#apparently when you’re famous you’re not allowed to make mistakes or say things that come across differently than intended

[7-ate-9]

I can’t believe that so many people in the watcher fandom have never made a mistake and said something that they didn’t realize was in poor taste. It’s wild that so many people have never said something that people took a different way than intended. Insane that they never had to apologize for anything ever. Also crazy that apparently all these people who have never even tried to start a business seem to automatically know better about running a business that is generated solely by making free content in the hopes that people will pay money for more things. So cool that they’ve never made a mistake in their lives.

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

[kaeyasaki]

📹 — :; “face-to-face” GQ interview

-> inspired by the “face-to-face, A$AP rocky answers 18 from rihanna | GQ interview”, except i make the questions a little more personal because i don’t think anyone cares what gojo’s ‘fav curse word is’

-> ft :; gojo satoru

-> interview writing layout heavily inspired by @rintaroll

y/n: hey GQ! i’m here to do face-to-face with my co worker, gojo!

gojo: coworker? is that all i am to you?

y/n: be grateful i even acknowledged you.

gojo: you wound me.

y/n: yet you’re still smiling.

gojo flashes a playful frown to the camera as y/n roll their eyes before pulling out a stack on cards.

y/n: so first question, what’s the hardest part about working with me?

gojo: everything.

y/n: i’m serious.

gojo: and so am i, you make it hard for me to work with you because we never get anything done.

y/n: don’t make it sound like it’s my fault! we never get anything done because you get too distracted and drag me into it!

gojo: maybe you should discipline me more...

he teases and sends you a wink to which you dismiss quickly.

y/n: you’re a grown man, you shouldn’t need me to discipline you.

gojo: what if i want you to?

y/n: would you just answer the question seriously or i’ll really start to think you don���t think we work well together!

gojo: okay, i was kidding... you’re actually a pretty good teammate when we’re sent on missions together, i have fun with you... maybe a little too much fun...

y/n: don’t give them the wrong idea we’re nothing like that!

you cringe at him as he laughs before the camera cuts moving onto the next question

y/n: okay, second question, answer seriously from now on, got it?

gojo: anything for you~

y/n: you disgust me... anyway, how well would you say you take care of yourself?

gojo: you mean like... self care wise?

y/n: yeah, like self care!

gojo: hmm well, i’d say i take care of myself pretty well, after all, pampered men are attractive men right?

y/n: i mean sure, i think it’s attractive when a man takes care of himself but if that mans you... maybe not so much.

gojo: you don’t mean that! you must be somewhat attracted to me.

y/n: can’t say i am no.

gojo: lying is a sin you know.

y/n: you’re totally straying away from my initial question.

you groan and face the camera and gojo tilts his head and laughs.

gojo: sorry, well, i’d say i clearly look after myself very well which should be to your liking.

y/n: you’ll never be to my liking, but it’s nice to hear you take care of yourself well and that you’re not just an annoying man, but rather an annoying but hygienic man.

gojo: you’re so horrible to m-

the camera cuts as you start laughing and gojo starts whining.

y/n: we’re getting through these quickly now let’s keep it that way.

gojo: you know, we’d be half done by now if you stopped insulting me every chance you get.

y/n: i’m the quizzer, you’re the answerer, you answer when spoken to.

gojo turns to face the grinning camera crew behind the cameras on set.

gojo: now do you see what i have to put up with! i’m a victim i’m telling you!

camera man: no no, keep it up, you guys have nice chemistry

y/n: chemistry? not to be rude but you must’ve failed science, the only clear dialogue between us is practically conversation between an adult and child.

the camera crew laugh and gojo feigns offence before you clear your throat and look at the next card.

y/n: anyways, when was the first time you were majorly recognised as ‘famous’?

gojo: ah, a long time ago i need to think, give me a sec.

you pretend to yawn as gojo thinks about his answer before smiling at you.

gojo: my second year i think. that’s when i really started getting noticed for my talent.

y/n: practically a star since birth i see, how do you do it?

gojo laughs at your sarcasm as you grin back, evenly matched banter between the two of you flowing on set.

gojo: i’m handsome and gifted, i was made for this kinda life, it all comes naturally to me.

y/n: you know what doesn’t come naturally to you though?

gojo: hm?

y/n: that dress sense.

gojo: what’s wrong with my outfit?

y/n: bland, basic, and the way you chose itadori’s uniform was just straight up ugly!

gojo: he liked it!

y/n: the poor boy probably didn’t have the heart to express his disgust to your face.

gojo: well, until he does i’m gonna believe he likes it and my dress sense is more than up to standard.

y/n: if that’s what helps you sleep at night i guess...

the camera cuts with the two of you playfully bickering with each other, any previous speculation of hostility now gone as it’s clear for watchers to see just how your dynamic together works.

y/n: question four! what’s the first thing you notice in a person?

gojo: in general or when analysing to an extent?

y/n: in generals fine.

gojo: hm i would say looks, but i don’t wanna look too shallow on camera.

y/n: they would’ve just recorded you saying that. don’t be shocked if you’re trending on twitter later for it.

gojo: it’s fine, as long as i’m trending who cares what it’s about.

y/n: i can see the headlines already... ‘gojo satoru, top sorcerer, favoured teacher at jujutsu high and big narcissist’

you smile smugly at the man as he laughs along with you with the camera crew from behind.

gojo: yeah yeah whatever you say, but if i had to answer honestly, i’d say what energy they give off. i don’t let it bother me too much, but i’d say i’m pretty good at judging what someone’s like based off of what energy they’re giving out.

y/n: i’m shocked, that’s a pretty good answer... for you anyway.

gojo: i try my best for you.

y/n: mhm sure, keep that attitude next time we’re working together and maybe we’ll finish jobs quicker.

gojo snickers and smiles gently at you, his direction is no longer faced towards the camera, but rather solely directed at you as you clear your throat.

y/n: yeah anyway, good answer. that might just get you uncancelled.

gojo: i haven’t even been cancelled yet don’t speak it into existence!

y/n: i’ll ‘try my best for you’

you’re both smiling softly at each other after you mock one of gojo’s previous replies, there’s no speech cut off as a comfortable silence rests for a moment as the scene cuts.

y/n: okay, i want genuine answers only.

gojo: that’s what i’ve been giving you from the start!

you jokingly narrow your eyes at him before looking down at the next card.

y/n: well okay then, so, what was the first thing you noticed about me when we first met?

gojo: unusually bold question from you.

y/n: just shut up and answer, i was recommended to ask this.

gojo: sure, sure.

y/n: would you please just answer so we can get this over with?

gojo sighs dramatically and sits up properly and nods.

gojo: naturally, for anyone else i would say energy but for you, ah, i think it was your pretty face.

y/n: shut up, i said genuine answers only.

gojo: i am being genuine! aren’t i allowed to call you pretty?

y/n: you aren’t allowed to answer falsely, serious answers please.

gojo: you make me sound like i’m down bad, honestly, you’re very attractive to me, your energy was just a bonus, i’m serious, stop doubting yourself so much.

he smiles your way, not playfully nor forced, it’s a soft and genuine smile to calm your nerves, it’s a sign of truthfulness on his end. before you answer he clears his throat, slight hurry in his voice.

gojo: -of course, we were younger back then, since then you’ve gotten wrinkles and is that a few grey hairs i see? you also slouch-

y/n: -okay okay you can stop!

the two of you laugh as you gently kick his chair, the fact you’re being recorded and being watched by a whole camera crew totally forgotten about.

y/n: okay, last question finally!

gojo: admit you had fun with me.

y/n: i see you everyday, today was nothing special.

gojo: you wouldn’t say we’ve bonded more over this interview?

y/n: you’re still as irritating as before this interview so no.

you grin and gojo scoffs before shuffling in his chair a little before a sly smile draws across his face.

gojo: go on then, last question.

y/n: would you sl-

gojo: go on, ask it, we’re waiting.

gojo is leaning on the palm of his hand, teasing smile playing on his lips and y/n stares at the card in disbelief.

y/n: you definitely wrote this! i would never ask this! there’s been a mistake with the cards or something

camera man: ah no, they’re all the questions that were on your form you sent in prior to the interview, these are the questions you apparently wanted to be asked. sorry, you’ll have to make do.

y/n: i’m not asking that.

gojo: come on now, don’t upset your supportive fans.

y/n: i know you wrote this, you’re so infuriating!

you glare at him but not with complete hostility, the situation slightly humorous to you despite your protests.

gojo: i mean well.

gojo shrugs as you sigh and stare at the card before speaking.

y/n: fine then have it your way. would you... would you sleep with me?

gojo: how brave! asking me on camera in the middle of an interview! how could i dare say no!

gojo is laughing along with the camera crew as you fight back a smile, refusing to admit his interference was entertaining.

y/n: at least take me out for dinner first.

gojo: now you’re asking me to take you out? you’re really bold today aren’t you!

y/n: oh shut up! i didn’t mean it like that! this is totally your fault it’s awkward now.

you’re grinning at this point not caring that your flirtatious banter with gojo is being recorded and is soon to be edited and posted for the world to see.

gojo: i mean, i’m free tomorrow if that’s good with you?

y/n: what? no, i- this wasn’t even a serious question shut up!

gojo: i’ll shut up if you let me take you out... and maybe then i’ll sleep with you after if that’s your request.

y/n: i can’t stand you!

gojo: but you do everyday, that must count for something right?

y/n: i hate you.

gojo: quite the contrary, i’m sure i’ll get you to admit that by tomorrow though.

y/n: ...i’ll be waiting on it then.

the two of you are smiling at each other, laughter dying down as you once again softly kick gojo’s chair. he pays no mind to it as a moment of fondness occurs, viewers clearly able to see the evident bond between the two of you.

y/n: okay well... that concludes our face-to-face, GQ interview, thanks for watching and putting up with him!

gojo: maybe we’ll come back to do an interview about our date after i take you out, who knows, maybe i’ll get to ask you to rate me in bed!

y/n: gross. you sound like a fifteen year old boy.

gojo: am i at least a hot one?

y/n: i refuse to catch a case.

gojo cackles as you laugh too, the camera fades out with the scene of the two of you softly smiling at each other as the interview concludes.

[bibbawrites]

What Happens in Hawaii Stays in Hawaii - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (SMUT - 18+)

Request: could you do a fic with reader and Charlie where they are bffs and he brings her on the Hawaii trip but something weird in the system happened so their shared hotel room only had one bed instead of two and a whole smut ensues

Word Count: 1583 words

Summary: a simple mistake leads to confronting feelings for your best friend Charlie that you had previously tried to keep hidden

Warnings: smut (duh), slight dirty talk, swearing, unprotected s*x

A/N: this ended up being so weird and slightly uncomfortable but for some reason no matter what i did i just couldn’t make this serious lol hope you all enjoy this either way :) 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1

It was the most cliche scenario in the book. You had agreed to join your best friend Charlie on his trip to Hawaii with his cast mates, and somehow there had been a mix up and instead of having two beds in the room you were sharing with Charlie, there was only one. 

Which would be perfectly fine, except for the fact that you were harbouring a crush the size of Jupiter on that same best friend you would be forced to share a bed with for the next few weeks. 

“You’ll be fine.” Carolynn reassured you after you had finished ranting about the mix up, as the two of you and Tori laid on sun loungers as the boys wrestled in the ocean. 

“You sure about that?” You questioned. “You don’t even know the worst part.” 

“That you’re in love with Charlie?” Tori asked. Your eyes widened. 

“How did you know?” You spluttered. She grinned. 

“Y/N it’s obvious. Just like it’s obvious he feels the exact same way about you.” She explained, and you cringed. 

“Do you think he knows?” Tori and Carolynn shook their heads. 

“Trust us, he’s just as oblivious as you are.” Carolynn teased, and you pouted. 

“I’m not oblivious.” You muttered and the girls giggled. 

“Sure you’re not.” Tori said, as they exchanged a knowing look. 

You sighed, leaning back onto your chair and shutting your eyes. It wouldn’t be that bad. 

-

If there was a competition running for famous last words, you would definitely get a prize for saying it wouldn’t be that bad. 

Watching as your best friend, the boy you had been in love with forever, entered the room with only a towel around his waist, body still wet from his shower, you sure regretted saying that it wouldn't be bad because clearly you had temped some kind of fate. 

You tried to ignore him, deciding that the best plan would be to just focus on the TV, but Charlie had other plans. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Charlie questioned, running a towel through his wet hair. You swallowed as you looked back over at him, and shook your head, trying to ignore the droplets of water running down his chest.

“No it’s fine, we’ve shared a bed before.”

“Okay.” Charlie nodded. He ran the towel down his chest and you tried to focus your attention back on the TV in front of you and not the dripping wet, very attractive, half naked boy across the room.

Charlie crossed the room, grabbing his clothes from a pile, and without a second thought, dropped the towel from around his waist.

“Charlie!” You exclaimed with a choke, your face going bright red as you try to look anywhere but your completely naked best friend. Charlie just laughed.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before. Remember when we were kids and we used to take baths together?” He said cheekily. 

“Yeah when we were like 7. Not fully grown adults.” You replied.

“So? You’ve seen a dick before, right?” He asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” You mumbled. Charlie didn’t move.

“Dude! Just put your fucking pants on.” You exclaimed. Charlie shook his head, finishing drying himself off before throwing his towel at your head.

He pulled a pair of sweatpants on before flopping down on the bed next to you. You looked at him and he looked up at you with a smirk.

“Enjoy the show?” He teased. You flicked the towel at him as he laughed loudly.

“No you asshole.” You muttered.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you so turned on right now?” He questioned. You blushed even darker.

“I’m not.” You denied. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“You sure about that?” He sat up, moving closer to you so that you could feel his hot breath on your lips. Your heart was racing.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” You managed to stutter out.

“You can feel it too, right? The tension between us?” He questioned. You didn’t respond so he continued. “The same tension that’s been around for years. I don’t know about you but I’ve been feeling it since we were just kids. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12.”

You froze at his confession.

“You what?” Your voice was shaky.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeated. You threw yourself towards him, connecting your lips with his in a heated kiss.

“I love you too.” You told him. He groaned, flipping you over so that he was hovering over you.

“Do you want to fuck me as bad as I want to fuck you?” His voice was low.

“Please.” You whimpered, and Charlie connected your lips again, his hips grinding down into yours. You moaned into his mouth, allowing him a chance to slip his tongue into his mouth.

“Char.” You groaned, your hands threading through his damp hair.

“You want me to fuck you?” He repeated, mumbling against your lips. You nodded eagerly. He pulled away from your lips and began to kiss down your neck, biting and sucking to leave marks that you knew you were going to struggle to cover in the next few days.

He pulled away, sitting up, watching as you pulled your oversized shirt off, leaving you in just panties. His eyes lingered on your naked chest for a few seconds before he looked back up, his eyes meeting yours.

“Do you still have that thing in your arm to stop you from getting pregnant?” He questioned. You nodded.

“Good, cause I don’t have a condom. Wasn’t really expecting to fuck my best friend on this trip.” He admitted. You laughed, pulling him back down to kiss him again.

His hands made their way up to cup your breasts, his calloused thumb flicking over one of your nipples.

You whimpered again as he moved to suck on your nipple, his tongue flicking at the sensitive skin.

“Can you hurry up and fuck me?” You said, and Charlie chucked.

“Impatient much.” He teased, but he obeyed nonetheless, moving to pull off his sweatpants. You copied, pulling off your panties, and all of the sudden it hit you what was about to happen.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled.

“What?” Charlie frowned. “You okay?”

���Yeah.” You replied. “Just realised we’re about to fuck.”

Charlie laughed.

“No kidding.” He teased. “You know we don’t have to if you don’t feel ready.”

“No, no, I want to. It’s just... I’ve been dreaming of this for so long and now it’s finally happening.” Charlie smiled softly at your words.

“Hey, I love you.” He said, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.” You replied. “Anyways, now that the sappy moment is over, can we get back to business now?”

Charlie laughed, pushing you back onto the bed before hovering over you.

“Ready?” He questioned. You nodded, opening your legs. He lent down and kissed you again, the tip of his dick brushing against your clit, and without a warning he pushed into you.

You gasped slightly at the discomfort as he slowly slid into you, waiting once he bottomed out.

“Okay, ready.” You told him after a moment, and he nodded before pulling almost completely out and slamming back into you. You couldn’t help but scream out in pleasure, and Charlie grinned, covering your mouth.

“Shh, don’t want anyone to hear us.” He said, reminding you that Owen was in the room just next door. You nodded, and the next time he thrusted he muffled your moans with his hand.

“I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, and you’re even better than I imagined. So tight and warm around me.” Charlie spoke as he thrusted. “And don’t even get me started on your tits, god they’re perfect. Oh and that ass, I’ve always loved your ass.”

You blushed at his words.

“You really never shut up do you?” You said, and Charlie grinned. 

“Nope. Talking is kinda my thing.” He told you, his pace speeding up slightly. 

“Gee who would have thought.” You mumbled sarcastically. 

“Hey, no sarcasm while we’re fucking.” Charlie reprimanded. 

“Can we not have a normal fucking conversation right now? Surprised you haven’t commented on the weather yet.” You groaned, the sound turning into one of pleasure as Charlie hit your g-spot.

“Apparently there’s a storm coming tomorrow.” Charlie commented. You glared at him. 

“Charles I swear to god.” 

He fell silent, the only sound the both of your heavy breathing, and the sound of skin slapping together. After a moment he spoke up again. 

“Can’t do quiet. My mouth just needs to be doing something.” He whined, and you pulled him down to connect your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth as your orgasm rapidly approached. 

Charlie sped up again and you moaned into his mouth. He pulled away quickly. 

“I’m so close.” He told you. You nodded. 

“Me too.” You replied. He pulled you in for another kiss and with a few last thrusts he came inside you, causing you to topple over the edge too, walls clenching around him as you came. 

He pulled out and collapsed on top of you, his damp hair pressed against your cheek. 

“We have to do this again sometime.” He sighed, snuggling into you. You smiled softly before agreeing. 

Now that you had slept with Charlie, you didn’t think you could ever go back to the way things were. 

And honestly? Neither of you wanted to. 

[tobiosmilktea]

 umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[021] — like a storm!

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a/n: swear my writing hasn’t been that good recently and i blame it on my lack of freetime 😔 anyway here’s 4.5k words of trashy word dump that i wrote in 2 hours ;)) also peep the tlc reference

in theory, this picnic blanket was much too small for the likes of fitting a webtoon author, an editor, and a beefy volleyball player all at once, and yet, it still managed to fit two more to come join—tightly bunched up in the park at night as the crisp air temperature slowly drops. having a picnic at the cusp of autumn and winter was a definite mistake, but then again, perhaps they were used to it by now.

it wasn’t like the cold was bothering bokuto at this point anyway as his blood simmered with a boiling hot ichor. he had a death grip on his phone as satomi left him on read. all the volleyball player could do was roll his eyes and scoff as he taps your shoulder. akaashi, who sat on the other side of you was in the midst of speaking to you, yet was interrupted by the bright white light from the screen shone across your faces.

your eyes scanned the texts, feeling your lungs desperately yearning for air. her words suffocated you, crushing your airways as you struggled to breathe. perhaps you have forgotten how to at that very moment. they say it takes about three minutes for someone to suffocate from the lack of oxygen and if akaashi didn’t shake you, that probably would have been you. the fact that seeing that damn photo made your heart shatter more times than you could count over a course of the past few days. you couldn’t catch a fucking break, could you?

you had to look away. if you had stared at satomi in iwaizumi’s bed any longer, you would’ve screamed your head off.

“god, these cookies are so fucking good. i would literally marry these if i could,” kaori moaned into another bite of a matcha shortbread cookie. she practically threw herself over yuko’s lap as she reached in her little baggie for more. “these cookies are a godsend, (y/n), where did you get them?”

“this bakery right next to onigiri miya, apparently they make good lemon macarons as well.” you mutter. the semblance of seeing those texts was still evident upon your expression.

yuko doesn’t fail to notice the way the timbre of your voice had changed within a sudden moment. she gives you a look, “what’s wrong?” her words, careful and genuine filled you with something somber as bokuto handed his phone to her.

kaori grunts slightly as she lifts herself off of yuko, yet her body was still leaned over to skim the texts along with her.

it was a nervous habit of yours to fiddle with your fingers, picking and scratching at your chipped nail polish until it was all gone. you don’t remember when this became a habit, but you always did this whilst you waited for something you dreaded to hear the answer to. as if the nerves within you pooled into a wave, crashing back and forth like a tide until you either get dragged along with it or somehow manage to survive.

their expressions contorted into a nasty mixture of disgust and absolute horror. even kaori who has seen the despicable sweet-tongued manipulations of nicotine-stained fingers of incels had to shake her head and push the phone away.

“i never liked that girl from the start,” yuko scoffs. she hands the phone back to bokuto, watching him switch it off and dropping it onto the cushioned picnic blanket in annoyance.

“god, the amount of anger coursing through my body right now...” muttered bokuto, “i can’t believe she would do this.”

“at least she didn’t do anything to iwaizumi,” akaashi tried to reason. things were already so messed up, it was the least he could do.

kaori shakes her head, clearing her throat from the dryness of the shortbread cookie. “doesn’t matter,” her words were venomous and cutthroat, “she’s still a terrible person considering she got him drunk and made him tell her shit that wasn’t any of her business. what a fucking snake.”

you pursed your lips slightly, wanting to close your eyes and make this all disappear the moment you wake up. the chill of the night air had finally struck you. it was that sudden urge to run away as fast as possible, to escape the words you wholeheartedly wanted to leave behind continued to follow you like haunting poltergeists. and as if the tingling phrases of whispered memoirs of your mistakes weren’t enough, your own decisions whether it was right or wrong lingered back to both iwaizumi and bokuto. it’s heavy baggage you so dearly wanted to get rid of, but the solutions seemed so skewed and out of place for you to comprehend properly that even the chill in the air started to burn.

bokuto glanced at you with worry coated the emotions in his eyes. his hand reached for yours, lacing his fingers through your own as his palm—though rough and calloused—was warm against the biting cold of your hand. it comforted you more than you had expected with the way it was hidden from the others, almost melting when bokuto started to rub his thumb in little circles on the back of your hand and over your knuckles.

your hands were so soft, he had forgotten how much he liked holding them. he could memorize each and every detail just by admiring the way your hand looked so tiny next to his, yet they fit together like a glove.

you swore your heart was ready to jump out of your throat then. you weren’t sure if bokuto could even feel the way you squeezed his hand slightly as a silent answer.

“we should do something about it,” you say after a few beats of silence had passed, but it only comes out in a hushed mutter.

bokuto squeezed back, “like what?”

“i don’t really know,” you shrug while you shook your head, “just something that’ll make her learn a lesson or two.”

kaori gasps, “we should sue her!”

you and the others gave her a look.

“like seriously, sexual assault allegations are terrible especially since she’s a famous sports team’s physical therapist!”

“there probably isn’t enough evidence for that to work, kaori, considering they only made out.” yuko says matter-of-factly, “besides, suing someone is expensive and we don’t have that kind of budget right now.”

kaori braids over arms over each other in disappointment, “that’s lame.”

