#but if i said i’d never let a stranger things fan near anything i’m eating because they have undertale needle cookie energy …

[ickypuppi3]

very strange implications and over a ship no less

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

0X1=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You were one and he made you both zero. He has it all, a stable life, all that money, a wife lined up, and your body as his drug, him coming back for hit after hit. They called you a bad influence. You called yourself Jeon Jungkook's ex.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; angst; cheating; stereotyping of tattoos; reader is verbally abused by JK's wealthy parents; JK and reader are foolish, wounded animals and act accordingly; rough hate sex (fem reader, biting / marking / scratching, f and m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - exes, tattooed, rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader, ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK's best friend

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now playing – 0X1=LOVESONG (i know i love you) by txt ft. pH-1, Woodie Gochild, Seori

"I hate you."

"Join the club. Current members, me."

He narrowed his eyes and tossed his keys onto the table next to the door, kicking off his sneakers.

"We gonna fuck or what?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You tell me you hate me and then you want to fuck?"

"Stranger things have happened. I could tell you I love you."

You made a gagging noise. "Disgusting."

He pretended to be shocked. "How could you say such a thing?"

You slammed the door shut and walked past him, not saying anything. You heard him stride behind you, following to your bedroom.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Right, and I'm a dog. We done lying now?"

"You are a dog," you replied, falling onto the bed.

His head popped into view, long black hair hanging down, half of it pinned back to reveal his undercut and two dangling black earrings on his right ear.

"You fuck dogs? Nasty. I'm not into bestiality, sorry."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Shut the fuck up, Jungkook."

Jeon Jungkook cocked an eyebrow, adjusting his black turtleneck by hooking a finger on the collar and sliding it from side to side, the small tattoos on his knuckles and fingers dancing with the action.

"Why are you stressed like a nun?"

He clicked his tongue. "Her idea of getting freaky was trying to chew my neck off. Went full piranha on me."

You snorted. "Maybe you deserve it. Would have saved me the trouble."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

He glared at you and you glared back from the bed.

"So, how was fucking my best friend?" he snapped.

You scoffed. "I didn't fuck Taehyung. I told you already."

"That's not what he said."

"So what? I've never seen his dick or had it near my pussy. If he wants to make up shit, that's his prerogative."

Jungkook didn't look like he believed you, but you weren't the one cheating on your girlfriend with your ex, so it wasn't something you cared about. He narrowed his eyes.

"Swear."

"On what?" you shot back. "Your right nut?"

"Your life."

You snorted. "Well apparently to you, that ain't worth shit."

He was reaching for the bottom of his turtleneck and pulling it up and over his head. You felt a tinge of annoyance, seeing the dark, spotted bites on his side and shoulder. He yanked the article of clothing over his head and you spied the one on his neck, a blotted, messy patch of red-purple. It was ugly on his pretty tan skin.

You could do better.

"Your girlfriend know the meaning of sexy?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"That's not what she or your parents think."

"She and my parents can suck each other's dicks."

"Didn't know you liked dick. Guess that's why we didn't work out."

He tossed his turtleneck aside and growled, crawling onto the bed. Large, powerful, shoulders flexing, copious black tattoos covering his right arm and shoulder, a full sleeve. On the inside of his right bicep was a skull with a knife in its head.

You picked that one, a long time ago.

You looked into his eyes.

He had noticed you glancing at it.

She's ruining your life! Look at you! Tattoos all over your arm and hand! How could you get these ugly things?

Jungkook didn't say anything. He just grabbed your arm and started yanking your clothes off, just like how you grabbed his pants and started pulling them off his body, throwing them violently aside.

Don't you dare speak to our son ever again, you good-for-nothing whore. You think we wouldn't notice your poisonous influence sullying him? It took us months to find a nice, sensible girl willing to put up with your mistakes!

