#at least have a social media presence for fuck's sake

[barryogg]

Something Else

There was an xkcd strip once.

I think this one came out back when I was still in high school. Back then, the idea of your online activities somehow bleeding into real life consequences seemed preposterous to me. And mostly to anyone else. Like a gag from a Kevin Smith movie.

Things changed eventually. As it often happens, slowly at first, then in sudden jumps. One of these jumps was back in 2017, when an internal memo by then-googler James Damore was leaked, and he became the Emmanuel Goldstein of the month.

You can pick other examples of ousting/doxxing people: Brendan Eich, ESR, Stallman, Justine Sacco, sneerclub's campaign against Scott, Lomez, BAP...

But the Damore case was important for me, as it was the one when I decided that for the sake of my future livelihood it might be worth it to split my online presence, largely monolithic since at least 2004, into separate pieces.

This is when I created the moniker of comicsansstein, based on an irl shitpost of my friend:

"Holey Anarcho-Nixonist Empire - Comrade Logan Wolverinovich-Comicsansstein Japanese consulate"

The anonymization was always a half-assed effort. I didn't recreate the blog, merely renamed it, so older discourse with multiple reblogs had the old nick still. I occasionally posted face. My 2014 face is even in my blog banner, on the left. But it seemed like a good-enough effort to at least inconvenience would-be snoopers.

But vriskinnie's recent declaration of purging social media presence got me thinking. What am I afraid of, what should I be afraid of in 2024? I'm married now, my wife knows of this tumblr. Hell, me having a tumblr was one of the factors of our successful first date, years ago. Friends and coworkers and fandom colleagues know at least the general vincinity of my views. The people who could give me shit about it did, and then managed to eventually burn all other bridges they had, too. There's just no more leverage to exploit here.

People like Gerard like to puff themselves up as the ambush predators in the Dark Forest of the internet. They hope that going after the big names will have the chilling effect of cowing the randos into hiding.

Well, as the xkcd above says, fuck this shit.

I'm 36 today, literally twice the age of maturity, and I think I'm about done with running. I won't deactivate, I won't cover tracks. I choose something else. I choose the opposite.

My name is Bartek Żak, also known as BarryOgg everywhere since 2004, when a Golden Sun phpBB forum had a Pratchett phase, and it's nice knowing you.

[mgcoin]

Ever since Dalmatian crumbled into dust on the cryptocurrency market, Lee Myung-gi had been on the run and in hiding. His social media presence was gone, his tech savvy ways only just deleting the internet footprint that he had left barring the odd Google search on where he went to university and graduation pics which would forever be on the internet, that and the police posters plastered all over the image searches and media articles. Myung-gi needed to hide, to find a place to stay and where else could he go? It couldn't be with family, no they had disowned him long ago for choosing the path of a YouTuber instead of a traditional job like medicine or in the military.

Boy, did he wish he picked that career path now.

The fallen star hurries to an apartment complex, keying in a code he thought he'd never have to put in again and buzzing. "For fuck's sake, please be home..." He mutters to himself in a frantic display that was uncharacteristic of the usual pomp and ego that Myung-gi would oft project in his videos and to his friends. He was beginning to lose hope, until the line is picked up. The YouTuber firmly grasps upon the sides of the buzzer before calling out, "Rae?! Rae! You've gotta let me in, please!"

An acquaintance, a friend. At least he thought so? Before he was a cryptocurrency youtuber, he was an influencer and a damn good one at that. Myung-gi hoped that she remembered him, but then again, this was the sixth 'acquaintance' that he has ended up at their doorstep in the last few weeks. He only hopes that she wasn't a fool and invested in his doomed currency...

@sturmboe - closed starter

[doctortwhohiddles]

Oh for fuck sake 🤡

The more a couple is private, the more tinhaters scream "PR". It's as if they have no idea what PR actually is. Oh wait, they don't.

Tom and Zawe barely have a social media presence. They don't talk about their private life. They don't do joint interviews in tabloids. We don't even know for sure when their son was born and what is name is. Hell, neither of them have posted pictures of him. How the fuck can that be called a publicity stunt? In what world does privacy equals publicity?

Are there celebrities who do PR relationships? Yes, it does happen from time to time. But when that relationship turns into a marriage and a family, I think it's safe to say it's real. Tom and Zawe have been together for at least 4 years, engaged for 2 and have a son. It's not done for PR. They're in love with each other. Never mind the fact that neither of them is a fame chaser.

The Deniers really need to get into their thick, empty skulls that not everything a celebrity does is PR. That they too have a normal, regular, day to day life. They need to just deal with the fact that Tom and Zawe are together for real. If they want to keep their hopes up for nothing, then they need to learn to deal with disappointment. Because that's all they're going to get.

[zukkacore]

I would fucking love to learn about hockeygate

I'm not the most involved in booktok but i was privy to this drama i don't know how but i did stumble upon it. To be fair. There's literally like articles and videos and stuff that probably explain it better than me, like this is actually getting mainstream coverage it's kinda wild.

Anyway it starts with the fact that there's this Why Choose (reverse harem) hockey romance book that blew up on tiktok called Pucking Around.

So it becomes a thing on tiktok for people who like this book to basically to do faceclaims for the characters with actual real hockey players—i'm not sure if this was independently inspired or if the author was like "yeah these fictional hockey players are totally inspired by [insert real hockey player here"]. One of said fancasts is this guy named Alex Wennberg who plays on the Seattle Krakens.

This booktoker named Kierra Lewis blows up really quickly and gets a pretty decent following mainly from, like, making comedic tiktoks that are basically thirsting over these real hockey players on the Seattle Krakens & how much they look like her book boyfriends which includes Alex. & im sure its like meant to be all in good fun & hornyposting online has its sphere as long as its not invading the lives of the real people involved (kinda like how everyone had the hots for Pedro Pascal which i get but contriving every interview so that he's bombarded with everyone's thirst tweets and comments feels like its devolving into harrassment guys) so i get that. A lot of the jokes are sexual & there's a pretty common one she makes about wanting Alex Wennberg to "crack her back" etc, its play on "break my back" i think? Or maybe its a kraken pun?? idk.

& a lot of the hornyposting about the hockey players involves like making fancams of the players groinstretching on the ice & in these poses that fans sexualize them in, etc etc. I wanna point out that like it's not just Kierra doing this, its a whole sphere of hockey romance booktok, but she is a pretty prominent figure in this story.

Anyway all this hornyposting about the seattle krakens gets the attention of the kraken's actual social media account, so they start playing into it too. Posting thirst traps of the players and stuff. So The Krakens were benefiting from the attention from Booktok, but at the same time, it feels pretty ridiculous to claim that a popular team in a well-loved longstanding sport was, like, "discovered" or made relevant by booktokers.

Kierra Lewis actually gets invited to a Krakens game, like she gets flown out, she gets like a Kraken's jersey that says "booktok" on the back etc etc. & she's posting tiktoks from the game. & i'm gonna editorialize more than i previously have to give more of my personal opinion here, but this is the part that I think is particularly just, inappropriate and in bad taste. b/c she's like filming the players on the ice while they do their stretches and making sexual comments, like shouting "crack my back" to them while they're on the ice, like it's very much the same thing she's doing on tiktok but online is one thing, that's at least worthy of a conversation of like what privacy really is online, but it's another thing to be making comments like that to their face while at a person's place of work.

After all this, the wife of Alex Wennberg, Felicia Weeren, makes a post on social media basically asking people to ease up on all the suggestive comments about her husband online, not just for her sake but b/c it makes her husband uncomfortable, too. She's basically asking for people to be more mindful of how they post, and im paraphrasing in her sentiment that people would view this behavior targeted towards her husband and the other hockey players and inappropriate if women were the recipients of the sexual comments.. It's been impacting their lives because their online presence now is basically just swarmed with people making suggestive comments, people in their lives irl are commenting on it & making jokes about it, etc etc.

(& i personally don't love when people make the "if the genders were reversed" arguments b/c that tends to lead to false equivalency & also b/c people broadly don't take harassment of women seriously, but tbh she has a point. While people don't take harassment of women seriously, i think broadly left-leaning people at least understand the shape of like, what a catcall is and why its bad. & part of the reason this went uncommented on for so long is part of the patriarchal stereotype that men always want sex which is used to dismiss male victims)

She was pretty measured about the whole thing all things considered, especially b/c she said she's all for female empowerment and sexual expression & she doesn't know if there is a simple answer to this stuff, but there has been boundary crossing with how extreme and vocal its getting & especially b/c its affecting her husband at his work.

In her post, some of the examples she included as inappropriate comments included posts made by Kierra. She didn't single out Kierra directly, but she did use her posting as representative of a larger trend in the hockey romance booktok fandom.

The post from Felicia was taken really poorly by booktok and people started harassing her and her family including their kid, and saying she was being dramatic, saying she wants to be the center of attention, fabricating rumors about her and Alex wennberg that they were having "marriage trouble" etc etc. This includes Kierra lewis getting pretty upset and taking the post as though she's being singled out personally. Mostly doubling down, deflecting, saying it's all just a joke.

And perhaps it does suck to be treated as representative of an entire group of people, and being the most prominent face of something, she would inevitably get the brunt of backlash. But also she was the one invited to the game and was making all those comments like shouting at the players and stuff, so I do think she has to take a larger ownership over her behavior than random people posting online.

During this time she also finds out the Kraken's social media unfollowed her, so she's also expressing resentment that the Krakens were playing into the thirst trap stuff but suddenly have turned against her.

And yes, it was all just probably meant to be in good fun, but from the wider internet outside of booktok, it just seemed pretty inconsiderate and crappy to double down after people expressed that they were uncomfortable with what is basically sexual harassment. Yes, the Kraken social media was feeding into the hype, but the social media account is not representative of the players and their attitudes, and it was clear that the players stopped being comfortable with what was going on. Tbh there was quite a bit of victim blamey rhetoric. Consent can be revoked at any time. (& i have seen some arguments that b/c its sexual harassment (& in the workplace!) and not just like, an encounter in the bedroom, it wouldn't even have been possible for Alex Wennberg to consent in the first place b/c you can't consent to harrassment. It was just harrassment the whole time.)

Anyway, the harassment toward Felicia got so bad that Alex Wennberg had to come out and also make a statement in support of his wife

But the reason that post is making fun of booktokers thinking they made hockey relevant was b/c that was a pretty funny and common argument from Kierra and other booktokers who were not backing down on their position that they did nothing wrong. They kept being like "well we made the Kraken's relevant", "we brought all this attention to hockey", "the Krakens would be nothing without booktok." it was all very bizarre.

[theallsngeye]

on the artist & the world:

(excerpts from an interview for a peer’s essay)

To truly & fully speak on my experience and values as an artist, I feel like I have to give some preface to who I am as one.

*i am both a musical & visual artist, so although this is predominantly in the context of visual art; my philosophy and terms of origin still remains for the former*

I am a self taught abstract artist. I have no former training, no classes, no college. I have no knowledge of color theory or the inter workings of mediums or materials. I feel as blank as the canvas most times.

But I say all this to say that I feel like due to my lack of knowledge and understanding of art, I tend to view it all more spiritually. In a broader sense, I see creativity as being something completely beyond us.

I am merely but a vessel for the ever flowing presence of creativity.

But I mean in todays world, does ANY of that shit matter if it doesn’t have capital gain?

Apparently not.

Every artist is faced with having to equate a value to their work. Work that shouldn’t be measured in any sense. Art that should just exist. As should the artist.

So to combat a world of social media, brand building, content creation; NOT to mention imposter syndrome, financial stability, ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, systemic oppression and on and on…

I propose the true artist should practice in something I call: creative abandon. (yes, i believe there is a distinction between artists and their intentions and ethics but that’s a conversation for another time)

sounds super dramatic, but it’s simple I promise.

The world is over saturated at the fact that it’s at our fingertips. I believe that’s just the universes call to embrace humanity. Reach within and not out.

What do we love besides what the world and the internet tells us to? Go find the shit that resonates with YOU the most. Do what YOU want to do and simply don’t give a fuck about what everybody says or does.

Abandon the world. Fall into self. Know your Soul. Embrace Creativity. Be You.

Be willing to learn and adapt because you are just a human trying to live and create, and you didn’t ask to be in this ever changing ass world. But all we can do is be water and find our peace in the wind.

And yes, as much as I hate it too, I guess I have to post my art on social media, even if it only gets like 10 likes lol.

I don’t know if it’s my hubris or my confidence but any piece of work I do, I feel like it can change the world or at least garner some sort of love and praise. Confidence is healthy right?

And if I feel like that, I’m sure that there’s artists that share that feeling and experience. I post something I put my heart into on the internet and the reciprocation is short to nothing.

So I started managing my expectations and perspective. Social media brought forth comparison in an ungodly amount. I stopped reaching out and reaching in.

I’m aware that my world is just as valid as the world going on around me. My ecosystem, my little corner of the internet and the world is enough. If the world beyond me one day gets to love and see my work, that would be lovely. But for my own mental health sake, I had to learn how to remind myself that MY WORLD, no matter how small or large, is enough.

I don’t think you get through all this without an extreme unconditional unending love for your art.

…

To Summarize:

- The key to life is your will to learn.

- Be like water and the wind.

- Manage your expectations, but fuck that. I personally practice NO EXPECTATIONS but to each his own.

- Your world and art are just as valid & significant as the the same artist who has a million followers.

- Really love this shit. Please show that you care. Love the art.

and please, remember you’re human.

[axvoter]

Blatantly Partisan Party Review LI (federal 2019): Independents in NSW, Part One

On the Senate ballot this federal election in NSW, there are fourteen—fourteen!—ungrouped candidates for whom you can only indicate a preference if you vote below the line. One is standing as a representative of Love Australia or Leave, who I have already reviewed. Another is a representative of the unregistered No Tax Free Electricity party, the subject of my immediately previous review. Let’s take a squiz at the remaining twelve. These will be brief, as I expect very few of you are either a) in NSW or b) likely to vote below the line now that you can distribute preferences above the line.

My reviews are in ballot order, not alphabetical order.

John William Carmichael

… I’ve drawn a blank. Why the hell would you nominate and not make any information available online. This infuriates me. But, hey, if John William Carmichael wants to waste his money to nominate, I’m sure the Australian Electoral Commission enjoyed receiving it.

My recommendation: with no information online, it is impossible to give John William Carmichael anything other than a weak or no preference.

Chifley Haddad

There is not a whole lot about this bloke online either, except a piece by his local rag, Dubbo’s Daily Liberal. He describes himself as a lifelong Coalition voter (despite that very ALP name, Chifley) and complains that, get this, there are too many “Left members” in the Libs now! He is very hostile to renewable energy and wants a new coal-fired power station. He also voted “no” in the marriage equality plebiscite because he was “worried about normal married couples. Their freedom would be hard to protect.” Steer clear of this guy!

My recommendation: give Chifley Haddad a weak or no preference.

Phil Baker

Bloody hell it’s another one on whom I am drawing pretty much a blank. It is possible he is the same Phil Baker who ran for One Nation in Queensland’s Division of Flynn at the 2016 federal election, but it is too generic a name to be sure. The guy running this year has the full name Phillip Raymond Baker but I cannot find the full name of the 2016 candidate in Flynn. The only thing I can say about him is that he did not give much information on his AEC qualification checklist except to note his ex-wives were Scottish and Malaysian.

My recommendation: with no information online, it is impossible to give Phil Baker anything other than a weak or no preference.

Graeme Doyle (website and Facebook)

This guy is really concerned about the environment and climate change. He supports other left-wing issues such as the independence of the ABC, free education from preschool to university, good penalty rates, etc. He wants lower electricity prices too. But he gives almost no details about how he will achieve his very vague objectives, and his online content is superficial and written poorly. At least he seems sincere, and usually about important things, but with such scant information it’s hard to be enthused.

My recommendation: give Graeme Doyle a middling preference.

Hussein Faraj

Well, questions 10/10a/10b of his AEC qualification checklist indicate he is probably a Lebanese dual citizen and ineligible to sit in parliament, and that he really has not been paying attention to the section 44 saga or comprehend its implications should be win. Cool, cool. He has stood for the NSW state seat of Rockdale before, and runs a number of local businesses including Chicken Licious. In a candidate profile from the recent state election he describes his main interest as lowering and regulating prices for essential services. He is opposed to privatisation of energy resources and wants greater investment in public infrastructure. In general he seems quite involved in his community and his goals are usually positive ones. Not even the editors at the St George and Sutherland Shire Leader could fix his bad writing though.

My recommendation: give Hussein Faraj a decent enough preference but he’s ineligible to be elected.

Sandra Lazarus (website)

Sandra’s website is very vague. Her policies are bullet points that scarcely even indicate what she wants to do or the perspective from which she approaches them, though at least she does not appear to be a hard-right candidate. She describes a career background in healthcare and education, and her “morals and values” emphasise “the ever growing need for justice and equality”. It is possible she leans left. But hard to say anything substantial on the basis of this.

Lazarus gets interesting, however. She is the Sandra Lazarus found guilty of fraud by ICAC by submitting false invoices for services never provided to the Royal Hospital for Women and Royal North Shore Hospital. It appears this fraud involved forgery of signatures by senior medical staff. Lazarus denied the charges.