“yuko’s right.” you sighed, “i don’t want things to get out of hand and end up going public either. iwaizumi is already mad at the fact that i used him for a webtoon and surely being part of a lawsuit would only make it worse.”

it had come to a point that you had noticed how far everything has come. you wanted to laugh at how fast everything went downhill within a matter of months. the skeleton of your mistakes was just waiting for its last bits to fall and crush you.

there had to be a way to just make this—whatever this entire thing is to just end already.

akaashi opened his mouth to speak after keeping his thoughts to himself this entire time, “what if we just... get her fired?” he finished the last of his words in a blazing hesitance as if we would absolutely hate the idea. granted, it wasn’t much to work off of just by a simple proposal, but it had potential.

“we could, but how exactly are we going to do that?” bokuto asks curiously.

“didn’t you say that tomas recently got injured?” akaashi starts, earning a nod from bokuto to have him continue, “well if we want to be discrete as possible we could do it the old-fashioned way.”

yuko furrowed her brows as she asked, “which is?”

“if she keeps missing work or arriving late, she could potentially lose her job.”

kaori bursts out laughing, heaving a heavy snort as she mused at akaashi, “seriously? is that really our best option?”

akaashi rolled his eyes as she teases, “since you wanted to go the legal route, technically, it is.”

the girl’s laughter came to a slow cease, cocking her head in interest as she waited for one of them to elaborate.

“no yeah, there’s still a chance for this to actually work.” bokuto starts without a second thought. hell, he even forgot he was still holding your hand. “professional sports teams require their medical team to be at every game whether it’s real or just practice since the players are always at risk of getting injured. satomi’s known to be good at being there every day on time, so if yoji and their boss sees that she’s consistently missing work now for... let’s say—iwaizumi—and tomas isn’t getting treated asap, they’re allowed to replace her. and if you’re replaced, there’s basically no going back even if it is just temporary. and if that happens...” he pauses as he holds back a smirk, “she’s going to be fined legally with negligence—worst-case scenario, she’ll probably be fined for nonfeasance too.”

“whoa there, those are some big words, sir.” says kaori, “someone catch me up here?”

akaashi lets out a sigh, “nonfeasance means failure to do what’s expected.”

the sound of awe left kaori as she nods in understanding.

“is this really necessary? it seems like a lot of work just to get back at her.” yuko has always been a rational person, just like akaashi, but the only difference between them was that she liked to do things the fastest and most easy way.

“if we play our cards right, i think we could do it.” says bokuto.

“then i think we need all the help we can get if we really want this to work out.” akaashi said, craning his neck towards you to ask, “should i tell semi and suga about it?”

it’s not even a question for you to answer considering how obvious the answer was. of course, you had to tell them. they basically knew everything already, and if anything they’re the only ones who could make this plan actually work.

“i can also tell my team about it to help.” bokuto adds in, but you cut him a look, “only atsumu, sakusa, hinata, and tomas of course. i promise i’ll only tell them what they need to know. what do you think?”

“as long as satomi gets what she deserves.”

you hated the way your thoughts were an endless motion of suffering. it had been keeping you awake all night as you tossed and turned. you couldn’t rest now as if a giant cinder block of forbidden serendipities would clash-boom-bang back onto you as it was being held by a teetering string of floss. it was bound to snap at any second. you yearned for even just a few minutes of rest as maybe these suffocating feelings would disappear once you woke up in the early morning.

it was still dark out—three a.m... maybe, but all you knew was that it was late and your flurrying thoughts were giving you so much residual energy that you needed to extrude. it wasn’t a form of adrenaline or a sugar rush, no, it was something else. your body was well beyond fatigued, but rather your mind was running like a brain on drugs.

there were so many things rushing through your head that it morphed into a jungle of tangled vines of plenty. it was a storming blizzard that couldn’t be calmed down as you finally pushed yourself off your bed, forcing your sheets off of you and sitting on the side of the matress. guilt was eating you alive, gnawing at your hollow chest as your semblance withered while the minutes passed. you just wanted for everything to just stop. please just stop.

maybe this is why you never told any of them. the stress, the consequences— you knew damn well that shit would hit the fan if you did, and yet it’s inevitable. the truth would have come out sooner or later.

ugh, why are you like this? you thought to yourself, dragging your fingers through your hair as you sighed out.

the answers were obvious, but it was the tingling of your lips that sent waves of heat to your cheeks as you recalled the kiss... the kiss! holy shit, the kiss. it hit you then when it played back in your head from a few hours ago when bokuto dropped you off at your door. something melted in bokuto’s eyes the moment you looked back at him, heat emanating from every inch of his skin as you tracked the tension in his body. he leaned over with his face just a few centimeters shy from yours and you swore he could probably hear your heart punching against your ribcage. bokuto could feel the warmth of your breath fanning against his chin and for a moment the world and all the problems in it seemed to disappear for a brief moment. before you knew it he kissed you gently as if it was his last. it certainly would be for a while, anyway.

“dammit,” you cursed in a harsh whisper, leaning over to switch on your bedside lamp in a swift flick.

you slapped your cheeks to force the thought out of your head as you made your way to your desk. you turned your desk lamp on with it’s bright yellow hue flickering slightly over your messy work area. it was scattered with paperwork and miscellaneous notes that it was surely beyond your mood to even fix-up.

usually, you tend to be pretty clean and organized with your desk space, and yet with recent events, you’ve been letting the work pile up instead. you’ve always liked the saying, this is something future (y/n) can deal with, but for once you hated yourself for it. besides, look where it got you.

a sigh escaped your lips when you plopped yourself upon your chair. your delicate fingers traced along the edges of the neatly bonded sheets of love cemetery’s storyboard. you started it earlier today with the help of the rest of the ddd team after the director of the project gave you the freedom to do so as usually, he would be in charge of making the storyboard and such. despite being rather chaotic on a daily basis, you were glad to be surrounded by people who always put a smile on your face while still getting work done. those were the best types of people to work with—friends that cared about you.

you guys managed to get the first fifteen pages done and you needed twenty completed panels in less than twenty-four hours. you were used to this type of pressure, especially while you were working on your webtoon. you were surprised how many times you sprained your hand from constantly working that the aching pain between your joints and your wrists were second nature at this point. surely, you would have carpal tunnel by now if akaashi wasn’t there to always nag you to take breaks.

with a few wrist stretches and cracks of your knuckles, you flipped to the next scene—the day you and bokuto met. your heart tugged slightly as you envisioned the scene you drew in your webtoon, slowly converting it into a movie scene in your head.

oh, how things have changed.

your hand ached for mercy by the time seven a.m. struck. the sun had already peeked through the horizon, sending rays of sunlight through the blinds of your bedroom window as a greeting for the new morning. you had been sketching out the storyboard for five nonstop hours (give or take a few minutes in between trying not to let the different events in the story get to you).

you’ve always had a strange habit of ignoring the pain in your wrist, but now it was certainly unbearable. the lead pencil that was hot to the touch from the heat from your hand dropped onto your desk in a clatter. your eyes flicked down to your palm as you could feel the fatigue darkening your eyebags. your hands were practically alabaster from the constant pressure that it took a good moment for the circulation to run back into your hand.

you left your bedroom and made your way to your kitchenette. it was like your body was moving on its own, grabbing a mug, turning on your kettle, and tossing teaspoons of sugar in your cup for your morning tea as if you were on autopilot.

silence had surrounded you for far too long, you needed some form of sound to keep you sane from staying up all night and leaving you alone with your thoughts to just take over. sounds from the television hummed through the quaint air of your apartment in the lowest possible volume, just beneath the whistling of the tea kettle atop your stove.

you poured out the boiling hot water as your eyes followed the way the tea steeped through the liquid like a spreading storm.

the doorbell rang then, causing your head to swirl towards your door with slight confusion filling your expression. who would even come by so early in the morning?

the floorboards of your apartment creaked at your light steps as you trod towards the door, almost flinching at the cold surface of the handle as you unlocked it. you pulled the door open. there was that infamous morning chill in the autumn air that bit at your bare arms and legs. the heat from your apartment escaped at the motion as your breath hitched within your throat.

he looked out of breath and filled with fearful tension as his broad shoulders relaxed a bit at your sight. his usual soft brown locks that are always styled was tangled and woven into each other like a basket weave. hell, he looked as if he rushed immediately here the moment he woke up, all disheveled and almost desperate. poor guy didn’t even think to put on a coat before coming.

what the hell is he doing here?

“iwa—?” you attempted to say out loud in a harsh whisper that could barely leave your body in the first place. and yet, your voice disappeared into his chest as he pulls you into him, warmth engulfing you like burning ember.

you swallowed the lump forming in your throat as you froze. call it shock or just plain confusion but you couldn’t bring yourself to move your arms from the way iwaizumi’s embrace trapped them to your sides. just the plain sensation of the heat rising from his skin was enough to simmer down your awe as you finally managed to wrap your arms around him.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters into your shoulder.

you captured your bottom lip between your teeth. “i’m sorry too,” you say in the same matter, yet your voice almost sounded hoarse from the dryness in your throat. “i should’ve told you the truth.”

“and i shouldn’t have said those things that i said to you...”

a response would usually follow right after, but you couldn’t piece together the correct words and all of the nuanced phrases in your head to say into the air. your thoughts were too far cluttered and chaotic to even say anything more other than, “it’s okay.”

iwaizumi could only pull you in closer, hold you tighter, and leave his arms around you as if he feared that you would disappear out of his reach if he were to let go even in the slightest. he made the mistake of letting you go that one night many years ago and he has learned his lesson since them. he’s not going to take any more chances.

you two have been in each other’s arms for a while now, but you couldn’t find the strength in you to let go. you haven’t felt iwaizumi’s hugs in so long that perhaps you wanted to savor it a bit longer as well. like a little treat—a reward of a few minutes of peace after a thunderstorm of misunderstanding where all that’s left is the aroma of lingering petrichor of bittersweet nothings. you would like to call this a small victory, but something was off.

“iwa,” you say once you finally pulled yourself into your senses, “what’s wrong?”

“i did something bad, (y/n). i fucked up.”

you pull away from him slightly, just enough to be able to look at him in the eye but still be in the comfort of his arms. “what happened?”

“i was so fucking stupid, i shouldn’t have agreed to go with satomi.” oh, you thought as the words left his mouth. you pursed your lips together, forcing yourself to lock your gaze onto him as he spoke. “i ended up getting drunk and telling her everything that happened by accident.”

it’s okay, i already know. i already know, i already know. the words rang inside your head as you fought to say the words, but nothing was coming out. you did nothing wrong, it’s okay, it’s okay. there was so much hurt and betrayal lacing iwaizumi’s copper eyes that you feared anything you say (regardless if it was in his favor) would obliterate everything that just happened into dust. seriously, how bad would it sound telling a person that you were already aware of what they did? iwaizumi already had so many trust issues that you were treading on thin ice right now.

it really all came down to the question: do what’s right or do what’s easy?

right or easy, right or easy?

for years you have been choosing the easy route to undermine your problems. you always thought to yourself, if you had ignored the problem long enough, eventually it’ll all go away. it might have worked for the tiniest of things, but you should’ve known it would never work when you were fucking up other people’s lives from your own selfishness.

you didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

“we ended up sleeping together.”

you scrunched your brows in confusion, “what?”

did satomi lie then? did they actually sleep together?

“i-i don’t even remember how it all happened!” iwaizumi exclaimed in such urgency. he certainly didn’t want to make the gap between you two any bigger, “all i remember was that we kissed but before i knew it, i woke up to her in my bed but she was fully clothed.”

you sigh with a huff, trying to piece together the disarrayed parts together as you recalled bokuto’s words from last night, satomi doesn’t lie when it comes to sleeping around. the sentence wandering your thoughts as the boy before you continue to ramble. so maybe satomi didn’t lie after all, “listen, iwa—”

“you gotta believe me, (y/n), i didn’t mean to do it. when i said that i still love you the last time we texted i meant it—”

“haji, i said listen!” you huffed as you grabbed his arm. the sudden name change was enough to shut him up and possibly cause a surging red tint to his ears. you found it adorable, but you had to cut him some slack since you hadn’t called him that since high school. “last night i was with akaashi and bokuto.”

iwaizumi was already making a face before you could even start. “why were you with them?”

“just hear me out okay?” you pleaded.

he saw the aggression in your eyes and immediately shut up, nodding for you to continue.

“while i was with them, satomi texted us about everything that happened. she said that you guys only made out and didn’t do anything beyond that.” you explain, watching the slight relief softening his expression, “she ended up just sleeping over instead that’s why she was in your bed.”

you didn’t expect him to say anything when you finished your thought. it was a lot to sudden comprehend as you two just stood there waiting, swallowed up in your own thoughts.

“don’t blame yourself, okay?” you attempted to break the silence, “what satomi did was wrong.”

iwaizumi’s wandering gaze flickered back to you, fist curling up into a tight ball until his knuckles turned marble white. but as quickly as he felt the aching of his nail digging into his palm did he let go and let his shoulders drop. he sighs while he ran his hand through his tangled hair. he didn’t know what to say and the silence was punishing.

you parted your lips slightly as the words tickled your tongue. “this, um, might be too much to ask and you don’t have to say yes, but we need your help with something.”

“who’s we?”

“bokuto, akaashi, kaori, and the rest of my team.” you answer truthfully, “we’re trying to get satomi to face the consequences.”

iwaizumi nods, not hesitating for a second. “alright, i’ll do it.”

well that was easier than you thought.

you held back an amused laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand as you pull away from him. you made your way back to your kitchen as you had forgotten about your cup of tea from earlier.

“but...” iwaizumi trailed behind you as you sipped from your mug. “i was the one who made a move on her first.”

“oh,” you say. you definitely didn’t know about that small detail that sent ivy-like jealousy through your veins, “i mean... you were drunk so it makes sense.” you tried to justify without making your envy too obvious.

you turned away from him, fearing that he could see right through you.

“i kissed her thinking it was you,” he states.

your eyes widen then, slapping your cheeks that heated by the second. there was a grip around your swiftly beating heart, aching within your ribcage as you attempted to calm the roaring serendipities that threatened to bloom prematurely.

a composed sigh leaves you as you pull yourself together, turning back around to face iwaizumi with a meek smile. “cool,” you mused awkwardly as your brain search rapidly for a way to change the subject. iwaizumi moved closer to you, sending you into a mild panic, “have you had breakfast yet?” you asked out of the blue.

but before you could even fathom what he was doing, he cups your face between his hands and pulls you in.

your heart flutters and stops when iwaizumi pressed his lips against yours, soft and delicate as if you were the most fragile thing within his grasp. and you were. his touch against your jaw was light as it trailed down your neck. he could feel the raging ichor that soared through your veins like a wildfire while your hand that was splayed against his broad chest could feel the thumping of his heart against your own palm.

you pull away from him as he says, “no, i haven’t.” but it wasn’t to let him answer, rather, it was the thought that iwaizumi came second place again.

fun facts! —

yes. y/n did kiss both bokuto and iwaizumi within a span of a couple hours 💀 queen shit fr

after iwaizumi left, y/n immediately facetimed kaori and akaashi and told them what happened

it was definitely awkward between bokuto and iwaizumi when they saw each other, but it was harder to avoid satomi

(also by saying “iwaizumi came second place” means who was able to kiss y/n first not who won her feelings over)

taglist: (closed!)

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[mighty-ragnarssons]

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter I

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Summary | Ivar always thought he'd be one of those people that never find the love of their lives. But then he found her - or, as the story goes, she bumped into him. He never saw it coming. Then he had to deal with it, and all the consequences that came along. Warnings | some smut, a little angst, harassement, teenage pregnancy

You can read in AO3 as well (click here). 

Chapter 1

There was no one in town that didn’t know about the Ragnarssons, the children of the famous Ragnar Lothbrok. They were fearless, they were reckless, and they were dangerous, just like their father. That’s what everybody said.

Bjorn was the eldest, the first-born of Ragnar’s first marriage with Lagertha. There had been a daughter too, Gyda, but she had passed away terribly young. After that, Ragnar had only sons born from his second marriage, this time with Aslaug. First came Ubbe, then Hvitserk and Sigurd. All of them perfectly healthy and strong boys that, much like Bjorn and to Ragnar’s amusement, took after their father in several ways. Unexpectedly and accidentally, however, there was a fifth child, the last son of Ragnar, Ivar. 

Ivar was very different from his brothers.

Born with a bone condition, he was crippled from the start. It was not just his legs that wouldn’t allow him to ever walk on his own, but a whole lot more pain coming from his frail bones that were never to be trusted. No wonder he grew up as a vulnerable, angry, and sad kid, despite being his mother’s favorite and most protected son. And now, as he was becoming a man, people called him mad and a drunk, a wild card with whom everyone rather stay away from. Ivar didn’t mind, he preferred to be tamed than to be pitied after a lifetime of being looked down on. In fact, he would do everything in his power to remain like this. It was the only way to prove himself and stay out of his brothers’ shadow and, most importantly, his father’s to who Ivar was the least favored son, something which hurt the boy more deeply than his constant physical pain.

“Hurry up, Ivar. Crawl faster, or else when we get to the club Ubbe and Hvitserk will have gotten all the best girls” Sigurd’s voice echoed loudly through the house. 

Ivar was there a second later clearly annoyed at his brother’s mocking tone. “Last time I checked, dear brother, you need me to drive you. So shut up. Let’s go.” 

Sigurd couldn’t argue back. He did need Ivar to drive them to the club. He kept failing at taking his driver’s license. It was humiliating to have to need his crippled brother to drive him, but Ubbe and Hvistserk, the bastards, hadn’t been home. Minutes afterward Ivar was behind the wheel of his accessible SUV and off they were.

Thirty minutes later they were skipping the line to get into the club. The Ragnarssons had their ways.  If there was one circuit in which their name was known by everyone, it was the nightlife one. No party would ever start without one of them being there. Ivar and Sigurd joined Ubbe and Hvisterk in the VIP area. As usual, Ivar took a corner where he knew he’d spend the next few hours drinking, smoking, and glaring at the dancing crowd. Perhaps if someone caught his eye he’d make a move, but usually, it was more like his brothers to do that.  

“There you go” Hvitzerk handed him a joint “Don’t look so serious, Ivar. The night is young. Enjoy!” By the looks of it, it was clear that he was already a bit high. But again it was Hvitserk and unusual would be to find him sober. “A lot of pretty ladies out there. Want me to pick one for you?” 

Ivar knew Hivtserk was only joking, but he still didn’t like it. His brother, ignoring Ivar’s cold glare and much to his annoyance, started pointing out to random girls who were dancing. “Oh, look at that one. C’mon Ivar, ain’t she a treat to stare at?”  

Thankfully, Hivtserk stopped his stupid game once their oldest brother Bjorn joined them, bringing shots to everyone with the help of his wife, Torvi.

“Brother, to what do we owe the honor?” Ivar said, throwing one of his ironic smirks. 

“I bring good news. Father is going to be released from jail sooner than expected. In three months to be exact! I had to pull some strings but it’s settled”

The news was received with different reactions. Sigurd didn’t seem that happy, while Ivar was the opposite. Ubbe was the first one to hold one of the shot glasses and started the toast “To Father! To Ragnar!”

Ragnar had been in prison for almost three years due to white-collar crimes, having been convicted of corporate fraud and money laundering. His sentence would’ve been of more than ten years, but Ragnar had his ways and was able to cut a deal for five years. And now, apparently, he would only serve almost four. Throughout this time it had been Bjorn taking over the leadership of the family’s successful business, Northmen Ventures, of which all of Ragnar’s sons had become the sole shareholders just before he was imprisoned. This explained why they were one of the richest families in their Norwegian city of Bergen. 

Bjorn,  now age 30, had been the natural successor of Ragnar. Not only because he was the oldest and perhaps the favorite son of Ragnar, but also because at the time he was the only one with a university degree, having just graduated from Law School. Yet, all of Ragnar’s sons were meant to get involved with the business. At least that was their father’s wish. Ubbe, now 24, had just graduated from Architecture School but had recently joined Bjorn on the company’s executive board.  Ivar wasn’t given the opportunity to help out, something which he grudged his older brothers - for dismissing him for his age, despite the fact that he’d watch and learned as much from his father as possible since an early age. Now 19 he was a freshman in college taking Business Administration. Then there were Hvitserk, 23, and Sigurd, 21,  the ones more adamant about following in their father’s footsteps. Hvitserk was using the money they were all getting to sustain his pricy bachelor lifestyle, and so was Sigurd who dedicated most of his time to art and music. Neither tried to pursue a higher education degree. 

“Don’t get too excited. Father will be back and then what? It’s not like he cares about us.” Sigurd, the mood killer, chugged his beer aggressively “He didn’t let us visit him in prison not even once. Not even Mother was allowed to. He didn’t even care for sending a postcard for Christmas!”

“He must have had his reasons.”

“And he left us the company”

“And so what? He just wanted to prevent it from ending up in the hands of the government.  Fuck him! You might all want to play the role of doting sons, but I’m not gonna tag along” After this Sigurd stormed off.

The remaining brothers looked at one another. A little bit of what Sigurd had just said resounsed with them, but at the same time they were excited to welcome back their father. Things would be very different with him around. 

“I say we celebrate.” Ivar said, not minding Sigurd. He couldn’t wait for his father to be back so that he could prove himself once and for all. He was no longer the defenseless crippled child he was when Ragnar went away. 

Despite the good mood he was in about Bjorn’s good news, Ivar wasn’t vibing with the club’s atmosphere that night. Hvitserk and Ubbe were making out with some random girls, Sigurd was nowhere to be seen and Torvi and Bjorn had left already. Instead, he was craving for some adrenaline and he knew just the way to get it. Texting his dealer, he left the club with the help of his crutches.

Nothing was to stop him except that on the way out someone bumped into him almost causing him to lose his fragile balance. Fury grew on Ivar who was about to yell at whoever made the mistake of infuriating him that night, but that’s when her face lost the blurriness of a few seconds ago and Ivar lost his balance again but for a completely different reason.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...shit” 

“Bitch, get back! For the hundredth time, you’re not getting in!” 

The girl’s expression quickly turned one of desperation. “I told you I have to. My cousin needs help! Don’t stop me, please” Her words were towards the bouncer that was now pulling her back, but her pleading eyes were on Ivar as if asking for help.  

“Hey, let her go!”  Ivar didn’t know why, but his rage got up to new levels when he saw the bouncer getting his filthy hands on her. “I said back off. Take your fucking hands off of her.”

At Ivar’s command the bouncer let her go. It didn’t matter that he was a big muscle guy, Ivar took a step towards him and faced him with a cold death stare. 

“She’s coming in with me, do you understand?”

“Ragnarsson, she is a minor. I can’t let her in.”

“I’m not asking.” 

His tone set it. He nodded so that the girl got in the club ahead of him. She didn’t even say a word, going immediately in. Ivar had to hurry himself inside to catch up. 

“Fuck, there’s so many people” she noticed looking absolutely lost.

“Let me help you.” he offered. 

“The bathrooms. My cousin... she called me, she didn’t sound fine… I’m worried something’s happened... She said she couldn’t move” she was trembling as she spoke. Ivar reached her hand with his. 

“If she is here we are going to find her.” he assured her “Follow me” 

It was not typical of Ivar to help a lady in distress but as he was guiding this girl through the crowd of drunk dancing people he couldn’t understand the need he was abruptly feeling for shielding her and, worst of all, to comfort her. These feelings left him uneased, but he was not going to dwell into that right now. If his suspicions were right and her cousin was somewhere in the club, then she was probably drugged to the point of unconsciousness and in a position to be taken advantage of. 

They swiped all the bathrooms at the club until at last they burst into one where a girl was noticeably knocked down in a corner.