Hands and skin and teeth and hate, tumbling onto the covers, the taste of his flesh on your tongue and his cologne attacking your nose, his large hands gripping your soft thighs, pushing them apart, looking down into those chocolate eyes, the voices melding together, arguments, tirades, chaos, a fucking mess of you biting your tongue while Jungkook stood there and did nothing to defend you.

I hate you so fucking much, Jungkook!

And calling my parents dogs licking the shit off countryside roads is any better? The fuck is wrong with you?!

They were eating me alive in there and you said nothing! Absolutely nothing! I'd go to hell and back for you and you couldn't even say a single fucking word!

You were in hell. You came back.

And now you were in hell again.

"Damn, she must be fucking horrible at making you feel good if you keep coming to me."

Jungkook rolled his eyes and you clamped your thighs around his head, nearly a triangle choke as you dragged him along the sheets, him half-crawling to follow you, shuddering at the close proximity of your pussy to his face. When he spoke, his warm breath saturated your wetness.

"She doesn't even taste half as good as you and never fucking listens when I tell her what I like," he grumbled.

"Yeah? You tell her you like it when you shove your face into pussy?"

He scowled.

"Like I said, she doesn't taste good. I never give her head."

And he attached his lips to your heat, slurping noisily, sighing in satisfaction as you squeezed his head with your thighs, hot and slick tongue sparking your sensitive skin, fuck, yes, this is what pussy should taste like, so sweet, fuck, familiar and erotic, his hands sliding up and gripping your ass, firm and solid while staring up at you, opening his mouth and letting you see the pink, wet muscle flick and dance over your clit, ghosting it with pleasure but not giving it to you, your honey-like juices glistening on his lips and chin.

You clenched your jaw. "Get serious already. Stop fucking around."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

"I'm always serious with you."

His lips closed in and he made your mind go blank, soft black hair fanning out on your thigh, fast, swift, powerful licks all over your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks and jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine from your core, one of your hands twisting in his hair, bunching it up, his sharp jaw cutting into your inner thighs because you were squeezing so hard, but Jungkook didn't care, always saying, do it, choke me with your thighs, if I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die eating you out, his long fingers splayed out over your ass and pushing your hips into his face, making you hump his waiting mouth and his punishing tongue, hot flames of desire taking over, your head tipping back, pulling on his long hair, moans of his name tumbling from your throat, suck harder, fuck, seeing black from the sudden blinding tension, his skillful tongue fiercely teasing your engorged clit in the overwhelming tightness, snapping the strings of sanity.

"J-Jungkook!"

The impossible high, the violent shivers, shooting into accelerated free-fall, your fingers unclasping from his hair and pushing his head into your throbbing core, his tongue shoving into your folds and moaning at the sensation of your muscles clamping around it, sucking it all out, your orgasm consumed by his greedy mouth.

Your name vibrated in your own pussy, delivered by sinning lips and hazy dark brown orbs drugged with lust.

Back then, when it was falling apart, you told Jungkook all sorts of things and he said all sorts of things back. Painful things, hateful things, pitiful things, pointless things, never having a real conversation about how deeply he hurt you.

Only later, a strange moment, seeing Jungkook at your front door, seeing it in his eyes. Something different.

He asked you if you wanted to fuck with no strings attached.

You bit back, as wounded animals do.

Why? You were such a waste of time.

Jungkook didn't know it, but his next words made you agree to this ridiculous arrangement.

Yeah, but I was your waste of time and that's all I ever wanted to be.

When he kissed you now, it was hungry and heady, drunk on your taste and you, forcing his tongue into your mouth and thrusting into your lips. Tangled bodies, tangled tongues, tangled minds, falling into the bed, his hands in your hair and yours in his, whispers of, she'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel, your lips and tongue all over his jaw and ear, biting down on it, earrings jingling against your cheek, his moan above your head as you traveled down, marking his skin with sharp bites and thick swipes of saliva, pretty pink marks all over his torso, contrasting the bruises.

"Of course not," Jungkook panted, a shuddering groan torn out of his throat as your nails raked down his back and then glided back up, fingertips pressing into the irritated skin, soothing it. "She never fucking listens to me or my body because she's an idiot."

