lecture halls, or the tiny apartment you and Jisung share. 

“I don’t know.” You humor Jisung, still playing along and waiting for his ridiculous punchline.

He smirks at you. “I love you a latte!”

You feign disgust, but secretly, you are elated because of how genuinely touching his words are to you. Jisung hugs you like a baby panda, trying to get you to applaud him for his clever joke, as Jisung is naturally a very physically affectionate person, always wanting to snuggle up to the people around him. But your heart can’t help but jump a little every time you feel his arms snug around you. 

“Well, I love you a latte more, Hannie,” you respond nonchalantly, but you mean it. You do love Jisung for everything that he is, even the cringeworthy SoundCloud rapper phase that dominated his sophomore year. 

“You guys are weird,” your friend Seungmin says from behind the counter, where he’s busy working as the barista, while his co-worker, Soobin, a timid Psychology student, clumsily handles orders at the cash register. Seungmin’s parents own Morningstar, and he plans to take over it next year. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out at Seungmin in defiance, before linking arms with you and dragging you to the back, where the rest of your friends are seated. There is Chan, or more famously known as Chris among his many admirers across his campus, clad in his signature black jacket. Besides him, the turquoise-haired baby of your group, Jeongin, and then Hyunjin, who as usual, is lost in his sketchbook. 

“Hey guys. What are you up to?” You slide in next to Hyunjin, trying to peek at what he’s drawing. You catch a glimpse of a very pretty girl you vaguely recognize from around campus, before he protectively snaps his journal closed, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Eyes on your coffee, Y/N,” Hyunjin says, handing you the mug that they ordered for you ahead of time. Magically, it’s still hot.

You accept the coffee and drink it, letting the rich liquid warm your insides as you swallow it gratefully. “Alright, alright.”

Jisung tries to steal a bite of Jeongin’s apple danish, earning him a swat on his wandering palms. Chan looks over at you with a grin. “We’re just listening to Jeongin rant about his crush.”

Jeongin groans before continuing. “And I keep asking her out, but every time, she rejects me, bro! What am I supposed to do? Give up?"

“Yes,” Hyunjin says in his signature straightforward manner, prompting everyone but Jeongin to snicker.

“Whatever. I'll figure out a way.” Jeongin sits back in his seat, resorting to aggressively typing on his keyboard to deal with his frustration.

You look around your little corner in the shop, which is filled with textbooks and miscellaneous notebook sheets. “Where are the others?”

“Minho is studying with his girlfriend, and Changbin and Felix are apparently also working, but they’re probably gaming instead.”

Hyunjin bites down on the edge of his straw, glancing between you and Jisung thoughtfully. “Speaking of girlfriend, when are you both going to get together?”

You freeze up in your seat, tensing like you always do whenever someone jokes about your relationship with Jisung, but he’s unfazed, shooting Hyunjin a mischievous smile. “When you tell us about that girl you’re obsessed with.”

Hyunjin immediately forgets about teasing you, glaring at Jisung contempfully. “Shut up, Han. You don’t know anything.”

“Guys, let’s calm down,” you say while patting Hyunjin’s back, happy for the distraction but still cautious about him and Jisung. While those two love each other very much now, they used to fight like crazy when they roomed together in freshman year, and no one needs a repeat of bad history right now.

Jisung catches your eye, and although he doesn’t smile at you, you can see the appreciation in his eyes. You nod slightly at him, before getting out your own computer. Words do not have to be exchanged between you two for you to understand each other.

You all settle into a comfortable silence as you finish your coffee and resume studying, only looking up occasionally to ask each other questions about the material or an assignment. Soon, the evening begins to fade away, and you start packing up your belongings before closing time.

“Hey, Y/N! Can you come over here for a second?” Seungmin calls out, capturing your attention.

You put down your backpack and walk over to the counter, where he’s washing his blender. “Yes?”

“So what’s going on with you and Jisung?” Before you can interrupt him and deny anything, Seungmin wipes his hands and gives you a meaningful look. “I know you have feelings for him.”

You feel your face heat up, and you avoid his piercing eyes. “How would you know?”

“Look, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. From the way you look at him, it’s a marvel how he hasn’t figured it out yet. For a really smart person, Jisung can be so dumb sometimes.”

You exhale, seeing no point in lying anymore. Besides, it feels good to get it off of your chest. “Well, why are you bringing this up anyway?”

Seungmin sets down his utensil caddy and rests his elbows on the edge of the sink. “Soobin likes you and asked me if you’re single. But, you know, I wasn’t sure if you are available. Emotionally, I mean.”

You glance over at Soobin, observing him counting all of the day’s revenue. The blonde cashier catches your eye, flashing you a shy smile before quickly looking away, turning a shade of tomato red. He’s handsome, good-hearted, and not to mention, very tall. Just your type. But he’s no Jisung.

“It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone.” And this is true— over a year, to be precise. “I guess, I’m still hung up over Jisung.”

“Do you plan on making a move?”

“No way. I’m just going to wait for the feelings to dissipate. I would never risk our friendship like that,” you mumble.

“You could get to know Soobin, maybe he’ll help you move on,” Seungmin suggests, crossing his arms.

You consider your options before piping up. Jisung had gotten pretty serious with his last girlfriend by the end of your junior year, but he broke up with her a month later, telling you that she just wasn’t the one for him. He hasn’t dated anyone since, claiming that it’s not the right time. But for you, it is, and you realize that you can’t keep waiting for him.

“Maybe I will,” you say, toying with your jacket zipper.

Seungmin tips his head towards Soobin, but before you move, he leans in closer to you. “But personally, I think you should just tell Jisung. If he’s really your best friend, your friendship will stay the same no matter what.”

You nod. “Yeah, okay.”

You know Seungmin is right, but the truth is, it’s not just about losing your friendship with Jisung. Regardless of whether he reciprocates your feelings or not, you know that he would never walk away from you. It’s truly you who you are concerned about. You’re uncertain if you could bear to go back being your normal self around Jisung if you confess and get rejected. You don’t know if your heart could handle it.

You touch Seungmin’s hand in a quiet gratitude and approach Soobin, who immediately notices your presence and accidentally slams the cash register drawer closed, nearly shutting it on his finger. “H-hi Y/N.”

Watching Soobin get endearingly flustered, you can’t help but smile. “Hey Soobin. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” Soobin bites down on his lip, wrapping his arms around himself. He looks so cute in his brown bib apron and converse shoes. “You look really pretty in that dress.”

Your cheeks warm, but you look him directly in his eyes. “That’s so kind of you to say. Actually, I was hoping you'd want to go out on a date sometime? Maybe after finals?”

Although you’re very reserved about your feelings for Jisung, in every other case, you can be quite forward with romance. Soobin’s eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

You laugh, getting out your phone. “Yes, really. What do you say?”

“Yes! I would love to. Could I please get your number?” Soobin stretches out his phone, which is covered in teddy bear stickers. 

You think of Jisung’s phone, which has a clear case and a polaroid of you two at the beach inside. You shake the thought of him away. You type your number into Soobin’s phone, before wishing him good luck on his finals and then rejoining your friend group in the darkening outdoors, which has moved outside the shop while you were talking to Seungmin. As soon as he spies you walking out of the door, Hyunjin forgets his conversation with Jeongin and immediately launches into interrogating you. 

“What were you talking to Soobin about?”

You shrug, trying to play it off, but can’t help the rosy blush that creeps up your neck. “Nothing, really.”

Now the others look interested as well, and Jeongin smirks knowingly at you. “You asked him out, didn’t you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see Jisung’s smile falter, but you chalk it up to your own imagination and affirm Jeongin’s prediction. “Yes, but it’s pretty casual. So not a big deal.”

Chan and Jeongin both high-five you like seventh grade boys, while Hyunjin just cackles at your sudden agitation. Jisung, however, looks annoyed, a very new color on him. 

“I didn’t know you were interested in Soobin,” he says, shutting Hyunjin up. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me when you like someone.”

You know the answer to his question. But you can’t tell Jisung that the only reason why you asked Soobin on a date out of the blue is because you are in love with him and trying to move on. “Seungmin just told me that he had a crush on me. So I went for it.”

“Yeah, everyone knows Soobin likes you. But you could have told me first before making a move.” Jisung’s tone is slightly harsh, suspicious. You recoil in surprise, because he has never spoken to you like this, unlike the boy you know and love.

“Why are you getting so mad?” You ask him, hurt.

“It’s just that we tell each other everything, and this is pretty big.” Jisung crosses his arms stubbornly. “Unless you didn’t want me to know.”

Your skin prickles with a strange feeling, because while you two have bickered over stupid things in the past, it wasn’t anything serious like the look on Jisung’s face now. “What’s your problem, Jisung? What did I do to you?”

Your voice is raised, and boys instantly sense the tension in the air, stepping in to mediate. Chan, the eldest in the group, places a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, mutely imploring him to stay calm. Hyunjin, however, gets defensive on your behalf. 

“Why should she have to tell you? Calm down,” Hyunjin says, frowning at Jisung.

“It’s okay, Hyunjin. We should get going.” Without waiting for an answer from the others, you grasp Jisung’s hand and pull him with you, while he comes along without saying anything at all.

The walk back to your apartment, which is seven minutes long from campus, is filled with an uneasy silence, a dreadful change from the playfulness earlier in the day. The air is charged, full of everything you both want to say to each other, but nevertheless, you keep your mouth closed. More than anything, you’re confused. 

It’s been a long time since either of you were with anyone romantically, so maybe it is surprising to Jisung that you randomly asked Soobin out. However, you don’t understand his anger, especially because Jisung has always supported you in your dating life, even setting you up sometimes with people he knew. But you don’t think the problem is the fact that it is Soobin either, because Soobin is one of the most beloved people on campus due to his sweet personality. You don’t know what’s wrong, and that’s what bothers you the most.

Neither of you speak even when you reach your neighborhood, a suburban oasis in a big city. When there’s good weather, you and Jisung love to come outside and either take long walks around the block or pack picnics to share on the perpetually green lawn in front of your apartment building. Today, you head straight up to your flat, an indifferent pair of strangers standing in the elevator.

After unlocking the door to your apartment, you finally decide to break the silence, turning to look at Jisung, who trails a few feet behind you. “I’ll be in my room, studying.”

You want him to say something, anything, but he just nods, keeping his eyes trained on the grey hardwood flooring. Sighing, you pad across the apartment and enter your room, shutting the door you always keep open. 

You and Jisung had signed a lease on your place last year, partially because you couldn’t afford off-campus housing on your own, but also because you couldn’t imagine a better roommate than him. People made plenty of comments about how you both— two people of the opposite gender— renting an apartment together would be a recipe for disaster.

While Jisung had assured you that everything would be alright, the weeks leading up to move-in day were filled with apprehension for you. But unlike what he believed, it wasn’t because of what others said. The thought of you and Jisung living together made you worry if proximity could potentially make it easier for him to realize your feelings for him. 

However, when the big day rolled in, you couldn’t remember any of your fears as you and Jisung sat in your new apartment, leaned against a pile of half-opened luggage. Exhausted from dealing with delayed furniture shipments and sorting through the endless boxes of belongings, both of you had given up. Resolving to lay on the barren floor and play Go-Fish, you both laughed for hours about the annoyed look on the grumpy mover’s face when Jisung kept asking him questions. Before Jisung subsequently fell asleep on your lap, he promised you that you both would make a lot of good memories here. And you did.

Last Christmas, you both spent it together, huddled on the couch while gossiping and drinking hot chocolate, because both of your flights got canceled due to snow. Then there was the time Jisung forced you to stay awake with him all night because he was scared after watching some bad slasher film, but you told him Disney bedtime stories that eventually made his fear go away.

You can’t help but feel a small pang thinking of whenever he brings you strawberry shortcake from the bakery you like, or all of the times he spam calls you when you’re out late and haven’t informed him. You’ve never fought with Jisung like this, not without him immediately coming after you and begging you to forgive him, even if he wasn’t in the wrong. Being distant with Jisung is a new feeling, and you don’t get how you could ever accomplish that with your best friend in the whole world. 

Shaking off your incessant thoughts about Jisung, you turn on your computer, hunching over on your desk in the artificial glow of the screen. You still have a few chapters of reading to get through, and then you have to solve ten long practice problem sets for Chemistry. For now, you’ll have to put off the deliberations that pull at you.

“Y/N.”

You feel someone shaking you awake, gentle hands coaxing you out of an uneasy nap. You lift your head from where it rests on your arms, blearily looking up from where you are slumped over your desk. Your laptop has fallen asleep, the dim glow of your lamp lighting up the room instead. And the blaring, unwelcome red of your digital clock signals an unfortunate time well past twelve. Rubbing your eyes, you finally notice Jisung hovering beside you hesitantly.

“I thought you’d want me to wake you up,” Jisung says, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pajama pants. “I’m sorry.”

He’s wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up snugly over his head, a few soft pieces of hair messily sticking out from underneath. He looks so cute you want to hug him, but then you remember the events that transpired before you accidentally fell asleep. 

“It’s okay. I need to finish working, thanks,” you say dully, both tired from studying and being stuck in this bad day with Jisung.

He shakes his head. “No, I mean, I’m sorry for earlier. At the coffee shop.”

You bite your lip, melting at the regret and sadness in his eyes. Your best friend misses you too. “Can we talk?”

Jisung stays quiet before speaking, and you swear he can probably hear your anticipating heartbeat filling the room. “Are you hungry? We didn’t have dinner.” 

He doesn’t answer your question, but you still fold at the thought of how he didn’t eat without you. “Yeah, I am hungry.”

“I’ll make us something.” He turns and heads into the kitchen, and after a second thought, you hurry after him. 

Jisung takes off his hood and brings out a metal pot out of one of the cupboards. You watch as he rummages hastily through the fridge, before he shuts it with empty hands. He turns to you with a sheepish look on his face. “So we don’t actually have any food.”

Realization passes between the both of you: in the past few weeks, you both were so immersed in your preparation for your exams that you had completely neglected buying groceries, opting instead for easy pre-cooked meals or food deliveries. Your stomach rumbles loudly, and you rub it, embarrassed, but at least it breaks the tension, as Jisung snorts, an amused look on his face.

“We could go to the store and get something,” he suggests, from where he stands behind the kitchen island. 

He fidgets nervously, a reminder of how any other time, you would have jumped at the opportunity to ditch your books and buy cheap junk food with Jisung. But now? You don’t want to go out. You want to stay here, you want to talk to your best friend, you want things to go back to how they were before your fight with Jisung. And yet, you nod your head in agreement, grabbing your apartment keys and wallet from the counter before following Jisung out of the apartment. 