“Cathrine!” the girl immediately crouched down on her cousin. “Cathrine, can you hear me?” 

“All of you, get out” Ivar demanded the girls who were inside. Some tried to complain, after all he was the guy in a female bathroom. These same girls that had paid no attention, or they just didn’t care, to the other girl on the floor. He then went outside as fast as he could and got a water bottle.

“She’s awake, but barely. Says she 's dizzy. She’s not talking right” 

“She was likely drugged” It wouldn’t be a first in that club “Make her sip some water” he threw the water bottle at them. He really wanted to level down to them, but with his crutches and all it just wouldn’t go well. “I’m gonna find help.”

 He ‘raced’ to the VIP area. Only Hivtserk was there with a girl on top of him. What was wrong with his brothers for acting as if their corner was a place of public foreplay display?

“Hvitserk, I need your help!”

“Go away Ivar” he grumbled and continued to suggestively run his hands on the brunette over his lap.

Ivar had to take the matter into his hands. The first thing he found was a leftover cocktail on the table which he threw at the girl. Her immediate squeak was so high and audible despite the deafening music. She practically jumped from on top of his brother.

“You crazy motherfucker!”

“What the fuck Ivar?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Come with me. I need your help.” 

Usually he didn't have much faith in his brothers - after all they were a pain in his ass most of the time - but this time he was really hoping to call on Hvitserk’s good senses. Fortunately his prayers were answered and his older brother followed him back to the bathroom

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a passed out girl. We need to get her out of here.”

“Would you go so far as in to get laid, little brother? Oh, you sicko” 

“This is not the time for jokes, asshole. You’re the sicko for even suggesting that”

Ivar was almost regretting getting Hvitserk to help, but the truth was that he alone wouldn’t be able to carry the girl out from the bathroom. The moment they got in there Hvitserk got a bit more serious and kneeled next to the two girls. 

“Let’s get her out of here” 

Together with Hvitserk, the girl helped raise her semi-unconscious cousin. People inside the club were so fucked up that they didn’t drop one second to look at them leaving. 

“Take her to my car” Ivar indicated and so they did. He unlocked his metallic grey SUV from afar and went on to open the backdoors where they laid the girl. “Let her get some fresh hair. It will do her good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Hvitserk suggested.

A loud “No!” came from the inside of the car.

“She can’t. It will be too complicated” said the other girl but not without hinting her dissatisfaction.

Ivar finally took a moment to fully look at her. Dressed  in just a pair of jeans and a warm sweatshirt, she was lean and tall, but at least a good ten centimeters shorter than himself. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun with some strands falling down on her face. He had to hold the instinct to gently brush those aside. And her eyes… They were a very greyish blue color like he had never seen before. They were mirroring worry and nervousness. 

“I’m calling a cab. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you” she said facing Ivar and Ivar only. 

“I can drive you.” he offered without thinking.

“We already bothered you enough -”

Ivar cut her off “Nonsense. I’m going to drive you” he declares in a way that offered no other option.

Relief poured from her gaze “Thank you”

It was quite the drive, further out of Bergen’s city center. By the time they got there the passed out girl - Cathrine - had regained consciousness, albeit feeling nauseous and dizzy. Hvitserk carried her alone in his arms to the inside of the house and further into her bed. It was time enough for her to fall asleep like a rock.

“She seems just to need some rest. Keep her hydrated when she wakes up.”

“If she was drugged then it should wear off her system soon”

“Noted. I don’t know how to thank you both” 

“You could go on a date with one of us, how does that sound?”

“Hvitserk!” Ivar admonished in reaction to the girl’s shocked expression “Please, ignore my brother. He, too, has drugs that need to wear off his system”

“You’re no fun, Ivar” Hvitserk couldn’t argue back on the drugs part. “A pleasure to help, milady. Until next time” He did a silly bow and left the apartment back to the car. 

“Is he always like that?” 

 “Most of the time, yeah.” Ivar shrugged his shoulders “Hand me your phone” Because she did without complaining, he got it and put his number in there “I’m Ivar Lothbrook. Whenever you need help.”

What he really wanted to say was ‘text me’. He didn’t have the nerve for that, tho.

For the first time that night she finally showed a glimpse of a smile “Honestly, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help, Ivar Lothbrok” 

Her hand was touching his and for a moment everything seemed to stop. The way his name sounded on her lips… A shiver went down his spine. He wanted to hear it again, but most importantly he wanted to know her name.

But in that exact moment a horn yelled. Goddamned Hvitserk. He was going to wake up the whole street, which was the opposite of what the girls had asked. “I better go drive him home now or else he’ll wake up the whole neighborhood” 

Yet Ivar was finding it difficult to leave. To leave her. Another honk made him take the necessary steps.

“I mean it when I say for you to use my number whenever. Stay safe”

He finally closed the door behind him and walked back to the car, but not before looking over his shoulder. There she was, by the window, waving goodbye with a shy smile on her face.

He needed to see her again.

The next morning Ivar woke up rather hopeful of seeing a text message. Seeing there was none, his day didn’t kick off exactly on the right terms. Throughout the day he checked his phone more times than he cared to admit and each time he grew impatient and irritated. What was it about that girl to make him like this? It’s not like he usually gave a crap about whoever he met.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve got a right cob-on” his older brother Ubbe asked later that day when they were all chilling by the firepit  in the backyard of the Lothbrook’s home.

Although in Norway it was uncommon for people their age to still be living at home, in their case that’s how things were and worked out great most days. Usually it was just the four brothers and the house was  big enough for them not to be in each other’s ways.. Their mother, Aslaug Lothbrok, ran one the country’s finest art galleries. After her husband’s arrest she had moved her gallery to the capital city, Oslo, instead of their home city. Lately she spent most of her time there rather than at home. 

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone” 

“He’s hung up” teased Hvitserk “Still thinking about the pretty blondie from last night, brother?”

Right that moment Ivar wished he could smack the mocking smiles out of his brother’s faces. 

“Well, well, well Ivar. Didn’t know you had company last night.”

“He didn’t.  Not exactly. None of us did” Hvitserk proceed to put Ubbe on the loop in regards to their little episode last night. “Instead of asking her for her number, our little brother gave her his. Wrong move, dude.” Ivar immediately regretted telling this to Hvitserk. “Don’t be so bummed out, Ivar. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Speaking of…”

A blonde Ivar doesn’t care much about exits their home in Sigurd’s company, both appearing content which can only mean one thing. Margrethe is a constant guest at the Lothbrok’s and probably the only female with the fame of being acquainted with all of the brothers’ rooms. Although a favorite among the Ragnarssons, to Ivar she’s nothing but an unpleasant company he is forced to tolerate after they fall out months ago. 

“If that’s the fish you’re hinting at, I’d rather go vegan” Ivar mumbled under his breath.

I hope you liked it! It’s my first Vikings fic :) Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language. At least five more chapters will be on the way.

[robininthelabyrinth]

This is a very vague plot but I would love to read an Emperor or very powerful WWX fic from you. I enjoy Boashan Sanren’s Emperor!WWX AU and I also love fics where WWX really is powerful and free to kick ass and just wreck shit. I really think your take on these tropes would be an interesting one and enjoyable read for all. Thank you for all the fics and your efforts in the fandom so far. Take care yourself. ☺️

fictional 18th century France in which the entire century is happening at once - part 2  

- for part 1 see: ao3 or tumblr -

Wei Wuxian came to Nie Huaisang for advice.

Well, technically, that’s not quite right, Nie Huaisang reflected. Wei Wuxian, when faced with a situation that exceeded even his formidable talents, reverted back to his old ways in times of severe crisis. Namely, he ran back to ask for advice from his adopted family – which by this point consisted only of Jiang Cheng, what with the majority of the Jiangs having perished in the infamous massacre. 

(The newspapers had dubbed it “le massacre des lotus”, a poetic way to elide the horrific mess of blood and death and despair that it had actually been.)

Naturally, Jiang Cheng didn’t have any idea what to do with the hot potato he’d been handed, and so he, and Wei Wuxian with him, came to Nie Huaisang, who always knew what to do. Who else did they have to ask?

Sure, Nie Huaisang supposed they could have gone to seek the advice of Lady Jin, formerly Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng’s older sister, but luckily Jiang Cheng was self-aware enough to know how much of a political disaster that would have been. Regardless of her personal merits, of which Nie Huaisang was certain there were many, the former young lady Jiang had married into the Jin family, a move that was widely viewed with suspicion. 

After all, the spectacle of yet another wealthy noble marrying another wealthy noble in exactly the sort of thing the Revolution and the abolition of noble privileges had been meant to stymie – and this particular marriage especially suspect given that everyone knew that the Jin family’s politics leaned heavily monarchist, having only just barely refrained from becoming émigrés themselves by the thought of the financial advantages they thought they could get following the fall of the Sun King.

For the Jins, the marriage had been a coup, giving them a claim to legitimacy in their new era; for the Jiangs, it was far from being the best move, politically speaking, no matter how much they swore that it was a love match.

It must have been, for the normally astute Jiangs to make such an unforced stumble.

The marriage itself was bad enough, but if Wei Wuxian, grand (if highly unorthodox) hero of the foreign wars, was seen consulting with the Jins, allowing them to influence him…well, it wouldn’t end up good for anyone, except maybe the ones who wanted to overthrow the Revolution and reestablish the rule of the Wen dynasty on the basis of the divine right of kings.

Apparently, chopping off the heads of the last set wasn’t enough to warn the rest of them off.

Fucking émigrés.

At any rate, that was how the whole mess had ended up in Nie Huaisang’s lap.

“I’m not sure what you’re looking at me to tell you,” Nie Huaisang said, idly fanning himself. That wasn’t exactly in fashion either – fans were very much seen as an affectation of the previous political order – but it was garnished with the appropriately patriotic rosette and anyway, everyone knew he liked fans, useless self-indulgent dandy that he was. Good only for throwing parties and keeping an active salon for his own entertainment, albeit one very in vogue and coincidentally very popular with all the famous revolutionary thinkers of their day.

Besides, no one in their right mind was going to claim that Nie Mingjue’s little brother wasn’t sufficiently revolutionary.

“Don’t pull your good-for-nothing stunt with me,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes at him. “I was there when it all started, remember?”

Jiang Cheng had lucked in to being there when it all started, since unlike many of the other people Nie Huaisang had so carefully invited to his salon, Jiang Cheng had been invited purely on the basis of being an old friend from school. That he’d become a hero of the Revolution instead of being imprisoned and executed after the massacre of his family by the increasingly paranoid and dictatorial Sun King was his own good fortune and hard work, naturally, but he wouldn’t have even known where to start if it hadn’t been for Nie Huaisang and his connections.

“I remember,” Nie Huaisang said. “I also recall that you and Wei Wuxian broke ties long ago, isn’t that right?”

Obviously that little façade had been entirely political.

It would have been awkward for Wei Wuxian, darling of the armies and terror of the continent, inventor of a brand new form of warfare and at least half a dozen new pieces of artillery, to be so closely tied to any one noble family, no matter their history together. It would have led to accusations that the Jiang family was seeking to take advantage of the Revolution to strengthen their own power, no matter how passionate a revolutionary Jiang Cheng was personally - the Jin sect had already started spreading rumors, casting allegations, implications, smears...

Their show of very publicly disowning each other had put an end to that.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jiang Cheng said impatiently, because he knew that Nie Huaisang knew that it was all bullshit, even if the newspapers Nie Huaisang bankrolled pretended to swallow the bait down whole. “Are you going to help us or not?”

“Of course I will,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes at him. “We’re friends. But because we’re friends, I’m going to tell you flat out that you already know what the choices ahead of you are and you know which one is the best move. What you want is for me provide you with any other options, and I’m not going to be able to do that.”

“This is just insane!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. He was pacing around the room, face pale and cloak black, as looking dashing as always. Nie Huaisang wanted to get out his paints and force the man to pose for him and maybe a dozen or so of his closest artist friends; it would be stunning. “I can’t – why would they ask me? A few years ago, I was just an artillery captain! Son of a servant and a runaway novitiate!”

“The whole point of the Revolution was to favor merit, not birth,” Nie Huaisang reminded him. “And anyway, who cares that you were an artillery captain back then? You’re a general now. The Lion of Yiling.”

“The Menace of Yiling, the Fiend of the Burial Mounds, the Nightmare of Europe…” Jiang Cheng murmured, recounting some of the less polite versions. Nie Huaisang waved his fan at him – he wasn’t helping.

“Your brother is a general, too,” Wei Wuxian pointed out, a little desperately. 

It wouldn’t help him.

“Mm, he is. He’s also nobility of the sword - well, saber - from a line that has existed for generations, even if we did have rather ignoble origins,” Nie Huaisang said. He was not without sympathy for Wei Wuxian’s predicament, but really, some things were obvious. “We all know he’s the incorruptible and all that, but it’d be far too easy for the newspapers - and our enemies - to paint him as having done it all for his own selfish interests. There’s a reason he announced all the way back at the beginning of the wars that he wasn’t interested in political power when he was done, that he’d retired like a modern-day Cincinnatus. Who would have trusted him as commander-in-chief if he hadn’t?”

“Me,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “Sane people, if they’re thinking straight! Your brother is incorruptible. He doesn’t even like war, even if he’s damn good at it. People should be chomping at the bit to get him to be the one – the one to – !”

“They are,” Nie Huaisang said dryly. “The innocent ones and the ones egged on by the Jin family both. They know the only way to tear down his influence is to get him to make a mistake.”

“And you won’t let him do that,” Jiang Cheng said knowingly.

Nie Huaisang snorted. What did Jiang Cheng know? “I didn’t need to say anything. He was offended on principle by the very thought of it.”

All three of them sighed in unison – Nie Huaisang a little long-suffering, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian a bit dreamily.

It was a good thing Nie Huaisang had long ago accepted that every young man in France between the ages of twelve and thirty four, at minimum, was at least a little in love with his brother, or else he would have found it all far more aggravating than he did.

“To get back to the point,” Nie Huaisang said a moment later. “There’s simply nothing for it: you have to be the one to take it. No one else will suit half as well as you.”

“Why does someone have to take it at all?” Wei Wuxian demanded. “The principles of the Revolution -”

“Because we can’t function with these endless wars on our borders, as well as within them,” Nie Huaisang said, losing patience, and both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian scowled, not wanting to accept the truth of what he was saying. “We need a stronger executive than we have right now, simply put. As for the form of that executive, well, the Revolution simply happened so fast that people are refusing to accept it without at least the trappings of the ancient regime - even if it’s not quite the same as the last time around. And as for why you, that’s because you can be trusted to shepherd it, to let it grow to the maturity it requires, and we will not fear you clinging to power when the time comes for it to return.”

Wei Wuxian scrubbed his face. “You trust me too much.”

“Not really,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “You’re upright, moral, selfless…it helps that you’re exclusively interested in men, of course. No heirs means no dynasty.”

They both started spluttering.

“Oh, I’m sorry, had you not realized that yet?” Nie Huaisang barely bothered to hide his smirk behind his fan. “I thought it was obvious. You flirt with women for sport, not profit, and of course there’s your taste in pornography…”

“Back to the subject!” Wei Wuxian shouted, his normally shameless face flushing bright red. “Back to the subject!”

Nie Huaisang snapped his fan shut, making them both jump.

“All right,” he said. “Back to the subject: you have to become emperor, Wei Wuxian, or else someone else will, and they’ll be worse. I’m not saying that you’ll be good at it, or that you’ll enjoy it, or that it won’t end up with you exiled to some island in the middle of the ocean for thirteen years before making a miraculous return to save the country from itself –”

“Oddly specific.”

“Be quiet. What I’m saying is that you have to do it. The army supports you because you’re their darling, the people support you because of your victories in the war, the Jin and the other aristocrats support you because they think they can manipulate you through Jiang Yanli, the Lan and the other members of the Church…well, to be frank, most of them think that you’re a horrible blasphemer, which they think about all of us, but if you agree to let them crown you they’ll get over themselves and endorse you anyway. Even the foreign nations that we’re currently at war against would support your ascension to the position because the greed for power of a single man at least makes sense to them and accords with their understanding of history, as opposed to our Revolution, which is new and makes them afraid of what they might lose if it’s allowed to live. In short: it has to be you.”

Wei Wuxian sat down heavily on the couch. Jiang Cheng went over and put his hand on his shoulder.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “What about the rest of them?”

“The rest of them?”

“The other revolutionaries. What will they think? Your brother – he’s one of the most ardent proponents against the institution of the monarchy. How can he be happy with an empire?”

Nie Huaisang went and sat next to Wei Wuxian, pressing a nice pastry into his hand. “You went to the same classes I did, Wei Wuxian. You know that in ancient Rome, the position of Emperor - the imperator power - was originally established in the form of the ‘dictator’,” he said. “A magistrate granted absolute power in extraordinary times, for a limited time, for the purpose of rescuing the Republic.”

The most famous example of which was, of course, Cinncinatus, the man his brother was so often compared to. 

He thought Wei Wuxian would be a good example of that selflessness as well.

“I did attend class, and more often than you did,” Wei Wuxian said with an uncalled-for amount of snark. “And I remember very well that in ancient Rome, the institution of the position of Emperor meant the death of the Republic.”

“But not this time,” Nie Huaisang said confidently. “That’s what all our enemies will think, yes, but in truth you’ll be a dictator in the old-fashioned sense of the word: you’ll take the power, you’ll do the work, and then, when the Revolution has progressed enough to continue on its own, you’ll step down. My brother would support something like that. They all would.”

“But what if I don’t step down? What if the power goes to my head and I start to see myself as – as essential?”

“Three things,” Nie Huaisang said. “First, you’re an arrogant piece of work who already sees yourself as essential, and it hasn’t made you go crazy yet. Second, you’re fundamentally lazy and indolent at heart – take it from someone who knows – and while you’re very industrious if you think it’s your duty or the right thing to do, if given a chance to do the right thing by not doing work, you’d jump at the chance.”

Jiang Cheng looked as if he would protest the characterization, but Wei Wuxian nodded. He’d always loudly dreamed of retiring to the countryside to be a farmer or a mad scientist or something, and if Jiang Cheng had always thought he was joking then Nie Huaisang, at least, had not made that mistake. “And the third thing?”

“If you really do end up fucking it up, my brother will turn Baxia on you.”

Jiang Cheng choked, and Wei Wuxian snorted. 

“That’s oddly comforting, actually,” he said, and smiled. “Okay. Fine. You’re right – I’m the only one that can do it and do it right. And since that’s the case, I’ll accept: first the position of Consul, and then, as necessary, the position of Emperor. But you have to help me – you, your brother, Jiang Cheng…even Wen Qing. I insist on it; I won’t let her get executed just because of her name.”

“I can work with that, and really, no matter what the Jin say, I don’t think that’ll be a real issue. Having a daughter – well, cousin, but who’s counting – of the former dynasty working for you is a good move,” Nie Huaisang said. “Set her up with something that’s both important and yet non-political so people don’t feel threatened…revitalizing the hospitals and improving public health, maybe. She’d like that; didn’t she always want to be a doctor instead of a princess?”

“Anyone else I should make sure to add in?” Wei Wuxian asked. His eyes were avid and serious, which he rarely was in peacetime; Nie Huaisang looked forward to the day when he could be frivolous and light-hearted again. 

Still, it was good to see that he was committed.

“Jin Guangyao is the least objectionable of the Jin family, even if he is a belatedly recognized bastard,” Nie Huaisang said. “He’s more treacherous than a snake, but since we know that, we should be able to manage him appropriately. Put him in charge of the police and the spy network; he’ll do wonders with it.”

And probably end up assassinating his father, but in Nie Huaisang’s opinion that wouldn’t be that bad of a thing either. He resolved not to mention it to the others.

“Jin Zixuan isn’t objectionable,” Jiang Cheng put in.

“No, he’s very pretty,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “Your sister can hang him on her wall as artwork.”

“…he really doesn’t have many other talents, does he?”

“I’m given to understand that he spends money very well,” Nie Huaisang said dryly, and both men winced: as a dandy, Nie Huaisang had the most experience in such things. “You should also take Lan Wangji into your administration.”

“Lan Wangji?” Wei Wuxian’s face was a bit red. “Doesn’t he hate me?”

“After all the polemics he’s written in your favor, you still think he hates you? Just because of your little tussle back at school? Please get over yourself.”

“They’re in the Revolution’s favor, not mine…”

“Actually, no, he’s right,” Jiang Cheng said. “There are definitely some explicitly in your favor, and he wouldn’t do that by mistake - not with how eloquent a writer he is, even if he’s practically a mute in person. But...Nie Huaisang, what role would you put him in? He may be from a family that’s closely affiliated with the Church, but he’s not actually a priest himself – and anyway, if we were going to have to appoint an archbishop to help support us, I’d rather it went to someone like Xiao Xingchen. Everyone likes him.”

“And the fact that Xiao Xingchen is beholden to no one and interested in charitable works to the exclusion of all else is an extra bonus,” Wei Wuxian said, showing that he did, in fact, know some politics underneath his thick-skulled appearance. “But that’s a good point. What role did you have in mind for Lan Wangji?”

“I mean, ideally he’d be Empress,” Nie Huaisang said breezily, and enjoyed seeing Wei Wuxian’s face heat up and Jiang Cheng start spluttering again, “but since that’s at least ten years out, might I suggest appointing him as your chief of staff, and his brother as your foreign minister? That way you can keep Lan Wangji nice and close by, his aura of righteousness and habit of policing everyone around him will help stop the flow of corruption, and it’ll appear as though you’re using him as security against Lan Xichen – nice and distant and not at all corrupt, even as his writings continue to make the populace swoon over you. Jiang Cheng can continue to lead the navy, as he does now, and my brother the army; we can work out peacetime posts for them later on.”

“Hold up,” Wei Wuxian said. “Go back to why he’d be the Empress…? He doesn’t even like me!”

“That’s not the problem with that idea,” Jiang Cheng squawked. “Wei Wuxian..!”

Nie Huaisang went to pour drinks.

His work here was done.

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (One)

Chapter One: Wins and Losses

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

If you’d have told high school senior Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI after graduating college, she would have never believed you. Not only did she have zero interest in law enforcement, she also seemed to lack any athletic skills to back her up. She was nothing like her fiancé, who’d had his heart set on joining the bureau since middle school. She and Grant Anderson were friends in high school and ended up getting together during their junior year. Anderson proposed to Y/N during her second year of college. She’d graduated almost two years ago now, but the wedding date was unknown. They’d been dating for four years and engaged for another four years with the wedding nowhere to be seen. He’d been the first and only boy–and man, to ever pay her half a mind. To her, that was good enough. Hell, she’d been with him for eight years, if she’d wanted to leave him, she’d have left long ago. Right?

Imagine her surprise when he’d told her that his new boss, Aaron Hotchner, was looking for a receptionist for the BAU. Fresh out of college, landing a secure job? That was a miracle, and she really did have to thank her fiancé for it. But everyone around her was so cool and she was just…there. Her job was basically to sort through files, organize Hotch’s meetings, among other things like making reservations at the hotels the agents stayed at on their cases. 

The Agents of the BAU.

They were essentially the coolest people she knew.

First comes Agent Gideon, one of the founders of the BAU. His ability to read people scares her sometimes. How can one man’s beady little eyes have the ability to read people like they were some kind of book stowed away on a dusty shelf? A shelf only he can reach.