You traced the curves of his muscles, lips ghosting kisses, hot and soft and sharp from breath and tongue and teeth, his body becoming yours from persistent, familiar touch, his name in your mouth and on his skin, your saliva dripping over his hard, thick length, and then your mouth was on it, his taste on your tongue, in your throat, and in your memory.

Jungkook moaned your name.

With longing, pain, and love.

When's the wedding?

Next year.

Huh. Good for you.

No, it isn't, and you know it. Bet you're glad I'm going to be miserable forever.

You've made me miserable forever, so serves you right.

"Get off, I don't want to blow my load in two seconds, fuck!"

You swallowed him as deep as you could and then pushed your head down so the tip was buried into your throat, swelling and twitching at the unbearable, euphoric constriction.

"F-Fuck, please, let go, fuck... oooh, shit..."

Your tongue outlined the underside of his length, humming around his cock, rubbing the base of the head and straining to slurp at it, letting him hear you, lewd, obscene, unafraid.

If he really wanted to, he could pull out now.

Jungkook breathed your name, savoring every syllable.

You stared into dark brown eyes, black pupils expanded, watching his jaw flinch and his shoulders shake, black tattoos shivering as you slowly removed your tight mouth, popping it off his cock with a wet plop.

His normally smooth, silvery voice was trembling, the pleasure deepening it.

"God, I hate you."

Jungkook and you could say it a thousand times, a million times, for all of time, and both of you would know neither ever meant it.

I love you.

Get out, Jungkook.

But–

Get the fuck out! You think you can fuck me and tell me you love me? Like that's going to somehow negate all the previous bullshit you put me though? No. Take your clothes and your pathetic self and get out. Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

He would. He did.

Over and over.

You towered over him now, waiting for him to roll the condom down, watching his face as you sank down onto his stiff length, seeing the elation, the gratification, the absolute bliss in the way your pussy suffocated him, tight, wet, his, your head dipping down and taking his lips, yours, fitting yourself around his girth that became harder as you bottomed out, his moan feathering over your lips as you rolled your hips into his with a firm smack.

"Oh, fuck, feels so fucking good..."

He knows you're not going to fuck someone else. You have to see other people so he finally realizes how important you are to him.

That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard in my life, Taehyung.

If you don't refuse him, he won't change.

I was never important enough to him in the first place.

Those chocolate orbs watching you, his strong hands on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin and leaving crescents of his nails, matching your pace, harsh, deep slaps of skin to skin, your name on the tip of his tongue, balanced in the tightrope of all or nothing, zero or one.

They want me to take over the family business.

Having a trophy wife is important for that kinda shit.

You're the perfect trophy.

Yeah, me and my mechanical heart.

Jungkook switched your positions, rolling over and pinning you down, perfect white teeth sinking into his pink lower lip, the black mole underneath prominent against his tense jaw, fucking you into your mattress, panting, giving you his all, aching pleasure with every rough thrust, your back arching and hands on his long black hair, clutching his head and raising your hips to meet that full hardness and to hit your favorite spot, sending bursting sparks of ecstasy up your spine and into your lungs, rendering you airless.

Nothing but pleasure, nothing but need, nothing but physicality.

“Look at me,” Jungkook rasped, hoarse from breathing so hard.

You lowered your head and raised an eyebrow. His parted lips had small cuts from stress-biting them. His tan skin was as lovely as ever, dotted with small moles on his nose, cheek, neck, underneath his lip, kisses from the moon, not bothering to wear makeup to cover them. He never did, not with you, not when his time could be better utilized being all over you. Dark brows and chocolate eyes, large, sharp, expressive, beautiful, your Jungkook.

Your country, your world, your universe.

You smirked as you looked at that face. He cocked a brow, black curls falling over his eye as you lifted your hand.

“You know what would piss them off?”

You didn’t need to say who.