My recommendation: give Sandra Lazarus a weak preference. She might be a fraudster but at least she’s not one of the many racists or fascists on the ballot. Yes, this is where we are in Australian politics at the moment: “hey, fraud isn’t so bad when you have multiple white nationalist parties on the ballot!”

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[xofanfics]

Without Warning - Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Reader x Mark ft. Doyoung

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You and Doyoung had the best summer you could. Now that he’s hundreds of miles away in college, you have to go through senior year alone. You meet Mark at a time when Doyoung is making you feel like you’re single.

Mark was completely taken aback by the events of the night. You’d kissed him and you held his hand and you brought him into your room. Mark could hardly contain his excitement about having kissed you, touched you, and having been close enough to pick up on your scent. For him it wasn’t sexual. It didn’t have to be and, to be honest, he didn’t want it to be. At least, not right now. For now, he was just enjoying this innocence with you.

You went in your drawers and pulled out pajamas, sending Mark into anxiety. Please don’t change in front of me, please don’t change in front of me, he thought. The last thing he needed was to get hard right now and to potentially scare you away. He definitely wasn’t ready for something like that. Thankfully, you excused yourself into the bathroom and returned a couple minutes later with a freshly washed face and pajamas on. 

You looked beautiful as ever, even with no makeup on. He’d seen you a few times without makeup but on most days, he noticed, you’d at least be wearing eyeliner. But here you were, no eyeliner, no mascara, and none of your usual lipgloss with the slight pink tint to it. 

Mark was lying across your bed, heart racing. He was nervous because he’d never seen you in this state and, of course, because he liked you a lot. “You feeling okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little tired. Do you wanna watch my show with me?”

“Yeah. What show?”

“I started rewatching Sailor Moon.”

“I’m down for whatever.” 

You crawled into the bed with him and snuggled up to him, lying on his chest. He wasn’t sure if you could hear his heart racing but it was definitely racing. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been drinking or what; he just knew that he was very aware of himself right now. Was he breathing too hard? Was he breathing at all? Did he still smell like alcohol? Did you actually like him, the same way he did? He had so many questions and most of them, he couldn’t answer at the moment.

One minute you were watching tv in silence and the next minute, you were asleep. Mark looked down at you and smiled at how cute you looked with your mouth slightly open. He wished he had this view all the time. With a sigh, he thought about all the things you could do if you were his. But for now, he caressed your hand as you slept. He stayed like that with you for the rest of the episode before he figured he shouldn’t overstay his welcome. He scooted from underneath you but before he could get out of the bed you reached out for him, grabbing onto his arm.

“Don’t go,” you mumbled.

“What?”

You opened your eyes and pouted. “Cuddle with me…”

Mark’s heart started racing again but he did what you asked. Plus, how could he resist when you made a face like that. He got under the blanket with you and pulled you closer. You snuggled up to him and said, “Goodnight.” Mark smiled and wrapped his arms around you. And with you in his arms, he fell asleep more quickly than he normally would. 

*

“Y/N?”

Mark shot up, realizing that he probably should’ve asked you when and if your mom was coming back home. He looked down at you, still fast asleep. Should he hide under the bed? In the closet? He heard footsteps coming toward the closed door. Mark bolted into the closet, hoping that the door wasn’t the kind that would squeak as you opened it. Thankfully, it didn’t and he closed the door just enough. He took in a deep breath, praying that your mom had no reason to look in the closet.

“Y/N?” your mom said. She opened the door and Mark heard your mattress shift from outside the closet. 

“Hey,” you said. He heard you yawn loudly. He couldn’t see you but he imagined it in his mind. 

His heart raced while your mother spoke. Was he breathing too loud? Could your mom somehow sense his presence? Thankfully, he’d come over in his socks so there weren’t any shoes by the door to be evidence. He’d met your mom a couple times at this point but he was pretty sure your mom wouldn’t have been very happy to come home and find the two of you asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Did you have fun with Mark and your friends?” She chuckled as Mark’s heart continued racing. “That’s good to hear. Anyway, it’s been a very long double shift so I think I’m going to take a bath with those bath salts you got me for my birthday. Get a little more sleep.”

“Okay,” you said, “See you later.”

Mark heard the door close and relief swept over him. A moment later, when he was sure your mom was gone, he whispered, “Y/N…”

“Mark?” You opened the closet door, surprised that Mark was there. You found him in between your jeans and your t-shirts. “Oh my God, I thought you left! I’m sorry, I forgot to set my alarm. I should’ve told you my mom was coming home in the morning. Unfortunately, she’s not on vacation in Mexico...”

“It’s all good,” he said, chuckling as he stepped out of the closet. “As long as she didn’t see us in the bed together, I think we’ll both survive.”

You laughed, too. “That was way too close.”

“Yeah, for sure. I should get out of here before your mom comes back...”

You nodded, moving out of his way. “Let me make sure she’s in the bathroom.” You left him in the room for a moment. Mark grabbed his phone from under your pillow. You came back and said, “The coast is clear.” 

You waved him over and he followed you to the front door. 

Mark turned to you. He needed to know before leaving here. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” you said, stretching.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

You nodded. “I remember everything. I meant everything.”

That brought a wide smile to Mark’s face. He felt his cheeks get hot and he wasn’t sure if he was visibly blushing or not. Then again, he didn’t care. Hell, if you meant all the things you’d said, nothing else mattered. You wanted to kiss him, genuinely. He wasn’t sure if you liked him like that but you clearly felt something. And, for now, that was good enough for him.

You had something you wanted to say but you hesitated. Things had taken a turn since last night. “Um…”

Mark noticed your hesitation. He supposed things did get a little awkward. “What’s up?”

“Since we’re sober now, will you kiss me?” you asked, taking Mark by surprise. You’d been so forward for the last ten hours and he had no idea what to make of any of this. You didn’t know what had come over you the past few hours.

“Yeah.” 

Mark leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips felt the same, more or less. They weren’t as moist without lipgloss and they no longer tasted like cotton candy. But he enjoyed the kiss with you nevertheless. He pulled away a few seconds later with a smile. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and he kissed you again. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yep.” You took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “Now get out of here before my mom catches you here.”

With a chuckle and a kiss on your cheek, Mark was gone with the wind. 

*

Doyoung was annoyed and frustrated. He’d been trying to contact you for weeks on end to no avail. You’d dodged every obstacle. He’d hit you up on LINKEDIN, for God’s sake. He was putting in all that effort and you ignored him every time. He’d tried contacting you through your friends, on social media, and so on. But there was never any response. 

And then the one opportunity he had to talk to you, you were drunk off your ass. Was it that bad that you couldn’t contact him sober? Was it that bad that you had to be drunk to speak to him?

He was frustrated because he fucked up. He fucked up and he didn’t mean to. New stressors in his life weren’t any excuse to treat you the way he did. He got caught up in this new life and he took you for granted. He assumed you’d stick around because you loved each other, even though he hadn’t been acting like it. College life became more important to him that managing the relationship. But he snapped that one time and that was all it took to destroy the relationship. He was so stupid not to realize what was going on, not to realize how distant he’d become. It didn’t look good on his part, as your boyfriend.

How could he have been so stupid? He missed you. Some days, you were all he thought about. Were you sleeping well at night? Were you having fun? Did you...miss him? 

He was frustrated because he made a mistake, one that cost him even his friendship with you. He lost his girlfriend and his best friend, all at once. And he hated it. He missed being able to vent to you when he’d had a shitty day and he wished that he could call and tell you about it. But you took that option away from him and Amber and Phil weren’t much help either. He didn’t want to put them in the middle; it was an issue that he had with you and it wasn’t right to try to go through them.

Doyoung’s phone rang on his desk, disrupting him from his thoughts. It was his mother. She was the last person he wanted to speak to right now. He let it ring, hoping that she’d just leave it at that. The phone stopped ringing and he let out a sigh of relief. The relief only lasted for a few seconds and she started calling again. Doyoung rolled his eyes and sighed instead of hurling the phone across the room like he’d imagined in his head. He picked up the phone from off the desk and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom.”

“Just calling to check on you. How is everything?”

“It’s going okay. I’m working on a paper right now. I’m almost done. I got an B on my biology exam. I think I’m getting the hang of how I need to study for that class.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ll do better for the next exam. Start preparing now so you can get a head start.” She cleared her throat. “Did you book your flight yet?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been so busy. I meant to tell you about it yesterday.”

“Good. The prices were getting more expensive.” She let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe your brother is getting married in three weeks.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to come right back to school after.”

“Me either. But you know how event venues are. They got a good deal considering it’s a weekend.”

“It’s going to be a long weekend.”

It would be. But all he could think about was the possibility of seeing you while he was back home. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things to make up for. He just wanted confirmation if things between you two were truly over. What would he find if he looked you in your eyes? Love, hate, or indifference?

*

Amber hit you in the arm with the copy of Romeo and Juliet that had been sitting on your desk. “You and Mark what?” 

You shrugged and said, “We kissed...a few times. And he might’ve slept over last night...”

“Slept over? Did you guys do it?”

“No!” you said, probably a little more loudly than necessary. “It wasn’t like that. We just...cuddled and slept. But I forgot to set an alarm for when my mom came back so Mark must’ve heard her calling me and he hid in the closet.” You grabbed an oreo from the box sitting in the middle of the bed as Amber sat cross legged at the foot of the bed, waiting for the rest of the story. “At first I was sad because I thought he left in the middle of the night but he ended up in the closet because my mom came in to say hi.”

“Well this was definitely unexpected,” she said, “but Mark’s a pretty decent guy, being from the male species and all.”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked Mark?”

“I didn’t know. I mean, I never thought about it.”

“So you’re not sure?”

“I think I do like him…I mean, I liked the kiss and the cuddling. And it’s not like he’s not attractive.”

“You’re not using him to get over Doyoung, right?”

You shook your head. Of course, getting over a two year relationship wouldn’t be easy but you had to move on eventually. And, with the way he treated you, it would be easier once you met someone who truly had your best interests in mind. Mark was a sweet guy and he was a good friend. Even though things had been platonic up until this point, Mark had become one of your closest friends. You could trust him with your life and you knew that, perhaps, you could trust him with your heart, too.

You weren’t sure what came over you that night but all you could think of at the time was “What if we kissed?” The alcohol gave you the nudge but you found yourself thinking of Mark constantly. And every time you did, you smiled. You remembered how you felt when things had gotten more romantic with Doyoung. You’d get butterflies when you heard his name and you were excited to see him everyday at school.

It was pretty early on but you knew that you were starting to like Mark, as more than just a friend.

*

Lucas jogged over toward Mark, sweaty and exhausted. He plopped down on the bench next to his friend and took a long swig from his water bottle. They’d been playing basketball for about an hour. “Ready to go?”

Mark nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s head back. I’m starving.”

Lucas stood too and they headed to the parking lot, in search of the car. Mark took out the keys to his parents’ car and got in. As Lucas got in the passenger, he said, “So what happened after we left last night? Did you tell her you like her?”

“Well we, uh, kissed...and I did tell her I like her.”

Lucas smirked. “So she likes you after all, huh?”

“I mean, I think so.”

“What do you mean, you think so? Did you ask her?”

“I mean I didn’t ask her directly.”

“So what the hell did you talk about then?”

“Well we actually didn’t do too much talking.” 

As soon as the words left Mark’s mouth, he regretted them. He knew that it sounded a lot dirtier than he meant. And he knew that Lucas would take it the wrong way.

Lucas’ eyes widened as he took it the wrong way. “You fucked her?”

Mark turned in his seat. “No, no! We didn’t have sex or anything like that. I know it sounds kinda weird but she brought me over next door to hangout because she didn’t wanna be alone and then she kissed me and then she wanted me to stay over and cuddle with her. So we cuddled and we both fell asleep.”

“Cuddle, huh? We all know what cuddling leads to…”

“Hey, just because that’s what you and Marina do doesn’t mean it’s the same for me and Y/N! When are you going to start dating her anyway?”

“Hey! Don’t change the subject! We’re not talking about me and Rina. When are you going to take Y/N on a date?”

“Soon. I’m just not sure what we should do. Got any date ideas?”

“Y/N is a pretty simple girl. What about a picnic at the park? You could go around dinner and watch the sun set.”

*

Mark was feeling extra excited today. He got to the bus stop a few minutes early, so he could rehearse what he was going to say to you. He’d rehearsed it a million times last night into this morning. Initially, he thought about texting it to you but he decided against it; he figured that asking you in person would be better.

He’d been texting you all weekend but he hadn’t hung out with you. Part of him was hoping that the two of you could hang out at least once but you’d been out with your mom all day yesterday. And he understood because your mom hadn’t had a Sunday off in a while. He was satisfied with the kiss you promised him over text messages. 

You snuck up on Mark without meaning to. He’d been so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even see you coming in his peripheral vision. He jumped when you appeared in front of him, almost dropping his phone. “Shit!”

“Sorry,” you said, giggling, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Ready for school?”

“I’m never ready for school.”

Mark chuckled. “Are you busy this weekend?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Would you wanna go on a date on Saturday?”

Your face lit up at his words. That made Mark happy. “I’d love that.” You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. And when you pulled away, you gave him that promised kiss. 

That, of course, made Mark even happier.

***

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[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Social Media AU - Richie Tozier comes out during a show

I decided that this AU works better with a written headcanon to go with it, and so I’ve included it underneath the cut. It’s a little rough because it’s been a LONG time since I sat down and properly wrote something, but I tried!

Enjoy!

Holy shit.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His manager was talking shit in his ear, prowling after him like fuck knows what, talking about “there’ll be backlash for this” and “not part of the plan”, and even “you’ve ruined your whole fucking career”. The usual stuff, really. Richie couldn’t bring himself to give a shit though, not right now. His heart was pounding ridiculously loud in his chest, blood rushing through him and making him feel dizzy – adrenaline mostly, but also some anxiety too.

Somehow he found himself in his backstage dressing room, manager still nagging him and furiously demanding answers. Pull it together, Tozier, pull it together.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” Brad hissed, slamming his hand down on the dressing table; the bottle of water next to the mirror topped slightly from the force of it. “This is a PR nightmare!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Richie said simply, giving a shrug. “What can I say, man? Gotta be true to myself.”

A vein seemed to throb in his manager’s forehead. “You just announced that you’re gay in front of hundreds of people, Richie, most of whom are within the demographic that are the least accepting of homosexuality! You think you’re the first gay person to be in this position? Because you’re fucking not, okay, there’s a reason PR is a thing! Your image is going to be ruined within just a few short hours of all of this!”

“So you want me to lie about it?” Richie snapped. “I’m done lying, okay? I’m done with the dumb girlfriend jokes, I’m done with the misogynistic shit that I’m having to recite, I’m fucking done! I shouldn’t be ashamed about this, it’s 2017 for fuck sake!”

“Alright, sure, it’s a more accepting time, but your fan base...in case it escaped your notice, you have a certain demographic, and it’s not ‘woke’ gay people. The people who came to your show tonight wanted to see the Richie Tozier they know and love, they wanted those jokes and that humor - not your life story and an impromptu coming out!”

“Well, tough shit to them - like I said, if I’m doing these shows, I’ll do it with my own jokes, not hiding who I am anymore.”

“Richie, it’s not that simple-”

There was a knock on the still-open door; a stagehand gawked at them, a little nervously, before clearing her throat. “Um… I’m sorry to interrupt, I… Well… These guests have VIP passes, and they wanted to see Rich- I mean, Mr Tozier right away.”

Behind her, Richie could see the rest of the Losers Club waiting awkwardly, clearly trying not to look at him or his manager. He cleared his throat and gave what he hoped was an at least somewhat polite nod. “Yeah, they’re friends of mine. Thank you. Brad,” He turned to his manager and gave him a meaningful look. “Some privacy please?”

Brad straightened his blazer but nodded too. “Of course. I have...things to try and fix. We’ll discuss this later, Richie.”

He waited until both the stagehand and his manager were out of earshot before gesturing for his friends to come into the dressing room; all of them looked nervous, clearly trying to pretend that they hadn’t overheard the argument, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind - he was just so glad to see them all right now.

“So…” He said, closing the door behind them and trying to look like he was holding it together. “What- What did you think?”

“You were great, Richie,” Bill said sincerely - and that seemed to make the others more comfortable too, judging by how they all started to smile and rush to embrace him.

“You did a wonderful job, Richie,” Beverly told him, giving him a squeeze and beaming at him. “You had us all laughing the entire show.”

Ben was grinning widely. “Far funnier than any of your old material, that’s for sure.”

“You were actually funny,” Stan said, though he was smiling fondly. “Never thought I’d say that, Trashmouth, but it’s true - if only you were that funny when we were kids.”

“Ha, fuck you too, Stan Urine,” Richie joked, but he was unable to stop himself from exhaling in relief. “I’m glad you all enjoyed the show - was kinda worried it wouldn’t get the same laughs as my old stuff.”

“Your old stuff was fake,” Mike brushed off, giving him a kind smile. “We could see it was really you up there, being yourself.”

Richie felt a little dazed by all the attention; he was briefly aware of Bill and Mike both patting him on the back, of Stan and Patty sharing a small laugh as they recounted something he’d said during the show, Audra congratulating him and saying how happy she was to finally meet all of her husband’s friends, Ben grinning widely, Beverly holding his arm and stating that she was so proud-

Eddie.