Then, comes Agent Hotchner, the unit chief. A stoic man with an even more stoic face. He’s a man who, to put it lightly, takes his job very seriously. On more than one occasion has she met his wife, Haley. They made a beautiful couple in her eyes and they’d just had their child, Jack Hotchner. She never knew how a baby’s face could be so wrinkly–yet so cute. Haley and Aaron were high school sweethearts, much like she and Grant. But that seemed to be the only aspect they shared. Despite his suffocatingly hard shell, Aaron was a loving man. That much was obvious. She wondered if Grant had ever looked at her the way Aaron looked at Haley.

Agent Derek Morgan, where to begin? He was tall, dark, and every bit handsome. His charming nature made all the ladies of the sixth (and fifth, and seventh, and eighth and–) floor swoon over him anytime he walked by. He is one of the bravest men she’d ever known. His ability to put himself in the place of the unsub was something she’d only heard stories about–but it gave her chills every time.

Next comes Agent Elle Greenaway, one of the most headstrong women Y/N has ever met. Her bluntness can come across as harsh, but she knew a woman in law enforcement had to stand her ground to be treated with as equal respect as her male counterparts. She admired her strength.

Agent Jennifer Jareau, or as Y/N knew her, JJ, was a kind hearted, compassionate woman who’s way with words absolutely blew Y/N away. The way JJ handled the media with such finesse was simply astonishing. She knew she could never string together the right words like JJ seemed to, up on those podiums, in front of all those nosy reporters. It was mind blowing to watch her in her element.

Penelope Garcia, or otherwise known as literal sunshine embodied in a technical analyst. She was the best at what she did, hacking, searching, filtering. It was a science, and Penelope Garcia made it look easy. She and Y/N had grown close since both of them stayed at the office while the other agents flew around the country, solving cases. They’d often spend endless lunches together in Garcia’s ‘batcave’ as she called it and was practically hellbent on teaching Y/N how to use Photoshop every chance she got.

And last but certainly not least, Dr. Spencer Reid. She’d never met a man with a more brilliant brain. He was known as the resident genius, the expert on well–everything. The man had an eidetic memory and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute. Is that not the most impressive thing on the planet? Nope, he just has to have three PhDs in three of the most complicated fields of study: mathematics, physics, and engineering, achieving all three before reaching 22 years of age. 

He had joined the bureau about a year after Y/N had started there. She could remember their first interaction like it was yesterday. 

He had been in and out of meetings before spotting Y/N at her desk, where she usually stayed during her lunch break, at least for the first year she was there. She was halfway through a cup of mixed berry yogurt when Spencer came up to her desk to ask where the breakroom was. Y/N directed him to the room and followed his gaze to the yogurt container in her hands before he left.

“Did you know that the origins of yogurt are pretty much unknown, although historians agree that there was no mention of it before 5000 BC? It’s thought to have been invented by the Mesopotamians.” He said as he pursed his lips and raised his brows, as if realizing he made a mistake too late.

“No, I didn’t know that! That’s super cool. You must be Dr. Spencer Reid, right?” She said, giving him her full attention, which made him slightly more nervous than he had been previously. He nodded, a shy smile on his face.

“And you’re…” he looked for her name holder, “Y/N Y/L/N.” 

She giggled and the sound activated some kind of blood rushing mechanism right up into his cheeks, “Yup! I’m the BAU’s receptionist slash Agent Hotchner’s assistant, you know, nothing fancy but I like to think I’m pretty good at sorting through files.” She raised a brow and gave him an adorable smile and suddenly Spencer wasn’t so nervous to talk to her. 

She seemed way more interactive and easygoing than just about 98% of the people in the building. He wondered if it was because she wasn’t an agent. Spencer also wondered if gaining a title like ‘Supervisory Special Agent’ would make him cold like the others, but then he remembered he has three doctorates and already introduced himself with the honorific. 

She picked up on his silence, “You know, you have nothing to worry about, I overheard Agent Gideon talking about you landing the job with Agent Morgan.” She nodded her head towards a tall, muscular man, who Spencer gathered must be Morgan. Spencer smiled back at her, her words easing even more of the tension he collected in his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, you should see the massive list of exceptions they have to make to let me into the field.” He said with a ghost of a smile on his face. She had to physically repress a laugh. And right then and there, the seed of a beautiful friendship was planted.

Fast forward to two years after that interaction, Spencer and Y/N became pretty much attached at the hip whenever he was actually in the office and not flying around the country catching serial killers. Their desks were quite far from each other, hers right near the glass doors of the BAU and his across the room right near the railing that had Hotch and Gideon’s offices as well as the conference room. It gave them both perfect views of each other, which they used to send each other encouraging smiles throughout the day, maybe a funny face or two. He always had a way of making her smile, she hadn’t felt the fuzzy feeling of friendship in years. Besides Garcia, Spencer was the only person who had made an effort to get to know Y/N. In the past two years, she’d say Spencer knew her better than anyone else, possibly even Anderson, but that was surely because he was a talented genius profiler…

Budget meetings at the FBI were definitely the most boring types of meetings in the world. She had to be there because she was the one making all the reservations at the hotels, but once they began talking about the jet and fuel consumption–Y/N totally spaced out. Spencer enjoyed the meetings, though. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Y/N would sometimes space out and let her head fall against his shoulder. The weight of her head brought him inexplicable comfort and joy. He hates it when people come near him, when did it become so endearing to him for her to trust him enough with such a simple gesture? He found himself attending the meetings and sitting next to her whenever he got the chance, hoping that one day, maybe, just maybe she’ll allow her head to rest upon his shoulder again. Perhaps it was pathetic, but he found himself feeling overjoyed at the thought of budget meetings, they became the only thing he’d look forward to. 

He wondered if this was how Anderson felt when she rested her head on his shoulder, but then his knee would start bouncing and he’d practically feel the envious monster growing in the pit of his stomach, so he’d stop. It certainly didn’t make it any easier to stop when it was so easy to look over and find Anderson leaning against her desk and flirting with her. Technically, he has every right to flirt with his fiancée, but that didn’t stop jealousy from coursing through Spencer’s veins violently.

The team had just landed last night, they were coming back from a case revolving around the famous actress, Lila Archer. Apparently, she’d had a stalker. Y/N couldn’t wait to hear the details of the case, she had watched almost all of Lila’s movies. She eagerly awaited Spencer’s arrival. Just then, she heard the ding of the elevator and saw a very sheepish -and flushed- Spencer with a very playful Morgan hot on his tail.

“Morning, pretty girl!” Derek halted his seemingly incessant teasing to greet her as they walked towards her. Spencer was oddly quiet as he tried to pass by, offering her a small, awkward wave instead of his usual smiley ‘good morning!’, but Derek grabbed him by the strap of his messenger bag. He made it his mission to embarrass Spencer as much as humanly possible when he woke up this morning. What Derek didn’t know was that Spencer wanted Y/N to be the absolute last person to know of what happened. Spencer shifted uncomfortably and was positive he was sweating more than he ever had in his 24 years of life.

“Morning, Derek! So, tell me all about it! Did you meet her? Of course, you met her, duh! What was she like? Was she a stuck up diva like her character in Wins and Losses or was she more down to earth?” Y/N questioned curiously with a hint of excitement.

“Oh, I think pretty boy here has all the answers you could ever wish for. After all, it wasn’t me who made out with a hot movie star in her own pool.” Derek laughed, eyes squinting as he clapped Spencer on the shoulder proudly. Neither of the two men caught the way Y/N’s face dropped. Spencer was too focused on looking anywhere but at her and Derek was too triumphant to look anywhere but at Spencer’s -alarmingly- red face. He attempted to clear his throat when the few seconds of stunned silence became much too suffocating. Derek turned back to Y/N just in time to see her collect her jaw from off the desk and morph it into a smile.

“Spencer Reid, you did what?!” She attempted to laugh in order to lighten the mood, hoping the two profilers wouldn’t pick up on her dis-ingenuousness. 

They hadn’t, thankfully.

Spencer’s shy eyes met her curious ones as he tried to imitate Derek’s proud smile,and he could have sworn he saw a sort of unfamiliar heaviness in her gaze, but it disappeared as soon as it came. 

Could it be? Was she feeling jealous? There’s no way, she thought. But what else could be behind the not so subtle burning feeling in her chest? 

“Um, yeah. She kind of pulled me into the pool with her…” he recounted with a small voice, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“And?” Derek said in anticipation, despite already knowing.

“Alright! We kissed a few times, what’s the big deal?” He huffed, turning to look at Derek and resisting the urge to punch him in the face for embarrassing him in front of Y/N.

Garcia suddenly appeared next to them, catching the looks between the two agents and Y/N’s shocked expression, “Oh! Are we talking about boy wonder locking lips with miss Lila Archer in her pool?”

Spencer’s face dropped, “How do you know about that?!” he all but screeched.

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere.” Garcia wiggled her eyebrows at Spencer before sharing a knowing look with Derek which led to a prompt punch to Derek’s arm from him which then led to an over exaggerated yelp of pain.

“I’ve also got photos!” Garcia said, quickly pulling out her PDA and showing Y/N.

“Garcia! How?!” Spencer exclaimed, but it was too late. Y/N was already scrolling through the photos, laughing.

“Spencer, you sly dog!” She laughed, though the situation awoke an unprecedented, seemingly underlying feeling of envy. Spencer rolled his eyes in embarrassment and stormed off in the direction of his desk, leaving the three of them behind. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly, although Y/N had to keep fighting against the way her chest felt tight every time she remembered those photos. She had a feeling she was never going to watch Wins and Losses ever again.

next chapter

feedback is always appreciated!!

[dlwritings]

Not Prick | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 1,877 warnings - language A/N - for the anon who requested x

summary - A fan gets a little aggressive with Tom at the mall, and he takes it out on the wrong person. But he’s a good guy, and when he realizes his mistake, he’s determined to make up for it.

Tom was having a bad day. There was no rhyme or reason. He was just cranky and tired and wanted to be home. Instead, he was out at the mall with Harrison. Apparently his favorite store was having a sale, and Harrison wanted a new pair of shoes.

“Why don’t you just order them online?” Tom had asked as Harrison all but dragged him out of his apartment.

“I gotta try them on and make sure they look good,” the other argued. Tom rolled his eyes but agreed to go. Now, they were out, and Tom was regretting it.

By the time they got out of the store, they had been spotted by a bunch of fans. And Tom, being the nice guy he was, knew he had to stop and talk to them. He wasn’t going to be the guy who brushes off fans and looks ungrateful. So he painted on his camera-ready smile and chatted with the people in the crowd.

It didn’t take long for Tom to get a pounding headache. There were a lot of factors, he was sure. He was tired, he was cranky, and there were just way too many people around. Tom didn’t usually get anxiety attacks, but when he already wasn’t on his A-game, they kind of snuck up on him. Like now. He looked over at Harrison -who had fans of his own to meet- and locked eyes with him. Harrison could read the stress in his best friend’s eyes and started to try to come up with a way out of the situation.

“Alright, alright,” Harrison said with a light chuckle. “Tom and I have gotta head out. It was so lovely meeting you all.”

A few people whined and tried to protest, but Tom and Harrison just awkwardly laughed it off.

“What a dick,” Tom heard someone say. “We built his career, and he can’t even have the decency to stay for a picture?” She scoffed. “I swear, some celebrities have the biggest fucking egos. Ungrateful prick.”

Tom. Snapped.

He turned around and locked eyes with the girl who had spoken.

Only it wasn’t the girl who had spoken.

Your eyes grew wide when Tom stared at you, anger clear in his brown eyes. “I don’t have any obligation to stand here and talk to you,” he said. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t always love leaving my house and getting followed by crowds of people. It’s not normal. I didn’t ask for this. So don’t say shit like I have a big ego when you can’t even begin to imagine what I go through when I step out my front door, alright?”

Tears came to your eyes immediately, and you had no idea what to say. The girl next to you -the one who had actually made the rude comments- was slowly backing away, afraid you would speak up in your defense. Instead, you just opened and closed your mouth a few times, then swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. Tom just scoffed and rolled his eyes, and you turned and pushed your way past the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Your hands were shaking as you found a single-stall bathroom and locked it behind you, sinking to the floor and leaning your back against the door. You didn’t care that you were sitting on the floor of a mall bathroom. If you stood up for too much longer, you were afraid your legs would give out.

Shit, shit, not right now. Not like this. Not here. Not. Here.

You didn’t handle confrontation well. In fact, it was the number one trigger of your panic attacks. The first panic attack you ever remembered having was triggered by two boys from your high school getting in a screaming match in front of you. Their raised voices and angry eyes shook you, and you started crying. On the plus side, your anxiety attack stopped the boys from fighting because everyone was suddenly focusing on getting you to calm down and catch your breath.

So yeah. Confrontation of any kind was not your favorite.

You pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to focus on your breathing, but it was hard. You kept replaying the moment that had just happened in your head. Tom Holland -a legit famous person- just yelled at you in front of a crowd of people for something you didn’t even do. How many people filmed it? Was your favorite celebrity going to remember you as the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick? You weren’t the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick. Why couldn’t you just defend yourself? Why did you have to shut down like that?

Breathe, breathe. Don’t do this. Don’t. Do. This.

Harrison ushered Tom away from the group of fans, noticing his fists clench in anger as he watched the girl run off. “Wait, wait, Tom! Harrison!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harrison mumbled. He turned to find a girl jogging after them. “Listen, we really-”

“No, I know, I know,” she said. “I just, that girl you yelled at?” She was looking at Tom. “She wasn’t the one who said that stuff.”

Guilt settled in Tom’s stomach. “What?” he said.

“I saw the girl who actually said that,” she said. “It wasn’t that girl. I don’t know either of them, but I just thought I should let you know. She seemed pretty shaken up, and I just-” She paused. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything. I just didn’t want you thinking the wrong girl was being a bitch. It, it-” She stuttered, feeling foolish suddenly. “This probably doesn’t matter at all, and I should’ve just-”

“Did you see where she went?”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at Tom’s question. “What?” she asked.

“The girl,” he said. “The one I yelled at? Did you see where she ran off to?”

“Uh, the bathroom I think,” she said. “The single stall down by Topman.”

Without any explanation, Tom jogged off in the direction of the bathroom in question. He heard Harrison calling after him, but he didn’t stop or turn around. When he got to the bathroom, he paused, his fist inches from the door. Was this necessary?

Yes. Mum raised a gentleman. You were a prick, and you need to own up to it.

You sat up a little straighter when there was a knock at the bathroom door. “Just a minute!” you called. You stood up and quickly went to the mirror to clean any mascara that might’ve slid down your cheeks. You flushed the toilet and pretended to wash your hands for good measure, then opened the door.

On the other side was none other than Tom Holland.

You felt a lump grow in your throat again as you hung your head and tried to brush past him. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Wait, wait,” he said, reaching out to grab your forearm. You stopped and looked at him. He looked stressed, and his eyes were sad. He looked like a completely different person from the man who yelled at you ten minutes ago. “I’m sorry,” he said, releasing his hold on your arm. “Someone told me you weren’t the one who said those things.” You pressed your lips into a tight line and looked down at your shoes. “Even if you were,” Tom continued, “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I was out of line. I don’t usually snap like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said, though your eyes were still trained on the floor.

Clearly, it wasn’t fine. Tom wasn’t dumb. He could see your slightly puffy eyes and the remains of mascara on your cheeks that you hadn’t quite been able to wipe away. He had done that, and that wasn’t okay. What had gotten into him?

“Do you like smoothies?”

This caused you to look up. “What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you like smoothies?” he repeated. “Harrison and I were going to grab some on our way home. Let me buy you one.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“I want to,” he said. “Consider it an extended apology. And maybe proof that I’m not a prick.” A small smile crept up your lips, and the sight made Tom do the same.

“Okay,” you said. “That sounds nice.”

Tom nodded happily, and the two of you walked back over to where Harrison was standing and waiting. “So what’s your name?” Tom asked as the three of you walked to the parking garage.

“(Y/N),” you said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you,” he said.

You smiled. “You too.”

Tom bought you a smoothie and invited you to stay and hang out with him and Harrison. Of course, you obliged. The three of you sat on the patio of the smoothie shop and had your drinks, chatting and laughing like old friends. They were both really easy to talk to, and you were quickly forgetting about the whole ordeal at the mall. Tom clearly felt horribly, and you knew it was all just a misunderstanding. Plus, everyone was allowed to have bad days. Even celebrities. You couldn’t count the number of times you snapped at your friends or family because you were in a bad mood.

When you finished with your drinks, the boys offered to drive you home. You accepted, considering you had taken the bus to the mall. Maybe you were being naive, taking a ride from two boys you didn’t know, but you highly doubted you were going to get kidnapped by Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield. Again, maybe you were being naive.

But you gave them directions to your apartment, and you arrived unscathed. “Let me walk you to your door,” Tom said.

“Okay,” you said. You smiled at Harrison. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said back. Tom walked you to your door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“So,” he said, “I just want to apologize again for what I said.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you said. “I understand. You’re allowed the occasional bad day. And to be fair, what that girl said was really rude. I get why you-”

Tom cut you off by placing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You blushed and put your hand where his lips had been. “What was that for?” you asked with a shy smile. Tom held back a smile of his own and shrugged.

“I just think you’re sweet,” he said. “And I liked spending the afternoon with you.”

You laughed lightly. “I liked spending the afternoon with you, too.”

“Could I get your number maybe?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s okay.”

You switched phones and exchanged numbers. When he handed yours back to you, you laughed at the name he put: Not Prick

“You think you’ll remember that’s me?” he asked as you slid the phone in your pocket.

You nodded. “Impossible for me to forget.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’ll text you, then.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thanks again for the smoothie.”

“Of course,” he said. “Maybe next time it’ll be dinner.”

----- ----- ----- -----

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[tossawary]

Chapter 28: “A Growing Family” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

-

The fact that Shen Qingqiu is waiting for them, just outside of Yue Qingyuan’s office, really doesn’t help the dread that Shang Qinghua is feeling here.

A stocky young woman is standing attentively beside the seated Peak Lord. This is that Fu Qiang character, one of Binghe’s favorite shijies on Qing Jing Peak, here to whisk Peerless Cucumber away for a one-to-one chat on the other transmigrator’s potential relationship to the House of Rejuvenation. Or maybe to give the kid a tutoring session on recovering memories from trauma or something! Shang Qinghua doesn’t know exactly, not having been invited to sit in.

“Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greets coolly.

“Greetings, Shen-Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua returns, feeling sweaty already, but also weirdly giddy. He’s tempted to wink, but he’s pretty sure that would get him killed. “How are you? You look very well! Aha, how did those ‘other engagements’ go the other day? Meet with anyone? Have a good time?”

Over the top of his elegant fan, Shen Qingqiu immediately gives him a look that could probably kill a lesser man - or maybe a greater one, like someone who has more dignity and shame and whatever than Shang Qinghua does. Shang Qinghua doesn’t flinch. He assumes that the meeting with Yue Qingyuan went well! Which is great! Super great! If it had gone badly, he’s pretty sure that Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t even be setting foot on Qiong Ding Peak now - or at least would have been projecting “I’ll kill to get out of here and I’m mentally picking all my victims” hard enough to send all the Qiong Ding Peak disciples and cultivators off like panicked chickens.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Shen Qingqiu says, downright frosty now. “Shang-Shidi must have been paying too much attention to nonsense gossip again.”

“Ah, of course! Of course! My mistake, Shen-Shixiong! Please forgive me!”

Shang Qinghua looks to his fellow transmigrator next, to reintroduce them, only to find Shen Yuan making a very strange expression. Shen Yuan is looking between Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu kind of like he’s never seen them before. His mouth is even a little open and everything. It takes the kid a few seconds to realize that he has two Peak Lords staring at him and to swallow the strange expression.

- 

AN: Shen Yuan knows that 1) SQQ came to meet SQH personally immediately after their mission was over, 2) SQH stayed in bed the following day for a LONG time, and 3) SQH had a hickey on his neck. 

So when Shang Qinghua makes a reference to the meeting that SQQ had with Yue Qingyuan, almost flirtatiously asking if Shen Qingqiu “met with anyone” and “had a good time”, Shen Yuan is going to draw his own conclusions. 

Namely, that Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu might be sleeping together. 

After all, Shen Yuan doesn’t know about the YQY and SQQ backstory! Shen Yuan only knows that Shang Qinghua is weirdly friendly with PIDW’s most famous scum villain and that Shen Qingqiu apparently likes SQH enough not to be an asshole to Luo Binghe. Shang Qinghua kind of talks like they’re friend, so what if they’re... more than friends?! 

Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua cannot fathom anyone EVER considering that he and SHEN QINGQIU might be lovers. It’s not an idea that he is in a position to have because what the fuck?! 

I was tickled pink when I realized that things were in position to have the disciples think that Shangjiu is a thing. I was already planning on having them notice Shang Qinghua’s brand-new-relationship good mood. Shen Yuan may not notice when people are in love with HIM, but he did still read a twenty-million-word stallion web-novel, so he’s totally prepared to assume that secret affairs are happening for OTHER PEOPLE. 

- 

His fellow transmigrator hastily performs the appropriate greeting. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t reply beyond inclining his head, instead sweeping his eyes over Shen Yuan, who stands hilariously still like he’s facing down a predator, except for how the kid squints back a little at the Lord of Qing Jing Peak. Ha! That’s pretty fearless coming from someone still so unnerved by the man who would have Proud Immortal Demon Way’s most famous scum villain.

“Fu Qiang,” Shen Qingqiu says finally. “I have instructed Assistant Ma to set aside a private room for your discussion. You may take Disciple Shen there now.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

The other disciple gestures for Shen Yuan to follow and the other transmigrator hastily takes her up on that. As the disciples disappear, Shen Qingqiu rises and, without a word, leads Shang Qinghua into Yue Qingyuan’s office.

- 

AN: It’s tempting to try and make Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan actually develop more of a relationship than “passing acquaintance”, but the thing is that I can’t see either of them really going for it without being forced or without a very serious push. They’re both so prickly. 

- 

Yue Qingyuan greets him in a friendly manner, like he’s genuinely pleased to see Shang Qinghua and happy to help. Shang Qinghua greets the man in the same way. It’s nice! It also kind of feels like they’re both pretending the past few months of awkwardness, resentment, and avoidance never happened.

- 

AN: It felt a little more true to life and to the characters to have Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan just... move forward instead of getting into their issues with each other and what apologies may be due. 

It’s kind of like a mutual: “What if we didn’t talk about it?” 

And they’re both like, “Oh, thank fuck.” 

I think that if they both brew on it a bit more, they may eventually decide to try to assuage their respective anger or guilt by saying something, but right now they’re feeling raw and/or embarrassed, and don’t want to accidentally get into it again. So they’ll talk about work! They always have work to talk about! Work is more important than personal matters, so they’re just going to pretend everything is fine! 

- 

It’s not just the System who won’t let the Immortal Alliance Conference not happen! But, ahhh, Shang Qinghua can still dream of them actually managing to convince Zhao Hua Temple Sect and everyone else to call the whole thing off. He can dream!

Yue Qingyuan has this pained expression that says, “You’re not wrong, but I wish you were.” This guy knows what Shang Qinghua is talking about!

Shen Qingqiu has this expression that says something like, “I can only critique the accuracy of your assessment on the grounds that you may be giving our fellow cultivators too much credit in terms of common sense and cooperation. This annoys me immensely.”

“You have put a great deal of thought into this,” Yue Qingyuan says finally. “You received this news… when exactly… again?”