He clicked his tongue and slammed his hips down on you, but you only clenched around him, causing him to pause and savor the feeling. His length wrapped in your warmth, connected in the most visceral way, his breath mixing with your breath. Dark brown orbs on you, half-lidded and shadowed by his lashes and long hair.

“What?”

You pushed his hair aside and traced his right eyebrow, stroking the hairs of the tail.

“If you got a face piercing.”

Jungkook grinned, low chuckle in his throat. “Yeah?”

You lifted yourself up to smack your hips into him, holding onto his broad shoulders with your other arm to balance yourself, devious smirk on your lips.

“You won’t do it.”

He leaned down, putting more force into each thrust. Your grip tightening, gasping into his face, eye to eye, dragged along by Jungkook’s intensity and passion, breathing in his exhale, drinking in his fervor, blind to the wrongness, deaf to everything but the sound of bodies, wetness to hardness, and the way he said your name, like there was nothing else, nothing but you and him and ecstasy, nothing but the sensation of how hard and how full his cock felt when he was inside you, nothing but how strongly and viciously you pulsed around him, toppling over the edge, moaning his name and staring into his eyes, into the eyes of the one that made you orgasm and mean it with every fiber of your being.

“Jungkook…”

He sucked in a breath and gasped your name, cock twitching and spurting into the condom, plunging forward, kissing you hungrily and deeply, shoulders shaking in your hands, stealing your breath, muffled cries sliding into your throat from his, anguish at the force of his climax, sweeping you up with him.

It was a long kiss.

He finally broke it, heavy exhale against your lips, not lifting his head, his black hair spilling all over your face, not letting you see anything.

Mouthing words against your cheek that you could feel, but it was a silent utterance, a soundless scream into the abyss that he alone was sinking, living a life without you.

Enjoy your piranha.

Ha, ha, very funny.

She’s not gonna notice?

He hadn’t said anything, pulling his turtleneck over his head and shaking out his long black hair like a dog. You had pulled your blankets over your naked body and looked away, not wanting to see him any longer.

You’re trash, Jungkook.

Yeah, but I could buy you a Louis Vuitton bag, easy.

You’ve been hanging around your parents too much. I don’t give a shit about your money or your influence and I never did.

Everyone likes money.

Everyone likes you too. Oh, wait, except me. I guess I’m excluded from everyone.

He hadn’t said anything more. You didn’t tell him goodbye when he left.

You waited until your heart became numb again. Then you mechanically crawled out of bed and cleaned up all traces of his existence, going all the way outside to dispose of the condom and the wrapper so you wouldn’t accidentally look at them in the trash later. You put your clothes back on, one by one, and went about your day. And the next day. And the next. And the.

And.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” you would say to whoever asked. You would smile and nod.

Time went on.

You would open the door and no one was there.

You would close the door and go back inside.

You would open the door.

And Jeon Jungkook was there, with a cut on his lip and a black-purple bruise underneath his left eye.

His right eyebrow was slightly swollen, two stainless steel balls connected by a silver bar pierced into the end of his brow. His clothes were torn up, his white dress shirt dirtied and his dark wash jeans torn, brown mud caked on one knee. He looked at you, chest shuddering, wheezing for breath.

“Hah…”

He smirked, the gesture not reaching his eyes. Those dark brown orbs were desolate, numb. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand and winced.

“I think they’re mad at me.”

You raised your eyebrows.

He flicked a hand through his now short black hair and ticked his head. “They told me not to show my face in front of them ever again and that I can kiss my inheritance goodbye.”

You leaned against your doorframe. “They took the silver spoon from your mouth over an eyebrow piercing?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I guess it pissed them off when I said I wasn’t going to take it out.”

He made eye contact and you saw him trying to tell you that he had changed.

Well.

Was forced to change, now poor and cast away.

“I know you said I was a waste of time,” Jungkook sighed, heavy and remorseful. “But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.”

You looked into those chocolate orbs that always told you they loved you.

“They knew, huh?”

He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t try to hide it. She knew, they knew, they probably all knew where I went.”