The hallways of the building are tainted a vivid yellow from the incandescent lighting, a sharp contrast to the gloomy night outside. The moon is high up in the sky, shrouding the sleepy apartment complex in a silvery glow. There’s no one outside except for a homeless man dozing on one of the benches lining the walkways. But the distant city lights tell you that not everyone slumbers, that outside of your bubble, people have their own lives and stories. The only story that matters to you, however, is the one with the beautiful boy who walks beside you, his step heavy and eyes downcast. 

In a matter of wordless minutes, you and Jisung have arrived at your go-to place for midnight runs, a sketchy little convenience store peeking out from behind a cluster of drab office buildings. The neon lighting of the store glows in the dark and reflects in the pools of water left by a mild rain that had graced the land while you were sleeping. 

Jisung quickly walks ahead of you and opens the door for you, a blast of air conditioning granting you solace from the humidity. The familiar sight of the plentiful arrays of colorful aisles and the broken fan hopelessly creaking by the entrance pulls you in. You scour the shelves of mouthwatering foodstuffs, before settling in front of one of the sections.

“I don’t know if it’s a noodles or sandwich kind of night,” you wonder out loud, picking up a pack of ramen. You don’t notice Jisung standing behind you, as you assume he’s already zeroed in on the ice cream freezer like he always does.

“Definitely ramen.”

You jump, hugging the packet to your chest as if it would protect you from the perpetrator. Jisung innocently watches you, a small smile playing upon his lips. He holds two wrapped popsicles in his hands, one melon-flavored and one mango-flavored, and stretches the latter out to you. You accept it, returning his smile, and it feels like things are normal again. You know you should bring up what lies unspoken between you two, but you want to preserve this moment for now.

Jisung selects ramen for himself as well, and you both go to the front counter to check-out, failing to exchange any more words as you both just continue to enjoy the calm. After, you both quickly exit the shop and start jogging in synchronization, remembering that a pile of work still awaits you. When you board the bridge that connects the rest of the city to the way back to your apartment, Jisung doubles over, panting. 

You decide to take a break, walking over to the edge and drinking in the view. The blurred lights of the magnificent skyscrapers illuminate the midnight sky like lightning, and the river in front of you is littered with cargo ships peacefully gliding along on their separate journeys. You lean against the railing, closing your eyes and letting the wind ruffle your hair. Jisung comes up behind you once more, but when he speaks this time, it’s less of a surprise and more of a comfort. 

“Everything is changing,” he says, resting his hands on the railing as well. “I’m scared.”

You open your eyes, turning to face Jisung. His eyes are filled with tears, and your heart reaches out for him. You tightly grasp his hand, trying to convey everything you can’t say to him. 

“Talk to me. Please.”

“I’m not ready for all of this. Graduation’s getting closer, and I know you’re excited but… I don’t know, I still feel kind of stuck.” Jisung’s gaze fixates on one of the boats below. “Every time I type out a line of code, I want to smash my keyboard into bits. Every goddamn time.”

His words are strong, but his voice is rough with emotion. 

“Jisung, don’t do this if it’s not what you want.”

“We’re literally graduating in a month, Y/N.” Jisung lets out a disbelieving sound. “But that’s not even a concern, because my grad school actually offers a joint program on computers and audio design for engineering students who want to go into music production. But I couldn’t do that, because you barely get paid unless you make it big.”

You frown, setting down the plastic cover of your food. “Well, why not? If anyone could break out, it’s you.”

Jisung shrugs, shaking his head. “I can’t take that risk. Just plain old computer science is the way to go.”

You stay quiet for a second, keenly observing his despairing expression. “Your mom would want you to be happy, Hannie.”

“I could be happy, maybe, one day. But not right now.” Jisung runs a hand through his hair, not meeting your eyes. “You’re moving away next year for your PhD, and I’ll still be stuck here, in a place where you aren’t there.”

“I’m only two hours away. You can get away from campus and visit all the time. We’ll be like the Kardashians taking on a new city!” You crack a watery smile.

Jisung sniffles sadly, and your heart sinks, because you failed to make him happy. Again. But then he looks up at you, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Only if I get to be Kourtney.”

You laugh, shoving him in the arm. “Fine.”

And then you both say nothing again, just gazing out at the world beyond this bridge and instant.

“What happened today?” You break the silence— questioning, not accusing.

Jisung groans. “It’s… look, I know we’ve both dated before, but none of them were it. And maybe you never felt that way, but I know for a fact that none of the guys you dated were right for you.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he interrupts you.

“And we’re graduating soon. So I thought you’d realize it by now.” Jisung taps his foot like he always does when he’s nervous, and your pulse quickens at his halting words. 

“Realize what?” You ask him softly, trying not to come to any conclusions but betrayed by the treacherous beat of your heart.

The tips of Jisung’s ears turn red. “I- I need you to not say anything. Because I need to say something. And if you don’t like what I say, then I’ll walk away and we can forget everything that transpired here. Okay?”

You maintain your serious expression, although you want to swoon at his adorably flustered state. “Okay.”

Jisung is about to finally reveal what has gotten him so worked up, but then he sighs in frustration, shaking his head. “No. I can’t do this with you looking at me. Can you please turn around? Please?”

Hiding a smile, you oblige him and face the other way. “Okay. I can’t see you now.”

You hear Jisung take a deep breath. 

“I’m never going to get this right. Y/N, I like you. And I mean like-like you. Like, romantically. Everything about you, I like. Even your disgusting food combinations, I like. Your smile? Oh god. Don’t go on a date with Soobin. Go with me. I like you.” 

Even though the past few minutes manifested Jisung’s declaration, you still whirl around, shocked. “Say what?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Seriously? I pour myself out to you and you need me to repeat it? You’re really something, Y/N.”

You smirk, stepping closer and looping your arms around Jisung’s neck. You take in how Jisung’s eyes have widened and how his lips are parted at such an intimate gesture from you, wondering if this is how it feels in the movies, when the heroine finally gets the boy she’s been loving from a distance for so long. 

You look up at Jisung, and your heart has never felt so happy. “I guess this is my time to be vulnerable too. I don’t just like-like you, Jisung. I love you.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to be surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. For a very long time.”

He smiles bashfully, his elation at your own confession evident. “I love you too.”

Jisung tilts his head to his right, as you do the same, almost about to close the miniscule space between you both. And then he pulls away.

You watch Jisung, confused, as he covers his face with his palms, shyly giggling. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I dreamed of this for so long. Can you give me a second?” 

Never able to get enough of his antics, you watch as he pulls a stick of chapstick out of his pocket and swipes it on. He dabs his lips carefully before turning back to you. 

“Now where were we?”

Before you can even say anything, he’s closed that gap. His lips are soft and sweet, the taste of cherry and vanilla chapstick lingering. You close your eyes and melt into the kiss as Jisung brings up his hands to cradle your face. The sweet scent of him clouds your senses and washes away your inhibitions, and there’s nothing besides you both in this moment. He kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, no exams, no school or anyone else. He kisses you not like a friend, but a lover that he’s yearned for, which certainly wouldn’t be a lie.

You can’t believe that you’ve been pining after Jisung for the mere duration of your college years. It feels like you’ve waited your whole life for this. The murky puddles of water around you and the pungent stench of a nearby dumpster are nowhere near romantic, but with the way you’re kissing Jisung, you might as well be in heaven. 

If you dare to predict the future, you’ll have the rest of your life to look forward to moments like this, miss him even when he’s laying in your arms, love him when you both slow dance in the refrigerator light at midnight. And because you’re two broke peas in a pod, you both will definitely conduct more fake proposals with each other when you go out to eat. Hopefully before the real deal. You’ll just have to see who pops the question first. 

“Wow,” Jisung breathes against your lips. “My dreams have not done this moment any justice.”

You chuckle, leaning in for another kiss. “Mine too.” 

But Jisung dodges your lips, making you scoff as he raises his eyebrows at you. “And what are you going to be doing about Soobin?”

“You should be nicer. Poor Soobin. I wouldn’t have to let him down now if you’d just told me all of this earlier,” you scold Jisung lightly, cupping his chin. 

He pouts, swatting at your arms with the oversize sleeves of his hoodie. “Never mind. Let’s stop talking about him.”

You roll your eyes playfully and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. You’re sure that the lovesick look on Jisung’s face mirrors your own. He may not be perfect, but he’s perfect for you. Your best friend in the whole world. And whatever the future holds, that will never change.

“I love you, Hannie. Love you so much,” you whisper, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. You’ll never, ever get tired of kissing him.

Jisung smiles down at you lovingly, slipping off his hoodie to put it on you, noticing the way you shiver. But you’re not really that cold; it's the way he’s looking at you right now. Not that you’d tell him that. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” You ask, still in a dreamy daze. This day has turned out to be better than any other you’ve ever had. Everything was worth it.

“Home.”

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[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Summer 2024 Anime

In my experience, summer tends to be the weakest season for anime basically every year. Not entirely sure why: maybe everyone saves the biggest shows for spring and fall, so the space between gets stuck with the also-rans? Whatever the case, as long as I've been covering anime, summer has reliably been the season with the most disappointments and the least true gems. Except for this year. My god, except for this year. In defiance of the trend, summer 2024 has been absolutely stuffed with exciting anime, so many shows that delighted me in unexpected ways. I'm truly stunned by how many shows I watched that felt like nothing else I've seen before. Anime isn't just coasting through this summer on good enough; it's experimenting, pushing the boundaries, evolving the capabilities of visual storytelling in this medium. Maybe it's not an all-timer season, but it feels fresh in a way I haven't felt in quite some time. And even though the two best shows haven't quite finished yet (Monogatari Off/Monster and the back half of My Hero Academia's seventh season), there's more than enough for me to recommend you a full course of worthwhile anime. So let's buckle down and sort through the shows I watched this season to figure out which ones are worth your time and which ones should be discarded without a second thought.

(And if you see one show conspicuously missing from this list, don't worry- it's just around the corner...)

My Deer Friend Nokotan: Dropped at 7 Episodes

Normally I save discussion of the shows I dropped for brief snippets at the end of my seasonal wrap-ups. But this time, I got far enough into a couple shows before realizing they sucked that I figured I should let you know upfront so you don't get suckered into wasting your time like I did. Because I care about you. So if you were as excited by the batshit crazy meme marketing surrounding My Deer Friend Nokotan as I was, then you should know the actual show completely fails to live up to that bonkers energy. Oh, it certainly tries, but in execution, all the "lol so random" comedy and forced fourth-wall breaks makes it come off like a tryhard reddit troll so irony-poisoned they've forgotten what makes actual people laugh. And that's before it drops a godawful siscon imouto in the second episode, and all the jokes centered around humiliating the protagonist for being a virgin... god, I stuck with this piece of crap way longer than it deserved. If you want an actual hilarious slapstick comedy with batshit off-the-walls energy, just go track down Nichijou and experience the single funniest television show this side of Gintama. You'll have a much better time.

Sengoku Youko: Thousandfold Chaos Arc: Dropped at 7 Episodes

Man, Satoshi Mizukami is turning out to be the most overrated cult artist out there, huh? Sure, I liked Planet With a lot, but between this and the faults in Biscuit Hammer that you couldn't blame on the shitty production, all the beloved works his fans rave about like they're Shakespeare-level literature have completely dropped the ball. And I was excited for Sengoku Youko! The first season was pretty good! And the second season has a really interesting timeskip that reorients the story around a new protagonist and shakes up the kinds of ideas it can play with! But all that's let down thanks to one of the worst written female co-protagonists I've seen in a long time. God, Tsukiko is the worst. She's introduced as the strongest swordsman in her village, but all she does on screen is lose, get captured, act subservient to all the men around her, get captured again, and fall instantly in love with the guy who bisects her father in half. But don't worry, just wait until she's all grown up! Then we can add in gross sexual assault comedy complete with boob jiggles! Wow, what a mature and life-changing treatise on the human condition! Yeah, eat me. This is sexist garbage plain and simple, and there's too much good anime to waste time on the ones that can't clear the astronomically low bar of not being degrading to women.

ATRI: My Dear Moments: 3.5/10

There is so much I wish I could like about Atri. Its vision of a post-climate disaster world rebuilding from rising sea levels feels like the Studio Key/Ghibli crossover I've been dreaming of for ages. And it pulls at so many interesting threads; the meaning of community, the purpose of progress, disability, transhumanism, all wrapped up in a suitably sappy emotional package. And none of that matters. Because it's all secondary to the true purpose of this anime: justifying a romance between a near-adult and a robot girl who doesn't read any older than ten, complete with writing than infantilizes and sexualizes her at the same time. Because god forbid any of this high-concept melodrama be allowed to stand without making you feel like you should be put on a watchlist for engaging with it. Luckily, most of those worldbuilding philosophical ideas also pretty much fall apart by the end, so at least you don't have to feel conflicted about skipping this one wholesale. Christ, I miss Jun Maeda more every day.

Suicide Squad Isekai: 4/10

So this feels like it should've ended up either way better or way worse than it did. I mean, an unholy amalgamation of anime's absolute worst subgenre with the laughingstock of mainstream Western comics, written by the author of Re:Zero of all people? This should've either been a trainwreck of apocalyptic proportions or somehow wrapped back around to being an genuine lightning-in-a-bottle masterpiece. Or both! But instead, it's just sort of... there. It exists. It's DC supervillains transported to an isekai world to fight other DC supervillains and fuck around with fantasy nonsense, and I can barely think of anything else to talk about. I guess the isekai world itself is a lot more creative than the usual Dragon Quest knockoff? Character banter's alright? But it feels like all the effort here went into a very select assortment of things that the creators actually cared about- Harley's character design, a handful of genuinely awesome fight scenes- and everything else was just left flailing by the wayside with the laziest and least interesting execution, on a story and production level alike. You're better off just looking up clips of the best fight scenes on Youtube or wherever and giving the rest a pass.

Sakuna of Rice and Ruin: 4.5/10

This is one of those frustrating shows that doesn't really do anything wrong, but never manages to amount to more than that. It's a solid little tale about an immature young harvest goddess banished to an island somewhere in Heaven to learn maturity by growing rice, coming to terms with her grief for her lost parents and coming to respect the mortals who worship her along the way. And every stop of that character journey makes sense, with the progression from brash, arrogant hothead to mature, kind protector never feeling rushed or shortchanged. But ultimately, I think Sakuna just skews to young to be of interest. It's too basic in its moralizing and messages, as well-handled as they are, always taking the simplest and most obvious story route to get where it's going as if it assumes this is your first time watching anime and it doesn't have to try to be more complex than that. Well, there's that one weird episode where aliens randomly show up for a minute and are never addressed again, but that's not the good kind of complexity. I guess if you've got young kids, this is a perfectly fine show to put on for them; they might even get a lot out of it! But if you're over the age of, like, seven, you can get everything it offers better elsewhere.