Fuck.

“Has anyone seen Eddie?” He blurted out, unable to stop himself. Everyone else fell into silence. “Oh shit. Fucking shit-”

“He just went out for some air,” Beverly said quickly, though she looked uncertain. “I think it’s just...a lot for him.”

“I gotta go find him,” Richie muttered, immediately heading for the door. “Fucking fuck...”

Ben’s arm stopped him before he could touch the handle. “Rich, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“No, I need to apologize to him, I need to explain-”

“Richie,” Bill said quietly. “You just said you’ve been in love with him since we were kids, in front of hundreds of people. Everyone will know by tomorrow, even if they weren’t at tonight’s show. It’s a lot for him to take in.”

Something anxious and vile reared up in Richie’s chest, making him feel like it was difficult to breathe. “I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked this up, oh fuck...I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Richie-”

“It’s okay, Richie, don’t panic-”

“Shit, what’s he gonna think?! Fuck, I’ve ruined our whole friendship, what the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“You haven’t fucked anything up, Richie.”

“Rich, please just breathe, okay?”

He was only somewhat aware of Beverly’s hand in his arm, gently pulling him over to the nearby chair and sitting him down. “Richie, honey, have some water and just focus on breathing, okay?”

Knowing he had no choice in the matter, he took a gulp from the water bottle she passed him, focusing on her voice and doing his best to push his fears away. Tonight was supposed to have been the opposite of this - he was supposed to be brave, to stand tall, to not be ashamed of who he was. Instead he was terrified, filled with regret and uncertainty.

A part of him was briefly aware of someone (Bill, he figured) saying they were going to find Eddie before stepping out of the room. A minute or so later, he noticed the others starting to filter out of his dressing room, muttering that they were going to give him some space to breathe and not overcrowd him - they’d wait for him outside. He could only hope that security had managed to get any fans waiting out back to go away - normally he didn’t mind signing autographs or saying hello to people, but after tonight’s show...no. He couldn’t.

You’ve really fucked this up, Tozier.

---

Beverly walked with him as they left, her presence welcome and calming; she didn’t speak, and he was grateful for that - he just knew that she understood, that she was on his side no matter what was to come. Then again, he was sure all the Losers would be there for him no matter what - they were like a family, he sometimes thought, a family of misfits and nobodies that found each other, found a group where they could be themselves.

Fuck, he loved his friends so much.

“You want me to drive?” Beverly asked finally when they reached the car park, looking around; the others were nearby, crowded together and talking amongst themselves. “Or do you have a limo these days, Mr Comedian?”

“Hilarious,” He said dryly. “No, but I have a driver sometimes. I can call him and tell him to head home for the night though.” 

They had nearly reached the others before Richie realized that all of his friends were there.

Eddie was there.

His throat closed up. No, no, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t-

“Eds,” Beverly said softly, giving him a kind smile.

Eddie gave a small nod, hands in his pockets and suddenly looking awkward. “Yeah… Erm… Hi, Richie.”

Everyone was silent. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife as they all debated what to do, none of them clearly sure of what to say in this situation. Richie tried to meet Eddie’s eye, only to find the other man staring at the floor resolutely; anxiety and worry gnawed at Richie’s insides at the sight. 

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of awkwardness, Mike cleared his throat and looked around at everyone. “How about we go grab a drink?” He prompted. “You know, to celebrate.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Mikey,” Bill sighed with relief, quickly glancing at Richie and Eddie. 

“We’re all booked in the same hotel, right?” Beverly decided quickly, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “How about we go for a drink at the bar? That way none of us need to worry about driving or trying to find our way home.”

The others murmured in agreement, though it was clear that things were still awkward. As they started to make their way out of the car park, Stan and Bill navigating and leading the way, Richie noticed Beverly’s hand leave his arm; before he could question her, however, he found himself face-to-face with Eddie - immediately his throat felt dry, voice mysteriously gone for once in his life.

“Richie.” Eddie’s expression was hard to read; he didn’t seem angry but he didn’t seem happy or pleased either, just...carefully neutral. “Look, we need to… We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Richie managed. “I guess so.”

Eddie hesitated for a second or two before turning to call to the others over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you guys there.”

None of the other Losers commented on this; instead, Bill merely nodded and gestured in the direction that they were heading. “Sure. Take your time.”

As soon as their friends were far away enough not to overhear, Eddie looked at Richie pointedly. “Is there somewhere private we can go or…?”

“Err… Dressing rooms might still be open?” 

“And we won’t be overheard?”

“No. I have a private dressing room, dude.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at this but gestured back towards the theatre. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, Trashmouth.”

Weirdly enough, the nickname made him feel more comfortable - it was almost like nothing had changed, like he didn’t just admit in front of hundreds of people that he was in love with this man, like he didn’t admit it in front of said man. For a moment, Richie allowed himself to think that everything would be fine; they’d talk it out, maybe be able to laugh it off, and it would be good. Not great, to be honest, but better than this hiding and lying.

---

Thankfully security had allowed him to go back to his dressing room, under the guise that he had “forgotten” something, and they didn’t ask about Eddie accompanying him - awkward questions would have made it much more humiliating for all parties involved, he thought. Richie wasted no time in opening the dressing room door to let Eddie in before closing and locking it for good measure, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Here, urgh… You take the chair, I can sit on the table,” He offered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie brushed off, crossing his arms and suddenly avoiding his eye. “I’m kinda too nervous to sit.”

“Oh. Thank fuck, me too.”

He noticed Eddie’s lips quirk upwards, as if he was trying not to let himself smile - that was definitely a good sign. He waited for the other man to speak first, partly to be fair but also because, frankly, he had no idea what to say.

“So… Congrats on coming out?” Eddie finally offered - and then they both burst into laughter. “Fuck, that sounds so dumb.”

“Yeah, but it’s kinda cute,” Richie chuckled before he could stop himself - and then he froze up again. “I mean… I don’t mean…”

Eddie seemed to realize what he meant and his smile faded. “Right. That.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Richie said quickly. “I should have told you in private or something, not on a fucking stage in a stand-up routine. I mean, I was going to imply that I’m gay as fuck, that was planned, but I wasn’t going to just put it out there like that, it just happened. And shit, I wasn’t even intending on saying all that about you, but I saw you sitting in the front row and… Jesus, Eddie, I just saw you laughing and I-”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupted, and the other man fell silent. “Look, man, this is all… Okay. Alright.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before speaking again. “What you said during the show about me…about how you feel...you meant it.”

Richie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

“Since we were kids?” Eddie continued, waiting for the other man to nod. “Okay… Richie, I swear to God, if this is some practical fucking joke or whatever - something for you to get laughs or make fun of me or whatever dumb shit goes through your head - then I will punch you in the face right fucking now.”

“What? No, no this isn’t a fucking joke!” Richie retorted, almost offended by this accusation. “You think I would say all that shit on-stage in front of hundreds of fucking people just for a joke?! Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, I know, I’m sorry, I just… It’s a lot to take in,” Eddie muttered. When his friend didn’t say anything, he cast a look at him, seeming to study his face, before sighing. “Rich, I’m not about to turn around and start screaming slurs at you just because you had a crush on me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I can see it on your face, dumbass. Richie,” He leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my friend - one of my best friends, actually. Nothing you say could make me hate you...well, not anymore than I do already.”

Richie gave a small, pained laugh, though the relief was evident on his face. “Right. Yeah. Thanks, Eds.”

For a long moment that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, neither of them said anything else; Eddie’s hand remained on Richie’s shoulder, the taller man just looking at him gratefully. There was still a nagging feeling within him, something eating up at his insides and wondering if Eddie was just hiding any anger or disgust, maybe he just didn’t want to ruin a good night; they still hadn’t really addressed the whole “hey, I’m in love with my best friend Eddie” thing either, that could be awkward-

“Me too.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

Eddie’s hand fell away, and he merely just shrugged as he looked away from Richie. “Me too. I’m...I’m gay.”

“Oh. Oh. Eddie…”

“During the divorce proceedings with Myra, I...I started to think,” He continued, almost to himself. “Actually, it was before that, before I even left Derry. I would hate myself, you know, for every time I looked at a cute guy too long, every time I thought they were handsome in their best clothes or whatever. I’d push it away because I’d think it was not okay, that I was being disgusting or dirty or…”

Richie was stunned by this, suddenly at a loss for words. “Dirty? Come on, dude, you’re like the cleanest asshole I know - there’s not a microbe of dirt or whatever the fuck on you.”

“Hilarious. Really.” But Eddie wasn’t smiling. “Look, ever since the day we...we defeated IT, I’ve thought about it. I have. I thought about you helping me out before that fucking nightmare of a house collapsed, thought about you dragging my ass to hospital and demanding I get immediate attention, about how brave you were that day. After that I decided that I wanted to be brave too - you made me want to be brave and stand up for myself.” He paused. “That sounds cheesey as fuck, I know, but it’s true. And tonight, when you were telling your own jokes, stuff you’d written and worked hard on, I realized it again - that I want to be brave. I don’t want to be scared to admit it.”

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. But there’s something else, Rich...the only person I told before now is Bev, and that’s because she guessed, you know? She could tell, but I also knew she’d listen and not judge.” He took a deep breath. “When I was in the hospital, every time I woke up, you were there - you refused to leave me. The others would be there too, usually taking turns, but you didn’t do that - you were always there. And before that, when we were stuck in that fucking thing’s lair, I saw you…” His voice failed for a moment, and he hurriedly looked away. “Fuck, Richie, you were under the deadlights and I...I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn’t bear it, Rich - I just couldn’t. I had to do something, I had to save you even if it meant putting myself in danger.”

“Well…” Richie wasn’t sure what to say - this wasn’t how he imagined this conversation going at all. “It worked. I’m not dead.”

“No, I know. But do you get what I’m trying to say, Richie?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Why I’m telling you all this?” 

“I dunno, man,” Richie said dazedly, trying not to get his hopes up - he couldn’t, he couldn’t let himself think one thing and be brought down when it was not true, not if he could help it. “This whole night has been a clusterfuck for me, and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not high and hallucinating right now.”

It wasn’t true - he hadn’t been high in nearly five years, and he’d given up excessive drinking after reuniting with the Losers. He knew Eddie knew that already, but it was the first excuse he found himself latching onto.

“Jesus Christ, Richie.” The smaller man rolled his eyes but remained otherwise serious. “I’m trying to say that I’ve...I’ve liked you since we were kids too. Loved you, actually. God knows why since you’re an idiot who annoys the shit out of me, but damn it, I love you, Richie Tozier.”

“…Fuck.”

“I was never going to tell you,” Eddie admitted, folding his arms and looking rather uncomfortable. “Even though I decided I was going to try to be brave, that I wasn’t going to keep up with a sham of a marriage, I thought that you weren’t…you know. And I thought that even if you were, then I’d be the last one you’d want to be with.” Strangely, he gave a smile. “Fucking dumb, right?”

Richie nodded. “Very fucking dumb. Jesus, Eddie, do you not see the way I’ve been looking at you? Fuck, there’s been days you’ve given me boners in public just because I was thinking about you.”

“Urgh, too much information, asshole,” Eddie huffed – but the affection behind it was obvious, his facial expression softening. “So…where does this leave us, Richie? What happens next?”

“Next?” Richie considered this. “Well, being honest, I’d love to take you out and do this shit properly, but…”

“But?”

He hesitated, giving the other man a surprisingly serious look. “But that’s your choice – if you wanna stay friends, I respect that.”

To his surprise, Eddie huffed before stepping forwards; before Richie could say anything else, he was being kissed firmly on the mouth, hands cupping his face and pulling him close. He wasted no time in closing his eyes and kissing him back, his heart soaring as his entire body came alive.

For the first time all night, the panic and anxiety that had set him on edge flowed away completely: all he felt was exhilaration and relief – and love, love for this man in his arms. Suddenly it didn’t matter about what anyone else thought – whether ‘fans’ would send him hate online, how this could impact his entire career, his manager hounding him with how much he’d regret this – because none of it was important, not as important as this, as finally being able to hold the person he loved, who he’d always loved, and being able to be open with himself as well as those closest to him.

Yeah, Richie thought to himself blissfully, he didn’t regret his decision in the slightest.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Everything I Wanted (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,700 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: After all this time, her social media posts have a way of captivating him...until he turns the tables on her.  Part 3 of Lovely and Ocean Eyes.

________________ Ethan walked down the corridor on a seemingly normal workday, far too aware that his steps were lighter and the smile he fought so hard to conceal made its appearance more often than not. For the sake of his reputation, he schooled his features into his usual unwelcoming and severe expression, though part of him worried that he was fooling exactly no one. 

Perhaps his face betrayed the way his pulse picked up pleasantly at the memory of the shy smile she offered him every time they crossed paths. The simple gesture was enough to brighten his mood, no matter how stressful his day. Somewhere down the line, Ethan had surrendered to the effortless way Dr. Lilac Allende drove him to distraction.  

His good mood quickly soured, however, when he walked past the locker room on the third floor. Typically, he studiously blocked out all the mindless conversations that drifted out into the hall, but a particular name caught his ear.

“Damn,” a tall, burly intern was saying as he glanced at his phone. “I knew Dr. Allende was hot but.. just wow.”

His friend closed the locker door and walked over to glance at the screen, nodding in approval. “What's her deal? She single?” 

The first intern scoffed, almost derisively. “Thinking of asking her out, Reyes?” 

Reyes looked unabashed, maintaining an easy grin that was almost arrogant. It made Ethan want to punch it right off his face. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Is she still with Lahela? They were a thing a while back, I think?” 

Ethan had the mad urge to step in and correct the false statement, but he abstained. The two morons before him had no right to Lilac's personal life. 

Reyes stared at the phone screen again and gave a low whistle. “Her Pictagram is a work of art. The things I'd do–” 

“The things you're going to do, Dr. Reyes, are your actual job duties,” Ethan said through girt teeth, stepping into the room. 

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance or the downright murderous glare the older doctor was sending their way, but the pair of interns fumbled, the first one almost dropping the phone. By the time they straightened up to face Ethan, they looked far too rigid, uncomfortable, and downright terrified. The verbal lashing he unleashed on them was one for the books. In the end, there was no trace of arrogant smirks as both interns walked away, pale and with the extra workload Ethan assigned. 

Finally alone, he exhaled a sharp, steadying breath. At least there were a few guarantees in life, even if things had changed: he could still reduce grown men to tears and these damn interns were going to drive him to an early grave. 

Considerably calmer, Ethan produced his phone from his pocket and opened the too familiar Pictagram page. One glance at her latest picture and the two idiots' reactions made sense, even if they were still not justified.

Fucking hell. 

Just like his moronic predecessors, Ethan almost dropped his phone, stifling a cough. Any trace of gentlemanly thoughts vanished as his eyes took in her bare shoulder, exposed so intentionally and coyly. All he could think about was running his lips along the curve of it, his fingers slowly tugging the black robe lower until it pooled on his floor. 

Before his primal mind could add his teeth and the moans she'd reward him with to this fantasy, his eyes fell on the caption. 

Stay? 

Ethan could hardly fight back the grin the single word inspired. The previous morning, as she had stopped by his office to use his coffee machine, he pointed out how useless Pictagram was. Lilac was quick to remind him that he seemed to be enjoying it, referencing the reaction he'd had to her previous posts. Determined to save face, Ethan had blurted that he might even delete his account.

A smug smile over her shoulder had been her reply along with a sultry promise. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

She had accomplished just that along with taking root in his every thought. The need to see her became so acute, that he sought her out in every hallway he turned into. Finally, he found her in one of the break rooms, laughing and chatting with her intern, Dr. Ortega. 

 “This coffee machine is the worst,” he heard Ortega complain. She rattled the cup as though the action would force it to hurry. “I can't believe I'm going to be late because of shit coffee.”

Lilac laughed. “Shit coffee is better than no coffee.” 

“Spoken like someone who has a mysterious coffee source.” 

With another laugh, Lilac mimed zipping her lips shut. Dr. Ortega snorted with laughter, which was a rare enough sight. 

“At least rounds are not with Dr. Ramsey this morning,” Ortega continued as she sniffed disapprovingly at her cup. “I'd be dead meat for being even two minutes behind.”

“And that's considering the guy's mellowed out in the past few months,” a nurse chimed in from his place at the loveseat. “He was far grumpier before. Something or someone is putting that man in a good mood every night.”

Ethan felt his neck flare up, his eyes solely on Lilac, looking as lovely as ever and utterly unfazed. 

“That poor soul,” Lilac commented so convincingly, Ethan almost believed it. “Whoever that is.”

The nurse had no reaction, invested in his newspaper as he was and Ortega threw a hesitant smile at Lilac. 

“I always kind of thought you two had a thing,” she confessed. 

Lilac did not even react, taking a sip of her to-go cup. “Because I'm his so-called favorite?” When Esme nodded, Lilac shrugged. “Being on his radar comes with its cons.”

At this, Ortega nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he's harder on you, for sure.”

That was his cue. With absolutely no preamble, he marched into the breakroom, startling the three occupants with his mere presence. 