“And what will you do when they ask you to come back?”

Jungkook stood at your doorstep and told you words that you had always wanted to hear, but he had been too afraid to say, afraid of the repercussions, confused of his own feelings, too selfish at the time to realize how much he had hurt you. Time and emptiness had taught him pain and taught him what it meant to be without.

The time taught him how it felt to be not one, but zero.

“Tell them I should have left a long time ago and stayed with you, because you always let me be whoever I wanted to be even though all I was doing was wasting your time.”

He faced you, you and your mechanical heart that he created with his silence.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology meant nothing to you, far too late.

“Now I have nothing but time.”

It never mattered. You always knew Jungkook was sorry from the moment he asked to fuck with no strings attached. It was for him and for you. For him to touch you once more, even if it was all a lie, and for you and your mechanical heart, cleaning off the rust and giving it a moment to feel. He knew. You knew.

Without each other, you were both zeros when you could have been one.

And it was all his fault.

I know you’re not here, but I love you, Jungkook.

You sighed.

Then you shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I got nothing but time too.” You tilted your head, chuckling. “And even now, I waste it on you.”

Jungkook smiled sadly. He didn’t ask to be forgiven. He didn’t ask to be invited in. He just stood at your doorstep, finally able to say the words he should have said. He didn’t ask you to love him. You already knew he loved you. He mouthed it all the time, I love you, against your cheek, after each and every rendezvous, without fail.

Now he had nothing.

But you could see he was going to give it his all this time.

You stepped away from the doorframe and turned around, waving him in.

“If you’re gonna be my waste of time, at least wash your face.”

-

continued in LO$ER=?, m | jjk

--

masterpost

[goldensstateofgrace]

Dream Of How You (Tasted) - Chapter One -

(So... my first Series!!! I’ll be working on this a lot, and i want you to know it’s not gonna be perfect because I’m not perfect and my writings definitely not perfect, so bare with me on this journey please!! Who’s ready for some Camgirl!y/n??)

A story about Y/N becoming a camgirl because she needs the money but also because she gets off on the praise she gets from total strangers. She enjoys helping other’s get off while doing so herself. When talk about a one on one session with a guy who always watches her streams becomes reality, what happens when she finds out it was her crush/best friend all along?

I hope you guys are excited!! bc I know I am!! Hope you enjoy, happy reading!!

(Also, i picture Harry as long haired harry, but you can picture him however you’d like!!!)

Word count: 1.7k (4 pages) (i promise the other chapters will be longer!)

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Y/n didn’t know college could be so expensive, her job at the coffee shop on campus just wasn’t cutting it anymore. She needed to find something else to help pay for school and her rent. 

She’s in her second year of uni, all the book costs and the rent for having an apartment so close to campus is outrageous. She tried to find a second job to help with the money problem she was currently having, but couldn't find anything that could work around her classes and coffee shop schedule. 

Her best friend, Harry, tried to get her a job alongside him at his job, but again the schedule didn’t work for her and they couldn’t change it. So now, she's stuck trying to find something to do so close when she needs to pay her rent. 

It was outrageous how much the rent was for a one bedroom apartment close to campus, it’s a thousand - some dollars a month just to be close to campus, but that’s including her light and water bill so she can’t complain too much. 

Harry had offered to let her move in with him to cut down the cost, so she could save some money for school. But she declined because her boyfriend at the time didn’t feel comfortable with it, only to find out on their one year anniversary that he had been cheating on her for a while. Asshole. 

Nothing has been said since, but she wished he would. Moving out of her apartment would help so much, but she didn’t want to ask. 

Lost in her thoughts she didn’t even notice Harry walking beside her, as she walked across the courtyard to class. 

“Why so glum” he nudged her in the side with his elbow, startling her out of her thoughts. She slaps in on the arm, chuckling, “Harry! Don’t do that!”

“You didn’t answer the question, What’s wrong? And don’t give me the ‘Nothing im fine!’ thing you do,” he says, mimicking a higher pitched girly voice, chuckling once he was done. 