Bye Bye Earth: 5/10

I've been staring at the screen for minutes trying to figure out how to properly describe Bye Bye Earth. But no matter what, nothing I come up with feels adequate to capture just how much of an incomprehensible fever dream this show is. The best way I can think to describe it is "Show Don't Tell" taken to its absolute extreme, a fantasy world where almost nothing is explained in clear terms and none of your preconceptions can be taken for granted. Swords that grow from roots, a city split into good and evil, battles that play out like giant orchestral processions, gender-shifting mermaids, elder gods that forbid travel between countries, girls hatching from eggs, an army of spiritual emptiness, plants that are more like animals than vegetation, so many insane and unique concepts that are treated as if they're commonplace facts any layperson would know. It feels like a show beamed in from an alternate dimension where the world's basic logic just does not function in the same way ours does, as if all these wild worldbuilding ideas are as familiar and universal as the sun in the sky and the moon at night. Does that make it a good show? A bad show? I honestly don't think it matters. All I know is that as utterly inscrutable as Bye Bye Earth is, I was glued to the screen every week wondering what demented sights it would show me next. At least until the penultimate episode had an astonishingly horrible rape scene that ended the whole affair with a black, bitter taste in my mouth.

Spice and Wolf (2nd Cours): 5/10

Good news, everyone: new Spice and Wolf is finally out of the material already covered by the first show and onto the new stuff! It only took nineteen goddamn episodes, but there's finally a reason for this new adaptation to exist beyond poorly regurgitating the timeless stories already covered back in 2008! Was it worth it? Honestly, jury's still out. The one new arc we get at the end of this season is a solid Spice and Wolf entry with all the slow-simmering romantic tension and well-realized economic conflict that makes this story so enduring. But considering how much time we wasted getting here, I still can't shake the feeling that this whole endeavor has been the most pointless remake in the history of anime. It would've been a much better idea to pick up were the original show left off and jump right into the new material rather than waste a whole season repeating what's already been done. So who knows, maybe I'll feel different once season 2 rolls around and we actually get all that new, previously unadapted story this remake supposedly exists to cover. I hope it's good! But I'll probably still recommend skipping all but the last six episodes of this season, cause even at its best, it just doesn't hold a candle to the original's sense of lived-in atmosphere and subtle majesty. Just go watch the original, it's still a classic and deserves to be celebrated on its own terms.

Dead Dead Demons Dededededestruction: 6/10

Okay, look: is this a good show? Absolutely. Should you watch it? No, you should not. Why? Because after the penultimate episode, I cracked and read the manga, and it's just better in every conceivable way. Better artwork, better pacing, more detail that provides critical thematic and emotional context for most of the big political machinations, and a sheer mastery of the form that this mostly straightforward adaptation just can't measure up to. Whatever criticisms I have of Inio Asano as a writer, there's just no one else who can use the medium of manga in such heartbreaking, evocative ways. Even the moments I liked most from this show become so much more spectacular under his guiding pen. But most importantly? For some unfathomable reason, this adaptation takes one of the manga's penultimate arcs- a huge, paradigm-shifting flashback that completely recontextualizes the entire story in explosive and jaw-dropping ways- and shoves it close to the very beginning. It's one of the single most baffling choices I've ever seen in adaptation, completely robbing the arc of its context and ruining the impact it was originally intended to have. For that reason alone, I can't possibly recommend watching Dededede over reading the manga. And at least that way, you can totally skip the disappointing final volume that feels like a half-baked sequel pitch cut short halfway through development!

Mayonaka Punch: 6.5/10

Do you guys remember Ya Boi Kongming? That show from a few years back that somehow took the premise of "3rd century Chinese war strategist becomes a modern pop idol's manager" and turned it into a genuinely wonderful time? Well, the same writer and director have reunited for the first original work- and it's about cringefail lesbian vampire Youtubers. If I have not already sold you on Mayonaka Punch from that description alone, I'm afraid you're a lost cause. This is the most delightfully chaotic show of the season, buoyed by an endlessly dynamic cast of losers, misfits and morons who put the "suck" in "bloodsucker" in all the best ways. But even moreso than the constantly creative ways it finds to mash vampires and Youtube together, what's most impressive about Mayonaka Punch is how damn well it understands the influencer age. More than any other anime I've watched, it really gets the intricacies of the content grind, parasocial relationships, toxic comments, cancel mobs, and the thousands of contradictions that underline the simple desire to create something awesome and share it with millions worldwide. Because this team is simply that damn good at exploring the full, genuine ramifications of even the most insane premise imaginable. Sadly, its emotional moments aren't nearly as strong as Kongming's (save for one truly tearjerking episode in the first half), and the ending feels like a half-conclusion trying to keep things open for a sequel. So here's hoping we get a season 2 at some point that tightens up the screenwriting and lets this show blossom into its full potential.

Twilight Out of Focus: 6.5/10

There are two things anime desperately needs more of: good BL romance, and couples that actually explore sex in their relationships. Luckily, Twilight Out of Focus is here to give us both at the same time, three times over. This is a sweet, sensual anthology series about three gay couples that develop in the same high school film club over the course of a couple years, each one refreshingly different in personality and what aspects of film-making the story explores with them. I do wish it dived a little deeper into the more technical aspects of the craft at times, but that's not really where its focus lies (heh). It's more about how the various characters interact with film-making than the art itself, and what those interactions say about them as people and parts of a couple. And with evocative direction, charming voice acting, and a clever script that packs a lot of development into twelve episodes without feeling overstuffed, it's more than effective in its goals. Just be aware the first arc tackles some heavy topics like abuse and pedophilia, so watch tactically if those are sensitive or triggering subjects for you. They're handled well, to be clear, but just be prepared.

Days With My Stepsister: 6.5/10

I'm of the firm opinion that you can make a good story out of anything. Doesn't matter how tawdry, trashy, lowbrow, juvenile, or inherently distasteful the subject matter; with the right execution, any starting point can be shaped into something wonderful. Or maybe that's just what I'm telling myself to justify how the show about step-siblings falling in love ended up one of the most captivating anime I watched all season. But can you blame me? I don't know what kind of wizardry first-time director Souta Ueno pulled, but it's clear he understood exactly what can make a story like this so compelling, and he delivered that vision with some of the most immersive, mesmerising, and downright poetic cinematic storytelling in TV anime. Cinematography that sinks you into the characters' feelings like a stone plunging into an abyssal pool, symbolism that makes even the most basic lines of dialogue bleed with unspoken nuance, fuck, even the sound mixing feels like it's communicating hidden depths beyond the simple words on the page or development of the plot. It's a tour-de-force powerhouse of directoral talent that left me in awe every week, even as the side characters fall victim to much tropier writing and the inevitability of the oncoming incest romance makes the back half buckle with discomfort. I'd be hard-pressed to call Days With My Stepsister a masterpiece, but it is absolutely an achievement worth celebrating, and I look forward to seeing where Ueno takes his talents next.

Too Many Losing Heroines: 7/10

You know that feeling when you watch a show and it makes you mad not because it's bad, but because it doesn't seen to trust how good it is? That's the feeling I got over and over again watching Too Many Losing Heroines. It's bogged down by the kind of tasteless, degrading fanservice you usually see in bottom-tier light novels, written by authors who know they're crap and try to paper over their mistakes with accidental pervert scenes. It's the kind of desperation that screams of a show shooting for the lowest common denominator because it knows it has nothing of actual substance to offer. Except Too Many Losing Heroines is actually really fucking good and doesn't need these scenes at all? It's blisteringly funny, outrageously silly, often tasteless in actual fun ways, and a genuinely sincere exploration of the many forms romantic rejection can take and how people process it. I'm not kidding, this show almost made me cry at multiple points with how it embraces the power of friendship in the face of adolescent angst. So why do we still have these stupid fucking boob jiggles and accidental gropings that contribute nothing except making it infinitely harder for me to recommend this to normal people? Why does so much anime just not trust itself on its own merits when it has something truly worthwhile to offer?

Shoshimin: How to Become Ordinary: 7/10

Like many anime fans, I have struggled to accept the cruel reality that Hyouka is likely never getting another season. KyoAni almost never returns to a series after leaving it dormant for this long, and with the director's tragic death in the 2019 arson attack, I doubt the surviving staff who knew him would want to take on such a heavy burden (before you ask, Dragon Maid season 2 was already in production before Takemoto passed). So if you've been missing author Honebu Yonezawa's penchant for meta-commentary mysteries as much as I have, then good news, here's another one of his works adapted to animation! Just don't expect it to be as warm and comforting as Hyouko, because whereas that show was all about the joy of seeking the extraordinary within the ordinary, Shoshimin is equally obsessed with the consequences of it. It's the story of two viciously abnormal high school students who know the way they interact with the world is alienating them from it, but just can't stop themselves from enabling each other's thirst to puzzle and out-think and understand. It's like watching two serial killers struggling to assimilate into normal society, except their only weapons are their intellect and their biggest victims are their own ability to feel at home in the so-called "ordinary" world they constantly find excuses to shut the door on. This is, hands down, one of the most fascinating series of 2024, and while its unhurried pace might be a bore for some people, if you've got the patience to let the vibes sink into you, I can't recommend it enough.

The Elusive Samurai: 7/10

There are moments watching The Elusive Samurai when you will swear it's the most beautiful work of animation every produced. Stunning moving backgrounds, jaw-dropping stylistic flourishes that bend the rules of reality, so much fluid detail and shifting perspectives, insane and mind-twisting editing choices... I can't count how many times this show left me staring dumstruck for minutes on end as it piled on moment after moment of the most striking visual artistry I've seen all year. It doesn't manage that level of consistency throughout its run, sadly; there are definitely moments where you feel the shortcuts taken, especially whenever the garish CGI horses are on screen. But there's enough of that brilliance that even if the story was complete garbage, I would still recommend checking this show out for its animation alone. Luckily, the story's pretty good too! It's a bizarre genre-blending historical meta comedy epic that's sort of similar to Gintama in tone, except it's more shooting to sucker-punch you with the most extreme juxtaposition of stupid comedy and gruesome, horrific violence imaginable. It's a tonal whiplash that does not always work, but it manages to weave a shockingly lovable tale of a runaway heir to the throne seeking to rebuild his kingdom not through violence, but through well, elusiveness and choosing the pursuit of life over the glory of death. Add a cast of charming sidekicks and some of the most comically loathsome bad guys in recent memory and you've got a recipe for a very good time. Now please let the cute halberd girl do more stuff in season 2. It's what the people deserve.

Senpai is an Otokonoko: 7.5/10

Love triangles are a trope I've struggled with for as long as I can remember. Most times it pops up in a story, I feel my skin crawling back into my bones trying to escape the cringe. So how do you get a love triangle I don't just love, but actively root for all three possible outcomes? Well, placing it at the heart of a queer coming-of-age story with a trio of kids grappling with self-loathing and the desire for acceptance certainly helps. Doubly so when that story is executed with as much love, understanding, and joy as Senpai is an Otokonoko. What seems like a fraught premise at first- a girl confesses to her female classmate before finding out she's actually a cross-dressing boy- quickly evolves into a genuine exploration of Japan's queer identity, from the stigma of being seen as gay to the struggle to understand one's own gender identity, to even asexuality! And it's always handled with genuine affection for the people at hand, seeking to uplift queer experiences and prove that no one, no matter how "different," is deserving of a place to belong in this great big world. The production values may be modest and a little too reliant on chibi cut-in gags, but out of all summer's offerings, this is the show that spoke to me the most, and I can't wait for the recently announced movie finale to bring Aoi, Makoto and Ryuji's story to a close.

Dropped:

Tower of God Season 2- Dropped at 2 episodes for being a butt-ugly downgrade of the first season with all the same writing problems.

Narenare: Cheer For You- Dropped at 2 episodes for being utterly vapid.

The Magical Girl and Evil Lieutenant Used to be Arch-Enemies- Dropped at 2 episodes for having the dullest submissive doll of a protagonist.

[sissylittlefeather]

This is the Story

Chapter 9

A/N: This one was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Special thanks, as always, to my besties @ccab and @elvisfatass for all their help in bringing this story to life!

ICYMI: this is the one with the OC Grace Dubois, author and single mom of 6 year old Wendy. Need to catch up? Here are the links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Kissing, cussing, fingering, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, also violence (fistfight) and death threat, and an asshole talking to and touching Grace in a way she doesn't want

Word count: 3kish

Still song inspo:

He can put his own feelings aside to make sure nothing happens to them.

******

"Mr. Marshall, my name is Colonel Tom Parker."

"Yeah, and who are you?"

"I'm the manager for Mr. Elvis Presley."

"Why are you calling me?"

"I'm led to believe you were once in a relationship with a woman named Grace Dubois?"

"Is this about the photograph?"

"It is indeed. Do you know your daughter is calling him 'daddy'?"

"What the fuck? Why are you telling me this?"

"I believe we may have a common goal..."

******

After a week of nothing happening, Grace begins to relax. She's still sleeping in Lisa's room with Wendy, but everyday she gets closer to apologizing to Elvis. He's been so kind to let them stay with him and despite being in the same house, she misses him desperately. Still, she knows that she hurt him with what she said, but she's not entirely sure she was wrong. What would happen when he went back to Vegas or on tour? She can't afford to take the risk that he'll fall back into his old patterns. But it doesn't change the fact that she loves him and every time they meet in the hallway she wants nothing more than to fall apart in his arms. There are several moments when it feels like they're right on the cusp of reconciliation, but something always happens to get in the way. Either he's called away or she has somewhere to be or Wendy needs her. They continue working on the book in cool cooperation, him looking at her longingly anytime she's not paying attention and her praying that this time she'll find the strength to apologize.

At the beginning of the second week, Elvis turns to Grace as she packs up her notebook. She thinks he's about to say something about the situation they're in, but he doesn't.

"I'm going to be back in the studio tonight."

"Tonight? For how long?"

"Until we finish, but it could be every night for the next few weeks. I just wanted to let you know I won't be around much."

"Oh." Then a thought occurs to her.

"But what if Richard shows up?"

"Grace, it's been a week and nothing has happened. I think you'll be okay."

"Do you want us to leave?"

"No. Of course not. I just think you'll be okay here by yourself."

"I have to go to the store tonight."

"Do you want to take Jerry with you?"

"No. I'll be okay. I just... I don't want to be here without you." She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears. The possibility of Richard showing up isn't the only reason she wants him there. He flexes his hand in an attempt to keep from touching her face.

"I'm sorry. I have to do this album. The studio is struggling and I'm hoping by recording there I can breathe some life back into it. And we already started recording back in the summer before... I just have to finish it."

"You have to do what you have to do." She finishes packing up and walks out of the room. From the hallway, she hears him cuss and slam his fist on the desk.

Maybe it's time for them to move back to the apartment.