“Ah, yesterday morning?” Shang Qinghua answers.

 “While in bed with a demon lord,” he doesn’t elaborate. Nope! Not elaborating!

“I know it’s not- I’ll try to get more information, but everyone is still in the planning stages, and it’s not easy getting any information!” Shang Qinghua says defensively. “But, even with that, I thought, ‘Ah, my shixiongs will probably want to know right away!’ Someone will need to tell Zhao Hua to take precautions, at least?”

Yue Qingyuan visibly regathers himself and says, “It is better to know these things as soon as possible. Thank you, Qinghua, for this forewarning.”

“He’s very good at knowing these things,” Shen Qingqiu agrees, but the man’s gaze is like a very sharp pin and Shang Qinghua is but a lowly insect under it. “When might you be expected to know more about this?”

“Ah, I’ll have to get in contact with… ah, some people I know.”

- 

AN: Of course YQY and SQQ want to know more about where SQH is getting this information, but for all they know he might just have gotten a tip-off from one of his merchant contacts or someone in the black market. This has been brewing for a while between these demon lords and the cultivation sects. It’s really bad news, but it’s also not really that surprising. 

According to the Airplane Extras, when MBJ and SQH meet, Airplane offhandedly mentions that Mobei-Jun’s clan and Huan Hua Palace Sect have a serious grudge from a conflict at a previous Immortal Alliance Conference. In PINTWILF, this conference is why the IACs got cancelled and had to be recently “revived”. The coming IAC is the 3rd since this revival.  

Shang Qinghua has proven himself reliable enough by this point that YQY and SQQ will let him keep his informants close to his chest. Between SQH’s years of improved services (helped by actually getting his personal disciples to help him) and SQH’s interference in their personal issues, they do actually trust him. 

So, yeah, they think he’s a squirmy little rat man. 

But he’s THEIR squirmy little rat man who has come through in times of need. Also, SQQ, for all his glaring, might stab YQY if he started giving SQH a hard time about this. Sometimes a shidi just wants you to back the fuck off, YQY! Let him have his secrets! Even though SQQ absolutely wants to know SQH’s secrets and is on the verge of dying of curiosity. 

I am VERY MUCH looking forward to them finding out that Shang Qinghua has a demon prince for a boyfriend. That’s going to be fun. 

- 

“I have also been… considering the advantages of lessons and between Peaks to encourage both cooperation and… survival skills,” Shen Qingqiu says next. “Rarely does one become a master of all disciplines - the Twelve Peaks allow for many of our sect to become specialists, masters of one art - but it seems unwise not to be learned in the basics of as many life-saving arts as one is able.”

“A diversity of learning can be very beneficial,” Yue Qingyuan agrees immediately.

“My disciple, Fu Qiang, has become a very adept medic over the years, though this was in the hopes of avoiding visiting Qian Cao Peak. The head disciples of An Ding, as I understand it, have sought to take special lessons from Qian Cao and Xian Shu to improve themselves."

 “Ah, that explains how Hongpeng spied on Peerless Cucumber back when the little bro was still in Mu Qingfang’s clutches,” Shang Qinghua thinks. “And, ah, Shen Bro, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Wenjiao goes to Xian Shu Peak mostly to moon over pretty girls, especially my little sister-in-law.”

"There is also the example of Qi-Shimei’s most frustrating disciple, who must be routinely dragged away from Bai Zhan, but who has also apparently helped to improve her fellow Xian Shu disciples’ martial abilities.”

 "Ah, that's one of putting Qi Qingqi letting Luo Fanli and Liu Mingyan fight each other in order to hopefully wear them both out," Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Even if demons should not attack, though only a limited number of our disciples will be attending the Immortal Alliance Conference, it would nevertheless be beneficial to ensure that all disciples across the sect are well-equipped to keep themselves alive until the specialists arrive,” Shen Qingqiu finishes. “Shang-Shidi, as one of the most well-connected leading members of our sect, the organization of such an initiative would be best left in your hands.”

- 

AN: Okay, so I know that this is kind of a weird thing to be coming from Shen Qingqiu, but he’s grown a bit over the course of this fic! AND he’s totally coming at it from the perspective of: “I don’t have to cooperate or get along with anyone beyond what I’m doing now.” 

So SQQ is like, “My disciples are stupid. We should have more field medics.” 

And he’s like, “Some people’s disciples can’t fight for shit and we should make sure they know more self-defense.” 

And he’s like, “Liu Qingge’s disciples are animals. Someone at least teach them how to protect other disciples and how to not bleed to death, because he won’t. That man doesn’t teach them anything.” 

And he’s like, “Shang Qinghua, you do that. I don’t want to.” 

- 

Peerless Cucumber’s conversation with Shen Qingqiu’s disciple is long over, but apparently his fellow transmigrator didn’t just leave afterwards. Yue Qingyuan’s youngest assistant intercepts to politely point Shang Qinghua towards their waiting room. Shen Yuan is asleep in a chair, with one of his cultivation manuals open in his lap. Judging by his pose, Shang Qinghua is going to guess that the kid was trying some kind of meditation and ended up taking a nap by accident.

It happens to the best of them sometimes! Or at least to Shang Qinghua!

“Ah, I told you not to wait on me. Come on, bro, I don’t want to have to carry you back,” Shang Qinghua says, while jostling the kid awake. “You’re too big for that. My nephew is too big for that these days. Just because it would be nostalgic for me and just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to be carrying you around like a sack of vegetables.”

- 

AN: If Shang Qinghua can haul Mobei-Jun around, then he could pick up Shen Yuan no problem. Also, this is the bit where I was like, “Wow, I have very much made SQH into SY’s dad here.” 

Even SVSSS SQH gives me Uncle Vibes, to be honest. The man wants to pop into Bingqiu’s life, ask some nosy questions, be treated to a free meal (who doesn’t), tell some bad jokes, offer some terrible advice, complain about his workload, and then flounce off again with his boyfriend. SVSSS SQH seems to like being useful and appreciated and part of the group, but in a way where he’s not directly attached to anyone, you know? Give SVSSS SQH the benefits, but none of the responsibilities! 

- 

Shang Qinghua is kind of sick of this roundabout conversation and decides to bring out the big guns: a move taught to him by his extremely powerful sister-in-law, who has effortlessly defeated their resident War God. He knows the effectiveness of this technique personally, because Luo Jiahui has used it to defeat him many times. He puts on the best concerned face he has.

“Yuan,” he says seriously, looking the kid directly in the eye. “I’m not making jokes here about not skipping out on cultivating. It’s not always going to be fun - a lot of the time, it’s going to be pretty embarrassing and a little painful. Bro, I was an adult stuck in a teenage body, regularly getting my ass handed to me by actual teenagers. That was awful. But I really need you to keep doing it, even if you don’t become the next War God ready to challenge the protagonist, because I don’t want you to die. This shitty world isn’t safe. And if you want to be involved in these missions, then I need you to be able to carry yourself, or we’re both going to get trampled by some OP monster wandering out of an advanced chapter early instead of fixing anything here.”

Shen Yuan is having difficulty meeting his eyes. He keeps trying to force himself to look at Shang Qinghua and then looking away again automatically.

Shang Qinghua employs another of his sister-in-law’s immensely powerful techniques: he reaches out and puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I will tell you stuff when I have stuff to tell you and when I can tell it to you. You’ve been super helpful, I’m going to need your help in the future, but I need you to be a little patient right now too.”

Shen Yuan nods. “...Fine.”

-

AN: Shang Qinghua: “I can’t believe that I’m tricking this person into thinking I’m a good person by being nice to them and looking after them and doing good things. I have learned this behavior for TRICKING PURPOSES only and have NOT accidentally adopted yet another kid.” 

- 

Shang Qinghua can’t answer the question right now! Leave a message!

He’s too busy replaying all the times he’s seen his nephew and his fellow transmigrator interact. Binghe did ask after Shen Yuan every time that he and Shang Qinghua talked, while the other transmigrator was on Qian Cao and after he came to An Ding, but… Shang Qinghua just thought his nephew was being polite and curious? Peerless Cucumber stands out! Binghe didn’t act too weirdly about it!

Luo Binghe is supposed to be a stallion protagonist with 600 wives!

Although… Shang Qinghua’s nephew has never really shown any interest in that kind of thing. Which Shang Qinghua has been pretty glad about! He doesn’t want to have 600 nieces-in-law! He also doesn’t want that for his nephew!

The protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way ’s harem was basically a snake pit of drama and desperation and decaying fantasies. For everyone who could read between the lines of empty papapa to see Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s tragic story of resentment and revenge, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say the tyrannical, broken protagonist was like a black hole, dragging everyone else into orbit around this man who couldn’t really love anyone! You can take a blackened protagonist out of the Eternal Abyss, but you can’t take that abyss out of the blackened protagonist, right?

The original Luo Binghe didn’t take wives because he was in love. He took wives because he could! Because they were beautiful or powerful or useful! Because he pitied them! Because he liked being their savior! Because he didn't want anyone else to have them! Because he liked being an object of envy and desire and love! Because it was expected of him, as the man all the readers wanted to be, who was supposed to have everything a man could ever want!

 “...Ah, there are… some implications there,” Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky realizes, remembering just how half-hearted most of that harem bullshit was. “Maybe a bent man wrote a kind of bent protagonist by accident? Who knows?”

“Da-Ge?” Fanli says. “Da-Ge, didn’t you know?”

- 

AN: I’ve said this before, but there’s a meta argument to be made in regards to Luo Binghe and obligatory heterosexuality. 

Also, from what I remember, Airplane didn’t actually seem to care too much about Luo Binghe being interested in Shen Yuan. In the Airplane Extras, Airplane says that in the original version of PIDW that he never got to write, Luo Binghe actually ended up totally alone at the end of the story. He was apparently planning a pretty downer ending for Luo Binghe. But Luo Binghe ended up getting a huge harem instead because that’s what the readers wanted! 

So, my impression is, that when SVSSS Airplane first realizes that LBH is into men (and into SQQ specifically), he does a little bit of self-reflection and also reflection on PIDW, then just goes, “Huh. That makes... sense.” 

- 

“Though, aha, I can’t remember Shen-Shixiong ever really not being kind of angry at me and I’m not dead yet. I had to talk really fast sometimes, but I lived! Now go away.”

When Shang Qinghua looks up, all of his disciples are staring at him. They all look surprised, except for Shen Yuan, who looks embarrassed. Shang Qinghua would guess that someone cracked a dirty joke, but that doesn’t seem right.

"What?"

“...Shifu, how long have you known Shen-Shibo?” Chen Xuan asks.

“Since we were disciples? Ah, I think he hated me at first sight.”

“But you’re close now?” Lin Wenjiao blurts out.

“Closer, ” Shang Qinghua agrees warily. “Aha, don’t think that any of you can ask me for favors to do with Shen Qingqiu or Qing Jing Peak too! That’s not happening! Disciple Luo, Shen, get out of here before you give my disciples any more weird ideas.”

- 

AN: Okay, so what happened is that as soon as Luo Fanli and Shang Qinghua left the room, Shen Yuan was like, “...Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu are... very close? Are they...?” 

And SQH’s disciples are like, “Holy shit, are you asking if SQH and SQQ are romantically involved?!” And SQH’s disciples laugh in SY’s face because that’s RIDICULOUS. Which makes SY really embarrassed and defensive! SQH’s disciples ask why he would EVER think a thing like that. 

SY provides the evidence. It’s a reasonable conclusion! 

And then SQH’s disciples are like, “...Holy shit?!” 

And then SY is like, “Wait, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” 

But it’s too late. SQH’s disciples are already putting all the evidence together and there is SO MUCH EVIDENCE of something going on there. 

I know I refer to this ship as “Shangjiu”, but that’s mostly just to specify which Shen Qingqiu and I doubt that anyone in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect dares to call SQQ “Jiu” besides YQY. They’d probably actually end up calling it something along the lines of “The Premise” like original Star Trek: The Original Series Kirk/Spock shippers. (See Fanlore or something for more info on that.) 

Again, SQH cannot... CONCEIVE of them conceiving this idea. 

-

By the time that Mobei-Jun shows up at his Leisure House, Shang Qinghua is a little on the edge! Honestly, he’s kind of off the edge, dangling from a very thin branch just underneath the cliff’s edge, and that thin branch is making some very concerning noises! Sure, at least the demon lord isn’t late, but Shang Qinghua is suddenly reminded of just how intimidating Mobei-Jun looks! Also, he’s cleaned up his house and knows his sister-in-law knows he’s kind of a slob sometimes, but he’s so sure that she’s still going to judge his cleaning job! What if she blames Mobei-Jun for it? (She’d be right to blame him a little! The man can be kind of lazy and messy sometimes too!)

A cool hand at Shang Qinghua’s hip prevents him from walking around in circles, repositioning disobedient cushions and offending tables. Shang Qinghua looks up at Mobei-Jun, who moves his hand to where Shang Qinghua’s neck meets shoulder.

“Stop it,” Mobei-Jun says.

- 

AN: It’s really funny thinking about how all of Mobei-Jun’s gentle and affectionate behaviors towards SQH are totally learned. This does not come naturally to the man. If SQH was having a panic attack, Mobei-Jun’s first (panicked) instinct would be to bark at him to stop it. 

- 

“It’s just… Jiahui is… it didn’t have to be this way for us? I would have just helped her get to safety and left her to live her life without me, but she didn’t let that happen, even though her family wasn’t any good either, so why would she want another one?” Shang Qinghua tries to explain. “She chose me? She looked out for me. She helped me understand a lot of things. Even though she probably could have picked anyone else. I don’t really know where I’d be right now if she didn’t? Ah, probably… not talking to or trusting anyone ever? You remember what things used to be like.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never really liked any of the sisters I’ve had before very much,” Shang Qinghua admits. “Ah, but they didn’t like me either, so it worked. Anyway! It’s… important to me that things work out now because…”

 “I don’t want to choose,” Shang Qinghua doesn’t say.

He clears his throat instead.

“Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua forces himself to look up from his hands on Mobei-Jun’s collar.

“I am glad that you were not without someone to trust,” Mobei-Jun says, though it sounds like it takes effort. “Your sister has nothing to fear from me.”

Mobei-Jun has already made this promise, but it’s good to hear it again.

“Thank you, my king. I’ll, ah- I should go get her now.”

-

AN: Mobei-Jun is jealous. He is very, VERY jealous. 

BUT Mobei-Jun can also see some parallels here. Luo Jiahui is to Shang Qinghua in many ways what Shang Qinghua is to him. Mobei-Jun understands the importance of this relationship and of this person. He understands that Jiahui and SQH’s relationship is not romantic, of course, and understands her to be the “head of the family”, so he has to force himself not to act on his jealousy. 

I think that a part of Mobei-Jun might see jealousy as something very negative? Thinking about what I said about Mobei-Jun’s hang-ups surrounding consent and possessiveness possibly originating with his father being a wife-stealer, Mobei-Jun can’t act on his jealousy for the same reasons that he needs Shang Qinghua to make the first explicit moves. He wants Shang Qinghua to choose him and to choose him of his own free will. 

So, he’s jealous when he hears about how LJH chose SQH and SQH chose LJH, but he can’t act on it because 1) he loves SQH and 2) he’s (possibly unconsciously) terrified of becoming his father and creating resentment that will ripple out into his family potentially for generations. 

- 

It’s so, so weird to see his human sister-in-law sitting across from a demon lord. Luo Jiahui is not a tall woman and her cultivation is very good these days, but she’s not a warrior. Seeing the height and width differences side-by-side make them really obvious! Mobei-Jun is at least twice Shang Qinghua’s sister-in-law’s size! He has to be easily twice her weight!

When Luo Jiahui puts food in front of Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua gets huge “I dare you to not eat my food” messages! It took a really long time before Mobei-Jun seemed to accept that Shang Qinghua really wouldn’t take every available opportunity to hand him poison. Thankfully, however, Mobei-Jun has eaten Luo Jiahui’s food before! Shang Qinghua has shared his sister-in-law's food with the demon lord! Shang Qinghua also communicated beforehand that Mobei-Jun has to eat the food. No matter what!

So, Mobei-Jun eats the food and Shang Qinghua breathes a sigh of relief. Mobei-Jun even goes so far as to tell Luo Jiahui that she’s a good cook (above and beyond social interaction! Also delivered kind of awkwardly!), which his sister-in-law accepts with thanks (and also maybe just a little bit as her rightful due).

Luo Jiahui already knows the basics of Mobei-Jun: that he’s an ice demon, the son of the Northern Demon King, and he’s going to be the next Northern Demon King. She already knows that he’s a warrior and that his time is mostly spent tending to his duties, usually on his father’s behalf. She even knows that demon families can be kind of violently competitive and that Mobei-Jun’s family is no exception.

So, when she finally decides to speak seriously, she says, “My brother is very important to me. I have told him that if he is happy, then I’m happy for him. He has told me that you are very important to him.”

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is going to hold that revelation close to his chest for WEEKS. Shang Qinghua said that Mobei-Jun is very important to him! 

Juggling the tension of this scene was weird. 

Because, like, Mobei-Jun is not a kind or a gentle or a good person. He’s disdainful of humanity. It’s kind of a mindfuck for him to be having a meal with a strange human who is not of the things he has been raised to respect. 

Meanwhile, Luo Jiahui is fucking terrified of Mobei-Jun, dislikes him, and doesn’t want to like him. He’s a stranger who could destroy her family. He looks kind of monstrous. He acts strangely. 

But they HAVE TO BE CIVIL to each other for Shang Qinghua’s sake. 

So they are. 

Mobei-Jun tries not to make any scary moves around the soft human. 

Luo Jiahui tries to act like MBJ is a normal person and to be polite. 

They are both very out of their depth. 

- 

“...Shang Qinghua saved my life,” Mobei-Jun says, which is the first time he’s spoken without someone else speaking to him first. “Many times, he has done this.”

Luo Jiahui sets down her teacup, listening expectantly.

“Even when I did not trust him, and he did not trust me, Qinghua has always provided shelter and safety,” Mobei-Jun says slowly, solemnly. “Medicine, when I have been injured. Direction, when I have been lost. Company and loyalty. This is rare.”

“Yes,” Luo Jiahui agrees.

“The trust I have put in him has never been betrayed.”

Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he’s overheating here - like maybe his heart is melting! Mobei-Jun as a character has always prized loyalty above all! “I had no fucking clue,” he thinks. “Honestly, how the FUCK did I have no fucking clue?! Hindsight is incredible!”

“I would not betray him,” Mobei-Jun says, looking to Shang Qinghua directly. “My life has been his since the day we met.”

Shang Qinghua tries not to melt even more. Mobei-Jun is supposed to be an ice demon! What the hell is this?! It’s unfair! It’s embarrassing! It’s too much!

“...Good,” Luo Jiahui says, determinedly. “I’m happy to hear that. My hard-working brother needs someone to appreciate and cherish him.”

“Yes.”

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “Humans use words. I need to use words. I need to be direct about this because humans are bad at understanding things.” 

And Luo Jiahui is like, “Oh my, you are very intense. Okay.” 

- 

Mobei-Jun nods. “I did not think a human would ever care for a demon child.”

Luo Jiahui frowns a little. “Oh?”

“I admire this,” Mobei-Jun amends, frowning back. “I do not know how humans are raised. It is good that your child has never had to doubt his safety here.”

“...Of course.”

“It is clear that your child is loved beyond his bloodline.”

“Of course,” Luo Jiahui insists, with an offended note in her voice. “When I found Binghe in that river, I didn’t know he was part demon, but I would have taken him in anyway! Whoever the parent is, whatever the parent has done, it’s never the baby’s fault. Even if a parent has done something wrong, then babies shouldn’t suffer for it. All children should be cherished.”

Luo Jiahui’s voice breaks a little, her eyes turning wet. Shang Qinghua fumbles for a handkerchief to offer his sister-in-law, which she accepts gratefully.

He wonders if she’s thinking about her stillborn baby. She doesn’t talk about her other baby very often, but she does sometimes. She told him once that she observes that day. It’s something that she insists on doing alone.

“...I was left in the human world as a young child,” Mobei-Jun says.

Shang Qinghua’s head snaps up. He knows that, but that’s because he wrote that. He has never, ever heard Mobei-Jun talk about it before.

“Oh, no,” Luo Jiahui says.

“I was nearly killed by humans,” Mobei-Jun informs them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Luo Jiahui says.

“It was my uncle’s doing. He wishes to see me dead.” Mobei-Jun says this like it’s just another fact of life, not even an upsetting one, which kind of makes it one of the saddest fucking things that Shang Qinghua has ever heard the man say.

“That’s terrible,” Luo Jiahui says vehemently. “How rotten.”

Mobei-Jun blinks at her. His expression is still solemn, but the pause seems surprised.

Shang Qinghua almost wants to shrug. Yep, his sister-in-law is just like this!

“I have promised Qinghua that I will protect your son,” Mobei-Jun says to her. “I make you the same promise now.”

“...Thank you.”

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “I understand you to be one of the rare humans who is not a piece of shit and who would have saved me as a child. I respect this. I don’t fucking understand it, but I understand you should be protected and that your child should be protected. I am doing this for Shang Qinghua and not because I have any personal issues surrounding the endangerment of demon children.” 

Luo Jiahui is like, “Oh, he’s soft inside! He’ll protect my Binghe. Okay, I like him now. I didn’t want to, but anyone who basically professes to be willing to die for my child and my brother has my reluctant approval.” 

- 

Shang Qinghua can’t help it. The energy in here is so weird! He laughs.

“My king, have you had that all this time?”

Mobei-Jun doesn’t say anything, he just frowns.

“Clearly he was waiting to return it in person, Houhua,” Luo Jiahui admonishes. “It’s not his fault that you took so long introducing us or surely he would have returned it sooner. Don’t make it out to be impolite.”

Mobei-Jun gives Shang Qinghua’s sister-in-law an approving look.

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “Oh, she’s smarter than Qinghua. Good. (Not that my Shang Qinghua isn’t very clever, but he’s an idiot.)” 

- 

And sometimes it’s just nice to take a minute to sit back, relax, and see his disciples daring their shidi, his fellow transmigrator, to chug the spiciest soup on the menu.

“Ah, kids,” Shang Qinghua says to Luo Jiahui.

Luo Jiahui is making a very concerned expression as her sisters, Shang Qinghua’s head disciples, and even Liu Mingyan chant: “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Yeah, he should probably stop them! But why would he? If anyone throws up from this, he’ll just appear out of nowhere to scare the shit out of all of them and then make them clean it up. It’s fine. He says as much to Luo Jiahui.

“They’re old enough to know better,” she says, but she looks fond now. “Their shifu should have taught them better manners, hm?”

“Hey! Only… four of those are mine.”

- 

AN: Friends for Shen Yuan! Friends for Shen Yuan! 

Also SQH being like, “Oh, fuck, I really have too many kids.” 

- 

Luo Jiahui sighs wistfully. “It is nice having children in here again, even big ones who are supposed to be adults now. I’m so proud of how Binghe has grown, but I miss when he was little. I miss when I could pick him up and carry him around. Uncle Han’s daughter brought her new baby in yesterday. He was so cute!”

“Aha, don’t steal a baby to fill the empty nest, please!”

Luo Jiahui swats him. “I wouldn’t do something like that!” she insists, cheeks flushing pink.

- 

AN: Baby?! Baby for Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge?! Maybe! 