“Heyy! I don’t sound like that you twat!” you backhand his abdomen making him rub his stomach area as he grimaces in slight pain. 

“But” she starts, “i’ve just been struggling again, i tried looking for a job but, just like last time the schedule didn’t line up with any of my classes or with when i was working at the coffee shop.” she says, huffing in annoyance. 

Harry nods his head as she talks, listening to her, wishing he could help in some way. He tried before, but she turned him down, she didn’t even tell him why. He figured it had something to do with that cheating ex of hers. 

“Y/n, if you need help, all you have to do is ask. I’ll always be her to help you in any way I can,” he tells her, his eyes flickering over her face, showing nothing but seriousness, a drastic change from his happy light hearted self he was just a few minutes ago.

She casts her eyes away from him, focusing her eyes on the pavement under her feet as she walks. She doesn’t say anything for a while, but eventually she looks up at him, tears filling her eyes. 

“I know” she nods, “Thank you, Harry. You don’t have to, but thank you,” she says, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill down her cheek but they don’t get the chance as she wipes them away before they do. 

Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and placing a kiss to her head, “I may not have to, but i want to.” he mumbles into the top of her head. 

Her arm wraps around his middle as they continue to walk to their second class of that morning, “Thank you.” 

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

“You know what you should do?” Harry's friend Niall says as y/n, Harry, Niall and y/n’s friend Amy sit around a table in the coffee shop having lunch. Y/n quirks her eyebrow up as she takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, motioning him to go on.

Y/n had just got finished telling them about how she was in search of another job, and about how she needed the money to pay rent soon. 

“You should do only fans, or p*** h**, they make lots of money and that way you get something out of it other than stress and tiredness.” he says, making her almost choke on her sandwich. 

“W-what!”  y/n says just as Harry says “Dude! No!” 

“What’s the big deal? Lots of people do it, and you don’t even have to show your face. You could even go by a different name!” Niall reasons. 

Y/n was shocked by his suggestion, but she wouldn’t lie and say she was put off by the idea. Nobody would know it was her, and he did have a point about her not having to go by her own name. 

She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this but, you have to do what you have to do. 

“yeah uh” she clears her throat, “good suggestion Ni, but i think i’ll just stick with trying to find a job near campus” she says, chuckling as she takes another bite of her sandwich. 

“eh, it was worth a shot,” he laughs, before the conversation steers to assignments everyone had to get done and ones they’ve already done. 

After they all finish eating they sit around talking for a little bit before Y/n and Harry had to head for their last class of the day. 

As they walk to class, Harry’s arm that’s thrown over y/n’s pulls her into his side, “You know Niall was coming from a good place, right. He didn’t mean to offend you or anything,” he says, making you look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“yeah , i know. I didn’t take any offence to it, but…” she trailed off, “What?” harry asks, motioning for her to continue as they walk past a group of people blocking the sidewalk. 

“Would it be so bad? I mean he had a point about me not having to show my face or use my actual name” she said, her eyes flicking over his face for some kind of clue into what he thought of it all. 

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while, it’s just as they were about to walk into their class that he pulled her to the side and let their other classmates go in first, “I don’t have a problem with it, it’s your body, you have the right to do whatever you want with it. If you decide that that’s what you want to do to make the money you need i’ll support you 100%, if not i’ll still support you, no matter what,” He tells her, looking into her eyes with nothing but seriousness splayed across his face. 

Y/n nods, standing up on her tiptoes and reaching her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, “Thank you, Harry. I honestly don’t know what i’d do without you!” she mumbles into his neck as his arms wrap around her waist pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. 

“I don’t either honestly” he laughs, pulling away from her with a huge contagious smile across his face, only making her laugh and smile too. 

“Come on, let's go to class,” he said, throwing his arm back around her shoulder and leading her through the classroom doors. 

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

It was later that night, y/n couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts running wild with what could happen if she did decide to become a camgirl, or whatever it was called these days. 