******

When Elvis gets to Stax, he has a moment of concern about Grace and Wendy alone at the house, but he tells himself he doesn't need to worry. She's a grown woman and everyday it seems like she needs him less and less. It might be time for him to move on with his life without her. The thought causes a lump to form in his throat, but he swallows it quickly and gets to work. The album isn't going to record itself.

******

It's almost dark when Grace and Wendy come back from their shopping trip. Grace is reluctant to go back to the big, empty house. She knows Elvis and the mafia guys have gone to the studio by now.

As she pulls up to the gate, she notices a man standing against it. That's strange, since most of Elvis's fans are female. When he approaches the car, though, her heart drops into her stomach.

"Well, well. So the rumors are true."

"What are you doing here, Richard?"

"I've come to collect what's mine." He gestures to Wendy, who looks up at him quizzically.

"Who are you?" She says it sassily.

"I'm your daddy, baby." She sneers defiantly.

"No. My daddy is Elvis Presley. I don't know who you are." He hisses and turns to Grace.

"Did you tell her that? You fucking him doesn't make him her father."

"Well, you're not either. Go home Richard."

"My name's on her birth certificate. I know you don't want me to take you to court." Grace's blood runs cold. She knew this would happen. He reaches through the open window and strokes her face.

"Come on, honey, don't you remember how good we were together? You look good."

"Stop it, Richard. Don't call me honey." She closes her eyes and wills him to go away, but he doesn't.

"I bet you let him call you honey when he fucks you." She turns to him with angry tears in her eyes. Just then, a guard comes up to the them, shiny gun on his hip.

"Is there a problem here?" Grace nods.

"Yes, please let me go through the gates and make sure he doesn't follow me." The guard nods and tries to escort Richard away from the car. He shakes the guard's hand off of him.

"Don't fucking touch me." Then he turns back to Grace as the gates open. "I'm not going anywhere, honey. I'll get what I came for, one way or another."

Grace speeds through the gates and up to the house.

"Mama, what's wrong? Who was that man?"

Grace is shaking as the tears run down her face. She turns to Wendy.

"Don't worry about him, sweetie. He's no one." Wendy nods slowly and they get out of the car, leaving the shopping on the backseat. Grace ushers Wendy upstairs to bed and goes directly to the telephone.

******

"Elvis. I'm sorry to bother you..."

"Grace, what's wrong?" He can tell by her voice that she's upset.

"Richard is here. He's at the gates and he wants Wendy. I don't know what to do." He can hear her sniffing through the phone and knows she's crying.

"Stay inside, honey, I'm coming." He hangs up the phone and turns to the guys.

"We gotta go."

"Elvis, we're right in the middle of-"

"I said we need to go. Now." Elvis rushes to the car and the guys pile in with Jerry in the front seat.

"Is it Grace?"

"Her ex is at the gates." Jerry raises his eyebrows.

"Shit."

******

Grace watches out the window for Elvis's car to pull up to the gates. When it does, he gets out of the car with the guys. She walks out the front door and down the driveway to see and hear what's about to happen.

Richard is still leaning against the gates.

"If it isn't the man himself." He says mockingly to Elvis. Grace can tell by Elvis's body language that that was the wrong thing to say to him.

"Listen here, motherfucker. You leave Grace and Wendy alone." Grace's hand goes to her throat. She's not sure how this is going to go.

"Or what?" Elvis takes two steps and grabs the front of Richard's shirt and punches him hard. When he stands back up, he swings and lands one good shot on Elvis's nose before the mafia guys swoop in to hold him. Grace gasps. She starts to tingle as she watches Elvis beat the living shit out of Richard. Her heart races and her breathing speeds up.

As Elvis continues to deck him, he yells.

"You abandoned your pregnant fiancée, Dick." He lands another hit.

"You are no kind of father." And another.

"You are no kind of man." And another.

By this point Richard is only vertical because the mafia guys are holding him, but he's not unconscious. Elvis holds his shirt again and gets frighteningly close, but he's still loud enough for Grace to hear.

"And if you ever come around Grace or Wendy ever again, I'll shoot you in the face. Do you understand me?" He nods and whimpers. Elvis throws him on the ground by his shirt front in disgust.

Grace lets out a tiny moan at the sight. Her worry for Elvis is overpowered by another, stronger experience. The scene that just played out made her blood run to her core and she needs to put her own hands on Elvis as quickly as possible.

The gates open and he walks up to her, flexing his knuckles gingerly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, honey."

"I'm not." She whispers breathily. He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders as they make their way up to the house together.

******

Once inside, they go to the kitchen. Elvis has a bloody nose from the one punch Richard was able to land, so Grace gets a wet towel to clean him up. She stands between his knees and gently dabs at his face with the towel. When she finishes, she lays the towel on the counter behind him, looking into his eyes deeply.

"Thank you."

"I don't think we'll be hearing from him again."

Simultaneously, he puts his hands on her hips and she leans in and presses her lips against his. He pulls back and kisses her again with his lips parted, letting his tongue slide into her mouth. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in close. They stay entwined like this for a while, tongues dancing against each other and bodies pressed together.

Eventually, Elvis stands up and scoops Grace into his arms like a bride. She giggles and he carries her upstairs to the bedroom. Neither of them has to say anything to know this is what they both want.

When they get into the room, Elvis lays Grace on the bed gently. He begins to undress her slowly, kissing each part of her as he does, starting with her shoes. He slides her pants down and kisses each of her thighs.

"You have beautiful legs, honey." She smiles as he plants more kisses along her calf. He moves back up, lifting her shirt and kissing her stomach softly. Then he runs both hands up her back and pulls her shirt up over her head. She's a beautiful woman, but she's even more attractive to him because of the way he feels about her. He tries to show this in the way he kisses her neck and shoulder gently. He lifts her delicate hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses into her palm.

"I love your hands." He thinks of how they flit across the page like butterfly wings as she writes. He moves back up her arm and slides the straps of her bra off her shoulders and kisses down to her nipple. He pulls the left one into his mouth softly and then lets his lips ghost over her skin as he moves across to the other one. He continues to worship her body with his mouth as he removes her bra and panties completely. As she lays there naked in front of him, he's overwhelmed with affection for every aspect of her. The way he loves her physical body is just an expression of the love he has for the rest of her. He gently runs his fingertips from her cheek, down her neck, to her chest, and on down her hip and leg. Finally, he situates himself between her legs.

The whole time he undresses her, she revels in the tenderness of his hands, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Her arousal grows with every kiss and she needs him more and more, but not just physically. She needs his love, his adoration, and all of him in every way.

When he presses his mouth to her center, her back arches and she moans his name softly. He licks slow circles around her clit, pressing his tongue into her slit and then licking back up to the spot that makes her wild.

"You taste so good, honey." He whispers it into her and the subtle vibration makes her crazy. He continues moving his tongue over and around her, sliding two of his long fingers into her pussy, pressing them as far in as they'll go before tickling the inside of her. She gasps and he begins to move his tongue faster over and around her clit.

"Oh god, Elvis." She moans again, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. She's just on the cusp of her orgasm and he can tell by the way she flutters around him.

"Come for me, honey." She whines as her orgasm washes over her in waves of pulsating pleasure, wetness spilling out of her as he continues to run his tongue over her clit. She puts her hand in his hair, assuming he's going to stop, but he doesn't. He just keeps right on licking and teasing her sensitive bud until it tightens again and she feels a second orgasm overtake her.

"Fuck, Elvis!" When he still doesn't stop, Grace pats the top of his head and whimpers.

"One more, honey." His speech is a little slurred from the use of his tongue, but he presses on. Grace is sweating, her hands clenching the bedspread as he refuses to give up licking, fingering, and tongue-fucking her.

Finally, she comes a third time, wetness splashing out of her this time as she moans loudly. Elvis smiles and kisses back up her body as she tries to catch her breath. He lays on the bed next to her, also breathing heavily.

She rolls over to him and, despite her shaking hands, practically rips his clothes off of him. Once he's naked, she takes his cock in her hand and strokes it gently. Then, she bends over and pulls the whole thing into her mouth.

"Fuck, Grace." He moans as she moves up and down on him. He wraps his fingers in her hair and holds it up while she drags her tongue up and down his shaft. Then, she pulls his foreskin back and makes slow circles on his sensitive head. He whimpers and throws his head back. Just when he can't stand that any longer, she pulls all of him into her mouth, pressing her nose into the hair at the base of him.

"God, Grace, if you don't stop..."

"Mhmm?" The feeling of her lips around him when she hums almost pushes him over the edge, but then she pulls off of him, sucking the tip with a small pop.

He acts like he's going to roll over on top of her, but she pushes him down on the bed.

"No."

She climbs on top of him and sinks onto his cock slowly, taking in every inch of him.

"Fuckkkk yes, honey." He groans as she begins to bounce up and down on him. After a minute of this, she switches to grinding into him, pushing him deeper and deeper inside her. She equals his relentlessness in her pursuit of his orgasm. She wants to give herself to him fully and make him come as hard as she did. He reaches up and cups her breasts with his hands as he rides him, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. Then, he moves his hands down to her hips and moves with her as she winds her body back and forth on top of him. Finally, he can't stand it anymore and he tumbles headfirst over a cliff of pleasure, cussing and shuddering and filling her with his release.

"Fuck, yes, Grace, yes." He says through gritted teeth as he comes. She leans over and rests her body on his as he wraps his arms around her. When she sits up, he pushes her hair back out of her face and looks up at her softly.

"I'm sorry-" she begins, but he puts his finger on her lips and shakes his head.

"I love you so much. I've never loved anyone like this. You have me, body and soul, honey." Her eyes fill with tears again, but this time they don't fall.

"And I'm yours, Elvis."

She lays next to him and nuzzles into his shoulder, as he leans over and kisses her forehead, both of them determined to never let anything come between them again.

******

Chapter 10 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

i could be wrong about this (i've been following this blog so long i wouldn't be surprised if im confused lol) but you changed/shifted denominations, right? im catholic, born catholic, but i struggle with what much of the church preaches/supports, and the catholic communities i grew up in are not a great place for queer people. so im looking at other affirming churches where i live, which are mostly united. they all seem great, but i find that im struggling with all the ways they aren't catholic. i find it uncomfortable that there isn't a priest (and find it uncomfortable that i find it uncomfortable), i miss the hymns from my old church, and receiving the eurcharist every sunday, and all the other little rituals i can recite on rote (which i like!). and then i suppose i feel strange for taking space in this church that isn't my own, just because it's more 'convenient', since i dont have much intention to abandon the parts of catholicism i want to keep (like mary and the saints). im not sure whether i should just suck it up and shift denominations entirely, or retain my (kind of shaky, ill admit i reject a fair amount of catholic teachings) catholic beliefs. and even then, im also not sure how to make myself more comfortable with attending a church without the rituals and mass im used to - even though i really really want to attend church again. sorry for blabbing on, but... any advice?

Hey there anon, so sorry for the very long delay; I hope you're doing all right. I was indeed born and raised Catholic, and still deeply love so much about Catholic tradition; I know how hard this decision is — whether to stay or go, whether to keep one foot in and one foot out, etc...

(Oh, one thing I want to mention right away is that you don't need to worry about "taking space" in a church you're not part of yet. Churches are meant to make room for visitors! There is plenty of room for you, and if a church makes you feel otherwise somehow, that's on them. Just bringing that up here because the rest of this long response goes in a different direction lol.)

Ultimately, you're the only one who can decide the right path for you. The good news is that you have as long as you need to figure it out! You might lean in one direction for a while and later realize you need to shift a bit; you don't have to do it all at once.

I can share a bit about my own journey to help you imagine a bit better what it even looks like to walk this path; your path may end up looking similar, or very different from mine. Putting the rest under a readmore because it's so long lol.

I was super devout Catholic all my life, into college. Then going into sophomore year of college I started figuring out I was queer — plus I was encountering more and more kinds of people than I'd ever met before, and questions about where they "fit" into Catholic doctrine and the like.

Sophomore year I started crushing on my then-roommate, now-wife, and exploring my gender a bit more, and I started getting extremely anxious each Sunday at Mass. I couldn't stop wondering what people in the pews with me would think, what they'd do if they knew. That spring semester and then into the fall, I started going to Mass less and less frequently and eventually not at all.

Meanwhile my roomie was going through similar issues with feeling way too alienated from her conservative church to keep attending. So together, we found an LGBT-affirming church near campus and walked there one Sunday. The relief we felt walking in there, seeing other queer people and couples; the warmth and welcome, the chance to hold hands in public for the first time; getting to share communion, which was a big warm loaf of bread, with folks who knew what we were and loved us in, not despite it...was like nothing I'd ever experienced.

We kept going there the rest of the school year. That summer, back in my hometown, I kept going to my childhood church for Catholic Mass. I really loved the affirming church we'd found, but like you I missed so many things that Catholic church has and they just don't: there's a higher sense of reverence at Mass; the singing resonates through my psyche; I weirdly feel Christ more strongly in the little wafer host than in that warm loaf, though the latter made me feel more spiritually connected to the humans around me...

I wanted both. I wanted to keep my relationship with my Saints. I wanted Mary and the rosary. I wanted the high reverence. And I wanted the warmth and connection I found at our new church. I wanted the laughter as children dunked their big chunk of loaf into the chalice, getting crumbs everywhere, even if it made my Catholic sensibilities cringe a little (I write about the "culture shock," getting more accustomed to those eucharistic differences here). I wanted to be surrounded with this much more diverse group of people.

So for years, even as I graduated undergrad and started my studies at a Presbyterian seminary, I've tightrope walked between Catholicism and Protestantism. I took every chance I got in my classes to write my papers (or a whole website) about queer-resonant Saints, or to bring up a book of the Bible that Catholics have but Protestants don't, or to teach classmates what it means that Catholics venerate but don't worship Mary. I went to a Presbyterian church most Sundays, but to Catholic Mass on holy days like Good Friday.

Keeping one foot in the Catholic Church — going to Mass a few times a year, cultivating my relationships with Saints privately, writing lots of poems about everything I was feeling (like this one and this one) — while spending most of my time and building up community within the PC(USA) was what worked for me for many years. Sometimes it would get frustrating; often when visiting a Catholic church I'd feel that anxiety wonder what would happen if someone there called me out for being queer. Often I'd feel alienated, lonely, wishing I could bring my whole self into one place if that makes sense; but I made it work.

Then things took a painful turn late last May — content warning for religious trauma & transphobia from a Catholic priest. I was visiting home, and that meant dropping by my childhood church for Mass. When the priest I've known almost my whole life, who gave me my first communion and Confirmed me, got halfway through his homily, it suddenly turned into transphobic condemnation. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. I decided to speak up; I interrupted Mass to assert that queer people are beloved by God; I was escorted out of my childhood church. It was really, really painful; it still really hurts.