“Allende, if you are done with your morning gossip session, I'd appreciate you getting me those labs I asked for.”

Lilac pushed herself off the counter at once. “Yes, doctor.” 

They stared at one another, neither betraying a single emotion. 

“Now. It's not like lives depend on it or anything.”

Ortega shot Lilac a sympathetic look, no doubt reconsidering her previous thoughts of their involvement. Without another word, Lilac followed Ethan out of the break room. Once they were alone in a deserted hallway, Lilac raised a brow at him. 

“You didn't ask for any labs,” she said at the same time Ethan blurted out, “'That poor soul'?”

Lilac laughed and he joined her with a chuckle soon after, their bodies comfortably gravitating closer to each other. His hands throbbed with the raw, poignant need to touch her and the blinding disappointment of being unable to. The way Ethan longingly looked at her then, drinking in every one of her beautiful features, he imagined he looked like some yearning nineteenth century gentleman straight out of an Austen novel. 

“Mine was more believable,” she pointed out, that witty, playful challenge in her eyes. An Elizabeth Bennet to his hopeless and bewitched Darcy. 

“Not remotely,” he returned without missing a beat. “No one would deem the person having sex with me every night as 'poor.'”

“They would when said person could barely walk the next day.”

That made Ethan pause, the bravado slipping as his eyes fell on her rosy lips. His breath caught audibly at his throat. 

They were standing so close together now, eyes locked on each other with palpable magnetism. If anyone walked by they would be found out without a doubt. Even more so if Ethan gave into the burning urge to kiss her right there and then. 

Lilac gave him a coquettish smirk. “Did you like my post?” 

Ethan found his voice again. “It was…”

There was no appropriate word to describe the delicious, sinful perfection of it. 

“Nice?” she teased. 

“Dr. Reyes and his idiot friend definitely thought so.”

Lilac snorted. “That explains the DM that sits unopened in my inbox. Jealous?” 

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. They're not the ones who have me in their bed every night.” 

Ethan almost stuttered like an imbecile. He fought back all indecent thoughts and returned, “You forget I have you against multiple different surfaces, Rookie.”

She paused briefly, eyes dark as they traveled down his body and back to his eyes again.

Fuck, she had him. He knew the look too well. 

“Or against no surface at all, as you proved on your birthday.” 

Ethan cursed. 

Everything in her expression suggested that she fancied herself the victor of their Pictagram debate. Matching her smug smirk with a dashing smile of his own, he decided then to give her a taste of her own medicine.

________________________

Ethan, ever the prophet, had predicted the board meeting they were both required to attend would be pointless. 

He had been right, of course. They both sat in the boardroom forty minutes into it, listening to Dr. Cyrus drone on endlessly about something that had little to do with patient care. Listening was a generous term because Lilac remained focused on her laptop, diligently updating patient files. Ethan, sitting across from her, was doing much of the same, the glare of his screen reflecting on his glasses. 

Soon, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled her away from her concentration. Her heart leaped when she saw it was a notification alerting to his latest Pictagram post. Confused, Lilac glanced up at him but he was too invested in his work to notice. 

After ensuring no one was paying her any mind, she opened the app and regretted it at once. 

One quick glance at artfully sculpted muscles and Lilac was reduced to a coughing mess. Dr. Cyrus stopped mid sentence to glare at her. Everyone else in the room followed suit to stare. 

“Dr. Allende, are you alright?” Naveen asked with concern. 

Ethan wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, his lips quirking ever so slightly, his fingers brushing hers. After a quick sip, she mumbled, “I'm fine. Sorry.”

Convinced, they resumed the meeting. 

Lilac, meanwhile, attempted to catch Ethan's eye to throw him a glare, but he remained laser focused on his screen. Having no other alternative, she returned her attention to the picture. Soon, she was texting him. 

Your one follower approves. 

Her phone dinged almost immediately after with his reply. Her pulse spiked with excitement, which was ridiculous because she slept with the man every day. 

I am aware. We all saw. 

Cheeky bastard. 

That was a low blow, Ramsey. And with a picture I took too. 

He almost smiled when he read that. 

Pay attention, Rookie. 

She bit her lip, glancing up at him. Ethan was the perfect picture of professionalism, his stoic expression betraying nothing as he worked. Her eyes returned to the picture, her cheeks flushing. 

Oh, I am. 

To the meeting. 

Oh. Dr. Cyrus has my undivided but unwilling attention. 

Liar, he returned at once. For a man who claimed to hate texting, he was a master at sending them without anyone's notice. 

I can tell because you actually look interested in what you're doing. 

Lilac almost laughed out loud at that. She quickly turned her head away from the front of the table to avoid suspicion. 

I am studiously taking notes. 

Unless you're jotting down all of Cyrus's brown-nosing remarks to Naveen, I highly doubt that. 

This time, a small squeak of laughter escaped her. Luckily for her, she was able to mask it perfectly with a dainty cough. No one at the table gave her a second glance, except for Ethan. Handsome as ever, his mouth quirked ever so slightly. 

I don't need to take notes on that, she replied. I already know how to get on my boss's good side. 

She watched as Ethan imperceptibly read her text, having no visible reaction. 

Time to go in for the kill. 

And the best side to get on is under him. 

This time, it was Ethan who sputtered slightly and coughed. A furious blush started to color his neck and ears in a way that was entirely too satisfying. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't finished yet. 

Although he actually enjoys me on top of him too. 

Those piercing blue eyes found hers instantly, so dark and smoldering that she was struck motionless for a second. A familiar, molten heat pooled in her belly as Ethan's lustful gaze remained on her, unwavering. The longer they stared at each other, magnetized, the more evident it became that he would take her right there and then if it weren't for the company surrounding them. 

When the meeting was adjourned for a break twenty minutes later, Lilac was assured that her texts had the intended effect. The tall, hard body of her boyfriend pressed hers flush against the door of his office the second it closed. A second after that, his full lips hungrily kissed her neck, his powerful hands gripping handfuls of her hips. 

“You're determined to kill me,” he muttered darkly against her skin. 

“But what a way to go,” she said in a whisper that gave way to a moan at the last word. 

He agreed in the form of a husky groan that resonated deliciously against her throat. With almost lazy effort, he turned her body to face the door, strong hands guiding her backside to press urgently against him. 

“The way you tease me, Lilac,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending a powerful shiver through her. His hips began guiding her toward the nearest table with ease, his fingers slowly skimming their way up her thighs and under her skirt. 

“You like it,” she challenged breathlessly. 

Ethan hummed against her shoulder, pulling her blouse down in a perfect rendition of her post. 

“It's torture.” Another searing kiss. “Seeing the way you look at me and not being able to take you against the nearest wall.”

Lilac had a witty response ready, but at that exact moment, his thumbs hooked around the lacy fabric of her underwear. 

“Are these for me?” His voice was nothing more than gravel. Lilac's legs quivered, every sense proudly dominated by him. 

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering closed in a heady rush. He had her bent over the table, her skirt bunching to indecent heights around her thighs. 

Without another word, he removed the garment skillfully, sliding it slowly down her legs and bunching it in his fist. Lilac pressed herself further against him, aching painfully for him. 

“Use them to tie me up,” she suggested in a ragged whisper. 

Ethan cursed. 

His hips jerked against hers, sliding the thick, hard column of his body against her. Lilac was so overcome with maddening need that her arms almost gave out from balancing her on the table. 

She never found out if Ethan was delirious enough to take her whispered advice because both of their pagers went off with infuriating insistence.

 “The meeting from hell that never ends,” he groaned. “Break is over.”

Lilac straightened against his chest, smirking when he made no movement to let her go. “To be continued?” 

Ethan leaned in to kiss her neck. “Your bed or mine?” 

Lilac swiveled in his hold, facing him with a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Doesn't matter as long as it's you next to me.”

He matched her smile with an unfairly charming one of his own. 

Though they were needed at the Board meeting, they stole another minute together in each other's arms. Lilac studied his handsome face briefly, feeling her heart restart as it often did when she realized he was finally hers. Perhaps he was hers in secret for the time being but he was hers nonetheless. The thought that after all the strife and hardship, she still found herself where she belonged, in his arms, made her smile grow wider. 

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“I love you,” she told him, not for the first time. 

It was his turn to give her a smile so incandescent that it stole her breath. “That's a relief,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Given that I am madly and desperately in love with you, Rookie.”

_____________

Author’s Note: Are we okay after those two new OH chapters?

I’m not! I have some ideas for future fics but we’ll see if the writing gods are in my favor. 

Thank you for reading this senselessness. I love you for it.

-Bree

_______________

Please let me know if I need to add/remove you. You might have asked me already but I can barely keep track of my life atm. Sorry!

@openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @aestheticartsx​ |  @silverlitskies​ |  @flyawayboo​ | @paulfwesley​ | @hatescapsicum​ | @myusualnerdyself​ | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ | @togetherwearerapture​ | @nooruleman​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker | @kaavyaethanramsey​ | @edith-eggs1​ | @choices-lurker​ | @jens-diamondchoices​ | @tefigranger​ | @ethanrcmsey​ | @coffeebeandragon​ | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey​ | @binny1985​ | @mvalentine​ | @sanchita012​ | @drethanramslay​ | @ramseysno1rookie​ | @takeharryandgo​ | @aworldoffandoms​ | @desmaranj​  | @oofchoices​ | @ethxnrxmsey​ | @octobereighth​ | @kopenheart12​ | @lilyvalentine​ | @honeyandsunfl0wers​ | @enmchoices​ | @colossalpainintheass​ | @rookie-ramsey​ | @humanpokemon​ | @apphia12​ | @kiara-36​ | @eramsey28​ |  @custaroonie​ | @helloblueeyedcat​ | @dr-ramseys-rookie​ | @thegreentwin​​ | @decadentwinnerjudgedream​​ | @jeerapp​​ | @doilooklikeiknow​​ | @dulceghernandez​​

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |  @angela8756

[shrimpmandan]

Alright I’ve had this on my mind for a little while and I just need to type it out.

Acecourse absolutely fucking eludes me. Both sides of it. I do consider myself an exclusionist but holy shit both sides of this discourse are completely fuckin’ wild. (Quick TW for the uncensored q slur just being used in a general context)

For context, I am not asexual or aromantic. I’m doing my best to understand the perspective of ace inclusionism, and I apologize for any inaccuracies.

Just to outline the main points:

- What IS the LGBT community?

- Why would an asexual/aromantic person want to be included in the LGBT community?

- Why would the broader ace community want to merge with the LGBT community?

- Can cis asexuals/aromantics reclaim “queer”?

{What IS the LGBT community?}

As most people probably know, LGBT stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender/Transsexual. It exists as a civil rights movement to combat centuries of both social issues and systemic oppression. The main activism seen in the LGBT community is the rights to marry, adopt... exist, really, and has had close ties with the leather/kink community, especially during the height of LGBT protests. I’m not gonna get into every bit of history, but this is the base I’m working off of. 

{Why would an asexual/aromantic person want to be included in the LGBT community?} If I had to guess, especially for adolescents who identify themselves as asexual or aromantic, the sense of isolation that inherently comes with any “atypical” sexual experience makes the idea of a community very appealing. The LGBT community is very widespread at this point and generally accepted in the mainstream online world, making it appear extremely welcoming to any person who feels lost and isolated from their peers for their orientation. 

My counterargument to this is -- asexual communities and groups do exist. I’ve heard the argument before that “exclusionists invaded and ruined ace communities”, but I have not seen any proof of such a claim, nor is it like that communities exclusively for asexual/aromantic people don’t exist. For starters, there’s AVEN, which I would think is a great place for a young person who’s questioning if they’re ace/aro to turn to for information and support. Additionally, doing a quick search, there’s quite a few Discord servers specifically for asexual/aromantic people (most notably Acecord and The Aro & Ace Cafe, which both have 500+ members), as well as Twitter pages (such as AsexualOutreach). There IS a decently sizeable ace/aro community, and this is just surface-level resources I’ve found. 

{Why would the broader ace community want to merge with the LGBT community?}

Activism, I guess. The LGBT community is already sizeable and pretty well-known, with a strong presence both online and in the real world. From pride parades to campaigns and media representation, more people are generally aware of LGBT than they are of asexuality/aromanticism. It does initially seem like a good idea from the ace/aro community’s perspective to combine forces with a larger community in order to get a boost on their own activism. The issue comes with what I can only describe as a conflict of interest.

As I stated towards the beginning, LGBT is a civil rights movement. The community exists to fight oppression and civil injustice first and foremost. In many places, it is illegal to just be openly gay or transgender. It is illegal in many places to get married or adopt if you’re LGBT. Many LGBT people are still imprisoned, murdered, or demonized as predatory simply for expressing their sexuality, love, and/or gender. From what I can tell, this has not been an issue prevalent within the ace/aro community.

I’m not gonna claim that asexuals/aromantics don’t face social issues. That would be ignorant of me to say. However, they do not face civil rights issues, or at the very least nowhere near on the same scale as LGBT. I can’t really think of any places where it is illegal to express being ace/aro, or where being ace/aro would deny you basic civil freedoms such as marriage, adoption, a job, or your life. Some people have made the argument that the LGBT community shouldn’t or isn’t about oppression, except... it is. Again, that’s why it was formed at all. If you are not oppressed, what do you have to gain by being in the LGBT community and being involved in our activism -- most of which has to do with fighting oppression? I can certainly see the overlap in social issues, don’t get me wrong, but when it comes to the rest of it? I genuinely don’t see what the ace/aro community would have to gain from a majority of LGBT activism without oversimplifying it to “accept other people for their orientation”.

Additionally, the LGBT community has been historically VERY sex-positive and expressive. Many pride parades involve kink and shameless sexual expression, which makes sense after centuries of being denied even the most basic of sexual expression. Also as stated before, the LGBT community has/had close ties with the leather community. Personally, I don’t see why an ace/aro person would want to be involved in that. Obviously not every ace/aro person is sex/romance-repulsed, but even allos tend to be uncomfortable with some of the shit that goes down at pride events, for example. It also creates a bit of a dilemma. Should LGBT people curb their sexual or romantic expression for the comfort of aces/aros, or should aces/aros curb their discomfort for the sake of LGBT people’s sexual/romantic expression? It’s a win/lose on either side, generally speaking. 

{Can cis asexuals/aromantics reclaim “queer”?}

Aaaand here’s the dreaded queer discourse. I’m gonna put this as bluntly as possible: if you do not experience same-gender attraction or are transgender, you do not get to reclaim a violent anti-LGBT slur. You have nothing to reclaim if you or your community have not been the target of the word. I’m just gonna leave it at that. “Queer” has always been used against people who are attracted to the same gender as their own, or transgender people. It isn’t a fun word to describe an atypical sexual experience, and it should not be treated as such. Just in general. I can’t even play the devil’s advocate on this one, it’s just completely beyond me.

Please, if anyone wants to add onto this, feel free to do so. I’m just spewing my brain out on how I feel about this whole discourse. Ultimately, I don’t care that much if aces/aros are included within the LGBT community. Like, that doesn’t directly harm me. I just don’t understand why they want to be/should be.

[rfjofficial]

@ravireyes​ | Late Morning on Tuesday, March 23rd at The Femenias Estate (♫)

Its been at least a month since Rafael last picked up a guitar, and it shows in the tentative way he grasps at the neck of the acoustic guitar. But it’s the more sensible reprieve, now that the social media fall out has descended upon his morning runs with an onslaught of paparazzi. With #BillionaireBully trending on all the socials, it’s decided by both his father and Jessica that keeping a low profile is best. And so, the prodigal son conducts his work at the Femenias Estate. Despite its obvious grandeur, its distance from the city center helps keep him from the eye of the storm. Though he misses his own home, and one Ikki Nakamura who occupied the other side of his bed, it’s nice to settle in with the old man.

They are seated in the family room (though anywhere in the Femenias Estate is inevitably a family room). His father humming along listlessly to Rafael’s innocuous rendition of Puedes Sentir El Amor/Can You Feel The Love Tonight. A heavy sigh as he gleans over The Guardian’s latest article on Rafael Junior’s outburst, and how it mimics the rot of all aristocratic sorts. “Nunca me enojaré contigo por proteger a la familia.” I will never be mad at you for protecting the family. His father mutters, catching the curious glance from behind the paper. Rafael’s eyes drift to Alex, his freshly groomed dog, as he comes to his feet and walk down the hallway. A light bark of presumed greeting, at the polished and exorbitant shoe. Immediately, Rafael knows who it is. There was always something immediately known, where Ravi’s presence was concerned.

“My child. Buenos Dias.” Rafael Senior is first to break the silence. The weight of the family’s tension, rolling easily off of the Horseman’s back. Wisdom, Rafael thinks, that comes from having waged a war with his own sisters to protect. The Horseman uncrosses his legs, tucking the paper underneath his arm. A hand on Ravi’s shoulder, followed by an light kiss against his temple. “Chin up. There was once a rumor that I dated Colin Firth after a bloke’s trip on the super yacht. The Missus and I eventually got through it.” He says, a purposeful switch to English for Ravi’s sake. Something as scandalous and ridiculous as that could only be said in his person-in-law’s first language. “You two.” The Horseman looks back at his son with a stern yet gentle expression all the same. “Talk.” And with a low whistle, he meanders down the hallway, leaving only the pair of them to their devices.