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2020 Day 5

Forgotten - Lantern

Day 5 of BeeTober hit me with some Mo Xuanyu feels and I figure NMJ is everyone’s da-ge so let him be MXY’s as well and maybe also more

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision, but he doesn’t have a choice anymore. He came too far already to turn back around.

He passed the border of Qinghe a few hours ago, and he can already see the light of the Unclean Realm on the horizon.

And besides, there is nowhere else to go for Mo Xuanyu.

He didn’t chose Qinghe lightly; by now it’s his only option. There is no way Mo Xuanyu can ever return to Lanling, not with how Jin Guangyao made sure to ruin his reputation like this. Mo Xuanyu would have loved to change out of the golden colours by now, but he didn’t dare to return home, so he doesn’t exactly have a spare set of clothes laying around.

His first instinct after Jin Guangyao kicked him down the stairs was to go to Gusu; Lan Xichen is said to be a kind and just leader, but Mo Xuanyu all too well remembers how fond Lan Xichen seems of Jin Guangyao.

There is no way he will believe Mo Xuanyu’s words over Jin Guangyao.

Mo Xuanyu’s second instinct told him to turn to Yunmeng; Sect Leader Jiang might be a rough and firm Sect Leader, but he is famous for accepting strays and bringing them into his Sect. Mo Xuanyu thinks he might have liked life at Lotus Pier, but he has seen how—despite his more than apparent dislike—Jiang Cheng stays friendly and accommodating to Jin Guangyao.

Mo Xuanyu understands that Jiang Cheng fears Jin Guangyao will take Jin Ling away from him—Jin Guangyao makes it look like he’s granting Jiang Cheng a favour by allowing him to take Jin Ling to Lotus Pier often enough after all—and so Mo Xuanyu can’t count on the fact that Jiang Cheng will protect him.

If Jin Guangyao wants him back—or worse dead—badly enough, he definitely has the means to force Jiang Cheng’s hand.

No, Lotus Pier is not the place to go.

That only leaves Qinghe as his last option, and despite of that Mo Xuanyu still thinks it might be sensible.

Nie Mingjue has no qualms letting everyone know just how little he trusts Jin Guangyao, how he abhors his methods.

If Jin Guangyao comes demanding Mo Xuanyu be returned to him, Nie Mingjue might refuse simply out of spite.

At this point, it’s the best Mo Xuanyu can hope for, since he doesn’t dare to return home. He can only imagine how he would be welcomed after the shame he brought to the Mo family, how disappointed his mother must be.

So he keeps dragging his feet along, despite the bruises and aches all over his body, and the light of the Unclean Realm is getting closer and closer.

Mo Xuanyu counts himself lucky that Qinghe and Lanling share a border, because he’s not sure he would have made it much further than this.

By the time Mo Xuanyu can see the great gate, the sun is setting and he had time enough to regret his every action.

He has only met Nie Mingjue a handful of times, but he’s an imposing man, and if he’s displeased by Mo Xuanyu’s appearance, there is nothing Mo Xuanyu will have to hold against him. Mo Xuanyu can simply hope that Nie Mingjue will make it quick, instead of dragging it out and making Mo Xuanyu suffer.

When the guards of the Unclean Realm spot him and immediately leave—presumably to call for Nie Mingjue or another high-ranking officer—Mo Xuanyu desperately wishes that he was in different clothes.

Not that it would help hide who he is, but at least then Nie Mingjue would maybe not pay that much attention to him at first.

Mo Xuanyu has half a mind just turning back around, when Nie Mingjue suddenly marches up to him.

He seems even bigger than in Mo Xuanyu’s memory, and Mo Xuanyu tries to make himself as small as he can, and he falls in a deep bow.

“Rise,” Nie Mingjue orders him, and Mo Xuanyu doesn’t dare to disobey him.

Nie Mingjue musters him for long moments before he speaks again.

“Mo Xuanyu, right?” he then asks and Mo Xuanyu is honestly surprised that Nie Mingjue seems to remember him.

He didn’t think he left such a lingering impression, but maybe word of his disgraceful behaviour—however made up it is—has already reached this far.

“You have not been forgotten,” Nie Mingjue tells him, almost sounding affronted, and Mo Xuanyu wonders if he can read the thoughts right off his face.

“I didn’t dare hope,” Mo Xuanyu whispers and he fights the urge to fall into a bow again.

“You are hurt,” Nie Mingjue observes. “What happened?”

“Surely you must have heard of it,” Mo Xuanyu replies, and he wonders just how long it will take Nie Mingjue to send him away.

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know what he was thinking when he came here.

“I want to hear it from you,” Nie Mingjue says and Mo Xuanyu can see Baxia vibrate at Nie Mingjue’s back.

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes and then trains them on the ground.

“I made advances on my brother,” Mo Xuanyu says, because this is what Nie Mingjue will have heard no matter how outrageously a lie it is. “He kicked me out.”

“I told you to tell me what happened,” Nie Mingjue repeats and Mo Xuanyu can’t help but to look in surprise at Nie Mingjue.

“You don’t believe it?” Mo Xuanyu asks and when his eyes start to burn he tries to convince himself it’s simply because he’s tired.

“It’s a rumour spread by Jin Guangyao. I wouldn’t believe it if he swore on his mother’s grave that it’s the truth,” Nie Mingjue scoffs out, and now Mo Xuanyu can’t help it anymore.

He let’s out a sob—more from relief than anything else—and when his knees buckle, Nie Mingjue catches him.

“What happened?” he asks again, but much softer this time and Mo Xuanyu dares to lean into his large hands.

“He made it up. I stumbled upon things I shouldn’t have seen, and he made it up to get rid of me,” he admits, for the first time since he ran into Xue Yang by chance and Mo Xuanyu hadn’t known how much this weighed on him.

“And he kicked you out,” Nie Mingjue finishes for him and Mo Xuanyu lets out a hysterical laugh.

“Kicked me down the stairs, more like it,” he gives back and Nie Mingjue’s hands tighten on him before he relaxes them.

“You’re hurt.”

It’s not a question and Nie Mingjue doesn’t give Mo Xuanyu time to answer, either. He simply puts him back on his own feet, though he makes sure to keep a steadying hand on his elbow, before he leads him inside the Unclean Realm.

“Zonghui, inform the healer,” Nie Mingjue orders the man who has been standing behind him all along and he nods, before he hurries away.

The trip to the healer is quick, thankfully. Despite the long tumble down the stairs, Mo Xuanyu got away without any serious injuries. His whole body is tender, and he will most likely bruise all over, but the worst of it is a sprained wrist, which quickly gets bandaged.

Nie Mingjue left sometime during the examination and Mo Xuanyu tries his best not to read too much into that.

Nie Mingjue must be busy. He cannot possibly attend to someone like Mo Xuanyu personally. But Mo Xuanyu is acutely aware of the fact that he knows no one here, and the grain of worry sits deep.

Nie Zonghui leads him to a room, once the healer deems him ready to go, and he tells Mo Xuanyu to wait there.

There’s a fresh set of robes on the bed, but they are in Nie colours and Mo Xuanyu doesn’t dare to touch them.

Surely, they must have been left by the previous owner of the room. Or maybe they have been left on accident. They cannot be for him, that much Mo Xuanyu is sure of.

His body screams for some rest, and the bed looks more than inviting, but Nie Zonghui has told him to wait; Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know for what but he doesn’t want to be caught unaware.

So instead of laying down on the bed like his entire being demands, he kneels in front of the bed.

He tries to meditate, but his thoughts keep drifting away; he’s too uncertain of the future to allow himself to fall deeply into mediation.

The night is well advanced by the time Mo Xuanyu hears footsteps approach his room and he sits up straighter. There are enough flaws and faults to find in Mo Xuanyu and he doesn’t want to give his hosts any more reason to find additional ones.

Mo Xuanyu lowers his head when someone knocks at his door and he expects the person to simply barge in. He’s beyond confused when nothing happens.

“Mo Xuanyu?” Nie Mingjue’s voice carries through the door and Mo Xuanyu takes in a deep breath.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and it throws Mo Xuanyu for a loop if he’s being honest.

No one in Lanling respected his privacy.

“Of course,” Mo Xuanyu rushes to confirm and he shrinks in on himself when Nie Mingjue frowns as he sees him.

“Why didn’t you change yet?” he asks and it’s only then that he seems to notice the untouched bed. “Did you not rest?”

“I was told to wait,” Mo Xuanyu replies and he ducks his head when Nie Mingjue sighs. “And I figured the robes must have been a mistake,” Mo Xuanyu admits, hoping to not upset Nie Mingjue further, but his words seem to have the exact opposite effect.

“The robes are yours,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Mo Xuanyu’s stomach drops when he kneels in front of him. “This is your room, Xuanyu.”

Mo Xuanyu blinks at that, because he doesn’t understand.

“You came here for protection, didn’t you? For shelter? A new home?”

“I hoped to find those, yes,” Mo Xuanyu softly says, because he doesn’t dare hope that he might have found it already.

“And this is me offering it to you,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod at the bed and at the robes. “Will you accept it?”

Mo Xuanyu blinks against the tears that threaten to fall, but he can’t believe it, not yet. He allows his desperation to take the better of him, just for a moment, just for long enough to confirm that Nie Mingjue means it.

“You can’t hand me in to him,” he begs as he leans forward to fist his hands in Nie Mingjue’s robe. “You can’t let him claim me again, I will not survive if I have to go back there.”

“If you put on the robes, you’ll be one of my disciples,” Nie Mingjue says and puts one of his large hands on Mo Xuanyu’s neck. “I’d like to see him try to take you back.”

Mo Xuanyu slumps at those words and when Nie Mingjue squeezes his neck, he nods.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu softly agrees and gets up. He turns around, hands already loosening the belt around his middle and Nie Mingjue makes a strangled sound behind his back.

“I’ll be waiting outside,” Nie Mingjue rushes out as he hurriedly leaves the room and Mo Xuanyu stares after him.

He got used to people always watching him in Lanling; some more obvious than others. Mo Xuanyu has forgotten what it feels like to change in privacy.

He quickly sheds his old robes, distantly wondering if Nie Mingjue will allow him to burn them, and when he shrugs on the new ones, Mo Xuanyu finds that they are almost a perfect fit.

“I’m done,” Mo Xuanyu calls out once the sash is fastened and Nie Mingjue steps back into the room, looking him over once.

“They fit, good. I had to guess your size. I’ll have more brought to you, but now, come with me,” Nie Mingjue orders and then simply leaves the room, clearly accustomed to being followed without question.

Mo Xuanyu finds himself thinking that it might be one of the easier things he has ever done in his life.

Nie Mingjue leads him into a courtyard, where Nie Zonghui is waiting for them, two lanterns at his side.

Mo Xuanyu is burning with questions, but he keeps silent, still too afraid to upset Nie Mingjue to the point of him sending Mo Xuanyu away again, and he startles slightly when Nie Mingjue turns around to him.

“You’re going to let them fly,” Nie Mingjue says, and despite phrasing it like that, Mo Xuanyu thinks he could refuse. “One, to let go of your past,” Nie Mingjue explains, “and one with your wishes for your stay here in my Sect. After this, you’re one of my disciples.”

It’s one of the stranger initiation rituals Mo Xuanyu has heard of, but he can probably count himself lucky that new disciples don’t have to fight for their place in the Sect. He would have been dead before he even lifted his sword.

“That is all?” Mo Xuanyu dares to ask and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“That is all. After that you’ll be a Nie, no matter if you decide to take the name or not.”

Mo Xuanyu eyes the lanterns, still waiting for a catch, but when Nie Zonghui simply offers the first one to him, he takes it.

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes and he tries to imagine everything that has defined his stay at Lanling; the humiliation, the constant fear, the threads, the abuse, his hate and resentment for everyone named Jin and he imagines how he pushes all of those feelings and memories into the lantern.

It should be heavy—too heavy to fly—but when Mo Xuanyu lets go of it, it rises into the sky almost instantly. Mo Xuanyu feels like he’s going to fly right after it, that’s how light he feels all of a sudden.

“And now the other,” Nie Mingjue commands and this time he hands him the lantern himself.

Mo Xuanyu takes that one as well and imagines his life in Qinghe. He never before dared to hope for a good life, but this time he decides to go all out. He imagines himself happy and carefree, his golden core growing beyond the point of being too weak to even be called a golden core, and when Mo Xuanyu remembers how Nie Mingjue has smiled at him, he also dares to hope for love in this Sect.

This lantern should be just as burdened at the other one with how many good things Mo Xuanyu wishes for himself, but it goes up in the air just as easily as the one before.

Mo Xuanyu keeps following it with his eyes, and Nie Mingjue stays silent until it’s too far gone to see it anymore.

“Welcome to Qinghe Nie,” Nie Mingjue says and the words settle like a cloak of protection around Mo Xuanyu.

It seems like coming here was the only sensible choice Mo Xuanyu has ever made in his life.

Next part

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[jaehyunspeachparty]

1.19

warnings: This story contains content that could be problematic for one or the other. Among other things, the story may contain content about sex, rape, late pregnancy, relationship with a large age difference, and others. Just because it's in the warnings doesn't mean these topics will appear, but they will definitely be covered in the story. The content of the story is fixed and doesn’t change. If you don't feel comfortable with these topics, then it's okay if you don't read the story. I just write down my ideas here and I just enjoy writing about life. The fact that some things in life are not rational or weird for some people is also part of it.

Miga was sitting in the break room learning her script when Hyunjin came in. She wrote to him to come because she wanted to tell him about Jaemin. Sunoh was right, she wasn't being fair to him and she had to clear things. "Hey," he said softly and sat down next to her. He looked at her with his big dark eyes and he looked so cute. "Hey." Miga could hardly look at him, she felt so much guilt. "You wanted to talk to me?" He smiled and Miga had more and more trouble starting, but that only made it clearer that she had made a mistake with Jaemin. She chose the wrong one, even if her heart still beat for Jaemin too. "Hyunjin I... I made a mistake ..." And she told him the whole thing. Hyunjin listened to her, he didn’t said one word and slowly she could see his smile fade. "I know I said I would wait, but it's...hard...." Hyunjun ran a hand through his hair and tried to collect his thoughts. "Hyunjin ... I'm so sorry ..." She starts to cry because she saw that she had hurt him. How could she be like that? How could she do this to him? Why did she only see that now? "When I said that I would wait, there was nothing between us. But we always have little dates, you stayed over night at the dorm and .... shit Miga .... I thought at this point that we...our relationship...getting more serious." He sighed and could hardly get a clear thought. His heart was broken. The thought that she had almost slept with someone else made him believe that she didn't feel anything for him after all. "Miga, I have to think about it. I have to ..." He looks back and forth, confused, until he finally got up and left the room. Miga cried and cried. She knew she was fucked up. Only she was to blame for this situation. She didn't deserve Hyunjin, he was too good for her. She realized how ruthless she was, how selfish she was. And now she had the result, she was about to lose both of them. She just played with fire for too long.

"What will you do know?" Asked Kyungja, a friend from her class. Miga shrugged and took a sip of her cocktail. A few days had passed and Miga had withdrawn the last few days. She didn't do anything but work and cry. But Kyungja pulled her out and wanted to bring her back to life a bit. "I don’t know. I think I deserve it all." "Can you finally say who the older guy was now that it's all over anyway?" "I don't want to cause trouble to anyone. It’s so complicated." Miga could hardly look at Kyungja. "But I'm worried, you've been so sad for the past few weeks." Kyungja was worried about her friend, but Dae joined them at the table. She finally finished training and joined her friends. "Heyyyy!" Miga got up immediately and hugged her. "I didn't think you were coming anymore," said Kyungja and hugged her too. "Yes, if my manager allows it, I'll use it right away. When I have my debut, it won't be that easy anyway." Dae sat down with the two girls and looked at the menu. "We'll miss you already," said Kyungja and laughed. "And? How long have the guys been looking at you two?", Dae then asked and nodded her head to the table further back. So far the girls haven't even noticed. "That's because you're there," said Miga, smiling gently. Dae was beautiful, she was also called the young Karina from Aespa. "You know this is nonsense"; Dae said then and Kyungja rolled her eyes. "They probably just want to talk to Miga...it’s always the same." And at that moment one of the boys got up and went straight to the table of the two. Dae and Kyungja looked at each other and already knew what was going to happen. "Hey, my friend over there is celebrating his birthday. He just moved here from Australia and doesn't know a lot of people here yet." "He knows you. Don't you know any Koreans?" Dae crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm just a guest here. I didn't know this was going to be a sausage party." The guy went straight to defense and took a step back. The girls looked at each other uncertainly and said nothing. "So?" Asked the guy. The girls nodded to each other and packed their bags. "If you're assholes, we're gone," Kyungja said at once. "We are nice," he said, grinning. He then turned and gave the boys a thumbs up. "That's what they all say," Dae whispered to Kyungja and rolled her eyes. The girls went to the table and Miga saw someone who immediately caught her eye. He was wearing a black shirt that was unbuttoned to the chest. Tattoos were visible across his chest and collarbone. He also had tattoos on the back of his hand. His hair was deep black, as if he had never dyed it before. And his eyes immediately fell on Miga. He got up and immediately shook hands with her. "Hi, I'm Ian," he said and looked Miga deep in the eyes. "It was clear that the hot guy was going to her right away," whispered Kyungja in Dae's ear. "Hi, I'm Miga," she said carefully and everyone sat down again. One of the guys looked at her too, but more as if he was trying to classify her appearance, as if he had seen her at some point. "Next to me is Yeonseok, he owns a gallery. The guy who brought you is called Jiwoong, he's a student and then we have Taesuk, he's a photographer." Ian smiled and the boys grinned too. "And what are you doing?", Miga then asked him. "I want to open a tattoo shop here," he said and smiled. "What are you doing?", He then asked and Miga had to pause for a moment and think. Should she tell him that she is a famous drama actress? Apparently no one here should know her and she found that refreshing. "I'm studying theater," she lied and smiled. This also automatically made her older. Since Jaemin's rejection, she had severe problems with her age and Ian looked older too. "That's cool," he grinned and looked deep into her eyes. "And which birthday are you celebrating?" She asked curiously. She didn't really want to ask because he was clearly older than her. Not like Jaemin, but a couple of years anyway. "I turned 28 today." He smiled and his gaze was only more on her. Miga smiled uncertainly and didn't admit that she was only 19 years old.

The evening went really well and fun. People drank, laughed, told stories and had a lot of fun. But at some point it was time to go home. Miga was really really drunk in the end. "Okay, let's go now. Miga, you come with me." Dae wants to take her to the dorm. "Hey Miga, can I have your number?", asked Ian and smiled. "Hyunjin ...", Miga slurred and suddenly she looked very fragile. Dae looked uncertainly at Kyungja and didn't quite know what was happening. "Hyunjin? Is that your boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend?" Asked Ian and Miga shook her head. "I think we're going now, come on." Dae supported her friend and took her out of the bar. She put Miga in the taxi and the two drove off. "Wow, Ian looked really good," Dae said then, giggling. "That guy was hot," slurred Miga drunk and leaned against her friend's shoulder. "But why did you asked for Hyunjin?" she asked then. "I screwed it up." Miga gave a deep sigh and picked up her phone. She wrote something and Dae want to take it away.  "What are you doing?." "I screwed it up. I feel so bad. I treated him badly because I almost slept with the older man..." Miga kept typing something on her phone, but Dae took the phone away from her. "You did what? That means you had your first time ...?" "No ... we haven't. I'm still ... you know ..."  Dae was confused now. She knew her friend and knew that she hardly talked about their relationships, but Miga has been suffering a lot lately. She also looked more confused and confused than usual. "Oh okay." "I'm stupid, I just screwed up with Hyunjin ..." "No, you're just blind and running after the old man." "It's so embarrassing." "Now tell me, what happend with the old guy?" "I was with him and we just did foreplay things. We both had a drink, but we were pretty ..." From now on Miga began to whisper. "... horny. And he cum pretty early then. We left it then and the next day we wanted to ... I panic and said I had never done it before and then he panicked. He threw me out, he blocked me and what he is talking to me is only on set. " "Ouch," said Dae. "You said it." "Then what about Hyunjin?" "Hyunjin is so cute and sweet. I thought I had to be honest with him, after all, we made out for a while and it was really nice with him too. I really like him and I thought I had to speak plainly. I told him the thing and he said that he couldn't handle it and that he had to think about it. But he's ignoring me ever since." "You can't blame him for it." "I know...I'm the ass this time in this story." "Yes, you really are," said Dae and laughed. Miga said nothing and just stared out the window. She regretted so many things and missed Hyunjin. Why was she just so stupid and naive?

When the taxi arrived, Dae wanted to pay everything, but then she saw someone rush out of the building. It was one of the other trainees, after all, they all lived in the same apartment complex. Dae couldn't make out who it was at first, but the guy recognized her. "Dae!" When he got closer, she recognized him immediately. It was Hyunjin. "Oh hi, what are you doing outside so late?" Dae grinned and since she was quite drunk, she didn't notice how panicked Hyunjin was. "Do you know where Miga is?" He looked at her worried and Dae didn't quite understand. Miga had just told her that he didn't want to see her anymore. "Why do you want to know that?" Dae shook her head and Hyunjin sighed. "She wrote me strange messages and now she no longer answers her phone. I can't reach her. Were you out together?" Hyunjin was out of breath, he could barely get a clear thought. "Oops ..." Dae pulled Miga's phone out of her pocket as she had taken it away from her. "I took it away from her so she wouldn't write to you." Dae laughed, but Hyunjin grew impatient. "Dae, where is Miga?" "Who is screaming so loud here?" Miga got out of the taxi and the car drove off. "Oh, we didn't pay anything," said Dae and laughed again. "I paid, everything is fine." Miga swayed and barely made it over the curb, but Hyunjin caught her. "Hyunjin ..." She looked at him puzzled and propped herself up against him to get up again. "Shit, how much did you drink?" He helped her over the curb and led her to the entrance. "So much that she only called your name on the hot guy," Dae exposed her friend and laughed. She was clearly having the most fun. "Hyunjin ...", Miga mumbled and could barely walk straight. "Just like that!" Dae pointed to her friend and laughed. Hyunjin didn't quite know what to say. He didn't know whether to be happy because somehow he was worried. He pressed the elevator button and waited. He held Miga tightly in his arms, who could barely stand. Hyunjin held her to keep her from collapsing. And when the elevator came the three of them went in. Dae didn't live on the same floor and when she got out because Hyunjin lived upstairs, he held the door open. "Hey, what about Miga? I thought she was sleeping at your dorm?," he called after her, but Dae waved him off. Miga didn't notice any of this, she hung there half unconscious and could fall asleep any second. "Why do you drink so much?" He asked softly and brushed the hair from her face and when he got to his floor, he carried her into his dorm.

providentia masterlist

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[jawritter]

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 3

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo​​

Square Field: Sleigh Ride

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: Hint of anxiety issues, fluff, fluff, and more tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol Chapter 4 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST**  **MASTERLIST**  **BECOME A PATREON**

The last thing you remember from the night before was falling asleep wrapped up in Dean’s arms in the Dean cave. Normally you weren’t one to fall asleep during movie night, but it also wasn’t normal for Dean to be that cuddly either, and you were apparently a lot more worn down from the hunt than you thought you were, not to mention your little self inflicted melt down over Christmas. Your anxiety tended to hit at the world's worst time and take a whole lot out of you when it did, yesterday was no exception. 