I haven't visited a Catholic church since then. And it breaks my heart I'll never feel safe about going back to my childhood church again :'(

I bring up this traumatic moment not to scare you away from keeping some part of you in the Catholic Church — so many of us do remain partially or all the way in it despite its failures. Hopefully you'll never encounter something this overtly queerphobic. But I bring it up to say that if you stay in the Catholic Church, you probably will encounter things over the years — hopefully small, maybe big — that bring you pain. Little ways comments chip at your sense of worth and dignity; new documents from the Vatican that speak against queerness.

But honestly, you'll probably encounter a little hurt wherever you go. No church, no community at all, is perfect. People say and do thoughtless things. You'll probably experience less of that in an LGBT affirming church, but wherever you go, you'll need to gradually amass spiritual shields — connection to the divine, to other people, places you go for refuge.

I haven't returned to a Catholic church since that incident — but I have made relationships I wouldn't have made otherwise. Various people who attended my childhood church's grade school reached out to me to thank me for my courage; one of them even wrote an article about what I did and what she and her friends experienced as students there. Someone from my home state's branch of Dignity USA reached out to me.

I've sort of "officially" let myself sever that last thread connecting me to anything Roman Catholic, to the institution; but I hold on to the elements of Catholic tradition that bring me spiritual nourishment. They can pry Mary and the Saints from my cold dead hands (no actually! not even then!)

...So that's my personal journey up to the present day. (I also sum up my sort of situationship identifying as an agnostic Catholic Presbyterian in this post.) But others have different paths.

I know so many queer Catholics, ex-Catholics, not-sure-where-they-fit type folks...there are:

queer Catholics who stick with the Catholic Church completely;

or who occupy a sort of liminal in-between, sticking to the Catholic edges but still interacting with Catholic institutions.

I know others who completely left all things Catholic behind, not just the institutions but all Saints, songs, etc.

If you're interested in listening to / reading about a few other people's experiences, I've interviewed a few queer Catholics on my podcast:

there's Emma Cieslik, who archives all sorts of queer Catholic experiences in her own oral history project;

There's K Kriesel, whose life has taken them all around the Catholic center and many different peripheries;

There's Amy Neville, who studies art history and incorporates Catholicism into their queer art; and others too.

____

Sorry if all that was way more than you were looking for! But I hope exploring some of the journeys of others who've been in a similar place to you might help a bit.

A few other things I'll tack on:

If there are any Episcopal churches near you (that mention being LGBT friendly on their website), their vibe will be much closer to what you love from Catholicism than a UCC church is. Lutherans are also closer in vibe and often LGBT affirming.

It's possible there might be a (non-Roman) Catholic community near you that is LGBT-affirming — check out this post for more about liberal Catholics, Independent Catholics, and more.

The previously linked post also brings up organizations that aim to make the Catholic Church more LGBT-inclusive, like DignityUSA. You might find that one of those orgs has a branch near you where you can find support and commiseration.

Finally, you may also like looking through my #queer and Catholic tag, and also maybe my #lgbta patron saints tag.

Sending you love and wishing you peace, joy, and a sense of belonging. I know how hard this in-between time is, when you just don't know what to do or where to go — but God is with you on this journey. They will be with you wherever you go; in fact, the liminal spaces, the in-between not-quite-this-or-that people, are the places and people through which God most often acts <3

[ladylooch]

Oh stop! How had I never come across the blurn where David and Mack made it official! She thanks him for coming over the night before, saying she was in a bad place.

How does that happen, did he find out from Connor that she was sick and just turn up? Were they talking on the phone and he insist on coming over??

Warning: descriptions of throwing up/ being sick.

David finds out Mack is sick from Connor, which truthfully is a bit of a relief for him because he hasn’t heard from Mack all day. He knows she is in New York. She just got back two days ago from a trip in the Pacific. He had been feeling uneasy before heading out for a beer with Connor when he had texted her a few different times and she didn’t respond. 

So David did what he does best and he softly probed.

“Stell and Lucie have big plans tonight?”

“Ah, they were going to go to a movie, I think. Originally, Mack was going to come, but Luc said she was sick. Lucie wanted to stay home then, but Stella wasn’t gonna let her off the hook.” Conor chuckles. 

David carefully keeps his face neutral, but pockets that information for after their drinks.

“That sucks.” He says to Connor, then focuses his attention back on his beer glass to lift it to his lips.

He hangs around with Connor as long as he can stand it which turns out to be two full beers. Connor wants to order a third, but David declines. He lifts his one hip off the chair, taking his wallet out and tossing a few bills onto he table to cover his part of the bill. 

“I gotta head out. Still need to pack for heading back home.”

“No problem. Hey, I’ll see ya in the Fall.” Connor stands and they share a big hug. “Stay safe out there in that summer heat, man.” 

“I’ll try to.” David smiles at his friend. He feels a slight itch in his throat as he always does saying goodbye to Connor. He is by far the best friend David has ever had, his Iowa boys included. It’s tough to go months without seeing each other, but he knows when they are reunited in the Fall, it will be like no time has passed. It’s what makes him feel so shitty lying to his friend about what he does with his friend’s sister-in-law in private.

Without putting much stock into that thought, David hustles out to his SUV and takes off in the direction of Mack’s place. He parks the car in a visitor spot on the side of her building, then contemplates how he is going to get Ron, her doorman, to let him up without calling for Mack. 

Turns out, Ron is worried too.

“Boy, I’m glad to see you here, David.” He says as he opens the door for him. “I haven’t seen Ms. Hischier all day. She didn’t have her usual routine.” 

“Yeah, she’s a little under the weather.” David fills in with a slight downwards tilt of his lips.

“Ah. Makes sense. Go take care of your girl.” He winks, then waves David inside and up to the elevator.

David practically stabs the button through the metal door with his antsy energy. He sighs heavily. Fuck, he hopes she is okay. He should have called her… Should have left drinks with Connor sooner too. But it’s not entirely unlike Mack to disappear for a bit. Not even because she is running from something, but she will get in a zone with writing and not be willing to interact until she gets her story right. He loves that tenaciousness and drive in her. 

As he walks quick steps down the hall to her unit, his hands feel empty. Maybe he should have stopped at the store and grabbed her some items. But he has no idea what is making her sick. 

He knocks on her door then waits. And waits. He knocks again. And waits. 

“Mack.” He knocks a third time, louder, hard, so that if she is asleep, there is no way she doesn’t hear it. He listens, pursing his lips, then feels relief shoot through his body when the lock flips. 

“Go away.” She moans. 

“Whoa.” He murmurs, surprised at the look of her. She is paler than paper, hair falling out of her slacked pony tail. Her clothes are stretched and too worn, hanging off her body in awkward slumps. Mack sighs then falls forward into his chest completely unwillingly. He catches her, feeling how hot her body is. Her lips are chapped around her mouth, white flakes crusting off from them, likely from vomiting.

“Dizzy.” She cries to him, squeezing her eyes shut. He holds the door open with his foot, then curls down to lift her into his arms. She can’t even lift hers around his neck. Instead, she loosely grips his shirt in her fists. 

“I’ve got you.” He assures her. He looks around her place, seeing the complete disarray of it, which is so unusual for her. Open drink bottles, electrolyte packs, and slices of toast litter the counter. The pieces are in various stages of eating, with crumbs littering the top. 

“I’m gonna throw up.” She says then gags, slapping a hand over her mouth. 

David moves her quickly to the bathroom, then settles her knees on the tile. He rubs her back as she heaves over the toilet, but nothing comes out. She spits then clenches up as she heaves again.

“Am I going to die?” She cries to him after she is done. “I have nothing left!” She starts to breathe heavily, tears falling from her eyes.

“No, honey.” He sighs empathetically. He kisses the top of her head, then helps her fall back into his body. Her head slumps against his shoulder, hot forehead on his throat. “You’re going to be okay.” He smoothes her hair back then kisses above her left eyebrow. “Have you taken anything?” She shakes her head no. 

“Okay. Do you have anything?” Again her response is no. “I’m going to grab some stuff from CVS okay?” 

“No, no, no.” She cries weakly. “Don’t leave.”

“You need medicine at this point, honey. We can’t fight this without it.” She is quiet, eyes closed, still breathing heavy. But then she nods in resolution. “Do you want to go to bed or stay here?”

“Stay. Not done.” 

“Okay.” He reaches up for the towel from the rack above, folding it over to make her a pillow for her head. Then he eases out from behind her, letting her back rest on the cool tile. He looks down at her, frowning at how bad she looks. He mentally commits to taking her in if this medicine doesn’t help her within the hour. He has seen what dehydration can do growing up on a farm. He doesn’t want that to happen to her. Not on his watch.

David is gone for twenty minutes. This time he takes her apartment keys with him. He assures Ron both times in and out that Mack is going to be okay. He comes back with various medications, Pedialyte, and crackers. Mack is barely awake when he reaches the bathroom again. He strokes her cheek gently then works on cracking open the Tylenol bottle. First, they need to start with her fever.

He helps her sit up, using the cabinets in the bathroom of her to rest her back on. She swallows them, groaning at how her throat aches from everything. She blinks lazily as David pulls out the bottle of Pepto Bismal. He reads the back, then pours the thick pink liquid into the cup. Mack grimaces as he hands it to her. 

“I know.” He nods. “But the liquid will help your throat and you’ll absorb it faster.” She whines but takes it without much more protest. She isn’t in a position to argue with him and he takes advantage of that. “Okay, let’s leave it at those two for now. See how you respond.” He says, putting the rest of the bag on the counter behind her. She reaches for his wrist as he sits back down in front of her. 

“Thank you.” Her appreciation for him is quiet but strong. “I…” She pauses, pursing her lips. “Tried to text you back, but…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“It’s okay.” He assures her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here now.”

Despite her condition, a small smile stretches her pale, pink lips up. 

“I knew you would come for me.”

David smiles back at her, but she can’t see because she’s lost the battle to keep her eyes open again. He reaches for her hand, rubbing his thumb across her warm skin comfortingly. He doesn’t say anything else to let her rest, but internally his answer back to her is:

Always.

[whentherewerebicycles]

[redacted] asked me to teach a fall class and I was like I’ll still be on maternity leave… she seemed pretty put out by this and was like it’s just once or twice a week can’t you come in for it?… and I was like I don’t really know how to say no as strongly as I want to. I think she expects me to only take the summer off (three months of my six months of allowed leave) but I am planning to take the full six or as close to it as I can get with my stockpiled PTO & sick time. this is not the first time she’s seemed unhappy or annoyed about me taking my allowed maternity leave… but also I want to just categorically refuse to feel guilty about this even in my own head. full-time infant daycare is so stratospherically expensive that I really NEED to stretch my leave as long as possible, and I don’t want to have to arrange part-time care so I can teach a class that I won’t really have the time or energy to plan. but also even beyond that: it says in our policies that I get six months. I get to take six months (or as close as I can get to it) without feeling bad. I probably can only afford to have one kid and he’s only going to be an infant once and I get to spend six months with him without having to worry about work stuff. bleh okay I ended up telling her I would “think about it” because she was being pretty “why wouldn’t you say yes to this reasonable request from me” but I think I will give it a week and then politely say no in writing (and make it clear that I plan to be out for almost the entire fall quarter).

[the-starry-seas]

I would say roll the dice but actually...

33 - a kiss to a scar/mark/other with Bail/Breha/Fox

FOLLOW YOUR HEART. YOU KNOW WHAT I DESIRE!!!

I KNOW WHAT YOU DESIRE

From the kiss roulette :3

For once, Fox comes home exhausted. Kit has been running all over the planet, petting everything that moves and lets him get close enough, and Fox has been worried about how every one of those things seems to be armed with entirely too many teeth.

Breha smiles when she sees him.

"Let me guess," she says dryly, "Kit finally got you into the forest."

He grumps under his breath and sinks to his knees next to her chair, resting his head on her thigh. Her fingers are in his hair a moment later. It feels glorious.

"I found that file you were asking about," Bail says, coming into the room with his datapad. He pauses in the doorway and smiles faintly. "Kit got you in the forest."

"Yeah," Fox sighs. Apparently it's obvious.

Bail hands his datapad to Breha and sits down next to Fox, leaning in to touch their foreheads together.

Fox brings a hand up to cup Bail's face and sighs softly. He has no idea how all his tension just melts away when they touch him, but he's grateful for it, every single day.

"I don't suppose you want to call it an early night," Breha suggests.

"Mm." He leans back against the chair and looks up at her. "I think I could be convinced."

"We do have that wonderful new couch," Bail murmurs.

And somehow, that's how Fox ends up sprawled on his stomach in front of the fireplace, his shirt discarded somewhere on the carpet. One of the throw pillows from the couch is tucked under his head, his arms folded under it, the carpet surprisingly soft against his skin.

Breha's skirts flow around him as she kneels over his hips, a hand on the carpet near his shoulder, the other trailing lightly down his side. She kisses the back of his shoulder, then down his spine, her mouth warm and gentle.

He tucks his face into the pillow and hums softly. He's too tired to go too far, but somehow... all they want is to touch him, sometimes, without any demands in return. He still doesn't fully understand why, but it's the only thing that can get the last of the tension out of his shoulders.

Bail cradles Fox's hand in his, kissing the fingertips scarred from picking up broken transparisteel. His body fits against Fox's perfectly, like the halves of a quotation mark. It makes Fox feel like he belongs.

Breha's thumb smooths across one of the lines left by a senator's beating, her mouth following soon after, faint little touches that he can barely feel, but that make him shiver all the same.

Her hands stay gentle as she follows the branching lines of the lightning scars across his ribs and up to the top of his tattoo.

"I think I remember what this one is for," she murmurs, kissing the smallest foxglove bell at the top, between his shoulders. "Adopting Leia."

"And this one," Bail adds. His hand is ticklish, his thumb brushing lightly back and forth across Fox's ribs as he kisses a spot halfway down Fox's side. "That was your first visit to the summer house by the lake."

"Our anniversary dinner... or rather, that lovely little side room after the second course."

"First time someone called you Mr Organa."

They kiss every bell from his shoulders to the dip at the small of his back. Fox falls asleep sometime while they're lavishing their attention back up his spine, the fire crackling gently. He trusts them to still be there when he wakes back up.

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Okay, so. This is the first of the broken twitter threadfics. The reasons I picked it to post are A) it broke at a relatively good ending point, and B) I was doing this as an experiment to see if I could keep myself from planning out where a story was going to go before writing it, and twitter's fuckery effectively kneecapped that. So, here it is!

----------

(“Why can’t you be more like-”)

A month before he’s supposed to attend the lectures, Nie Huaisang is nowhere to be found in the Unclean Realms.

In his wake are a pair of boxes for his brother and Meng Yao, each of which contains a cheerily biting note that since they each clearly want him to become the other, he’s giving them what they’ve always wanted!

Each other.