"I sound like shit, don’t I? Fucking pitchy.” He’s oddly sensitive about it, as if losing touch with one of his favorite hobbies was like losing a piece of himself. Rafael figures it’s how it goes. The sacrifices one makes, on the road to becoming themselves. But it’s nice to cling onto what could have been. The path left unpaved, so to speak. “Emil Becker is an overrated twat. Had no good reason to use that picture to get a rise out of me.” In truth, he has good enough reason. But he’s hardly in the mood to think rationally  about the entire altercation. “You holding up alright?” He asks, tentative as he rests the guitar back against the plush couch. A bout of uncertainty, as the distance between himself and Ravi suddenly feels larger than ever. Driven not just by their last conversation over text, but the torment of all that’s descended the family as of late.

[shiberpostshere]

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

38. Chapter Thirty Two: No, It’s Ryan Reynolds!✨

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Masterlist of the AU✨ 

Word Count: 6.7K (Buckle up, its time for a ride)

This Chapter Contains: Giggle worthy chaos and tooth decaying fluff. (An Annoyed San too.) 

It’s a regular Sunday. A quiet regular Sunday. An unusually quiet, regular Sunday that you don’t experience often as a college student.

An unusually quiet regular Sunday except for Yeri and Jongho’s loud, harmonious snores that vibrated through the lazy (almost) evening silence of the apartment while you had sneaked out like a thief bound with tinkling shackles out of the front door. 

It was exactly five minutes before 5 O’clock and you knew what noise pollution would commence once the short hand stopped perfectly atop the number five. 

The neighbour above starts angrily vacuuming to release their pent up frustration of the day or maybe to act as a thoughtful warning alarm to wake the other residents who might be napping above the universal napping time limit and the snarky middle aged lady beside, who begins banging pots and rattling spoons to prepare either her dinner or for a secret time travel battle she has to attend every single night to save the history for the sake of the present. 

You have a generous set for neighbours. 

Thankfully, you aren’t currently present in your apartment to experience the brutal murder of your ears. 

Unfortunately, you’re sandwiched in between San and Wooyoung in the shared wide back seats of the bus, stuffed to the absolute brim with sweaty and jumpy people. 

The serenity of the weekend ended when you willingly decided to step onto the Bus No. 7 for the following reasons: 

Number One, You and Wooyoung don’t drive and San owns a motorcycle that cannot carry three people at once, not without getting an overloaded vehicle ticket by pulling a stunt like that,

Number two, you have nothing better to do on a Sunday evening other than watch Yeri and Jongho scream about the WIFI and college website because they couldn’t select the classes they wanted fast enough, 

Number three, you were unable to escape from Wooyoung’s persistence but you had to get out and inhale some fresh air of the outside. 

It is a secret that you had isolated yourself in the sweet ol’ bedroom (in the name of preparing for a workshop), to take a five minutes rest which gradually progressed into knotting up your bones by rolling on the bed 24/7 and temporarily disrupting the serotonin production while watching sad movies, and

Number four, San cashed out a favour from that one time he fetched a folder from your dorm and drove fifteen minutes to deliver it because your degree was on the line. Which is why, this particular evening you need to help him out with whatever he wants to do at this Garden plus Research Centre for Thesis purposes. 

“The Thesis and Freebies Date”, term coined by Jung Wooyoung, free entertainment, food finder and a plus one, on Sunday 17th of May, 5:30 AM on the dot. 

On top of all these reasons sat Seonghwa’s last text message like a cherry on top of a cupcake of complaints. 

He sent you a picture of his americano that was loaded with ten pumps of syrup, “I’m drinking coffee😇”  

What coffeeee????!!?!?!?

Everything has failed you today. The public transportation system, your emotional support boy and your unhealthy obsessive complex believing that anything above two pumps of syrup is not coffee because you cannot handle personal preferences. 

“Why on earth is this bus full like it’s the last bus available to escape a fucking zombie aopcalypse. What is this ‘Bus to Busan’?” Your voice comes out with pure seething under your breath for only your friends to hear but you catch the old lady beside San narrowing her eyes at you with suspicion. 

San, engrossed in scrolling through his twitter and sipping his (proper) americano is least interested about your discomfort. 

“Oh I don’t know! I did suggest taking the subway instead but two idiotic people whined for five minutes straight to get on this bus.” His response is monotonous, attempting to contain himself from bursting. 

The pinching statement is directed towards you and Wooyoung who grumbled about the group having to walk after getting off the subway when the bus seemed like a better option that stopped right on the street opposite of your destination. 

Wooyoung’s frame shifts slightly onto your small seat as the hefty man beside him wiggles for space. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only I had had an epiphany about how crowded the bus was going to be before we board it.” 

If only you had epiphanies. 

The bus was mildly crowded when all of you had entered but became packed within the next ten minutes of collecting passengers at merely three stations. 

Poor Wooyoung is scared for his life knowing he will be ironed flat by the man if the bus jumps over a speed breaker or God forbid, decides to halt abruptly. The fear is relatable because the boy standing in front will collapse right onto your already shaky lap under any abrupt movements made by the bus. 

After five minutes of distracting himself, San shoves his phone in the pocket of his jeans and leans into your space to jab a finger at two of you simultaneously. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only my lazy ass friends knew how to walk but they left their legs in the semester break.” He accuses.

He is absolutely right. 

Every student, excluding the few exceptionally productive ones, collectively lost the ability to walk unless the end goal was acquiring food, money, grades and work experience. 

Wooyoung throws his hands up out of exasperation, “And you’re hundred percent sure that the subway isn’t packed?” 

You nod vigorously, supporting his argument because it doesn’t lead to admitting that you’re wrong and not once you’ll acknowledge the possibility of the missed subway having much more space than this body heat microwave of a bus that you two insisted on boarding until San gave in and agreed. 

“Yeah. Also, we’re accompanying you for your work, San.” You chide in to transfer the blame like a ten year old child and nudge the grouchy boy away from the seat with your right arm. 

San’s left brow twitches. He is definetly holding back a snarky retort. 

“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He drawls on his reponse and turns his head away to ignore your presence entirely.

Apparently, it was not an unusually quiet, regular Sunday for the residents of Unit 8181 also known as the occupants of the apartment of Seonghwa and Friends who have been on the edge due to a mysterious late night incident that was not revealed to you no matter how many times you pried. 

Mingi and Yeosang were sprawled together on the couch, hidden beneath a bunch of weighty duvets which did not look like it had two people sleeping underneath it until they started untangling themselves from each other. 

Wooyoung was showering, apparently for almost an hour to scrub away his drowsiness as stated by San who has been extremely cranky and constantly keeping himself occupied with his phone and swishing and fixing his posh, sky blue cardigan (until you entered the kitchen and he dragged you out with him, suddenly all smiles). 

Yunho was the only one who appeared somewhat himself, still in his pajamas, folding questionably large amount of laundry. He mentioned ‘monopoly game night’ but you didn’t buy that excuse.

They were engaged in constant back and forth, ‘Who Can Shut the Other Guys Up In The Most Creative Way’ contest. 

Yeosang won after a house slipper flew out of his room, wheezed past your legs and landed right near the shoe rack as you stood there frozen. The aim was commendable but the action was concerning. 

Other than sarcastic remarks, all of them shared swollen eyebags due to the lack of sleep. 

A sleepy Mingi glared at you with his droopy eyes for thirty seconds, mumbled out, “Oh, it’s just you.”, trudged towards his room and slammed the door behind him. 

The apartment floor was spotless, not one obvious clutter in sight. 

Seonghwa will surely name everything he owns to them in his will once he returns in the coming week and sees the glistening state of the apartment. 

It reminds you that you, too, need to take care of that one chair that holds the tower of toppling dirty clothes in your room before he sees them and gives you an earful of nagging. 

A bead of cold sweat travels down the crevice of your neck. 

“How much longer until we arrive?” You committ the mistake of directing the question to the volcanic mountain prepared to erupt any minute now. 

The bus jostles with a screech, collectively swinging everyone forward with a painful jerk.  Shared sighs and groans echo throughout the bus. 

Staying put in your seat in this bus is more challenging than a one minute plank.

“I don’t know, he probably knows.” Wooyoung responds with a shrug, holding onto his dear life. 

“Maybe you should walk through this sea of people and ask the bus driver himself.” San suggests with an imposed smile, causing your own lips to stretch into a false one. 

“What a fantastic suggestion! I would love to use you as a human shield to push through this crowd and get to the front.” You answer, crossing your arms below your chest.

He offers you his entire irked attention.

Wooyoung’s forehead dives into the palm of his hand. He’d rather hide than let the passengers of the bus know that he is associated with the two of you. 

The agitated boy rolls his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line before he launches his lecture. “Okay, you know what (y/n)---” 

“Oh for goodness sake! Young man and young woman! Resume your couple’s banter at your place, don’t fight in public places.” The old lady whose patience was being tested this entire journey voices out her protest. 

You’re stunned for a good moment before your heads snap towards the lady, wearing similar offended expressions. 

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is holding onto his bubbling laughter. His palms having slid down from his forehead to his lips to prevent himself from laughing out loud like a maniac. 

“We are not a couple!” You both answer in a hurried chorus. 

After the frantic clarification, your eyes meet and the absurdity of the old lady’s comment wipes every single trace of the previous exchange.

Both of you break together into timed, soft giggles and the chain reaction pulls in Wooyoung who laughs into his hands to control the volume. 

The lady shakes her head at your reaction. “Well, then, not a couple, don’t fight and let me ride to my book club meeting in peace.” She states her demand, expression indicating that she is cooking incorrect judgements about your group in her mind. 

San and you offer her a quick sincere apology, suppressing the amusement derived from her assumption.  

“You two in a romantic relationship? More like a disastorous pair of wannabe edgy emo and a pissed caffeinated fantasizer. Nah, totally incompatible.” Wooyoung mutters under his breath. 

“He’d get rid of me in ten minutes.” You whisper your reasoning.  

San feels the old lady’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head, his arm nudges yours gently, “Make that five. Okay now, zip up.” His eyes and voice both firmly plead. 

“Yes sir.” You reply and shrink in your seat further to make room for Wooyoung to breathe. 

They’re quite a handful duo, alright, but they’re your handful duo and they handle you as well.

After ten minutes of bumping, shoving and tossing around the entire bus like popcorns, the three of you miraculously step out in one piece. 

You take a good five minutes to regain your normal pace of breathing again.

The relaxing wind carrying the gentle floral aroma from the garden calms your suffocated senses. 

Ah, finally, freedom from people.

The bus was overdosed with CO2. 

Your lips were zipped for most of the ride in order to avoid receiving another sneer from the old lady and making sure you don’t run out of the very last oxygen molecule present in the bus.

Wooyoung is stretching every limb of his body after being pressed in between the sandwich grill consisting of you and the giant man.

“You know what?” He pulls out a little black hair tie to control the little locks ruffling against his eyes. “Ditch me the next time I whine about not walking because that was literal hell. I am never stepping into another bus, ever again.” The determination present in his voice is almost convincing. Almost.

“You’re going to start whining when it’s time to return.” Adds San, after double checking every pocket present on his clothing.

An overwhelmingly tiring yawn falls through your lips. 

“Yeah, dude, no false promises.” You inch closer towards San to show your support.

Wooyoung’s exhausted face transforms into an unamused one, “You’re shameless.” 

Harsh but true.

“No, no, no, you last minute side switchers, get away from me. I am not claiming you.” Ignoring your presence, he simply walks towards the main entrance of the garden. 

A sickeningly sweet smile appears on your lips. “Hey, wait, I promise, I won’t take Wooyoung’s side ever again!” You say in a singsong manner, taking wide steps to catch up by San’s side. 

“Where do you think you are going?” The betrayed one gets a hold of your backpack and pulls you back with a forceful tug. 

Your shoes brush harshly against the concrete pavement. He accomplishes the task of slowing you down and makes a run for San, wheezing loudly. 

“Jung Wooyoung!” You cry out loud at his actions, your backpack flailing out of your arms. 

He treads beside his unbothered friend, front facing you from a distance. “We need to meet the professor at the research centre anyway, keep yourself busy until then!” A wink and a cackle, then he grabs San by his shoulders and disappears inside at an astonishing speed. 

Like a little kid whose ice cream has been snatched away, you stand there watching San’s waving hand and Wooyoung’s bouncy ponytail fading away.

A strong inhale and a gentle exhale, you try to calm the rapid heaving of your chest. 

“Ah, whatever! They’ll text me once they’re done.” Uttering the assuring words to yourself, you fix the carelessly hanging backpack and set course to occupy yourself in the garden until they’re done with whatever they have to do at the research centre. 

This is not the first time they have pulled this prank of abandoning you just for laughs and then frantically calling with the classic bait of “yo, come over at this food truck, we’re paying😏” 

They throw the same bait under any circumstances and it works pure magic on any living being who lives for eating. Even Seonghwa caves in, and your willpower is -2 compared to Seonghwa’s 10+ patience. 

Once you step inside the garden, you’re sure they have ditched you with good intentions as your eyes take in the lavish surroundings.

The green of nature is widespread throughout in the form of sturdy and lean trees, recently mowed grass and snipped shrubs peeking in between, all sprinkled with colourful little flowers like twinkling stars on a clear night sky. A gentle breeze whistles by within small intervals, rustling the leaves with the faintest crackling sound. 

There are feeble chirps of birds, hiding in their nests to sleep for the night. 

It is heaven on earth as the golden glow of the sun settles upon the scene. 

The lulling fragrance of roses carried along with the wind urges you to roll on the blanket of the grass and maybe even take a nap after tiring yourself but you know you’ll be thrown out because there are watchful guards scattered around. 

For once, you’re grateful that they left you behind. 

You’d rather take a walk around the garden while listening to serene songs rather than awkwardly wait behind them as they converse with the said professor they’re here to meet.  

I should explore a little before San gets into his Plant Geek Mode. 

A major path from the main entrance splits in several small, stone tracks, like a maze to explore. 

The region is vast, tranquil and maintained, no wonder a research centre lies somewhere in this arboretum.

You notice the informative display of the map, standing tall, indicating what lies in between and at the end of every track, piquing your explorer fantasy. There is a stack of small, handy maps for visitors to carry as well. 

You grab one, deciding upon the center most lane with your earphones playing the enchanting tune of Like a Flowing Wind by Day6 in a low volume.

“The North Lane leads towards the green house and the research centre.” You murmur, studying the contents of the map with much concentration. “Wooyoung and San probably went that way.” You throw a quick glance behind before resuming your stroll. 

The trail you’re currently walking on is the West Way, sheltered with tall towering trees and the Grand Elixir Fountain that lies at the end.  

You neatly fold the brochure and tuck it safely inside your pocket, saving the next spots to visit together once you regroup. 

Surprisingly, the garden doesn’t have an overflowing crowd. 

There are quite a lot of people occupying the benches and seating areas, mostly couples. You notice quite a few students, assuming they are, with their laptops and notebooks, surveying or either sitting in a formation to share their findings. 

Everyone is invested in themselves, in their own little world due to which the place feels quite private, snug and pleasant. 

The greenery, the sounds of nature, the music and soft whispers creating one whole atmosphere of contentment. 

It has been named Golden Blooms for a reason indeed. Except the Research Centre part, we’re going to ignore that for now. 

Seonghwa would absolutely love this place. There is nothing not to love about this. You can sketch a million ways of spending time here together. 

You don’t want to be a girlfriend like that but you’re to be a girlfriend like that.

A picnic after a long hectic week of continuous classes to unwind while spending quality time together, under a birch tree that casts a wide shadow beneath to watch the sunset while sharing the most mundane and silliest stories of your week and snacking on the collective bag you two usually pack before heading out for your Saturday Sunset Dates.

Maybe you’ll have to give up the spot due to its popular demand but it’ll be alright nonetheless. Instead, you’ll resort to taking every lane to check what lies at the end as Seonghwa’s personal playlist will be the perfect background music. 

The day will end with a hearty dinner and crashing in either’s bedroom, cuddling together where he always insists on being the little spoon and you always give in. 

 Oh god, I went too far. 

If just the thought has you feeling immensely giddy, how exhilarating would it feel to actually spend a day like that? 

Back to present, (Y/N), back to present. 

The uneven stone trail comes to an end as your shoes sink into the bed of the grass. Your next steps feel extremely light. 

Walking on this grass is the closet one can experience how walking on a cloud feels like. You constrain yourself from removing your socks and shoes and running around on the grass like a madman--

Holy Shit. 

The Grand Elixir Fountain is a masterpiece. 

Rather than blindingly white, it is a comforting shade of evanesce beige. The sculptures surrounding the circumference are alluring rather than intimidating of mythical water creatures from numerous mythologies.

A water nymph settles at the heart of the fountain on a wave with water sprouting from the pot she’s embracing. 

The gurgling water simmers down onto another platform shaped like a lotus, little droplets splashing on the people standing close by the edge and then gliding down from the platform into the bottom expanse to become a slow, rippling stream. 

The Fountain is a high lord, you are a mere peasant. The Fountain is the moon and you’re a small star. The Fountain is queen bee and you’re a worker bee. The Fountain is a high quality gaming PC and you’re a laptop you had to buy with an acceptable graphic card because you’re a college student who is surviving.