When you woke up this morning you were tucked safely in your bed, and you knew you didn’t wake up to get there on your own, meaning Dean must have carried you there and tucked you in after you had fallen asleep. That thought alone made you smile. Dean cared about you enough to carry you in there, and tuck you into your bed after you had fallen asleep on him. No man had ever done that for you before, and you swear your heart grew three sizes in your chest. 

You had always harbored feelings for Dean, but never allowed yourself to think that they could possibly be reciprocated by the famous Winchester. He was a warrior, a hero, and you were just lucky he allowed you into his little band of misfits to hunt with them, and gave you home when you met him years ago hunting a nest of Vampires in Illinois.

You climb out of bed, not bothering to change out of your pajamas Dean had bought for you the night before, and made your way into the kitchen in search of coffee. You were surprised to find Dean standing next to the coffee pot with a cup in hand, fully dressed, showered, and ready for the day; normally Dean was a bit of a late sleeper. 

“Morning,” he said brightly, as if he’d been up waiting for hours, quickly grabbing a mug for you and filling it with coffee before you could even cross the floor. 

“Morning,” you tell him with a smile as you take the steaming mug from him, and make your way over to the table to sit down. “What’s got you up so early?” you asked him, and he chuckles as he sits to work on your breakfast. 

“Early? Sweetheart it’s almost noon,” he says without even turning around to face you, cracking an egg over the pan in front of him. “I was starting to think you were going to skip today and just stay in bed. I was a little hurt that I didn’t get an invitation,” he played as he pulled bacon from the pack and added it to the pan in front of him with the eggs. 

You blush at his antics and hide behind your coffee cup as Sam comes striding into the room, a book in hand, and a cup of to refill with coffee in another. He didn’t so much as give the two of you a second glance as he refilled his coffee up and started to track back out to the library with his nose firmly implanted in a book. Dean watched his brother as he gave the bacon on final flip and plated up your food before rolling his eyes and turning to you, shaking his head as he delivered your breakfast to you. 

“Boy’s lucky he found Eileen, if not I don’t think he’d ever get laid,” he grumbles as he takes a seat across from you and you stifle the laugh that threatens to fall from your lips with a mouth full of bacon. 

“Leave him be,” you scold, and Dean’s eyes sparkle a little with mischief when he playfully runs his foot across your under the table. Was he really playing footsie with you? 

You clear your throat, and decide to just play along without saying anything and you swear you saw a victory smirk cross his gorgeous face. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked him, expecting some smart ass answer like porn, or some slasher marathon he’d planned since there was no case, and so much snow had fallen the night before it wasn’t like anyone wanted to get out in it anyway to actually work.

“You and I are gonna go downtown, so hurry up and eat your breakfast so you can get dressed,” he said excitedly, and you give him a confused look. 

“Downtown? It was a snow storm last night? Can we even get downtown?” you asked him in confusion, but he seemed thoroughly unfazed. 

“It stopped snowing hours ago, and the snow plows have already came through and cleared the roads, the sun's out, and it’s really not that bad out there, so hurry up Y/N/N!”

He looked so much like an over excited child that you couldn’t say no to that face even if you wanted too. You quickly finish your meal and dress in your room before meeting Dean in the garage where he’d gone to warm up Baby for you so that you wouldn’t be cold when you got into the car. 

You don’t know where this new, thoughtfully sweet, Dean came from but you weren’t complaining. Dean had never wanted to spend this much time with you before, and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

“What are we doing downtown Dean?” you asked him as the car moved ever closer to Dean’s destination, his fingers were drumming alone to the classic rock song that was filtering through the speakers, and he was humming in a way you had only heard him do about a handful of times. He looked, happy? It was rare that Dean ever looked happy. It was a nice chance. 

“You're about to find out,” he said with a smirk, pointing ahead of him, at the side road where a fully decked out horse driven sleigh was waiting, children flocking around the animal as the handler let them each have a turn petting it’s short main. Your mouth fell open in utter shock and disbelief at the sight before you, and you couldn’t deny that the little girl in you was squealing with delight at the sight before you as Dean parks Baby safely on the side of the street. 

“Dean! Are you serious?!” 

You were all but bouncing up and down in the seat and Dean was chuckling at your excitement as his bright green eyes watched you, an emotion filling them you couldn’t understand in that moment. 

“Serious as a heart attack baby girl, I’ve already got us booked for a ride, in fact they're waiting on us now,” he said, getting out of the car and making his way around to pull you from the passenger side. 

You were still in so much shock that you all you could do was smile like an idiot as he laced his fingers with yours, and made his way over to the sleigh, shopping to let you pet the horse for a moment before helping you into it, following close behind you and draping the blanket they provided over your lap so that you wouldn’t get cold. 

The young man that was standing next to the horse climbed up behind the reins and took off slowly, making his way through a heavily decorated part of town, and through the little orchard that set just outside the park, snow making them limbs of the trees heavy and everything bright like winter wonderland as your eyes traveled around the scene before you. It looked like something out of a cheesy Hallmark movie, but you wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. Dean's eyes barley left your face, watching you as you looked around with a childlike amusement. 

“Dean, how did you even find out they were doing this?” you asked him as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close to him to help keep you warm. Your heart fluttered around in your chest at the simple little act, and damn he smelt like Heaven.

“I saw it on the news, and I remember you saying how much you loved horses, so I figured it was something you would like to do,” he said simply with a shrug, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and those eye crinkles you loved so much coming out to play. “I thought this would be the perfect day 11.” 

“I love it De, thank you for thinking of me,” you tell him, letting your head rest against his shoulder as the landscape passed along by you like a beautiful, moving portrait. 

“I always think of you Y/N,” he said, and you blushed deeply at his little revelation, looking up into his forest green eyes as he stared down into your own. You watched as his eyes traveled from your lips to your eyes again, and for just a second you thought he was going to kiss you. 

Just before the electric pull between the two of you became irresistible he pulled back a little, and you could have kicked yourself for thinking this was anything but plutonic. You didn’t have a chance to sulk about it before his free hand reached over and laced with yours, quickly making the moment all too intimate again, his lips kissing the top of your forehead and making your heart leap in your chest. 

“You just wait to see what I have planned for day ten,” he chuckled as the sleigh started to make its way back to the starting point, and you started to question him, but something in his eyes just said he wanted to surprise you, so you wouldn’t spoil this for him either. 

“You know you don’t have to do this Dean,” you tell him earnestly, and he smiles warmly down at you as the ride comes to an end, and he helps you down, leading you towards the little hot chocolate stand that was set up close by. 

“I want too, Y/N/N, you deserve this, and I’m going to make this a Christmas you will never forget, trust me.” 

Your mind and heart fluttered with possibilities and excitement that you hadn’t felt in years, but more importantly you were pretty sure you were falling in love with this green eyed God of a man, and hoped that it didn’t put a damper on the holiday fun he had planned for the two of you.

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[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 20

A/N:  Remember to like, reblog, yell in the tags, and support your friendly neighbourhood fic writers.  We appreciate it more than you think!  And thanks for all the positive feedback on my double post last week!  This chapter focuses more on Aberdeen and Siena’s sisterhood.  Hope you enjoy!  

February 15th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was in a taxi.

With the Canadian Tire Centre being in Kanata, Aberdeen needed a taxi to get into downtown Ottawa, and judging by what Siena told her about the bus, she wasn’t going to trust it to take her there.  They were meeting at Chez Lucien, a gastro bar in the ByWard Market that Siena apparently frequented a lot with her law school friends.  Aberdeen had come to visit Siena in Ottawa a few times since she began law school, and every time Siena took her to a different place.  It was nice, because she got to see more of what Ottawa had to offer, and what Siena’s life was like here as opposed to in Toronto, but a part of Aberdeen wished they had a ‘spot’.  

Siena had been waiting, as she was able to walk to Chez Lucien from where she lived near campus.  Aberdeen was kicking the snow off her boots and unwrapping all her layers at the door as she watched Siena scroll through her phone in a booth in the middle of the room.  The restaurant was pretty busy with the lunch time crowd, and the food already smelled delicious.  “How do you deal with all this snow?” she asked as she approached the table.

Siena shrugged.  “You get used to it, I guess.  Did you get here okay?”

Aberdeen nodded as she slipped into the booth.  “It’s quite the trek, though.  Make sure you leave early tonight.”

“I don’t think it would matter if I missed the first five minutes,” Siena said.

Aberdeen noticed a certain tone in Siena’s voice that made her realize this wasn’t going to be a nice, relaxing lunch with her older sister.  For how close they were and for how much Aberdeen loved Siena with every fibre of her being, Siena…could be a bitch sometimes.  It was usually drama with friends that did it, or bad grades – Siena hated getting bad grades.  She couldn’t compartmentalize her anger like Aberdeen could.  Siena couldn’t leave her anger at school and be happy while out with someone else.  She brought that anger with her and, while she hid it better in front of friends, she didn’t hide it in front of Aberdeen, meaning Aberdeen usually got the brunt end of it.  “Probably not, but MLSE comped the ticket, so it would be nice if you showed up on time.”

“The burgers are really good here,” Siena said, dropping it.  

Aberdeen opened the menu and looking at the list of burgers.  “So what is it?  A bad mark?  Professor piss you off?” she asked without looking up from the menu.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.  Now what do you want?”

The conversation flowed uncomfortably.  There were a few awkward pauses, which was unusual for the sisters, and though the food was good, Aberdeen could tell Siena wasn’t really all there.  There was something else occupying her mind that wasn’t allowing her to be fully present with Aberdeen.  Aberdeen wasn’t necessarily pissed off, because she certainly went through her moods too, but Siena wasn’t even trying to make an effort.  Aberdeen decided not to say anything.  It was for the best.

“So you look different,” Siena said, picking at the last of her fries and ketchup.

“I do?” Aberdeen asked.  “How so?”

“I don’t know,” Siena shrugged.  “Your hair’s a bit different.”

“Well, I attempted a blowout, but you know how that goes with me.”

“Does William like it when your hair is straight as opposed to your frizzy curls?” Siena asked, popping a fry into her mouth.

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  “Who cares what William likes?” Aberdeen asked.  “I sure as hell don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Siena, come on.  When have I ever changed myself for a guy?” Aberdeen asked.  She didn’t have a history of it at all, so she didn’t know why Siena would imply such a thing.  “I know that William and I are in this weird little…I don’t know, dance, but that doesn’t mean I’m changing myself so he’ll like me more or whatever.”  Aberdeen knew she didn’t have to.  She knew that William liked her – loved her – just as she was.  He’d never asked her to change anything about herself, and actually got mad when Saylor made that off-handed comment about her nose.  

“Are you sneaking around with him?” Siena asked suddenly.

Aberdeen was taken aback by the question.  She furrowed her brows and dropped her jaw, offended.  “What?!  NO!” she exclaimed.  She scared herself for how easily and emphatically she had just lied to her sister.  

“Are you lying to me?” Siena asked.

“Why would you even think that?” Aberdeen pressed.  “What the hell, Siena?  Do you honestly think I would jeopardize my job like that?  The job I work so hard in?  The job that might lead me to do what I actually want to do?  You honestly think I’d burn this bridge?”

“I don’t know.  You’ve done stupid shit in the past, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen felt tears well in her eyes.  She always knew Siena could be a bitch when she wanted to, but right now, she was being just downright mean.  It was hard not to take it personally.  “Wow.  Thanks Siena.”

“I’m just stating the obvious.”

“I love the faith you have in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you,” Siena said.  “I just saw the way you looked at him on Christmas when he showed up.  And more importantly, I saw the way he looked at you.  And I know – or I at least have a feeling – that you wouldn’t be able to resist him if he actually came on to you.”

“That’s a bit rich coming from the girl who told us to sneak up to our room alone after watching an episode Brooklyn 9-9.”

“Don’t deflect this and put this on me, Aberdeen,” Siena narrowed her eyes.  “You’re the vulnerable one in this situation when it comes to him.  I mean you’ve already slept together.  You slept together after knowing each other for what?  A few hours?  I mean, if you’d had the decency to wait, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

Aberdeen’s eyes stung from trying to hold back her tears.  She couldn’t even look at her sister.  Instead, she focused on her hands in her lap, twiddling nervously with the ring William got her.  “Are you done?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.  “I mean it, are you done?”

“Aberdeen—”

“Is this why you asked me to lunch?  So you could make me feel like complete shit?” Aberdeen asked indignantly.

“You’re choosing to feel that way.  I’m not making you.”

Aberdeen pushed her chair back dramatically.  She refused to participate in this conversation anymore.  Actually, it wasn’t even a conversation – it was a sabotage.  She snatched her purse off the back of her chair and grabbed her coat and scarf before walking away from the table, not even caring that she was walking out on her sister and sticking her with both bills.  By the time she had reached the door, throwing her jacket over her shoulders and wrapping her scarf around her neck, there were already tears falling.  

She walked up the street, not even knowing where she was going and where she was going to end up, and she didn’t bother taking her phone out to check.  Instead, she cried.  She cried about the things her sister said to her.  She cried about how she lied to her sister.  But more than anything, she cried about how awful she felt, how it felt like her heart was in the pit of her stomach, how her mind was racing about what she was doing with William and how wrong it was but how happy she was when she was with him.  She was so conflicted.  She was being pulled in opposite directions; quartered in the town square for everyone to see for the sins she was committing.  

Aberdeen knew she fucked up.  She knew.  She knew the moment William stepped into that elevator and shook her hand.  She didn’t need anybody to tell her that, or to remind her of the mistakes she’d made.  But she didn’t have regrets.  Maybe she should, but she didn’t.  She loved William.  She wasn’t supposed to, but she did.  She knew they would be able to keep this a secret; she had faith that it wouldn’t affect her future career prospects.  She had to have faith, because if she didn’t, it was all for naught.  If she didn’t have faith, then she really was stupid.

People stared at her as she walked down the street crying, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets.  She barely wiped her tears away, wearing them with pride instead.  They’d freeze to her face eventually, she thought, and then she’d look like an ice queen.  Maybe that would be good for her.  

Aberdeen continued to weave through the streets – turning right, left right, left, left, right – until she happened upon Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica, the famous Catholic Church in Ottawa.  She’d been there before, with her family, when they visited Siena for the first time and Orla dragged everybody there for a Sunday mass.  The cathedral was visually stunning, with its neo-Gothic architecture, classic arches, blue ceiling, and stained-glass windows.  Weirdly, Aberdeen loved ecclesiastical architecture.  It was probably Orla’s influence.  Aberdeen always pictured herself getting married in an old church like this, should she ever get married.  Whenever she was in a Catholic church, she was reminded of her childhood.  Of Orla dragging her and Siena (and when he was born, Camden) to Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Church on Bloor Street West every Sunday.  Of her mom kneeling and praying for her family back in Northern Ireland.  Of attending catechism classes with her classmates so she could receive the Eucharist and have her confirmation.  Of her dad sitting with them and being in church too for all those major milestones even though he had his own faith.  In its own weird way, it reminded her of home, of routine.  The routine of dipping a finger in holy water and bowing, of finding a pew and kneeling for a quick personal prayer.  For standing and singing and kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.  Kneeling and praying.

So it was no wonder, then, that when she entered the cathedral, despite the tourists that lingered throughout the aisles and alcoves taking pictures and lighting candles, it was so easy for her to find the holy water and bow.  It was easy for her to find a pew.  It was easy for her to sit, and to look forward at the altar.  

It was easy for her to cry.

***

Aberdeen cried out everything she had in her in Notre Dame.  It was massively therapeutic.  And when she was done, she took a taxi back to the arena.  

She’d cried so much that her eyes were still red, that her skin was blotchy even where she was wearing makeup and was very blotchy in the places where the tears had washed her makeup away.  She knew she’d probably get asked about it, but she didn’t really care.  She wondered if the men she worked with would even notice.

As she walked through the back corridors and into a room, the first person that she saw was Peter.  Her body stiffened.  She had barely seen him since the All-Star Game – only saw him in passing or from across the arena, really – and she was too scared to ask whether he had switched departments, gotten demoted, or the like.  She hadn’t spoken to him since, and her heart beat rapidly in her chest the second his eyes landed on her.  He probably still wanted to kill her.

That’s why she was thoroughly shocked when he gave her a large smile.  

“How’ve you been?” he asked as he walked towards her.  

“How have I been?  Where have you been?” she asked back, trying not to freak out.  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so angry.  Now he was acting as if nothing was wrong.  She thought he’d hate to see her and spit over his shoulder the second he saw her.

“We’re going to need to celebrate,” he said, his voice giddy.  “I feel like getting champagne,” he continued, looking around for something to drink.  He saw a bunch of Gatorade bottles and handed one to her before taking one for himself. 

“Uh…okay,” she played along.  The Gatorade would have to do.  “What are we toasting?”

“We are toasting, my dear, to the dream job.  The one that a million people wanted,” he smiled.

Aberdeen was confused.  “Which I got months ago…”

He rolled his eyes playfully.  “I’m not talking about you.”

That piqued her interest.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Mhm…go on…”

“Brendan and Kyle invested a lot of time and effort into me.  I came on board basically when Kyle did.  At the beginning I was doing everything – social media, communications, PR, the works,” he began.  “But then there was that opening in hockey operations…and they needed someone they could trust…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen knew about the open job in hockey ops.  They’d received numerous applications.  The opening was a huge deal and people were clamouring at the opportunity because jobs there didn’t come up often.  “Uh huh…”

“And that someone would be me.”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “You got the hockey ops job?!” she screamed.

“YES!” he screamed out loud.  His giddy laughter and excited little jumps and jitters told Aberdeen he was more than just happy – he was ecstatic.  It was probably a position he wanted more than anything.  “Aberdeen, they even put me up for it!  I mean can you imagine!”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out.  That was some interesting bit of news.  It meant that Brendan and Kyle knew they were going to promote Peter.  But that didn’t matter right now.  All that mattered was how ecstatic Peter was and his new position with the Leafs.  “But…but you’re leaving.  I can’t imagine taking on Brendan and Kyle without you.”

“I know, I know, but I’m so excited though.  This is the first time in almost three years I’m going to be able to call the shots in my job!  Oh my God!” he shrieked.  “I’m going to be able to come to Ottawa, Montreal, New York, Philly, Chicago…and actually be involved in the hockey process.”

He was happy.  So incredibly happy.  And Aberdeen could only be happy for him.  She unscrewed and raised her Gatorade bottle.  “Well, congratulations Peter.  You deserve it.”

“You bet your ass I do,” he giggled, unscrewing his own Gatorade bottle and crashing it against hers.  Aberdeen laughed as they both took their gulps of the drink.  “I’m sorry I got mad at you before the All-Star Game,” he said once he was finished drinking.  “I was really out of line.”

“It’s alright,” she said.  “I knew it meant the world to you.”

“Yeah, but I was really mean,” he said.  “I said you didn’t deserve it, but we both know that you did.  You’ve been working hard since you got here and I was just…you know, being a dick about it.”

“I’ve had worse things said to me,” she shrugged.  An understatement considering where she had just come from.  “But thank you for your apology.”

He held his Gatorade bottle up again.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he toasted.

Aberdeen smiled, raising her own bottle.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

***

“So, how was lunch with Siena?” Brendan asked as he went over some last-minute notes before he and Aberdeen would make their way to the press box and meet Kyle for the game.  Knowing that Siena was coming to the game tonight to support her sister was nice.  Aberdeen made it adamantly clear her sister wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of hockey, but was coming to the game to support her more than anything.  That was fine with Brendan.  

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She’d hoped Brendan wouldn’t ask about it because she still wasn’t over it.  “I ended up going to church.”

He looked at her skeptically.  “Church?”

“I got into a fight with my sister,” she explained curtly.

“About what?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  Like she was going to tell him.  “Not important.”

“Well…what made you go to church?” he pressed.  He seemed genuinely concerned about the fact that she’d gone to a house of worship after fighting with her sister.  Had it been that bad?  

Aberdeen knew he was curious because he was worried, not curious because he wanted to pry.  Because of that, she knew she had to choose her words carefully as to not reveal too much but also not reveal too little so that he’d ask more questions.  She couldn’t find them.  She didn’t know what to say to him without it leading to her giving it all away and getting fired on the spot.  “I just needed some semblance of…normalcy back in my life after the fight,” she said, knowing Brendan wouldn’t understand.  

“Aberdeen, I have absolutely no clue what that means,” he deadpanned jokingly, causing her to giggle slightly.  “But if church helped…well, good,” he said, focusing back on his notes.

Aberdeen nodded.  She wanted the topic of conversation to be dropped, and she knew the best way to do that.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She knew it was going to come out as a statement more than a question.  “You and Kyle…you guys knew you were promoting Peter to the hockey ops position.”

“Yes…”  He was still looking down at his notes, and he wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“So why’d you make me tell him about the All-Star Game?”

Brendan stopped focusing on his notes, instead looking at Aberdeen.  He knew that she wasn’t accusing him of anything, and not complaining that she had to do what she did; she just wanted answers.  Apparently she’d seen Peter.  Apparently they’d talked.  “So Peter told you we put him up for the hockey ops job, then,” he started.

“He did.”

Brendan nodded his head.  “We needed to toughen you up, Aberdeen.”

It was Aberdeen’s turn to look at Brendan skeptically.  “Toughen me up?”

“Listen—don’t get me wrong, because you’ve been doing a great job,” Brendan began.  “But you…you need to do things that make you uncomfortable, Aberdeen.  You know…uh…” he was trying to find the right words.  “You know how a glowstick needs to be cracked in order to shine?”

“That’s literally the weirdest analogy I’ve ever heard anyone make,” she said.

“You needed to crack a bit,” he said firmly.  “You needed to break someone’s heart.  This is a tough business and this is a tough world and it’ll happen to you too.  And I want you to be prepared to have to do those sorts of things.  Because you’ll be successful once you leave here and you’ll have to do them.  You’ll thank me later.”

Judging by his tone, Aberdeen knew Brendan wasn’t going to entertain any other options.  She couldn’t say anything to make him think otherwise.  “Okay…well, then I think you’ll be happy to know that I broke his heart when I told him he wasn’t going to the All-Star Game.  And you and Kyle put it back together by promoting him.”

“I know that,” he said.  He looked down at his notes one more time before pushing his chair back.  “Now let’s go.”

***

Are they playing well?  I wouldn’t know.

Aberdeen stared at the text message from Siena as she sat in the back of the press box, Brendan and Kyle watching the game intently and in full view of the cameras.  She was surprised Siena still came after the afternoon they’d had.  There was less than five minutes left in the first period, and Auston had already scored.  She didn’t know if she should respond.  She wondered if that made her a bad sister.

When the buzzer rang for the end of the period, Brendan swiveled in his chair and looked back at her.  “Is Siena here?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded her head.  “Go find her.”

“But you asked me to—”

“Go find her and go talk to her,” he interrupted, giving her a look.  “Go.”

Aberdeen got up from her seat, her credentials jingling down the hallway as she texted Siena back.  

Where are you sitting?

They put me six rows behind the Leafs bench.  Section 106.  Can you come meet me right outside the tunnel?

By the time Aberdeen got there (she speed walked so they had more time together, so what?), Siena was already waiting.  When Siena saw her, she stuffed her phone into her pocket.  “Were you up in the box?” she asked.

“I always am.”

Siena nodded, staying quiet for a moment.  “Listen…I…I’m sorry about today,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit.  “I was…my comments were really uncalled for, and I shouldn’t have like, you know, accused you of sleeping with William behind your boss���s back.”