Without him in the middle.

Meng Yao is unnerved by this sudden disappearance, but anyone he mentions it to, Nie Mingjue included, just rolls their eyes. 

it's a bratty tantrum, nothing more. 

Huaisang will be back by dinner, complaining of being hungry. 

The rest of the day passes.

Then another. 

Then a week. 

The time for Huaisang and the other disciples his age to leave for the Cloud Recesses comes and goes, and still no one knows where he is. 

An uncomfortable heaviness develops in the air inside the fortress. 

Everyone can tell that everyone else is worried, but nobody will broach the subject because Nie Mingjue (though clearly the most worried of all) is stubbornly refusing to discuss it. 

When a letter comes from Gusu asking why Nie Huaisang never arrived for classes even though Nie Mingjue was adamant he would keep attending until he passed, it gets crumpled and tossed into the fire without a reply. 

Meanwhile, whatever sort of relationship Huaisang thought his brother and Meng Yao were forming based on the weird backhanded praise of each other/putdowns towards him doesn't happen. 

It's too awkward. 

Both retreat entirely into bland professionalism and if a topic doesn’t have to do with work, they don't bring it up. 

(Meng Yao doesn't understand why Huaisang was convinced he was pushing to get close to Mingjue in such a manner. Huaisang knew about his plans to eventually join his father, what could possibly make him believe-? 

But with Huaisang no longer there to be a distraction while he's working, he finds his brain replaying certain events, and gradually starting to see them from a different perspective. 

And… he doesn’t like what he sees.

For all he'd claimed repeatedly to be a neutral party in the brothers’ arguments, he... wasn't. 

Even on the occasions that he was personally more sympathetic to Huaisang’s side of the matter, he'd always pushed him to be the one to back down and give in. Be an obedient little brother. 

Behave.

Which... he can't be blamed for that, surely. 

As much as Huaisang liked him, Huaisang wasn't his primary employer. it made logical sense that- 

-No. 

That's where he'd gone wrong. 

He should have either truly remained neutral by telling both brothers it wasn't his place to get involved, or he should have told Huaisang why he felt compelled to take Nie Mingjue’s side so often. 

But instead, he'd willingly taken up that center role, and then- 

Ah. 

What a mess.)

—

As the days of the summer and early fall tick by, Meng Yao finds himself... keeping an eye out. 

Not searching (no one will admit to doing that, especially not Mingjue), just... hoping. 

Huaisang has always despised winter and what it does to his health, surely once the weather starts to change for the worse, he will- 

Huaisang still doesn't come back. 

(It's getting harder and harder not to dwell on how much he misses Huaisang. 

How much of a mistake he made. 

He should have- 

If only he had- 

His… his friend is gone. 

Now he only has coworkers. 

And while he gets along with... most of them fairly well nowadays, it isn't the same. 

It isn’t the same at all.) 

—

They have been monitoring the movements of the Wen sect day in and day out, but it still catches them by surprise when it isn't inside their borders that the first blatant act of war is committed. 

Meng Yao goes out among the scouts to make sure they are well-supplied with flares and messenger tokens and everything else they will need to keep the flow of information strong. 

(He does not say that he is looking for Huaisang, but he does not have to.

He does not find Huaisang, but he does bring home Mingjue's friend from the Lan sect, bruised and filthy and exhausted. 

He decides he likes Lan Xichen well enough, but-)

When the envoys from the Wen sect come to demand their heir, it is the first time Nie Mingjue says out loud, to anyone, that they don't have one. 

For the briefest moment, Nie Huaisang is no longer a ghost, as every present member of the sect flinches. 

Their visitors do not.

Meng Yao is the only one who catches that they seem to have expected this answer. 

He doesn't like that at all. 

And when he tells them later, as they help the disciples who have volunteered to go pack what little they are being allowed to bring, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen like it even less. 

(That night, Meng Yao hears the door to the room beside his unlock for the first time in over a year. 

He curls himself into a ball under the blankets and pretends not to hear anything after that.) 

—

A week after their disciples have made it home after escaping from the indoctrination camp, (at the same time that Lotus Pier is burning), Meng Yao has gone out with the scouts again, this time with a disguised Lan Xichen among their numbers- 

-He wants to find his brother. Neither Nie Mingjue nor Meng Yao can begrudge him that, not when they are still- 

-and they overhear a loud scuffle and heated voices- 

"He fucking bit me! just slit the little bitch's throat already!" "You do it! And then you can explain to the boss why and see what that gets you!" 

"Let him go! He hasn't done anything!" "Stay out of it, or you can die in his place!"

The source of the fight is several men in white and red robes crowded around an unseen figure as villagers yell from the sidelines. 

One moves to the right, just long enough for Meng Yao to glimpse- 

It’s-

His whole body goes cold. 

It's- 

He moves without thinking, a borrowed sword in hand. He doesn't hear Lan Xichen's startled warning, but it doesn't matter, as the other man immediately follows. 

When he comes back to himself, there are five dead men on the ground and Nie Huaisang has thrown himself to his feet to run- 

-from them, just as much as he'd probably tried to escape the Wen. 

Spell music keeps him from getting more than a few steps before he drops into a heap right next to a sorry mess of bloody black feathers that has an arrow sticking out of it. 

The old man who'd done the most yelling looks like he might be ready to do more, and Meng Yao, still feeling numb and sick and a hundred other things, manages to regain himself enough to reassure him that they have no intention of harming- 

harming- 

It hits him that he has no idea what Nie Huaisang was calling himself here. 

Here, a tiny backwater village so close to the border between Qinghe and Qishan.

The complicated and messy swirl of emotions becomes distant... muted. He's still dizzy, but in a way that's like looking at the ground from up high. 

The fight took place in front of a book copy shop- 

"-er, yes, he does," the old man says, making Meng Yao realize he'd just asked if this person whose name he doesn't know works there. 

Ha. 

The only thing in the world that Nie Huaisang had ever hated as much as saber training was being forced to duplicate texts and rules and notes- 

-and he's here. 

Working and living in some nondescript copy shop.

Lan Xichen is saying something, and then the old man is speaking again, but Meng Yao comprehends none of it. Other Nie disciples have arrived and need to be caught up to speed, but he- 

He pushes his way into the shop, and then up the back stairs to the living quarters above it.

There are only four small rooms and it's easy to tell which one is-

-was- 

-is Huaisang's because it's the one that has three little wooden perches- 

-clearly built of scavenged branches, they are still the most well made things in the room- 

-arranged by the window and the door.

There is no wardrobe, just a couple of shoddy-looking boxes. The bed is... serviceable, which is the nicest word he can come up with. There is no wash basin, nor privacy screen. The shade over the window is so thin it would practically be useless in winter. A teapot and cup that look like they could crumble any moment sit on a tiny table that isn't in much better shape. 

Meng Yao... has been in this room before. 

Maybe not this specific room, but this room. 

It's the same room he lived in during every stop between the brothel and Koi Tower, between Koi Tower and the Unclean Realms, paying for what rest he could get by offering up his education or labor. 

And this room... 

This room is where... 

His fingers clench on the door frame. 

He inhales slowly, though whether to keep from laughing or throwing up, he isn't sure which. 

Oh... they had so badly underestimated how much resentment and hurt their failed -misguided- attempts at incentivization had brewed within Nie Huaisang. 

Nie Huaisang had been a boy who despised rote routine work, who loved soft and comfortable things, who always needed to be surrounded by people and animals for companionship, who got bitterly sick every time the weather turned cold. 

And yet he had been living in this room, with a job doing what he hated day in and day out, and only the one bird that had undoubtedly been shot out of the windowsill by a Wen arrow for company. 

He can't help but wonder if Huaisang had chosen this life specifically because it was so antithetical to everything the sect knew about him; because they'd never think to look in a place like this. 

Or if he had just decided that even this was preferable to letting anyone think he'd been cowed into crawling back home. 

Meng Yao is still nauseous when he stumbles back down the stairs to find the others waiting for him and Nie Huaisang, still unconscious from the spellsong, lying in the back of a small wagon the disciples have procured. 

"There was nothing worth bringing," he says in response to one man's question, and ignores Lan Xichen's query as to whether or not he is well. 

It's already been decided that he will be the one to take Nie Huaisang back to the closest camp, while the disciples will fly to the primary one further south to alert Nie Mingjue that his brother has been found. 

Although he knows he's been picked because his sword flight is still unsteady, he is fine with it. 

If anyone else had offered -or demanded- to take the wagon, that would be another story. 

Except for Lan Xichen, who has brought back the horses he and Meng Yao had been using to avoid being seen on their swords, the others take off once the Wen corpses have been moved away from the buildings and burned.

(Meng Yao probably should have supervised that, being the sect leader's aide. 

But that would have meant moving away from Nie Huaisang, and he… 

He just can’t-) 

They hitch the horses to the wagon. Before he climbs up into the saddle, Meng Yao takes off his cloak and wraps it around his- 

Not his- 

His young master. 

(How funny that, almost two years ago, he would have been the one who needed it more. 

How funny that, almost two years ago, Nie Huaisang would have had more than one and would have offered them all with a laugh and a gentle tease. 

How funny that-) 

If Lan Xichen notices him wiping his eyes as they nudge the horses to start down the road, he is kind enough not to mention it.

—

By the time they reach the camp, the spell song has worn off, but Nie Huaisang still sleeps- 

-and he does still sleep. Meng Yao's judgment may have been in grievous error in one painfully important category, but he can still easily tell when Huaisang is feigning in order to be left alone-

-heavily enough that his only reaction to being picked up by Lan Xichen is to pull the borrowed cloak tighter around himself like a turtle trying to shrink into its shell. 

"I'll make the report to the camp commander after taking him to the main infirmary tent," Lan Xichen says.

'Because I don't think you'd want to leave him alone long enough to do it,' Meng Yao hears. He nods, trying -badly- to hide his relief at the offer.

As they enter the tent, one of the medics turns to greet them, then his eyes go huge. 

"Is that-" 

"Not one more word," Meng Yao cuts him off, a little more sharply than he'd meant to. "No one is to find out he's here before Zongzhu arrives, got it?" 

The medic's mouth closes with an audible snap, then he recovers his composure and nods, gesturing to an empty cot. 

The results of the ensuing exam are... roughly what Meng Yao expected… because they are very similar to his own the first time he'd been ordered into a tent to have his medical baseline set when he’d joined the Nie camps. 

Except for the lungs. 

He is sitting close enough that he doesn't need the medic to tell him the soft, pained-sounding wheeze is not good. 

Again, his thoughts and his stomach begin to twist and tangle around the reversal of their fortunes and the dozens of other little itchy thoughts. His fingers tighten on the edge of the camp stool he's sitting on and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and just focus on inhaling- 

-and exhaling- 

-until the knots loosen up enough that he no longer feels like vomiting. 

Prying one hand away from his seat, he reaches out and takes hold of Nie Huaisang's colder one. 

When the first big winter storm had arrived and Nie Huaisang had not arrived with it, he had started to have dreams that were uncomfortable in more ways than one. Even now, gently rubbing his thumb over the other young man's ink and dirt-stained fingers, memories-not-memories from them flicker through his mind. 

He has no idea how Nie Mingjue will react to his brother's reappearance, but no matter what his sect leader decides, he can't- 

-won't- 

-can’t let Nie Huaisang disappear again. 

Even, he thinks as he lifts those cold fingers up to breathe warmth onto them, if he has to refashion an aviary into another kind of cage. 

—

It is just past nightfall when he hears the flutter of activity outside the tent. 

It is a familiar enough clatter to both of them that the noise makes Nie Huaisang stir. 

(He wants to be the first person Nie Huaisang sees. 

He wants to try and smooth things over before-

He wants-)

But there isn't enough time, and it's more important that he- 

He steps out of the tent right as Nie Mingjue is approaching. 

He bows to his sect leader, but keeps the tent flap held closed behind him. 

When he doesn't move aside, the faint scowl on Nie Mingjue's face deepens and he raises an eyebrow in a familiar expression of 'What do you think you're doing?' 

"Zongzhu," Meng Yao replies to the unspoken question. "Will you hear my report first?" 

His words are deferential, holding none of the direct defiance that his position does, but the combination of the two is enough to give Nie Mingjue pause, his expression shifting from annoyance to curious concern before he nods. 

Meng Yao keeps it short, but painfully blunt, emphasizing where and how Nie Huaisang had been living, and how close to danger and for how long. 

"I would not be so presumptuous as to give you directions on how to handle this. But he was already prepared to bolt from-" me "-us as if we were just as much of a threat as the Wen. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that if you storm in there and immediately start dressing him down, then-" unless you let me lock him away "-it will be the last time you ever see him, let alone get the chance to talk to him,” he finishes quietly.

Then he steps aside and lets go of the tent flap.

Although he doesn't want to leave, he knows that if they -even accidentally- give Huaisang the impression that they are immediately falling back into the old pattern, this will be a disaster. 

So he forces himself to walk away from the tent. 

He should really see about acquiring food anyway. Though he'd had some travel rations on his person, he hadn't been able to make himself eat since they'd found Huaisang, and Huaisang- 

The many ways their fortunes have been reversed hits him again, and he swallows hard to keep from bringing attention to himself by hysterically laughing... or something even more embarrassing. 

Okay. 

Food. 

Concentrate on that. 

Though it grates on him to do so, he purposely takes the time to eat his own meal at the kitchen tents, even dragging it out a little longer than normal. 

Just as he finishes eating, he finally catches a glimpse of Nie Mingjue headed towards the main command tent. 

His sect leader's expression is tense, but not angry or panicked. His tone, from what Meng Yao can hear, is a little sharply clipped, but there is no real bark to the orders he's giving. 

Meng Yao will take those as good signs. 

Collecting a tray of simple dishes and jars of pressed juice and water, he heads back to the infirmary tent where he'd left Huaisang.

He doesn't find Huaisang there- 

-he's fled, the fight was worse than anticipated, they won't- 

-but is relieved to find he's only been moved to one of the smaller side tents. It's fine- it's good, even. Fewer people will see him this way. 

Huaisang is sitting on the little cot he's been given, facing away from (him) the entrance. He's huddled under one of the spare blankets, the cloak Meng Yao had wrapped him in folded up and laid on the end of the thin pallet mattress. 

(That bothers him. 

Sits in the back of his brain like another little itch. 

"Why don't you want- it, Huaisang?" bubbles up in the back of his throat, and he has to force it back down.) 

"I owe you an apology," Huaisang says suddenly, surprising Meng Yao into looking up from the small camp table he'd been setting up for the food. 

(His voice has become as small as the rest of him, Meng Yao's mind notes with a discomforting mix of emotions. Small and rough and raspy- is it because the reunion with his brother brought tears with it? Or is that just how he sounds now? Does he really want to know?) 