Maybe you’re not the best with creative descriptions but it’s okay you’re a law student any way. 

Creative writing is Yeosang’s forte and he worries about it plenty. 

“Seonghwa can’t be here but I can send him some pictures.” Pulling out your phone, you scan the area. 

An old couple are seated on a bench to the far right admiring the view, bunches of people pass by once a while either to leave or enter the area and a small group of friends are circled in a corner preoccupied within themselves.

“Okay, nothing to see here, just a college girl fangirling over a beautiful fountain.” You say it with the intent of addressing the people present but it is mostly directed towards yourself to not get embarrassed before you engage in a long photo session full of fascination over a fountain at an arboretum.

Okay, alright, let’s get this over with.  

The cause of your dubiousness is Jongho. 

He has pointed out several times that while taking photos you tend to get absorbed and switch into questionable positions just to score a worthy shot. 

You somehow manage to capture moderate looking full shots without getting any uncanny looks from the visitors around with only one close up shot left. 

The star of the fountain, the water nymph. 

It’s alright. Hopefully nobody finds you getting on one knee to capture a decent picture of the fountain uncanny. 

You’re just a harmless college girl who wants to text her boyfriend, excite him about your possible future dates and hunt for food while waiting for the two little devils to return and get working before it’s too late. 

Gentle sprinkles splash onto your face as you move a little closer with careful steps to find the best spot. The water is enticing on this boiling day.

You hold your phone up, adjusting the angle to your liking. “Okay that’s good.” 

Before you can press the capture button, a pair of hands lock around your waist, someone’s weight settling on your shoulder. 

“No, shift it a little more to the right.” A voice, obscured by the earphones, speaks extremely close to your ear, sending a quivering sensation down your spine. 

The first instinct is to freeze, your entire body numbs at the sudden action, heart beating at an alarming speed. 

It is followed by a startling scream of having a stranger’s arms wrapped around your body. The scream pierces through the placidity of the garden, birds from the trees flying away to safety out of fright.

Finally, the adrenaline rush kicks in, your physical senses registering the situation and your reflexes activate. 

The phone still connected with the earphones flies out of your hands and ears, elbows diving back to land double smacks on the intruder’s stomach to get him off your back.  

The old couple look into your direction with a panicked expression and the entire group nearby jilts up and dashes towards you to investigate the source of the scream. 

You turn around to inspect the trespasser who has landed flat on his butt, clutching onto his stomach as continuous groans and curses fall through his lips. 

“(Y/N)! What the hell!” The obscurity long gone, you recognize the familiar voice and its owner. 

Losing the energy in your legs, you fall down into a squatting position. “Seonghwa?” In a panicked state and a hesitant voice, you call his name. 

“No, it’s Ryan Reynolds.” Mockingly, he whimpers, trying to regain his knocked out senses. 

It is indeed your boyfriend who is currently supposed to be in Japan but is in pain because you landed two good elbow punches right on his stomach after his 4 hours of excitement at the airport and two hours of flight and it is definitely, hundred percent confirmed especially, after his eyes meet yours, full of pain and shooting imaginary daggers at you. 

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but two blows right on his abdomen. 

“Park Seonghwa!” You exclaim. 

“Nope, no, I am not Park Seonghwa anymore.” He states in a faltering tone. 

“Miss, are you alright?” A boy from the far away friend circle interjects, stopping in front of you. “Is he bothering you?” His fingers wrap around your arms to pull you up. 

His other two friends help Seonghwa but with a much constrained grab on his arms.  

You look at your boyfriend being held by the two strangers and then at the boy, eyes performing a few puzzled double takes.

“Miss?” The boy reiterates his query. 

You’re dumfounded, your thoughts hazy. 

Collecting the remaining strength in your body, your hands fly in gestures of denial. “No, no, that’s my boyfriend.” 

The boys appear skeptical. They exchange disbelieving glances. 

“Are you sure? If he’s really bothering you, we can call the police right now.” One of the boys holding your boyfriend suggests with the intentions of your safety. 

The frenzied senses simmer down second by second, your hand reaches out to free him from the strangers’ hold. “No, no. Thank you so much for your help but there has been an misunderstanding, that’s all.” 

The boys release him and you replace their hold by linking his arm. 

“He is really my boyfriend. I was just surprised.” You state with complete assurance. 

“It’s also my fault for creeping up behind her. Thank you for watching out. We’re sorry for the disturbance.” Seonghwa takes the cue and bows down a little to offer a sincere apology. 

His other hand rests atop your bound one. Your gaze stays taut on him, following his actions to apologize as well. 

The boys notice your relaxed figure beside him. “Ah alright, so it was a misunderstanding.” 

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, it was. We’re sorry.” You say politely. 

Calculating the situation, the boys exchange final greetings before trusting your relationship and leave you two with a, ‘Be careful with your surprises!’ 

The surroundings stop still until Seonghwa unlinks your arms to intertwine your fingers instead and bends down to pick up your phone. 

“Should we sit somewhere and talk?” He suggests in a composed tone. 

“Oh, right, yes.” You answer, mentally occupied collecting the dispersed bits of your comprehension grip.

You two settle on the broad bench, previously occupied by the old couple who left after the ruckus, facing each other.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” You search for his eyes that meet yours in a span of millisecond after the raised enquiry.

Your fingers contract and expand with hesitancy near his abdomen where you, or more accurately, your reflexes stroke him a blow. Eyes fluctuate up and down, from his face to the injured area, teeth abusing the lower lip with worry. 

His hands catch and close around your awkward ones, “It hurts but I am fine. It might be bruised but it’ll be gone with time.”  

You look at him, face full of regret, “Seonghwa, I am so sorry.” 

“It’s alright, (Y/N).” He says with the most assuring look that there is in this world, “I mean it.” 

You were worried that he might be mad about the commotion but him unlinking your arms in order to hold your hand was an indication enough that he wasn’t. 

His anger is often intelligible. He needs the time to stay mad, cool down and talks only when he is ready. The time creates an emotional distance and that distance is unbearable until his heart is ready to resolve. 

He doesn’t hold petty grudges. He certainly forgives but he doesn’t forget. Instead, he draws the line in the relationship to grow apart naturally. 

You happened to experience it once when he was conversing with a senior who had given him a hard time and oh boy, the line he drew was fiery and bone chilling cold at the same time. 

“So, that was definitely not what I expected after I decided to surprise you.” He confesses, his eyes mellow, “I should’ve listened to Hongjoong when he said that the idea is too sappy.”  

While he speaks, you’re occupied with staring at him like a hawk with bulbous eyes. 

“What happened?” He prompts you to speak, a fond smile on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?” His fingers fix the disheveled hair resting on your forehead. 

His eyes hold such raw warmth while he merely tucks little strands behind your ears that you fail to realize you have tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” His expression shifts into a concerned one. “What happened?” He probes further. 

Before you register your actions, your hand is flying to land a soft blow on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were returning today!” 

Maybe the volcanic eruption that was swirling inside San somehow descended into you. The difference is, his was motivated by rage and yours might be motivated by mortification.

He retrieves his hand to hold the area you’re attacking, gaping as he rubs the sore spot. 

“Why are you hitting me!” His expression is muddled. 

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you hitting him after he attempts to calm you down as his plan of surprise fails worse than the time he had failed history in sixth grade. 

Your hand reaches out to land another gentle smack. “What are you! A freaking saint! Why didn’t you tell me!” 

Even you are not aware why the outlet chosen by your feelings is hitting your loving and caring boyfriend who planned such a great surprise that you managed to ruin by knocking him straight into the abdomen with your pointy elbows. 

“Wait, what--” Your words only further deepen his confusion.  

The next smack or rather love tap, as per your definition, doesn’t get through as his hands are quick to catch yours by the wrists. 

“Why are you hitting me babe?” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re hitting me because I am nice?” He lifts his right brow. “What, a saint?” A playful smile lingers on his lips. 

The audacity of this man to act coy with you when you are full of all sorts of emotions whirling within you like a raging tornado. The audacity of this perfectly, perfect man! 

With your slightly puffy eyes and tears stained cheek, you profess. “I am embarrassed okay! I am really embarrassed, I screamed so----” 

A tch sound comes from him, followed by a, “Idiot.” 

He pulls you into him through the hold he has on your wrists, your chest colliding with his. His arms wrap around your waist in a secure manner, head resting sideways onto the comfort of your shoulder that he dearly missed. 

You melt like an ice cream on a hot day under his touch, taking no time to find content in his embrace, face nestling into his warm neck. 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He removes one hand from your waist to offer comforting caresses on the back of your head. “I don’t know what I expected your reaction to be. Honestly, this particular one didn’t even cross my mind.” 

You lift your head from his neck but he quickly returns it down again. 

“I didn’t expect you to appear in front of me a week before your actual arrival either.” You speak in a muffled voice.

He pauses his stroking for a second, “I knew you were clueless but I didn’t know you were this clueless.” 

“Excuse me!” You shuffle in his hold but he has you latched onto him.

He nestles further into your hold, almost pulling you onto his lap out of habit. 

“Seonghwa!” Palms pressing against his chest, you try to scuffle away and receive a disgruntled noise from him. 

Having performed his action only halfway through, your right leg sits on top of his left thigh and you leave it there to dangle idly. 

“Dude, we’re in a public place.” You remind him, placing a sneaky little peck on his neck. 

It’s the courage after announcing you’re an idiot to the entire world.

He is astounded by your actions but definitely not as much as you are. 

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you mentioning that you’re in public and then proceeding to plant the softest kiss on his neck, not that he minds the latter. 

“Wise words coming from you in a public place.” His thumbs trace circles on your collar bones, voice adding an extra emphasis to the ‘public’. 

He squeezes you tightly and moves you in his hold like you’re his own personal teddy bear causing laughter to escape from your lips. 

“Giving you a basic hug after you come back after almost a month and a half?” You declare like you have performed some high and mighty act, “No, that is not enough to express my excitement, I had to smash out my love on you, babe.”  

His face dawns an unimpressed look. “Yup, I made a mistake coming home.” 

Your own words cause your face to scrunch up with cringe. “Yeah, that was too much, don’t talk about this in front of anyone, ever again.” 

You missed him. God, you missed him so much. 

His long hair is intact, not a single strand has been snipped. He looks as stunning as you imagined him to be. His navy blue coat may have been washed with a different detergent than the one you are familiar with but the earthy smell of his regular perfume is present. 

The only new additions on him that you can notice right away is the blinding glow on his sleep deprived face and the abstract patterned scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. 

“I missed you.” You wish to say it as softly as possible but you end up blurting out the words. 

He smiles with twinkles in his eyes. “I know, idiot. I missed you too.” 

You rest your palms on his cheeks and press them hard, lips protruding out in a pout. Pulling him in, you offer him a brief peck.

A long one is saved for later when in private. 

The heat on his cheeks is an evidence that he is taken aback by your bold actions. 

“First a kiss on the neck and now a long peck?” He smirks, eyebrows dancing up and down. “You’ve become quite gutsy within a month and a half huh?”

You fawn, “and you’re still carrying your mischievous habits with you! I was praying for you to leave them behind during your vacation. Did you achieve nothing?” 

“Come here you!” His hand clasps behind your neck but this time he connects his lips to the side of your forehead to plant the deepest kiss. 

You shriek as the prolonged peck soon transitions into pillowy lips peppering feathery kisses on every little endearing spot he discovers to shower his love. 

Unable to suppress your delight, subdued giggles bubble out of you.

The delight of having him by your side again is indescribable. The current state of happiness you’re feeling is indescribable. 

You feel his hovering lips expanding into a smile, foreheads faintly clashing together as you two laugh your heart out. 

There are tears forming in your eyes but this time due to happiness rather than humiliation.

Your eyes catch the sun dipping below the horizon, shooting colourful rays as it bids goodbye for the day. “Seonghwa, look, the sunset, it’s so beautiful.” You note while he pulls you into him sideways.

He hums, turning around to admire the view,  “Oh wow, that’s......beautiful.” 

Time slows down just for the sun to submerge into the horizon with its glory. The orange, pink, purples and blues of the sky press mute on the world for the briefest interval. 

He ruffles your hair, pulling you out of a trance, “And that’s our cue to leave.” 

It takes special effort to abandon his comforting hold and get back up on your two feet. 

The disappointment lasts a mere second as his fingers quickly interlace with yours. “Where to next?” He asks.

He takes slow steps. You stick close by, half of your body weight leaning into him but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

You consider your choices for a moment, the grin ever present on your lips, “How about we take a walk and then drive to the river side? I heard there will be star gazing event later at night.” 

He looks at you impressively with a questioning smile. “Oh really, who told you that?” A gentle gleam of fondness floats in his eyes. 

His heart is swelling with love, your presence is comfortable. 

You channel your best know-it-all face, “Oh, you know, Wooyoung, San and I were planning to--” 

The sentence stops midway as you remember, Wooyoung and San! 

Your movements halt, “Wait, Wooyoung and San!” 

He cracks up at your delayed realization. 

“They’ll be fine.” His fingers offer a gentle flick on your forehead, attempting to tap some sense into it, “Unless, you know, you want them to continuously comment during our date about how my arrival disrupted their last night’s sleep.” He reaches out for his pocket to pull out his phone but you’re quick to prevent the said action. 

“No, no, no, no.” Your reaction amuses him further. “That’s not what I meant. I am glad they ditched me, goodness, never been so glad that someone left me behind, swear to god.” The flurry of words scatter everywhere but the intended meaning has been received by him.

“And what else do you have planned for the night?” He asks, walking straight, exaggerating the breadth of his shoulders. 

“My fantastic company, Seonghwa, what else do you need?” In a wounded voice, you question. 

He shakes his head. 

“No?” 

“No.” 

“Fine, tonight’s dinner is on me, no budget. What do you want to eat?” You present your best offer in the most sugar coated tone.

His jaw drops in a dramatic fashion you’ve never witnessed in your life, “That’s it? Woman, I flew in today to surprise you today and that’s it?” 

You stand on your tiptoes to whisper a special spell in his ear. “Who said that would be it?” 

The rasp in your voice has goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“What do you mean?” He stares down, eyes wide. 

“Hey, by the way, how did you know I was near the fountain?” You quickly change the subject, your thoughts running wild and heart ready to pounce out to run a hundred mile marathon. 

“What do you mean?” He repeats, eager to receive an answer. 

His innocent smile has been replaced by a devilish smirk.

His constant questioning and hopeful gape has you regretting your previous words, causing warmth to spread on your face. 

Flustered, you recite your question for the second time, “Tell me, how did you know?” 

“It was a guess. I haven’t forgotten about your pigeon feeding adventures near the mall fountain” His answer is concise, to the point and hurried. “Now, tell me, what do you mean?” 

He finishes the topic within a few seconds, arm nudging persistently against the side of your stomach.

This man. Oh god, this man. 

“You have a great memory! You remember everything!” The fake enthusiasm and flustered laughter that is evident in your answer has him laughing. “Oh, look, we’re here!” You announce, feeling grateful once you spot the main exit getting closer with every step. 

“What did you mean?” He takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his hand leaving yours. 

“Seonghwa! Stop it, don’t get back on your teasing shenanigans so quickly, give it a day.” You say as casually as possible, stepping aside to continue on your way. “I’ve embarrassed myself and you quite enough for today.”

Seonghwa slings his arm around your shoulder from behind, “Yeah, alright, we’ll see about that later.” He mimics your casual tenure. “I guess.” He adds, hinting at your suggestive statement. 

You nod in agreement, appearing calm and cool, “Yeah, I guess, we will.” 

“You little tease.” His free hand gives your left cheek a little squeeze, leaving a light aching.

You stumble a little on your way out of the garden, “If I am a tease that makes you the devil that you truly are.” 

“I agree, I am a beast.” He really, actually, dares to say that with his whole chest, out loud.

“Yeah, sure, little baby.” Your fingers mockingly stroke his chin with a pout

He chuckles, changing his position to properly stand by your side. “Enough of that now, let’s go, I am starving.” 

“Yup, let’s go, tender beast.” You imitate his own words on him. 

“No, seriously, stop that.” He declares sternly. 

You do a motion of zipping your lips, holding your free hand up in surrender. 

Oh, how the tables have been turning constantly today. You can now understand why Seonghwa never gets off your back and it looks like you will not be getting off his tonight. 

Metaphorically and literally. 

Meanwhile, Woosan

San, who has been talking with the professor for almost thirty minutes now: It was pleasure meeting up with you Sir

Wooyoung, releasing a sigh of relief beside his friend because he didn’t understand a single word that was exchanged, internally: Finally 

Suddenly, San: Oh btw sir I had another question 

Wooyoung, ready to create a rampage right there and then, grabbing a chair to smash it on the ground: OH MY FREAKING GOD DAMNIT CHOI SAN YOU---

🌸

A/N: OH MY GOD I CAN FINALLY POST THIS, I CAN FINALLY BREATHE EASY

I started writing this last Saturday and it went through so many drafts and versions, getting cut down to this one. It took me a week mostly due to other commitments. I edited this once and I am sure it still has teeny tiny mistakes but please look past that for now. I will correct it whenever time grants me. 