She was laying in bed, trying to find out more about what comes with being a camgirl, what she needed to do and what other people were looking to watch. 

She had found a girl, her page consisting of videos showing off her curves and sexy lingerie, along with videos of her using toys on herself. All of the videos have over thousands of views, y/n decided that she would message the women who went by ‘daddiespet20’. 

Rewrote her message so many times she lost count before she finally found what she wanted to ask and sent the message,“Hey! I’m y/n, i was wondering if you could maybe help me, i’ve been looking into getting into only fans. Could you maybe help me with some questions I have?”

She waited a while for a reply back, along with going down a tiktok rabbit hole, laughing at the stupid tiktoks Harry posted the other day. Her phone finally pinged with a notification, she quickly pulled the notification bar down to see it was a reply from the women she had messaged, “Daddiespet20: Hi! Yes ofc, ask away.”

She honestly wasn’t expecting to get a reply back, thinking the women must have thousands of people messaging her all day every day. 

Y/n quickly wrote out a message of the main questions she wanted answered, “Thank you sm! It’s only a few questions, 1: does the amount you get paid rely on the amount of views you get on each of your videos?, 2: how did you gain your audience, and keep them interested in what you were putting out?, 3: Do you have any tips on where to start (seeing as I'm new to all of this)?”

The woman answers all of y/n’s questions with no problem, along with telling her some tips on how to get started and how to gain followers. The conversion ends after messaging back and forth for almost an hour, y/n’s walking away with all the information she was looking for plus more. 

Talking to her really helped y/n come to the decision that this is what she was going to do, she was going to make videos of her showing off her body and pleasuring herself. Never in a million years did she think she would come to this just so she could keep a roof over her head and stay in school. 

Now all she had to do was buy some sexy lingerie and some toys, well more toys. What? She’s not a prude!

 It was getting late so she decided she would go to bed and figure everything out tomorrow, along with ordering her underwear and the toys online. She definitely didn’t need anyone from school seeing her by that stuff. God, she could just imagine the embarrassment she would feel if that happened. 

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Feed back is highly appreciated!! Hope you enjoyed 🥺🥰

[simpingforsoftboys]

The Odds of Us All

Chapter 2 Pt 5/5: Food & Tea- But Not The Drink Kind

It was finally lunch time, Y/n was more than ready to leave her classroom and head to the twins class. Saying goodbye to some of her new friends, she departed from class 2-5 and headed down the hallway to class 2-3. While she was in college prep, the twins and Suna were in the other classes below her. The girl didn’t hold it against them, some people were made for different fields- academics didn’t define anything besides a persons academic intelligence. 

Several people stared after her as she walked, everyone was intrigued with the new transfer student who was the soulmate of Itachiyama’s star ace and the cousin of Shiratorizawa’s famous Ushiwaka. It got on her nerves at first but she got used to the attention eventually. If she was rude to her ���fans” then it’d look bad on Sakusa and Wakatoshi.

“Ushijima-san!” Someone called after her, stopping her in her tracks, Y/n turned and looked over at the person. It was a first year from class 1-2, if she remembered correctly he was in her “fan club.” (Honestly she was a little flattered at how fast she gained a following here, back at Nekoma it took her a whole two weeks before some classmates formed one for her.) “I was wondering if you would be willing to accept this... I made it just for you!” She was about to thank him for the horribly wrapped bento, when someone decided to stop her. 

“Y/n.” Suna said from across the hallway, phone in hand, “come on we’re eating outside.” He gave the first year a deadpan, daring him to speak, Y/n smiled apologetically at him, thanking him for the bento and accepting it. The first year hurried away, but not without a pleased blush coating his cheeks. “Told you- you’re Ms. Popular.”