"Whatever for?" Meng Yao asks after shoving all that turbulence into the little chest in his mind to join the rest of it and pretending it's not going to be overstuffed and refuse to close soon. 

"I never paid attention to how hard your job was. I just made it worse." 

He finds himself glancing at those ink and dirt stained fingers again, now clutching the edge of the blanket so tightly. 

Reversal of fortunes. 

Some little part of him is satisfied by the recognition, of the acknowledgment, but the rest- 

if this is the result of another fight- if this apology was somehow forced by Nie Mingjue- 

He bites his tongue for a moment to quell the swell of unexpected irritation. "There's nothing to apologize for in that regard. At most, you could be exasperating on occasion… but more often than not, you were the only one reminding me to care for myself," he says, reaching over to pick up the folded cloak and wrap it around Huaisang's shoulders over the blanket. 

Better. 

He looks much better with that (mark of possession). 

"I have no idea how many times I forgot to stop for a meal or any other necessities without you there to insist." 

The mention of food earns a sharp, unmistakable growl, and Huaisang ducks his head as he huddles deeper into the borrowed blanket and offered cloak, his unbound hair doing little to hide his expression of uncomfortable embarrassment. 

Reversal of fortunes. 

Once upon a time, Nie Huaisang had offered him clothing from his own wardrobe and food swiped from the kitchens and Meng Yao had struggled to politely decline out of fear that bounds were being overstepped and he would be the one to get in trouble for it. 

Now however... now, he understands. 

Whether or not Huaisang had felt the same possessiveness back then that Meng Yao is grappling with now is an interesting, but ultimately unimportant, question. 

But he understands. 

And, just as Huaisang once had, he will not allow refusal.

He takes a seat on a little stool across from Huaisang and offers one of the dishes he'd brought, a fairly simple combination of steamed rice, roasted chicken, and greens with only a little bit of seasoning. 

Even though growing up in Yunping had given him a fairly high tolerance for spice, he remembers all too well how much it had hurt to eat too much good food at once after months going on the minimum, and he has no desire to make Huaisang similarly sick. 

"Don't rush. We've got time." 

Nie Huaisang's mouth presses into a thin line, like he might disagree with that judgment. 

Curiosity lingers hot and fuzzy on the back of his neck- 

-what had the brothers said to each other?- 

-but he swats it aside and merely waits. 

He will not risk scaring his young master away by pressing him for information so soon after getting him back. 

Hunger eventually wins over discontent, and Huaisang reaches out to accept the food. 

He eats in a stilted, almost wooden way that is so very alien to how he used to be, but so very familiar to Meng Yao. It is another addition to the list of things that he wants to- will fix. 

Huaisang's hair falls back into his face as he hunches over the bowl, and Meng Yao finds himself impulsively reaching to brush it back. 

Huaisang flinches at the contact, and they both go still, staring at each other, Meng Yao's hand still outstretched. 

He should pull back. 

Give space. 

He doesn't want to. 

But no matter how much their situation has changed, their nominal statuses dictate he must.

Just as he starts to withdraw, however, Huaisang lets out an unsteady breath and tilts his head just enough to maintain contact. 

Without a single spoken word, it's a lonely plea and an apology and forgiveness and so many other things rolled up into a little ball of bruised and battered emotions. 

It makes Meng Yao almost dizzy, and he can't contain the smile that blooms on his mouth as he indulges in what he's been offered, sweeping his fingers along Huaisang's cheek to tuck his hair back behind his ear. 

All too quickly, however, the flutters of almost-giddiness fade as he remembers their situation is still hanging precariously on a thread as thin as spider silk. 

But any discussion of what will happen next for them can -will have to- wait until the food is gone. 

They fall into an awkward silence as Nie Huaisang finishes the bowl of food and a jar of water. He quickly looks away when he realizes Meng Yao has caught him eyeing the second dish with apprehensive longing. 

"Here," Meng Yao says, offering one of the jars of juice instead. "It won't be as heavy on your stomach." 

Nie Huaisang hesitates, the expression on his face unreadable as he looks at it, then at Meng Yao- 

-Meng Yao wants to ask, he wants to ask, he can’t ask- 

Then he takes it from Meng Yao's hands and tilts it up to swallow a mouthful. 

Meng Yao unconsciously mimics the swallow. 

there is something- 

-something- 

-one thing that still eats at him, but he is struggling to let it out of where he's kept it caged in his chest. 

He is very, very good at offering apologies as a matter of politeness. 

He has never been as good at offering apologies out of sincerity. 

"Gongzi-" he starts only for his voice to die in his throat when green eyes regard him over the rim of the jar. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

Try again. 

"I... I have missed you, Huaisang," he says. 

It is not what he intended to say. 

It is not what he was supposed to say. 

It's an entirely different but equally difficult level of vulnerability; one he hadn't been trying so hard to hide because he'd never expected it to attempt escape to begin with. 

He had recognized too much of himself in this changed Huaisang, and that familiarity had momentarily lured him into a false sense of… of…

His first instinct is to take it back. 

Cover his too-exposed heart with his usual deferential politeness, smile and offer a more neutral comment. 

"I missed you too," Huaisang says quietly before he can do any of that. 

Meng Yao exhales sharply, the air punched out of his chest as surely as if Nie Huaisang had buried a fist into the soft spot below his sternum, and he has to look away before he can let it show how starkly he has been affected. 

He is still pulling himself together when he sees one of the captains who'd been accompanying Nie Mingjue earlier poke his head into the tent. 

The man looks around for a moment before his gaze lands on them, and he gives a quick jerk of his head in a silent demand. 

Meng Yao hesitates. 

As emotionally fraught as this had just become, he doesn't want to leave. They still have that- 

-that one thing that they have to talk about, and if he leaves now, they might not ever- 

"Better go," Nie Huaisang says, and when Meng Yao turns his head, his young master is once again wearing that expression Meng Yao cannot decipher. 

Meng Yao bites the inside of his lip, then reaches out and squeezes the hand not occupied with the jar. "I'll be back soon," he says. 

Nie Huaisang salutes him with the jar, the gesture too flippant for the look in his eyes. 

Meng Yao again finds himself wondering just what the brothers had said to each other. 

But he does not ask, instead getting up to follow the captain away from the infirmary and towards the tent where Nie Mingjue has temporarily taken up residence until he returns to the main camp.

—

Meng Yao frowns as he finishes reading the missive his sect leader has handed him. 

It is not the fact that Nie Huaisang is being sent back to the Unclean Realms that bothers him. Even if he were in better health, the time he's spent away from the sect has made him even less prepared for a fight. it's better for him to go- to go home. 

No, what bothers Meng Yao is the escort being sent with him. Only two guards, both only weeks out of no longer being classified as juniors, and a single healing assistant- not even a full-fledged medic. 

He knows that this wouldn't be enough of an escort for someone the Wen wasn’t even looking for, let alone someone they had already made a kidnapping attempt on. 

Suddenly, Huaisang's too-bland attitude and strange reactions make more sense, if this had been one of the things the brothers had discussed. 

(What had they said? 

What had they said? 

The prickle of curiosity has become a gnawing, but still he squashes it.) 

He rereads the missive twice over before it finally hits him. 

This is another manifestation of the- 

Not once had Nie Mingjue ever officially sent out search parties, or discussed his missing brother, or- or- 

(But Meng Yao, much as he'd pretended otherwise, very vividly remembers that midnight breakdown in Nie Huaisang's abandoned room.) 

A sect leader preparing for an inevitable war couldn't be seen as soft or weak by the enemy, nor his own. 

A sect leader in the middle of a war couldn't be seen as soft or weak by the enemy, nor his own. 

Nie Mingjue might have sorely missed his brother, but he also clearly believed that extending more than the barest minimum would be read as special treatment. Coddling, even. 

No matter how much this particular situation warranted a stronger approach. 

Meng Yao understands the politics of appearance all too well, so he gets it. He does. That doesn't stop him from wanting to beat his head against the table in frustration. 

Stubborn. 

Stubborn.

Gods, both of them are so- 

He takes a deep, slow inhale, then lays the paper down. "What are you going to do if this posturing for your men gets your brother killed?"

Nie Mingjue goes rigid, the line of his spine completely straight. 

The captain he was talking to is a smart man; his eyes go wide for the briefest moment, and then he turns around and walks out of the tent without a word. 

Meng Yao is acutely aware he's just stepped into dangerous territory. A few years ago, he never would have let that question escape his mouth. Instead, as soon as he’d finished reading the missive the first time, he would have immediately gone to cajole Huaisang not to make a fuss about the orders. 

Well, look where that had gotten them. 

"The only reason we found him at all is because Wen Ruohan had somehow figured out where he was first,” he presses.”And yet you're risking sending him right back into the jaws of the tiger to-" 

Nie Mingjue's hands clench into fists at his sides. 

Though the man has never so much raised his voice in Meng Yao's direction, the memories of all the shouting matches between the brothers make him involuntarily take a step back. 

But Nie Mingjue, apparently remembering his earlier advice, does not yell, though the curt, emotionless tone of the words "The orders will not be changed," is almost worse. 

This bullheaded-! 

Realizing he will get nowhere, that the fact there had been no shouting between the brothers this time really was the only concession Nie Mingjue had been willing -or perhaps 'been able' was the better description- to make, Meng Yao leaves him standing alone at the table of maps and missives and walks back to the infirmary. 

At the very least, he should make sure that Huaisang has warmer clothes for travel than the ones they found him in. 

–- 

Nie Huaisang and his pittance of an escort are up and ready to leave before dawn, hoping to get some ground covered while only the enemy’s night scouts are still on the hunt. 

Nie Huaisang doesn't make a peep of complaint about having to get up so early for what amounts to boring work, which only drives the knife of how much he has changed deeper between Meng Yao's ribs. 

(He knows Huaisang has to go. 

He wants him to stay.

He wants to go with him. 

He wants-) 

"Hu- Gongzi, may we speak?" he asks quietly. 

Huaisang stops pretending to not be watching his brother out of the corner of his eye and turns his attention to Meng Yao, then nods. 

Meng Yao's mouth suddenly goes dry under the quiet intensity of that green-eyed stare, but he gathers his nerves back together and ties them down tight. 

"I... I owe you an apology as well. You were right that I was only lying to both of us when I claimed not to be taking sides in your arguments. I should have stayed out of it. I'm... I'm sorry." 

There. 

He has said it. 

It is hardly the most eloquent apology he has ever given, but... again, sincerity is much more difficult than politeness. 

But it also seems to have been more effective. Huaisang blinks at him in surprise, tilting his head like a startled bird... then he takes hold of Meng Yao's hands and smiles.

It's small, unsure, almost as if he's forgotten how to do it. but it's there, and- 

"Thank you," he says, and "Apology accepted." 

Ha. 

Okay. 

Meng Yao does not embarrass himself by tearing up in front of everyone, but he comes close. He squeezes the hands holding his, ruthlessly smothering the sudden urge to kiss too-cold fingers 

-or do something more- 

-then steps back and lets go. 

He doesn't watch them leave. 

Neither does Nie Mingjue.

—

It has been six days. 

Even though he has remained diligent to his responsibilities as the sect leader’s aide, Meng Yao's mind keeps being distracted by the map he has drawn in his mind. 

Even on foot, even if there were a few small delays here and there, Huaisang and his escorts should arrive at the unclean realms by the next morning, so when sundown arrives, the nervous tension that's been humming through his nerves finally starts to ease…

And then, right in the middle of dinner, Nie Mingjue suddenly jerks as though he's been shot with an arrow. 

Meng Yao, Lan Xichen, and the small knot of disciples present all see the color drain from his face as he rips a talisman out of the collar of his inner robe- 

-and when Meng Yao sees the deep splotch of red blooming across the paper, his own heart drops. 

It's a bloodshed talisman. 

And they all immediately know who it has to be tied to. 

Meng Yao has never seen a human move so fast in his entire life. 

Nie Mingjue is already in the sky on Baxia before any of the rest of them are out of the tent. Even Lan Xichen can't catch him before he can no longer be seen in the darkness. 

Meng Yao inwardly curses his own faltering cultivation that leaves him unable to keep up with the others, but at least his mental map means he won't get lost because of the lag. 

He just hopes- 

He just hopes- 

He lands in the middle of a maelstrom of clashing metal and screaming horses, more than a little bewildered by the number of moving and dead bodies in the forest clearing. 

How the fuck had this many Wen managed to get this deep into Qinghe territory? Their scouts should have caught them long before- 

No matter. His sect leader and the others would deal with them. 

He has to find- 

There are two figures in green and grey lying among the more numerous white and red. The first, he immediately identifies as the medical assistant -(dead)- and the other- 

He rushes over and pulls a semi-conscious Nie Huaisang up onto his knees. The younger man is sluggishly bleeding from his nose and a second blow to the head that has bruised most of the right side of his face, and his wrists are also raw and bloody from struggling out of the ropes lying under him. 

"Yao-ge? When... Where did...?" he asks in a disoriented slur. 

(Later, Meng Yao will allow himself to be thrilled by the return of the endearment.) 

For now, he jerks Nie Huaisang out of the way of a falling Wen horse and then drags him towards the treeline. They're almost out of the fight zone when a sword whistles past, barely missing taking off Meng Yao's ear. 

Fortunately, its owner hits the ground dead before he can call it back to try again. 

With that last death cry, the clearing goes silent, they and the disciples and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue all staring at each other, almost dazed from the wearing off of the battle adrenaline. 

Then Nie Mingjue crosses the clearing with almost the same superhuman speed as before and jerks Nie Huaisang out of Meng Yao's hands, wrapping his brother in an embrace so tight that Nie Huaisang can't help letting out a small squeak of protest.

—

There is never a verbal apology. 

In fact, neither brother says a word during the (unsettlingly) short flight to the Unclean Realms. 

But neither of them lets go of the other for the entire flight either, and Meng Yao supposes that has to be enough for them. 

(He desperately hopes that it is enough for them.) 

The first time Nie Mingjue puts his brother down since that first desperate grab is when they land inside the courtyard, and even then, he has a solid grip on Nie Huaisang's shoulder. 

"Finally," Meng Yao hears a feminine voice mutter from amongst the staff who came running at their unexpected approach, before others immediately shush her. 

He bites his tongue to keep from smirking, but he hears a couple of the disciples with them have to choke back laughter. 

It is indeed a relief to finally have at least one of the many sources of tension in the realm eased. 

Though there is now another in its place, as he notices Nie Huaisang glance around warily, already growing stiff and uncomfortable in the place that hasn't been his home for some time now. 

This won't do. 

"Zongzhu," he says, mindful of how to balance the situation now. "Perhaps it would be best for everyone to rest before any discussion of important matters." 

"...Right," Nie Mingjue mutters awkwardly, then moves to dismiss the small crowd. 