Also, I would really love to know what you think about this chapter! Please let me know, I would really appreciate that 🥺🥺🥺💕

I know it has been a long time since the last update but I reposted the masterlist with the final update schedule and it will update and end accordingly as per that.

(Also the woosan scene is a little exaggeration, they had a rough night, as you will see in the bonus) 

🌸 Taglist: 

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @jaeminbluee @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @yellow-wxve @uppiespuppy  @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell @quicklystickystarlight​ @kunhye​ @nekee-lilac02​ @peachyprincessminki​ @hidden-wildflowers​ @raysanshine​ @skzpleasestay​ @tearvantae​

🌸 Unable to tag: @mingiibabiee @dreamie-deonghwa @9songbird19 @retrofuture-ism @aratrikade

🌸

Please do not repost, modify or claim this work as yours. 

[varyen]

as heavy as the snow falls (i fall for you)

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“ The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze. Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.

Chapter One;  It's just another day to pretend (I’m feeling okay)

Hank had warned you.

“They sent one of those plastic pricks to help investigate that deviant shit”, he had told you.

You just thought he was messing with you, a good old joke to welcome you back. That was until you were officially allowed to get back to work;

you had annoyed your doctor into releasing you from sick-leave and partly got what you wanted — except that you were stuck on desk-duty. But that was better than being stuck at home. You never thought you’d be sick of your apartment walls but there you were.

After almost two and a half months, you finally walked back into the precinct.

Gavin was the first one to give that face — an ugly smirk, splitting open his mouth and showing his teeth, like a warning, like a threat. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t have to. That smirk alone, creepy enough to give you goose bumps, told you everything you need to know.

Hank didn’t mess with you. They sent an Android to replace you in your own investigation.

“Glad to see you’re back”, Gavin greeted you, though, and you forced a smile at your desk-partner. “Were you getting bored without me?”, you asked and tried to forget the obnoxious smirk he had thrown at you just a second ago. “You know me, baby”, he laughed and slapped on your shoulder. He disappeared behind you and you were left unguarded without any distraction. Everybody was staring at you and you weren’t sure if those looks were painted in relief or pity.

Silently you sat down at your desk, towers of paper stacked everywhere, and started to work. A few of your colleagues stopped by, asking how you were doing, being shot multiple times and all, and that they were happy you were back safe and sound – they didn’t say anything about Hank, or the Android. Their eyes, though, their eyes betrayed them.

Fowler called you in an hour later or so, asking how you do — not that he’d really care, anyway — before sending you back to work. He didn’t say a word about Hank, or the Android. His eyes did.

Nothing has happened since.

Now, it’s almost one pm and desk duty is more boring that you anticipated — so boring, in fact, that you decide to take your break. Usually Gavin and you keep each other entertained and airdrop each other memes out of the nowhere but he’s nowhere to be seen. Also, you’re hungry as shit, as you skipped the breakfast this morning. Not only because you overslept but you’re also not really a breakfast person.

There is no sign of Hank or that infamous Android so you decide to shrug it off and bury your concerns under the $1 instant noodles you got stored in the lowest drawer of your desk; your emergency food and snack box, as you like to call it. Sometimes Gavin raids it when he feels like it but he has kept his promise about not telling anyone about your emergency food and snack box — so far.

And while it’s generally not too bad to have him right in front of you most of the time, he’s the person you want to avoid the most because, honestly, you don’t need his mockery and you are not in the mood to endure that stupid smirk one more time. There is a possibility that you just try to punch it off his face.

He did leave the precinct when you entered it, so he’s probably off at some crime-scene.

You glance towards the empty Break Room and see your chance. You take one of the spicy chicken instant noodles, your all-time favorite, and speed as fast into the Break Room as your body allows you to; it’s still heavy sometimes and your movements are slowed by pain and stiffness.

Nobody disturbs you while you prepare the kettle and get a can of coke out of the fridge. The only sound remarkable to you is the news channel and by now the threat of a war outbreak has become too old to still be shocking.

You take your phone and skip through your messages, ignoring most of them except the ones from your mom to which you reply yes mom, work is going great so far. I’m stuck at desk-duty until my doctor gives me the green light, before you switch to your social media.

Caught up in some memes, you only notice Hank when he’s standing right in front of you.

“Listen kid”, he says, shrugging. “I didn’t ask for this either.” His voice sounds grumpy and unhappy and he looks like he just got out of bed which wouldn’t be a surprise, actually, and he still reeks a bit of beer.

And with that said, he leaves you alone again and you stay behind, slightly dumbfounded and just unnecessarily more confused than you already are. Why do they all behave like you’re already fired because some stupid robot took your cases?! Fuck them. As if there isn’t enough shit going on in Detroit. You could go back to work on the Red Ice cases with Gavin; Red Ice cases have everything you want – adrenalin, excitement, relentless pursuits, the subtle threat of danger and you get to bust high wanted criminals. The only thing that makes you avoid Gavin’s Red Ice cases is, in fact, Gavin himself.

It’s not like you don’t like Gavin; he is your desk-partner so you’re kind of forced to like him and you know you can count on him, he did save your life after all, and you like discussing the latest gossip with him — nobody would ever think that he is such a gossip bitch — and not only did he message you multiple times during the last weeks to make sure you’re good, he also stayed in the hospital until you woke up.

It’s just … It’s Reed, he’s a dickhead most of the time, and is only relaxed after he got laid or had at least 3.5 beers.

“The fuck’s going on”, you mutter under your breath. You’re annoyed and by now a thick, gray thunder cloud has formed over your head. Frustrated you stare into the still half-filled cup in front of you; that’s a very you thing to do – looking for answers in ramen soup.

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“

The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze.

Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the Android in front of you; his innocent, deep eyes with just the right amount of honesty and the sparkle for fair justice within them, the faint freckles on his nose and the friendly, but still kind of forced smile on his lips — it looks a smile you’d give to Gavin sometimes. His LED blinks yellow for a second and you realize that that son of a bitch scanned you; you bite down a sneaky comment on how rude that is — he probably doesn’t know any better, you decide and you swallow the mean comment down before it can escape your mouth.

“Hi, Connor”, you manage to blur out instead. “You probably heard of me.” As you took all my open cases, thank you very much.

“Yes, I have. I am sorry to hear that you were fatally shot eleven weeks and three days ago. I am glad to see you recovered.” He smiles that forced smile again — seriously, where the hell did he pick that one up?! — and you raise your eyebrows at the weirdly accurate time span.  “You are the Detective to have worked on the cases concerning Deviants before, correct?”

You take the still half-filled cup of instant noodles and throw them away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Correct”, you reply. “That was before I was shot. Seems like Hank and you took these cases.”

His LED flickers again, probably analyzing the darker tone hidden in your friendly voice and it seems like he wants to say something but Gavin interrupts him. “Seems like you have met your replacement, he?!”, he laughs in your face and slaps Connor hard on the back, way harder than necessary, and the Android is forced to move a step forwards.

“Fuck off Reed”, you mutter. You are absolutely not in the mood for his games. He laughs and the sound rings in your ears in an almost obnoxious way.

“I must correct you, Detective Reed. I am not anyone’s replacement”, Connor says, his voice neutral and even, like the voice of an Android is supposed to be. “Sure, you plastic fucker”, Gavin snorts. “Just stay the fuck away from me, got it?” — “For heaven’s sake, Gavin, leave it alone”, you sigh and shake your head. “It ain’t do anything to you personally. Take your issues out on someone else.”

Gavin throws a dark glare at you, one that says he’d wished you got shot with one more bullet, before releasing Connor from his hard grip and leaving the Break Room, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t mind him”, you say to Connor, shaking your head. “He likes to provoke.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “Most humans are uncomfortable in the presence of Androids. Just as you, Detective.”

You cough. “Gavin isn’t uncomfortable, he’s just an asshole.”

You decide to ignore what he said about you — he’s partly right —but only partly, though you don’t feel like emphasizing this right now.

You yourself never had an Android, and you never saw why anyone would need one — that was until your parents had that car accident, your father died and your mother was left paralyzed and with only one arm. It was either giving up the job you love so much and not being able to afford literally anything, or getting an Android who would take care of her. You went for the latter option and it’s not like you regret it; the Android they recommend you at the CyberLife store is actually pretty sweet and sends you regular updates about your mother whenever she herself can’t find the strength to check on you. When you got shot and were in the hospital, it was the first time you felt truly thankful having that Android around — an AP something model, you don’t know jack shit about it. Your mother named her Hope. Thinking about it hurts you only a little.

You throw yourself back into reality and realize you have been just staring at Connor the past minute or so. You cough again, now being uncomfortable, and try to keep the red flash on your cheeks hidden.

“Do you already have a desk, Connor?”, you ask, changing the topic without even trying to be subtle.

“Yes, I use the one in front of Lieutenant Anderson.”

You stare over to Hank who is watching you with a certain glow in his eyes. “Of course”, you say, looking away from Hank and back at Connor. “Look”, you start, and shrug, “I’m on desk-duty for the next few weeks and officially off the cases anyway. They’re all yours, so I’ll transfer you all I have, evidence and personal notes I made. Maybe you’re luckier than me.” You shrug and leave the Break Room, leaving that Android, Connor, behind.

Obviously you are not happy to give up your open cases — you did work hard on them and all the evidence you collected wasn’t exactly easy to gather. Deviancy is a fresh and new thing and you were excited to be the Detective to figure it out. Then you got shot by some asshole because you grew too confident and thought you could take them on your own. You almost had to pay with your life for your cockiness, so maybe it’s better this way, you suppose.

Gavin doesn’t say anything to you when you sit down at your desk and stare blankly at the screen for a moment, not knowing what you’re supposed to do. Most paperwork is done and all your open cases have been reassigned. Seems like you’ll go back to investigate robberies.

You sigh deeply and send all the files and evidence you got saved on your terminal over to Hank before leaning back in your chair.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier, Gav”, you say to Gavin who just rumbles something under his breath without looking at you. Without thinking about it, you open your emergency food and snack box, take the package of garlic bread and throw it at Gavin.

“Why don’t you have a piece of bread and maybe you’ll come down”, you laugh at him and now you at least get an annoyed grin. “Fuck you”, he says and you laugh.

“Hey”, he says then, “Tina told me about a series of robberies downtown. You should take those cases. It ain’t nothing too wild and it might get you back in shape.” He rips open the package.

You stare at him for a few seconds before realizing that you are indeed back on robberies. Great!

You sigh deeply.

“Sure”, is all you say and Gavin is smart enough to stay quiet, silently munching his garlic bread.

The excitement you felt this morning about going back to work has made room for nothing but frustration.

It’s eating you from the inside out, turns your lungs around and for a second you can feel the holes the bullets left in your body.

This week is starting great.

read on ao3.

[ahgaseda]

two can keep a secret || chapter 07

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Only the sound of forks and knives clinking against dishes filled the dining room. Your parents always insisted on at least one family dinner per week. It had been less than a day since your fight with Mark and now you were forced to sit across from him until everyone had cleared their plates.

Mark ate like a man starved, uncaring as he stuffed his face. Your father was no different. The men said nothing whilst they filled their stomachs. Meanwhile, you poked at your steak and Mark’s mother kept looking around the table.

“Did the two of you have a fight?” she asked suddenly.

You glanced up, like a deer in headlights. Mark didn’t slow down. He swallowed what was in his mouth and simply shook his head, as if anything between you and him was inconsequential.

His mother turned her gaze to you, expectant.

“I’m sorry. I just… don’t feel very well,” you told her, offering a placating smile. It wasn’t a lie. Your stomach was in knots almost constantly since you saw those positive pregnancy tests.

“You do look pale, honey,” she crooned.

You swallowed nervously. Did you?

Mark looked up at that, giving you a scrutinizing glance. His first instinct was to worry. Had the fight and pregnancy scare stressed you to the point of illness? Before he could say something potentially damning, your father spoke up, “My daughter never complains of being sick.”

You could hear the concern in his voice.

“Don’t force yourself to eat if you feel unwell,” he continued. “You can be excused and go lie down if you need to.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, tears gathering in your eyes. You desperately wanted to get away from Mark. Rising from the table, you grabbed your plate and pushed your chair back into place. After discarding the uneaten food in the kitchen, you placed a kiss on your father’s cheek.

Then, you bolted. Locking the bedroom door behind you, you hid yourself beneath your blankets, crying until you nearly fell asleep. How were you going to tell your father that you were pregnant?

Mark set down his fork and leaned back against his chair. Was being in the same room with him that torturous for you? Because it damn sure was for him, but at least he managed to endure it.

He missed the feel of your skin and his fingers in your soft hair. The way you laughed when he tickled you or showed you something funny on his phone. How you snuggled up to him when you were sleepy and tangled your legs through his when you were cold. And the handful of times you had spoken his name in your sleep, letting him know he was on your mind even in your dreams.

Mark sharply cleared his throat and decided he needed to bury himself balls deep in another cunt until he forgot about you.

Jackson was reliable for two things: hyping up his friends when they felt like dying and organizing booze-filled parties on extremely short notice. Mark was in need of both, though he favored the latter.

When you stepped out of your bedroom, Mark was doing the same across the hall. Another downside you had forgotten about; your rooms faced each other.

You stopped in your tracks, still clutching the doorknob. Mark finished pulling on his leather jacket and met your eyes.

“Jacks is having a party,” Mark said, emotionless.

That stung. Jackson always texted you an invite to his parties. If he hadn’t, that meant Mark told him not to, which meant Mark didn’t want you to know how fucked up he was going to get.

Or that he was going to fuck around with other girls.

Flashing a brief, awkward smile, you told him, “Have fun.” Then, you brushed by him before any more words could pass between you.

Mark stood there, watching you go and battling with himself. Guilt manifested first, but he shook his head, hoping to shake the feeling away.

You hopped in the car and drove off into the night. You wanted to stay at your best friend’s place for as long as you could get away with. You didn’t want to be in the same house as Mark for a while. The secret was smothering you. Only you knew about the baby in your womb. Every time you laid eyes on Mark, you remembered you were carrying a piece of him inside you. And he had no idea.

Mark preferred drowning in alcohol than in his sorrows. Even as he chased another shot, throwing it back with a grimace, he thought about you. He couldn’t shake the image of you in his head, naked in his arms as you lulled him to sleep.

And now he couldn’t have you. He fucked it up.

You had given him a peace Mark didn’t think he was capable of anymore and it was gone as quickly as it had come. Gripping another shot tightly in his hand, Mark stared off into the distance as a realization sank in.

Jackson appeared at this side, clapping a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “How goes it, brother?”

“I’m in love with her,” Mark whispered.

Jackson froze. He knew exactly who his best friend was talking about. Rubbing his chin, Jackson glanced around to make sure no one was listening in and whispered, “I didn’t invite her. Like you wanted.”

“Good,” Mark said, downing another shot.

“Mark, do you need to talk about…,” Jackson started.

Mark rose from his seat and growled, “Where’s Leah? I know she’s around here somewhere.”

“Yeah…,” Jackson trailed, voice sympathetic. Leah was known for being easy. She was also known for having her eyes on Mark since the first time she saw him.

Mark spotted her in the crowd and headed toward her without another word. He approached her while she danced, wrapped an arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear, “Still want me to fuck your brains out?”

Leah couldn’t drag him upstairs fast enough.

Mark kissed her hard and rough, but she wasn’t you. Her hands felt like ice against his warm skin. Her legs were stiff around his waist. Mark could only picture you beneath him.

Leah, on the other hand, was ready to devour him. She stripped down to her bra under him and unbuckled his pants, reaching for his cock and letting out a moan. She gripped his half-hard shaft and nipped at his neck.

Then, Mark did the unthinkable.

He whispered your name.

Leah grabbed his face, pushing him back and scowling at him with wide, shocked eyes. “What did you just say?”

Mark blinked through his tequila-induced daze. “What?”

“Oh my god, you said her name,” she exclaimed in horror and quickly rising jealousy. “Your fucking stepsister!”

“No, I didn’t,” he stammered.

“I heard it, Mark. Holy shit. Are you screwing her?”

“What? No!”

Leah scrambled out of the bed, snatching her shirt and tugging it back on like she had finally discovered shame. “That’s disgusting.”

Rage and hurt boiled inside Mark until it spilled over and promptly exploded. Angrily, he shouted, “She’s not my stepsister!”

Leah blinked, a twisted smile pulling at her lips. Rather than deny, he justified it. “Oh, you are so fucked.”

Mark understood by the look on her face that life as he knew it was officially over. “You have no idea…,” he huffed in defeat.

You were a mixture of relieved and devastated that you didn’t see Mark at classes the next day. There were a few times your schedules overlapped and you would pass each other in the hall. He must have gotten drunk enough to warrant a hangover from hell.

But Leah made sure to shoulder check you as the two of you crossed paths.

“What the hell…?” you snapped, ready to slug her for staggering you backwards.

“Slut,” she snarled back, shoving past you to continue on her way.

You stood there shell-shocked. Leah never went toe-to-toe with you and you were tempted to pound her into the concrete as you protectively put a hand over your lower stomach.

Fortunately, your best friend appeared and looped her arm through yours, whispering, “Honey, haven’t you heard the latest gossip?”