Aberdeen nodded her head once, curtly, to make Siena abundantly clear that she hadn’t forgiven her just yet.  Could she forgive her, really, when she was keeping the biggest secret from her?  “Do you want to tell me what the little outburst was really about?” she asked.

Siena pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest.  She looked down at the floor.  “It’s nothing.”

“Siena.”

She sighed heavily.  “It’s a guy,” she mumbled out.

“What?”

“A guy,” she said dramatically.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “A guy?!” she barely had the words.  “What guy?  What…what guy?!”

Siena looked like she was about to throw a mini temper tantrum for having to reveal the information.  “There was this guy, Aaron…he was just in one of my classes, and we had this…this thing going on for the past few months.  Anyways, uh, I found out he was also hooking up with Sylvie the entire time and they’re all Instagram official already.”

“Sylvie?!” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “Like…Gatineau Sylvie?  Blonde Sylvie?  Sylvie who we partied with Sylvie?”

“Yes, that Sylvie,” Siena rolled her eyes.  “Knockout Sylvie.  Drop dead gorgeous Sylvie.  Only in law school so her parents don’t cut her off financially Sylvie.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows in anger.  Sylvie had been so nice when Aberdeen had come to visit last year, and had bought her drinks at the club…and now to hear she’d done this to Siena?  And had been doing it for months?  Aberdeen was livid.  “Well fuck that bitch,” she barked.  “And fuck Aaron, too.”

“Now I know how you felt when Zane did that to you,” Siena bit her lip.  “But you guys were together for like, a year.  Aaron and I were just hooking up.”

“Still,” Aberdeen was still upset.  “Fuck that guy.  Fuck them both.  Fuck them all.  He doesn’t deserve you if he’s gonna be sneaking around on you, hooking up with Sylvie and whoever else.  You dodged a bullet.  You’re too pretty and too smart to be bogged down by such a fuckboy.”

Siena was quiet.  Aberdeen tried to figure out whether she was going to cry or roll her eyes, but she couldn’t.  With Siena looking at the floor, it was almost impossible.  When she finally looked back up, her expression was much more neutral.  Gentler.  “I wish I had your sense of loyalty, Aberdeen,” Siena said softly.  “Really.  I do.  It’s one of your best qualities.  You…you have my back no matter what.”

“Of course I do,” Aberdeen said.  “You’re my sister.”

Siena nodded her head.  “I know it might not seem like it, especially after the lunch we had, but I always have your back, too,” she said.  “I hope you know that.  I’d do anything for you.”

Aberdeen was silent as she considered her sister’s words.  They fought like any sisters did, but deep know, she knew.  Aberdeen knew her sister would do anything for her, and she would do the same.  “I know.”

“Can you forgive me for lunch?”

Aberdeen nodded reluctantly.  There was nothing to forgive when her sister was right about her assumptions.  “I forgive you,” she said.  She watched as a bunch of fans made their way through the tunnel and into the arena back to their seats.  “Listen, I have to get back.  But I’ll meet you after the game, okay?  Go to those doors over there,” she pointed behind her to the same doors she came through to meet her.

“Okay.  I’ll see you,” Siena nodded, watching as Aberdeen disappeared through the door.

***

William scored in the second period, making Aberdeen convinced he was just trying to show off since he knew Siena was watching.  Hell, he could probably see her from the bench.  With the Leafs winning 4-2, Aberdeen was happy.  But there was barely any time to celebrate.  Everybody had to get ready to leave as soon as possible so they could get on the plane and fly to Buffalo.

It was why Aberdeen was dragging Siena through the back corridors eagerly.  “Where are you bringing me?” Siena asked.

“You need some eye candy to take your mind off Aaron,” Aberdeen said.  

“So you’re bringing me to meet an old man?”

Aberdeen snorted.  Brendan was three years younger than their dad.  “Not quite.”

As they turned a corner, they came head to head with some of the guys, walking in and out of the locker room, their shirts half buttoned, their ties undone, some of them still in their hockey pants, topless.  Siena stopped dead in her tracks.  “Aberdeen—”

“—Feast your eyes—"

“—Aberdeen, I shouldn’t be here.  I shouldn’t…oh…oh my,” Siena gasped like an old Southern woman as her eyes landed on a topless Pierre Engvall across the room.  “Oh my God you could have told me!” she pinched Aberdeen.  “I could have dressed nicer!”

“Hello.”  Siena jumped dramatically, turning around to see William behind her.  She calmed down when she recognized him.  “How are things?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.  

“Fine, thanks,” Siena’s voice was equally as low.

He stood up straight more and extended his hand.  “I’m William, it’s nice to meet you.  Siena, you said?”

Siena was taken aback for a second before she realized what William was doing.  She wasn’t supposed to know who he was.  She wasn’t supposed to be familiar with him.  “Hi.  Y—Yes,” she stuttered out, shaking his hand.  “I’m Siena, Aberdeen’s older sister.”

“Hey!  Who’s the stranger?” Auston called out from inside the locker room, looking at them standing in the doorway.  

“This is my sister, Matthews,” Aberdeen answered, saying it loud enough so the whole locker room would hear.

Most of the guys approached to shake her hand.  Jason came up first, then Rasmus, then John and Freddie.  Aberdeen didn’t think Siena would get starstruck by hockey players, but she apparently was, stuttering out hellos and pleasant conversations with the men.  Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle.  “Jesus, Aberdeen,” Siena whispered eventually when nobody approached them and they were alone.  “Are they around like this all the time?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “You don’t know the half of it.”

It was at that point that Auston approached them, giving Siena a quick but flirty up-down that Siena didn’t catch but Aberdeen did.  “This is your sister?” he asked, extending his hand and getting Siena’s attention.  

“Yes, she’s my sister.”

“You guys don’t look like sisters,” he commented.

“I got much more of our dad’s Persian features,” Siena said, shaking his hand.  Aberdeen had rolled her eyes – as if she hadn’t heard that comment before about them not looking like sisters.  “I’m Siena.”

“Siena.  I’m Auston,” he smiled.

Aberdeen rolled her eyes playfully.  “Go flirt with Willy, Auston.  You didn’t get with Kasha and you’re definitely not getting with my sister.”

Auston furrowed his brows at her playfully.  “Get a life, Aberdeen,” he said before sticking his tongue out.  “I hope you liked the game,” he said to Siena before walking away.

Siena was about to whisper something to Aberdeen, but then noticed the man from before making his way towards them.  Her breath hitched in her throat and her entire body seized up.  Aberdeen almost burst out laughing then and there.  “Hello.  I’m Pierre,” Pierre Engvall extended his hand for Siena to shake.  “You’re Aberdeen’s sister?”

Aberdeen had to nudge her sister to get her to respond.  She jerked her hand out to shake Pierre’s.  “Hi!  Yes yes, I’m Aberdeen’s sister, Siena.  It’s nice you meet you Pierre.”

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked.

“Yes.  Yes.  You guys played so well.  I mean I don’t watch hockey much but—”

“Have you been to a game in Toronto?” he asked.

“No—I mean, not yet.”

“Well you should come.  I’m sure Aberdeen could get you a ticket,” he smiled.

Before the flirt fest could go on any longer, Rasmus screamed something in Swedish at him, and Pierre laughed.  “It was nice to you meet you Siena,” he said before walking away, punching Rasmus on the arm.

Siena looked at Aberdeen.  Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head.  “Good God almighty, that man just made me sweat like a whore in church.”

Aberdeen snorted.  “Don’t tell that to mom.”

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say - Ch 2 (modern AU - actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF

- or read below the cut -

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or removed) for further updates.

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4​ 

Chapter Two

Killian sighed into the hard press of his fingers against his tired eyes, listening to the soft hum of the elevator as it climbed to his floor. He’d look like a drunken raccoon by the time he got into the apartment, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. An early morning shoot that had dragged late into the day left him feeling more dead than alive, and he hadn’t bothered with his normal clean up on set. The time saved getting back to his bed was the bright side—the downside was a few fans had recognized him when he jumped out of his uber, his trademark eyeliner and messily styled hair a giveaway. He’d managed a few weak smiles as they snapped pictures and hurried on his way, taking a few strange turns and slipping a spare beanie he kept in his pocket over his head. That, a popped collar, and hunched shoulders normally did the trick. Being famous certainly had its perks, but crazed fans knowing where he lived certainly wasn’t one of them.

It was usually simpler to drive to set, but lately he’d been to worn out to trust himself behind the wheel. The past two weeks had been a nightmare of last minute reshoots and publicity, and he couldn’t wait for it to all be over.

The elevator doors slid open, Killian staring at them for a moment before he realized her was staring at the familiar artwork that spanned the hall outside his condo. Desperately trying to blink away sleep, he trudged down the hall, leaning his forehead against the cool metal door for a brief second before unlocking it and heading in.  

God, he hoped Milah was content to have a quiet night in.

Everything was blessedly dark and quiet when he stepped into the entryway, shrugging his leather jacket off and hanging it on the waiting hook, his boots next as he eased them off his aching feet and lined them up neatly below the jacket. He rolled his neck and stretched, wrinkling his nose as he realized a fifteen-hour day filming had left him less than fresh.

A hot shower and bed—that was the plan. With any luck, and the darkened apartment seemed to be on his side, Milah would already be stretched beneath the covers and he could slip in behind her and fall asleep pressed to her warmth. It would be the perfect start to a weekend otherwise free of engagements and obligations.

“Milah?” he whispered, not wanting to startle her if she was relaxing in the living area.

There was always the chance she’d gone out with friends earlier and wouldn’t be home until late. It was a Friday, after all.

His back ached as he stretched his shirt over his head, balling it up and launching it toward the hamper as he walked into the bedroom. A glaring light greeted him from around the corner and he realized that Milah was indeed home, but not where he’d hoped. It looked as if a tornado had blown through the walk-in closet—every pair of heels she owned were tossed onto the floor and the chaise was covered with a haphazard pile of glittering dresses. Milah was standing in front of the mirrored wall, a sequined, black strapless number pulled over her body but left unzipped as she adjusted a pair of large earrings, her brow furrowed.

“Oh, thank god your home,” she huffed, flashing an annoyed smile over her shoulder as she slid her second earring in. “This zipper is absolutely impossible.”

He smiled and stepped into the closet, taking care to avoid the dresses that had sloughed onto the carpeting.

“I’m happy to help, darling,” he assured, catching the nearly invisibly zipper and easing it up her back. There were certainly nights he would have coaxed her into agreement that off was the far better option, but tonight he was more than happy to get her dressed and out the door if that was what she so desired. “Headed anywhere special?”

“It’s that opening of the new club—you know, the one with the glass ceiling that everyone has been going on about. I mentioned it the other night—good lord, Killian, you positively reek.”

Killian flashed a tired smile in the mirror, but her frown only deepened.

“Honestly, Killian, you can’t go out like that. You’ll need to have a quick shower.”

Killian’s brows echoed her own displeasure as he realized what she was implying.

“Did you want my company, as well?”

“Do you even listen when I speak? Sometimes I wonder. I told you two nights ago that Lara and William were expecting us. They’ve barely seen you.”

Killian couldn’t remember a Lara, but he seemed to recall a bright, friendly man with reddish-blond hair who may have been a William. No matter who they were, he had no interest in spending the evening with them, and even less in spending the evening on his feet in an obnoxious club.

“It’s been a long day, Milah—every day for the past couple weeks has, and I’m exhausted—”

“You’re absolutely right, Killian, it has been a long day, a long few weeks, and I’m sorry that I thought I might get to spend some time with you at the end of all of it. How foolish of me,” she snapped, and Killian felt the words like a slap to his face.

“No, you’re right. It’s—I’m sorry. I’ll have a quick rinse and get dressed.”

Milah beamed at him, adjusting her hair and checking that everything was just as she wanted it to be in the mirror. Killian pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder, the warmth of her smile washing away a bit of his exhaustion.

He wanted her to be happy, and perhaps the past few weeks had been more difficult for her than she let on.

“It will be a lovely night, I promise,” she said, shoving him gently toward the bathroom as she turned to reappraise the pile of heels.

* * * 

Despite Milah’s initial enthusiasm that he’d agreed to join her and two people he most definitely did not remember—apparently William had brown hair and was quite pretentious—it was not a lovely night. The hot shower and the warmth of Milah’s arm in his had been enough to fool him into think it might be the tiniest bit enjoyable—after all, it had been some time since he’d been to a club—but he’d been wrong, very wrong.

Everything from the moving lights to the music to the stench of hot bodies pressed against one another was giving him a pounding headache, and he slid down further into his chair, nursing a rum and casting about for Milah, wherever she’d gone. He’d wanted to give her a nice evening at his side, but he hadn’t been able to find it in him to join her on the dance floor—probably because his feet had blisters from filming in his costume boots all day—and she hadn’t been able to find it in her to forgive him.

He’d been able to keep track of her at first, but soon she was lost in the crush of bodies and he was lost in his rum—at least it helped dull the sounds a bit.

He didn’t know if it was the insane schedule he was booked to finish shooting for his latest movie, or just the lack of free time, but nothing felt quite right lately, and he was worried a change was needed. Milah was clearly unhappy with his schedule, with how much distance it put between them. He found himself wondering if perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad time to step back a bit, to get away and really dedicate some time to the two of them.

It was a question he’d come back to more than once in the past few months, and as much as he wanted to feel that doing so was the right answer, his gut kept telling him it wasn’t.

He loved her, he certainly didn’t want her to be miserable, but the thought of missing out on opportunities at the high point of his career, it did worry him. Liam had worked more than any person should have to help put him through school, and he’d only ever wanted happiness for his little brother. Liam was a big enough man to know that for Killian that meant acting, even if it was a hard path. If Killian were to step back now, would that be doing justice to his brother’s sacrifice. What if he started turning down offers and never bounced back from it?

He searched the dance floor once more, but there was no sign of his Milah. Knowing she was probably hurt enough to ignore him for the rest of the night, he whipped out his phone and started scrolling through emails, most of them simply things his manager had already spoken with him about over the phone. It wasn’t until he scrolled farther back, nearly hypnotized by the small boxes flying along the screen, that a flagged email came to his attention and he stopped. The details were familiar, and he only just remembered the conversation he’d had with Cora.

It had been an offer for the lead role in a new series, but he’d turned it down due to the filming location. He’d been worried about having to uproot Milah, but scanning through everything once more, he found himself second-guessing his first decision. Perhaps it would be the answer they needed, and the more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him personally.

Maine was certainly quiet and would allow for more quality time together—and the pay was bloody obscene, which never hurt. According to Cora, the role had been written specifically for him. He wondered how the showrunners had taken it when he declined.

His finger hovered over reply.

He should probably discuss it will Milah first, but then thoughts of Liam tugged at his tired mind and he reread the arc for the lead role, each sentence making him more inclined to see if taking it on was still a possibility.

He’d earned his name and place in Hollywood by becoming the face of playboys and scoundrels, all of his characters well-known for their rakish appeal, but to be honest, he was starting to become concerned he may not be offered anything more diverse if he didn’t branch out soon. This role—this would be something different, something Liam would be proud of. The series treaded water somewhere between a fantasy show and a piece that examined the very fabric of what is real, the main character a man who suffered great personal tragedy and loss only to have his independence and health rocked.

The more Killian looked at it, the more he knew it was for him, the words swimming with possibility...or rum. He didn't know what about his previous roles had drawn the showrunners to him of all their choices, but for the first time in a while, he really wanted something.

He really wanted this.

A feeling of certainty settled in his gut and he shot off a reply to Cora.

K: I want this, do what you need to do.

The message sent and he almost expected to look up and see Milah hovering over him, a flushed smile on her cheeks from dancing, her hair falling in tendrils around her face, but his table is still empty and the dance floor is still a writhing mass of faceless people.

Raising his glass in a lonely toast, he took another drag of rum and closed his eyes.

He wants to dream that she’ll be as happy as he is, that’s all he wants for her.

[ladyanput]

a elite journalism company is recruiting for internships and asking people who know the candidates for input. when they come to Bustier's class and say they want to take people aside to ask about Alya, Marinette tells them not to bother and just look at the Ladyblog to see what sort of reporter she is. Alya thinks that Marinette is trying to worm her way into her good graces, Mari knows they'll actually fact check and reject her,

There was a buzz of conversation in the school today. Apparently a high end journalism agency was out recruiting interns for the summer, their goal being to teach and carefully groom the reporters of tomorrow.

And Alya Césaire was all the more eager to show them what she could do. So she put her name in for that internship and waited.

It wasn't long before she noticed that her classmates were being called out of class one by one. When they would come back, they'd shoot Alya a big smile and give her a thumbs up.

Her brows furrowed, confused, but she smiled back and continued with her daydreams of being a star reporter, of being the one to find out Ladybug's identity, of maybe even covering the future wedding of Chat Noir and Ladybug, with Lila as the maid of honour!

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You're wanted next." Principal Damocles spoke up, eyeing the girl sitting in the very back row, all by herself.

Marinette nodded and got up, ignoring the glares sent her way by her classmates and followed the principal to his office.

She quickly noticed a woman sitting at the principal's desk. She was beautiful, dressed in a white sheath dress that complimented her soft dark skin and trim body. Her dark hair was pinned back, and her dark eyes settled on Marinette.

Marinette knew that the woman was analysing her, taking in much information with a single gaze.

It scared her a back.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, yes? I'm Genevieve Belrose. I work with Paris National, the biggest news agency in France." The beautiful woman spoke, folding her hands neatly as Marinette took a seat and Damocles left. "I am currently out recruiting interns for the summer. One Miss Alya Césaire has applied, and we at PN like to gather as much information about our interns as we can, as one can lie of a resumé, but the people as a whole always help paint the full picture. Now, do you think that Miss Césaire is worthy of an internship with us?"

Marinette bit her lower lip gently, her hands tightly gripping the armrests of the chair. This was Alya's dream job, this could get her to the best places in journalism. It'd make Alya so happy.

But why should you concern herself with Alya's happiness? She hadn't concerned herself with Marinette's.

"No, Miss Belrose, I don't think Alya Césaire is suitable for the internship." The words came out before Marinette could stop them. But no guilt came as soon as they were spoken. In fact, Marinette felt somewhat relieved.

"Really?" Genevieve's brows rose as she stared at the young girl. "All of your friends have her outstanding praise, saying she was a good journalist."

"She's not." Marinette stood abruptly, her body shaking ever so slightly. Genevieve didn't flinch, seeing there was an obvious emotional turmoil. "Look at her blog, the Ladyblog. She had posted nothing but lies recently."

When Marinette motioned to Principal Damocles' computer, the head of PN went and looked up the blog. She already had before, had researched it extensively, as the internship application for miss Césaire had been bragging much about her superior blog.

It had been subpar. At the earliest of posts, it was promising, but recently it had reminded Genevieve of a gossip tabloid.

"It has become a shrine to Lila Rossi, more than a blog of facts." Marinette pointed to several posts, ones Genevieve herself had quickly found out to be untrue. "And to the search for Ladybug's identity. One that Ladybug herself pleaded for her not to try and find, as it could endanger the ones she loves."

"Hmmm." Belrose nodded. She did find that frantic hunt for a superhero's identity was intriguing, but she knew that is Ladybug fell, then Paris would fall victim to Hawkmoth, so she had banned any such coverage from PI. She respected Ladybug, and respect and trust was how you got interviews from the big names in the world.

Genevieve listened as Marinette told her every lie, every dishonorable thing Alya had done in her own twisted sense of journalism.

"Miss Aurore Beauréal has a blog called 'BugOut'. It is much better, and has even debunked the lies that Alya has published, but Alya refuses to change anything. In fact, she attacked Aurore the other day about it." Marinette sat down again, hugging herself. Had she overstepped a boundary...? She couldn't help it, but she couldn't allow Alya to have the assets that came with that internship.

She truly was a horrible friend, wasn't she?

"... I thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You are the only one in that entire class of yours to be honest with me, beside one Chloé Bourgeois. While I honour loyalty, honesty is a better policy, despite what people make us journalists out to be." Genevieve gave the girl a dry smile and stood. "Miss Césaire will not be working with us. She is a disgrace to journalism everywhere, and from what I've read, she is far too proud to admit her mistakes. That is a journalist's downfall. I appreciate you for pointing me towards someone that has the potential to be worthy of my company. Now, you may go back to class, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I have an internship agreement to write up."

---

Alya Césaire perked up slightly when she saw a camera man with a 'Paris National' walked by them in the hallway. Were they finally here to give her her internship?

"Lila, I think it's finally happening!" Alya squealed as she pulled the Italian girl closer, pointing to the camera man as he disappeared through the doors and out to the courtyard.

"I told you my cousin worked there. I put in a good word for you, I promised afterall." Lila smiled sweetly, while silently being thrilled. With Alya becoming a reporter in an actual agency, she could become even more famous!

As the two girls entered the courtyard, they watched, confused, as a young man was handing Aurore a letter, than shaking her hand.

"We look forward to you starting your internship soon, Miss Beauréal. Welcome to the PN family." The man was saying, and Alya felt her blood go to ice.

"What...?" Alya whispered softly, staring off as Aurore's classmates cheered for their friend, and Aurore burst into grateful tears.

"Oh Alya, I'm so sorry!" Lila gasped, her hands on her cheeks and her eyes wide. "I was certain my uncle could get you it."

"Why...? Why couldn't I get the internship? By blog as ten times the amount of followers as Aurore's mess!" Alya snapped, her hands curling into fists.

"Maybe it's because Aurore is white." Lila spoke up suddenly, crossing her arms. "You know how it is in the industries. As long as you're white, you get first pick."

"I beg your pardon?" Both girls turned around, seeing Genevieve standing behind them, her arms crossed. She had a scornful look on her face. "I will let you know, Miss Lila Rossi, that race had nothing to do with my decision on who I will be personally interning. It was about quality over quantity. And Miss Césaire's quality was quite lacking."

"What the hell do you mean? My blog is perfect!" Alya shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the courtyard. Marinette frowned as she pulled back from her hug with Aurore. Alya looked like a dog readying to tear out the throat of its prey.

"Your blog is trash!" Genevieve snapped, setting a perfectly manicured hand on her hip. "I have never seen such sloppy work! Your stories were a disgrace! You only took the stories from your little friend here at face value, and never once found any secondary sources to back them up!"

"Lila isn't a liar! Did Marinette put you up to this?!" Alya spun, her face red with anger. "Marinette, you bitch!"

"That is enough!" Genevieve snarled, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was clear she had made a good decision. Genevieve had worked too hard, had suffered such discrimination, she was sure Alya would have thrown it all out the window, seeing how she reacted to rejection. "You, Miss Césaire, are a disgrace! I would never, ever hire anyone like you in my life! I will make sure every news agency, ever tabloid, every newspaper stand in Paris knows this! How dare you insult me, and my company, by thinking we think race matters over everything else, such as the most basic thing as checking sources, which you fail to do!"

"Wh-what...? Wait, no!" Alya's face went pale, as she reached out a shaky hand.

"Don't worry, Miss Césaire. I believe Miss Beauréal and I will be working on a story tonight. A story of one tabloid trash who got a bit too entitled with her out paltry journalism skills."

Genevieve left the girl standing there, smiling down at Aurore as she approached. "I certainly hope you can come to headquarters with me. I have already contacted your parents, I have their permission."

"Yes! Yes please!" Aurore gasped, delight clear in her eyes.

Genevieve gave a look to Marinette, smiling and nodding to her, before leaving with her eager new intern.

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