He still hasn't let go of Nie Huaisang.

[pluviowriting]

Everything I Didn't Say Chapter I

The Littlest Witch

18+ || MDNI || Content Warnings: Mild language maybe, mostly just some fluff

~~~~~

My Dearest Cordelia,

It’s been a month since I left you. An entire four weeks. I don’t believe we’ve ever gone this long without seeing each other, even over the summers. I loved when you’d visit during the summers, or when I’d go to you. Feldcroft felt like home again when you stayed. Especially during the year when Anne wasn’t there. You always made the days feel longer and shorter at the same time. How I wish to feel that way now. These simply must have been the slowest four weeks of my entire life. I miss you immensely, my favorite witch.

I’ve made it to America, if you can believe it. This land is massive. I’ve spoken to representatives at MACUSA (Magical Congress of the United States of America, though I’ve only heard that name once since being here. They use the acronym like it’s a word. Mack ooh sah. It’s the most interesting dialect). I have to admit, they’ve been a decent help but no one here appears to have a concrete answer as to what truly plagues Anne and how to rid her of it.

I hope you, Anne, and Ominis are well. I hope the three of you are spending time together in my absence and that I’ll get to join you soon. Do you miss me like I miss you, my love? Even just the thought of you, picturing the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the little scar across the bridge of your nose, it makes me feel lighter. Warmer. Like I’m imagining my home. Hopefully that’s what we’ll be to each other when I return. Home. You’ll always be mine even if I can’t be yours.

I love you, Cordelia Graham.

Yours always,

Sebastian

~~~~~

“Anna Sabine Graham! You get back here this instant!” Cordelia called after her sprinting child, but it was no use. They had both spotted their favorite heads of bright red hair from across Hogsmeade Square, and there was no force on earth that could keep that little girl from them.

“Gare-Gare!” Anna hollered as she moved as fast as her little legs could carry her, her mother’s voice falling on deaf ears. “Nana Tilda!”

There was an audible “oof” as the body of the four year old collided with the torso of her favorite uncle. Garreth Weasley had managed to squat down before she made it to him, and he rose to stand with Anna on his hip.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little witch. Where’s your mumma, love? I heard her shouting for you.” Garreth looked over the square, smiling when he saw his frustrated best friend. “Ah there she is. Hello Cori. I believe I have something that belongs to you. Or rather someone,” he greeted, the teasing tone a constant in his voice.

The young woman shook her head, chuckling at the fact Anna was already chattering nonsense to her former professor and Garreth’s aunt Matilda. The older woman was nodding enthusiastically as she listened to every word coming out of the freckled girl’s mouth. Cordelia couldn’t ignore the way her heart melted at the sight. Garreth and Prof– Matilda had been there for her throughout the past five years. Both Weasleys had tried to encourage her to reach out to Sebastian when she finally confessed to who had fathered Anna - though the both of them knew that he had been the only possibility long before her confession. It was an argument they had lost enough times to no longer bring it up when they spent the afternoons together.

“Hello Garreth. Matilda.” She smiled as she greeted the Weasleys before she grabbed Garreth by his shoulder and turned him so her daughter was no longer facing the older woman, and the pair were face to face.

“You know better than to go running off when we’re visiting Hogsmeade, Anna. You always need to be near an adult when we leave home.”

Though a majority of a decade had passed, Cordelia still worried about the followers of the men she fought as a child. Even with the numbers of Ashwinders, Poachers, and Loyalists having dropped dramatically since she was a student, her paranoia was always prevalent when she and Anna visited Hogsmeade. She could defend herself just fine, and in a square surrounded by other witches and wizards, she wouldn’t fight alone. She worried about one quietly taking her child in some delayed and twisted eye-for-an-eye move for the deaths of Rookwood and Ranrok.

In a look that she didn’t know she got from her father, Anna’s big brown eyes got even bigger before she batted them at her mother. Her bottom lip jutted out just slightly and wobbled as she was scolded. “‘M sorry mumma. I wanted Uncle Gare-Gare. I see’d him and I was essited.”

As if to emphasize her point, the small child wrapped her short arms around the man’s neck and tucked her head into his shoulder. Cordelia groaned softly and ran a hand down her face. It was so much harder to stick to reprimanding her daughter when she reminded her of the boy she once loved, and frankly still loved. For the millionth time in the last five years, she internally cursed Sebastian Sallow for it.

“We were going to see them, you little rascal.” She reached out and tousled the warm brown curls atop Anna’s head. “If you do that again, I’ll have to tell Uncle Garreth that he can’t carry you around and you’ll have to walk all on your own.”

Her threat was punctuated by two gasps, one from the child she was scolding and the other from the man-child holding her. The hand resting against the middle of Anna’s back moved to cradle her head.

“Cordelia, you wouldn’t,” Garreth admonished, as if it would be just as much a punishment for him as it would his niece.

“I would. She’s old enough to walk around Hogsmeade on her own two feet, Garreth. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who saw her prove that as she made her way across the square to get to you, was I?”

He didn’t dignify her question with a response, instead turning with a huff. “Come along, little witch. Let’s go see what creatures Madame Peck has in the store today, yeah?”

Cordelia heard a cheer as the troublesome pair walked away. She watched them until she lost sight of Garreth, and she finally turned to Matilda with a smile.

“Hello Matilda,” she muttered before wrapping her arms around the older woman. She knew she had already greeted her, but she had been preoccupied then.

There was no better feeling on earth than one of Matilda Weasley’s hugs, the former Slytherin was sure of it. Matilda was the closest thing she had to a mother, considering the woman had been supporting all of her endeavors since her first day at Hogwarts.

“Hello Cordelia. Good to see you as always. The both of you, of course. Even though it seems we aren’t interesting enough to keep the attention of the other half of our party.”

The women decided to take a seat outside of Steepley and Sons, spending their time catching up. Matilda was looking forward to the upcoming school year in a few months, informing Cordelia that her former potions professor, Professor Sharp, had become the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after Hecat’s retirement, and that none other than Garreth would be the newest member of the staff come fall.

“That scoundrel! He never even mentioned that to me! It’s not like I haven’t seen or written to him at all this summer,” she huffed, shaking her head good naturedly.

The women continued their chatter until a little voice drew their attention, signaling the return of Anna and Garreth.

“Mumma! Nana Tilda! I gots to pet a puff-ein!” The child boasted, pride practically radiating from her entire being.

“Oh, did you now? And I assume you were on your best behaviour then if Madame Peck allowed that.”

Anna nodded as she smiled from ear to ear. “Yes mumma. You can even ask Gare-Gare. He says I was so good!” On cue, Garreth nodded as he sat down across from Cordelia, still holding his niece in his lap.

“Did Madame Peck let you pet any of her beasts, Professor Weasley?” Cordelia leveled the man with her best motherly stare as she felt the corners of her lips twitching upward. She wasn’t truly upset with her friend, of course, but she wasn’t going to pass up the chance to heckle him. Especially not when he had been sitting on news like this.

”I was going to tell you at dinner.” He had the smarts to look sheepish when he was called out. “Speaking of dinner, Cordelia, what do you feed your child? She’s been lamenting  about being hungry since halfway through visiting Brood and Peck.”

”She just knows you’re a fool, Garreth. She had a snack before we left. She was trying to lure you to Honeydukes.”

The man’s face turned the color of his hair as he realized he had once again been busted. While the little witch hadn’t ratted him out yet, it was only a matter of time before she did. Cordelia wouldn’t be the least surprised to hear about it.

With the discussion turning toward dinner, the group decided to head towards The Three Broomsticks. The owner, Sirona, greeted them as they came in like she always did. The four sat and ate, enjoying each other’s company for hours. The three adults only realized how late it was getting when Anna had fallen asleep in her mother’s lap while Cordelia ran her fingers through her hair.

The child was woken up slightly to say goodbyes, but she didn’t even lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Cordelia bid her goodbyes to the Weasleys, promising they’d have to do this once more before the school year started and the pair would be returning to Hogwarts. The young woman also bid goodbye to the woman behind the bar, giving her a wave with Anna’s limp hand as she left.

Using the floo, they were home in no time. She managed to get her daughter into sleep clothes and tucked into bed in seemingly record time. With a kiss on her forehead, Cordelia left Anna asleep in her bed before she tucked herself in for the night.

~~~~~

The following week was just like any other week. Every morning Cordelia woke Anna, they had breakfast, got dressed, and traveled to Keenbridge. They’d spend the day working in Cori’s apothecary, with Anna either resting in the back room, or working with her mom prepping some of the more stable potion ingredients. On the slower days, Cordelia would teach her child spellcasting. As well as she could without the little witch having a wand of her own, anyways. Wooden spoons worked wonders as fake wands, and there were plenty of those to be found.

”You’ll move your wand like this, little love. Watch mumma.” She made sure she had her daughter’s attention before moving the “wand” she used to demonstrate spells to show her the movement for the spell levioso. Her chest filled with pride as she watched Anna copy her movements practically perfectly. “Good job! And the spell is levioso.”

Proving she had inherited smarts from both her parents, the small child brandished her wand the way she had been taught, and her voice filled the shop as she shouted. “Lebioso!”

“That’s it little love! Brightest witch of your generation, I’m sure of it. Would you like to see what the spell does?”

Anna nodded eagerly, looking up at her mother with bright eyes. Cordelia chuckled before casting the spell on an empty pot in the back corner and the child stared on in awe. Their moment was interrupted by the shopkeep from next door popping her head in. Eleanora specialized in beast byproducts, something that Cori was happy to assist with in a pinch. In return, the kind woman would watch Anna whenever it was needed.

“Oh we’re learning levioso today, hmm? How exciting.”

Cori smiled at the young woman she called a friend and bent to kiss the top of Anna’s head. “Alright, well if Miss Eleanora is showing up, that must mean it’s almost lunch time. You be on your best behaviour, little miss. I want to hear that you’re the best behaved girl in Keenbridge when I return from lunch, alright? I love you.”

“I love you too, mumma.” The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs in a hug goodbye before Cori left, using the floo to travel to Upper Hogsfield.

Every other week she had a standing lunch with her fellow former Slytherin, now Ominis Sallow, as the man couldn’t wait to get rid of his family name once he had married Sebastian’s sister Anne. She sighed softly as she saw him sitting at their usual spot and she hurried towards him.

“I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting, Ominis. I had a fussy customer I just couldn’t get rid of quick enough.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily, but it tasted like the kerosene that lit the lamps in her home at night.

“Oh, I haven’t been here long, Cordelia. I’m glad you made it.”

“Come now, Ominis. You know I wouldn’t miss our lunches for the world. How has Anne been?”

“She’s been managing. The brew you brought last has actually been a decent help. It doesn’t prevent them, but if she takes a dose when they come on, it seems they’re shorter and they take less out of her.”

Helping Anne Sallow was part of the repentance she paid for keeping her daughter a secret from Sebastian’s family. She would’ve helped the woman regardless, but it was more personal knowing that she was the only reason she didn’t know she had a niece. Her pregnancy had prevented her from attending their wedding as well. The invitation for the elopement came during her third trimester, and she had ended up in labor a week before the wedding took place. She was in no shape to leave her newborn, and even though she did long to attend, at that time she wouldn’t have been able to keep Anna a secret from one of her dearest friends and his wife, her namesake.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll have to brew more and when we meet for lunch again in a couple weeks I can make sure you have a fresh stock and she won’t run out.”

“That would be lovely, Cori. Thank you. From both of us. Perhaps if Anne is having a good day, she might tag along.”

Cordelia blanched at the idea and her appetite immediately lessened. It had been intentional that she hadn’t seen Anne since their fifth year, in the aftermath of what she still only called The Catacomb Incident. She still had nightmares of what conspired that night, even if everything had been alright since the fall of their seventh year. “That would be lovely. I haven’t seen Anne in years.” The witch hoped her tone didn’t match how she looked, and it was one of a few times she was relieved her friend couldn’t see her.

With how easily Ominis continued their conversation, she was relieved by the fact that she had been convincing enough. Their lunch hour seemed to fly by as they enjoyed food and each other’s company. Like always, there was no mention of Sebastian. In the early months of her pregnancy, even the mention of his name was enough to send Cordelia into heart wrenching sobs. Enough lunches went by with Ominis trying to bring the other wizard up in conversation to let his friend know that he was doing well, but he would never get past the phrase “Sebastian sent a letter” before he was interrupted by her blubbering. He stopped mentioning the other Sallow after the third month and he hadn’t tried to bring him up again since.

As the pair regaled each other on their lives the past week, she filled her friend in on the news she had learned from Matilda just a week before. Ominis was even more shocked than she was to hear the trouble starter from their years in potions class together would now be teaching it.

“Garreth Weasley, a professor?! And the potions professor no less! Hogwarts will burn to the ground by the winter, I’ll almost guarantee it.”

Cordelia couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. “Ominis! We’ve all changed since we’ve left school. I’m sure he’ll do well. And Matilda will still be keeping an eye on him.”

The blonde grumbled and shook his head, which prompted another laugh from the woman sat across from him. She did have to concede that she had a similar train of thought when she had learned of this as well, though she had been more hopeful that the Gryffindor could at least make it through one year before he burned their former school to ashes.

As it did every time, lunch felt too short. After finishing their meals and saying their goodbyes, the duo parted ways. Cordelia waited for Ominis to leave before popping into one of the smaller shops in Upper Hogsfield to get a treat for Anna before she returned to Keenbridge. With the chocolate frog in her bag, she apparated back to her shop, the pop and bell above the door announcing her return.

“Anna! I’m back, love!” She called through the shop before realizing it was empty.

She shook her head before leaving her shop and heading next door to Eleanora’s. Of course they ended up over there. The second she opened the door, she could hear familiar footsteps heading towards her.

“Mumma you’re back!”

“I am. Where’s Miss Eleanora? I need to talk with her and figure out if you’ve earned the treat in my purse or if it’ll have to wait.” She squatted so she could be nearly the same height as her daughter, allowing the little girl to press a kiss to her cheek before she reciprocated the same affection. “Can you sit and wait? I’ll only be a minute, alright?”

Anna nodded, returning to the little desk that Eleanora had conjured for her to use when the other witch was watching her. True to her word, Cordelia’s conversation with Eleanora was short, and soon she and her daughter were returning to their own shop with friendly goodbyes thrown over their shoulders. Upon their return, Anna got the treat she was promised, and the rest of their day went on like it always did.

After the years of uncertainty in her youth, Cordelia thrived in her life of routine. It worked for her, it worked for Anna, and she was sure there was nothing that was going to throw a wrench in their routine. She had worked hard to give her daughter the life she didn’t get, and it would take a massive change to ruin that. A massive change like the unannounced return of Sebastian Sallow to the Scottish Highlands, but that wasn’t something Cordelia thought she had to be worried about.