You rolled your eyes. Never did you give a shit about gossip. “You know I have zero social media presence.”

She pulled you behind a corner and spoke in hushed tones, “It’s about you!”

“Me? What did I do?”

She bit her lip and told you, “Mark was in bed with Leah at Jackson’s party last night.”

Your heart sank somewhere below your chest, into some bottomless pit never to crawl back out again. “Oh.”

“And he said your name!”

The world came to a grinding halt around you.

Mark said your name while he was in bed with another woman. For all you knew he was finishing inside her and he literally called out your name.

You would think about the implications of that later, but for now, your focus was on the fact that it was becoming common knowledge on campus. Which meant word was spreading like wildfire.

“Oh god,” your friend murmured, saying your name in disbelief.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“I see your face. It’s true. You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

There was a pause while you swallowed the lump in your throat. Eventually, you muttered, “It’s complicated.”

She tilted her head and tried to be gentle. “Sweetie, I know he’s technically not your stepbrother yet, but your parents are getting married. It’s happening.”

You seethed, “I’m well aware of that.”

Your best friend hesitated, watching you carefully and noting the emotions gathering on your face. “How long has it been going on?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer, “Since they got engaged.”

She gaped. “For Christ’s sake.”

“He made it better, okay? We feel the same way about them getting married and it just… we were gonna get into self-destructive behaviors anyway. Turns out fucking each other was the most convenient.”

It was hard to tell who you were trying to convince.

She simpered, but certainly didn’t condone it. “You’re in love with him.”

You wanted to scowl. “Am I?”

“When I said he was in bed with Leah, you were devastated.”

You shook your head and shrugged. “I just felt betrayed, that’s all.”

She placed a tender hand on your arm. “They didn’t screw. Apparently they were about to and he dropped your name. She hauled ass out of there.”

That surprised you.

You held up your phone, expecting a text or missed call from Mark and finding nothing. “I need to go,” you told your friend, bidding her goodbye and heading for your car before she could grill you for more juicy gossip.

Hopping behind the wheel, your phone rang and you immediately answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, we got your message about seeing Dr. James. You’re not due for your well woman’s exam just yet, so I was calling to see what kind of appointment you needed.”

It was your doctor’s office. You forgot you called.

Fighting back tears, you looked around the parking lot and whispered, “I… took a few home pregnancy tests and they were all positive.”

“I understand,” said the receptionist kindly. “I can work you in the day after tomorrow. She can confirm the pregnancy and discuss prenatal care or other options with you. Does that sound alright?”

Voice trembling, you replied, “Yes, that would be great. I really appreciate it.”

Meanwhile, Mark ditched the rest of his classes to drown himself in a video game. He was screwed, there was no doubt about it. He checked his phone again for the thousandth time - still no word from you.

He let his head fall back with a groan. You would have heard by now. The girls you tended to hang with were some of the mouthiest he had ever known. They would be itching to spill the tea all over you.

There was a knock at Mark’s bedroom door. He set the controller down and leapt up anxiously, expecting it to be you. God knows, he just wanted you to hold him and lie to him that everything would be alright.

When Mark opened the door, his heart sank.

There stood your father and his cheeks were the color of the fires of Hell itself.

“Mark,” he said stiffly.

“Yes, sir.” Mark held his breath, his heart beating violently against his ribs.

Your father clenched his jaw and hissed, “How long have you been having sex with my daughter?”

chapter 06 ⇤ chapter 07 ⇥ chapter 08

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[jamespotterthefirst]

Fake Wife (Ethan x MC)

AKA: Fake Husband III

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.7K Warning: Language Summary: A certain young doctor comes to his rescue when Ethan runs into an old flame. Part 3 of  Fake Husband and  Fake Husband, Part 2.

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The crowded banquet hall buzzed with laughter and conversation, the sound alone unnerving enough for Ethan. Add to that the countless doctors who vied for his attention and Ethan felt the need to escape at once.

In fact, he was desperate enough to do the unthinkable.

With the conviction of a suffocating man, he pulled out his phone and started to text.

Are you coming, Rookie?

It took him less than a second to realize the double entendre and to  picture the tantalizing reply she would undoubtedly send. In a rush, he tried to send a second text to clarify. He was, of course, too late because a blip announced her reply.

I love it when you talk dirty to me, Dr. Ramsey.

She attached an emoji, as was customary, one that looked as though it was smirking in the same way she would have done if she was standing before him. Regardless, his throat went dry at the implication.

This is why I don't text, he returned, hoping to sound unaffected. He knew better than to expect her to buy that.

“Dr. Ramsey!” An older doctor approached him. “Enjoying the conference?”

“God, no,” he replied truthfully, which only prompted a belly laugh from his companion.

“Ramsey, you haven't changed a bit! Don't think I didn't notice you haven't missed one since Miami,” he pointed out with amusement. “Surely, they can't be that awful.”

Ethan took a swig of his drink, dispassionately watching their surroundings. Every year, he found himself convinced to attend, for old times sake, as Lilac liked to tell him. Despite the indifferent and irritated front he put up, Ethan enjoyed them.

He enjoyed them with her.

Inevitably, his mind traveled to that legendary Miami conference and to his favorite memory of her. The reminder of her full lips, moving against his for the first time and coaxing a yearning he hadn't felt until that point, made him restless to have her at his side. Without much pretense, he excused himself from the presence of the jolly older doctor and found a semblance of peace by the dessert table. He glanced at his phone, where her reply awaited.

Liar. I bet you're smiling right now.

A broad grin spread across his face despite his best efforts.

Are you ready to join me? I can't stand another minute being alone with these vultures.

Ethan could picture her in the hotel room upstairs, rolling her eyes upon reading his dramatic reply.

Almost ready… You can't rush art.

It was Ethan's turn to roll his eyes at that, though not without a smile. His poor, unprepared brain had only just begun to picture how tantalizing stunning she would look, when his phone pinged with an incoming photo from her.

It took everything in him not to choke on his drink. Hell, it took an insurmountable amount of sheer will power to remain where he was, instead of dashing upstairs to pin her to the wall.

Are you okay over there?, she replied.

There was no time to lie in his reply because a bout of loud laughter erupted from a group nearby. Ethan briefly glanced on instinct, ready to dismiss the interruption with a small huff and return to the tempting picture on his screen. His attention, however, snagged on the person at the center of the small crowd, the one who spoke with a lively cadence and who no doubt had been the one to make everyone laugh.

It had been over ten years since he had seen  her last, and though she wore her blond hair much shorter, there was no mistaking those glacial silver eyes and the charming, effortless way she enraptured those around her. Statuesque and confident as ever, Dr. Fiona Bellington looked every bit like her former self, the girl both Ethan and Tobias had fallen desperately in love with.

His phone buzzed in his hand, bringing him back from over a decade ago in a rush. Ethan didn't read whatever it was Lilac had replied, instead, he quickly texted:

Never mind, don't bother to come down. I'm leaving.

Blood rushing loudly at his hot ears, Ethan hurried towards the door. The sight of Fiona set off a fight or flight response and Ethan gladly chose to flee, much too eager to avoid the specter of his past. He didn't make it far, however, before Fiona herself was standing right before him, impeding his path.

“Ethan?” she asked, though the recognition was evident in her heart-shaped face. “I thought that was you.”

Nothing in her perfect posture suggested she felt as uncomfortable as Ethan did. He, on the other hand, felt his face burn as he wished he could disappear into the tacky carpet of the banquet hall. Then again, that had always been their dynamic. Fiona, ever confident and graceful, and Ethan, quiet and awkward in her presence.

“Dr. Bellington,” he acknowledged at last.

Fiona laughed pleasantly at the formality of his greeting. “You know you can call me Fiona.”

Ethan didn't respond. His phone buzzed in his hand with Lilac's replies.

“How have you been?” She looked unfazed by his lack of response. Perhaps Ethan took a beat too long to reply, or Fiona was still in the habit of asking questions she did not care to hear the answer to because she added, “It's funny I ran into you. I just read your case study on Primary Hemophagocytic Lymphohistiocytosis in the NEJM.”

“Oh?”

What else could he say? In his hand, the buzzing became more frantic to match the content of Lilac's responses, no doubt.

“Very impressive, as always,” Fiona went on, undeterred.

They spent the next few minutes catching up, even if Ethan's side of the conversation was brief and detached.

“What a career you've had these past ten years.” Her silver eyes sparkled, making her look almost ten years younger. She fixed them on Ethan in a manner that was too calculated to be casual.

“All a result of hard work and dedication,” he deflected. His eyes abandoned the silvery spectacle before him—from Fiona's white blonde hair, to her eyes and dress—to instead find an escape route. Ethan had no moral qualms about being rude, but even he couldn't just leave mid-conversation. Then again, could it be called a conversation when his responses were short and noncommittal?

Fiona, seemingly oblivious about his escape plans, smirked and continued, “And an unmatched genius, Ethan. There is no need to be humble with me.”

Fiona moved closer to him, almost imperceptibly. His instinct was to step back, but the dessert table behind him prevented him from doing so.

Her sharp face lit up with determination and a hint of playfulness. “It's no surprise. You were always so…” Fiona allowed her gaze to fall to his chest, before slowly dragging it up to meet his eyes. “Driven.”

Completely unaffected, Ethan said nothing. The only source of discomfort stemmed from feeling trapped between the pastry-laden table and a woman whom he hadn't thought about in a decade. A woman who was determined to lay it on real thick with a charm that might have worked on him in another life.

Fiona, clever as ever, must have realized the lack of effect on her audience because she tried for a new approach. “I've thought a lot about you these past few years,” she confessed in a soft whisper. “I've always wondered if that mess with Tobias hadn't happened, if we could have…”

His jaw clenched reflexively.

“There's nothing more detrimental to progress than foolishly dwelling in the past,” he replied, face taught with tension, fist clasping his drink with formidable force. The words were the gentlemanly alternative to what Ethan really wanted to say, something along the lines of, “You fucked up, Fiona. And now Tobias, proving to be smarter than he looks, doesn't give you the time of day after he got bored. So now you're back, with your tail between your legs to chase after the now-famous alternative.”

As it turned out, his words were perhaps too gentle because Fiona considered them thoughtfully. Something akin to hope bloomed in her face, much to his dismay. “I absolutely agree,” she said. “Perhaps the best way forward is to break through any walls.”

At least she had the decency to look almost bashful, if a bit hopeful. Though utterly incredulous, Ethan scrutinized the woman he once fancied himself in love with. Had it really been love? It would be a disservice to his younger self to write it off as anything else. Fiona was intelligent and fiercely ambitious, not to mention charming and exceedingly beautiful. Anyone who knew her then would inevitably fall in love with her. But, as Ethan moved on and mended the fragments of a broken heart, he understood the ambition that drove her had always paired with a cruelty that tore down everyone in her path. He understood now that the love he had felt for her then was a tumultuous torrent, untamed and almost destructive but gone as quickly as it had appeared.  

Misinterpreting his silence, she said, “Maybe we can get out of here and—”

Fiona did not finish that sentence because her icy grey eyes swiveled to something over Ethan's shoulder. Before Ethan could turn to look too, a pair of warm, familiar hands appeared from under his arms, sliding up his chest in a lazy line. Soon after, the lovely face of Lilac Allende appeared from over his shoulder.

The way she looked up at him was so adoring that something tugged at his chest.

“There you are, babe,” she murmured, her voice unfairly sultry, as if his heartbeat hadn't already spiked to astronomical levels at the way her hands touched him. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Ethan said nothing, unable to speak through the haze she effortlessly cast over him. How was she always so good at that? His eyes fell on the emerald green dress that hugged her pristine body. Ethan repressed a groan as he took in the revealing neckline and equally ensnaring leg slit. It was the very same dress that tormented him all the time ago through a social media post.

At the extended silence, Lilac's eyes widened slightly, prompting him to say something. In the most discreet way, she gestured toward Fiona and it hit him.

They were doing this again.

Ages after their initial fib, there they stood, about to sell the lie again, their roles reversed.

Without wasting another minute, he snared his arms around Lilac’s waist and pulled her to him, as naturally as the rhythm of the ocean. Her high heels compensated for their height difference and as Ethan leaned down, their noses were mere inches apart. “I was only gone for twenty minutes,” he informed her, swaying them slightly as he held her. “It's nice to know I am so thoroughly missed when I leave.”

Lilac raised her brow imperceptibly at him, no doubt taking his words as a challenge. The most wicked smile pulled at her lips, made more dangerous still with the way her body pressed tightly against his. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Speaking of thorough, you promised we could leave to our room upstairs so we could—”

Lilac made a show of noticing Fiona for the first time. “Oh, hello.”

The blonde looked at them through thinly veiled shock and disappointment. They disentangled though Lilac remained at his side, hand casually resting at his chest. The tiny gesture made it entirely too difficult to concentrate.

“Lilac, this is Dr. Fiona Bellington,” Ethan said at last. Lilac was not acting when she tore her eyes from Fiona before quickly glancing at Ethan. “Dr. Bellington, this is Dr. Lilac Allende,” he paused to kiss the top of Lilac’s forehead. “My wife.”

Uttering the word, even if it was a lie, sent his pulse into chaos.

Lilac shifted slightly to extend her hand in greeting but all pleasantries were forgotten as Fiona gaped at them.

“Wife?” Fiona said to Ethan in apparent disbelief. “I thought you didn’t—” she stopped and cleared her throat, regaining some composure. “I never took you for the marrying type, Ethan.”

“He wasn’t the conference type and look at him now,” Lilac returned cheerfully.

Fiona blinked. She seemed to remember her manners only seconds later because she plastered on a pleasant enough smile and offered her hand to Lilac.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said as they shook hands. “Ethan and I are old friends. We were at Johns Hopkins together.”

He fought the urge to grimace. He would hardly call Fiona his friend.

“Yes, he mentioned that before,” Lilac returned just as politely.

There was a slight twitch in Fiona’s smile, sending it from passably agreeable to almost forced. “Forgive my initial shock,” she said. “I never knew Ethan to believe in marriage. What was it you said about it being a senseless institution?”

Ethan’s shoulders stiffened, entirely too annoyed by Fiona’s petty maneuvers. He opened his mouth to bluntly refute her, but Lilac laughed beside him. “The speech about there being no scientific basis for soulmates? You were already that cynical in med school, love?”

Inspired, Ethan smiled lovingly at her and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I hadn’t met you yet.”

Lilac froze at the words and he was delighted to see a blush tinge her face. Fiona, meanwhile, struggled to conceal her crestfallen expression, her smile appearing painful now.

“We should go if we want to make dinner,” Ethan said to Lilac, deciding that any minute they spent in the company of others instead of alone was a waste of time. “Dr. Bellington,” Ethan said with a nod as mode of farewell.

“It was good to meet you,” Lilac added before Ethan whisked her away, leaving a dejected Fiona behind. They were successful in concealing their amusement until they reached a deserted hall several doors away.

Lilac's fit of laughter was contagious and he joined her without reservations.

“We should go into acting in case this medicine thing doesn't work out,” he commented.

“You make it very easy to act.”

All traces of humor were gone from her face. Unable to fight back the pull any longer, he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her until their lips met. She responded at once, her body conforming to his as though it was designed to do so, a little moan escaping her when his tongue traced a trail along her lower lip. By the time they pulled apart, completely breathless, his tongue and lips stung pleasantly as a result of her ministrations.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, her arms still wrapped around his neck. Her fingers caressed the angles of his face and Ethan closed his eyes.

“I'm fine. How did you know I needed a save?”

“Your text,” she explained. “And the terrified look on your face when I found you talking to her.”

Ethan raised his brows to his hairline, waiting for more. Lilac rolled her eyes and relented. “And I also heard her trying to get you to leave with her.”

He chuckled. “You're cute when you're jealous.” Lilac opened her mouth, cheeks ablaze. “You've nothing to worry about, Rookie. I'm interested in one person and one person only.”

“Who? Your wife?”

“She's not my wife yet,” he replied with a grin, aware it probably made him look sheepish. He didn't care. “But I do like the sound of the word.”

“Good. Get used to it because it will be true in a few weeks.”

The thought alone exhilarated him. Very gently, he took her hand in his, bringing his lips to the engagement ring he had placed there a few weeks prior.

“I'm counting down the days.”

Their lips met again in another passionate kiss. Ethan's hands fell to the swell of her hips, his fingers quickly descending to the slit along her thigh.

“This dress,” he breathed when they pulled apart. His eyes took her in shamelessly, marveling at how a mere piece of fabric made her look entirely like a goddess. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” Lilac allowed with a wistful sigh. “I was hoping to finally get some use out of it.”

Ethan flashed his fiancée a devilish lopsided smile.  “Night's not over yet,” he whispered, pressing a hot lip against her neck.  “And besides, I think its true purpose is to be a heap in our bedroom floor.”

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Prompt: Thank you anon!

Also, thank you to the anon who wanted Jealous!MC (kinda)

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Author’s Note: Oh how the turn tables...

THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading this series. Let me say this is not the last time I will use the fake dating trope because I love it so much.

Apologies for that god awful summary!

Finally, I hope you don’t mind me adding extra scenes for the Miami kiss rewrite. May the writing gods be with me because I am so excited!

- Bree

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