“Maybe... but it doesn’t really matter.” Y/n replied, tucking the bento into her satchel. “It’s always been this way, but not for the reasons you might think.” Seeing her soulmates inquisitive gaze she continued. “I mean maybe they start genuinely liking me eventually, but initially they follow me around and try to befriend me in an effort to know about all the drama in my life. Having a famous cousin and soulmate does that to you. Oh- but I’m sure you deal with it too- I mean you and the twins are famous on the volleyball scene for a reason.”

Suna hummed noncommittally, pocketing his phone and shoving his hands in his pockets with it. “I get it- people only want to get to know me cuz of the twins or my looks... but I don’t really pay attention to them... neither do Atsumu or Osamu.” He gave her a side glance. “You shouldn’t either, people like that just aren’t worth the energy.” 

“You make a good point Suna- but I can’t. I got to make a good impression for them. Oh wow, Inarizaki sure has everything doesn’t it?” They were in the schools private garden, it was a large plot of land- with rows or fresh vegetables and countless beds of flowers- Y/n could even spot several wisteria trees. “I think it’s even prettier than Itachiyama’s greenhouse.”

“Itachiyama? I thought ya went to Nekoma.” Atsumu asked, popping up in front of her. Osamu walked over to them, they had just arrived too. 

Y/n nodded, “Hi Atsumu, Osamu; I did, but I was initially planning on going to Itachiyama- I toured the campus, passed the entrance exams and everything too. But my friends went to Nekoma so I followed.” Osamu said ‘hi’ in response.

“Interesting.” Atsumu said, his mischievous smirk never leaving his face. “Hey follow me will ya?” He grabbed her hand gently, leading her to a round, stone picnic table below the wisteria trees, leaving Osamu and Suna to trail after them. 

“There he goes.” Suna whispered, earning a sigh in response from the gray haired twin. “So touchy... surprised no one reported him for harassment yet.”

“I’d thank 'em if they did.” Osamu huffed with an eye roll. “Maybe then he would learn ta keep his hands ta himself.” The four of them settled at the table, Atsumu on Y/n’s left, Osamu to her right, and Suna in front of her. 

“Y/n got a bento from a first year earlier.” The brunette gossiped (but in his weird deadpan way), he hid a grin at the matching scowls the twins wore. “Hey Y/n what did you think of him?” 

“He was sweet.” She pulled the bento out and plopped it on the table. “But I’m not going to eat it- he’s still a stranger and I’m not the type to eat food from just anyone.” She didn’t notice the glances the three shared at her words.

“What if I made it?” The younger Miya muttered, staring at the h/c (hair color) girl. Atsumu did his best to hide his snort- meanwhile Suna subtly recorded the moment. 

“Oh? Well you’re not just anyone are you?” Her words seemed flirtatious, but in actuality she was just being genuinely blunt. “I wouldn’t mind if it were you.” Let’s just say Suna was very glad he was recording- because the pink hue that overtook Osamu’s cheeks was HILARIOUS. 

“Good, cuz I made ya some f/f (favorite food).” Osamu pulled an expertly wrapped bento from his bag and placed it in front of Y/n, who looked pleasantly surprised at his kind gesture. 

“Look at him flirtin- almost as good as me. I’m so proud.” Atsumu grinned, not the least bit jealous (shockingly). “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Not you getting a big head over this.” Suna teased, earning himself a mean scowl. “If it were you, Y/n would have said no... maybe even eaten that first years bento instead.” 

“Ya know I’m startin to think ya spend too much time with ‘Samu.”

“Heh.”

Y/n took a bite of the food, meanwhile Osamu watched her from the corner of his eye- pretending to be occupied with his own serving of f/f. Her e/c orbs widened as her tastebuds registered the burst of flavor that was overtaking them. The entire dish was seasoned to the point of near perfection- of course there was some fault, but that was probably due to Osamu’s inexperience with this specific food. Even if it wasn’t a first for him, this was still some of the best damn f/f she had ever tasted. It was tempting to scarf it all down at once, but she forced herself to savor the taste. 

“So... how is it?” All eyes were on her, each of them eager to see what she thought of Osamu’s cooking. 

“You cooked this by yourself?” She questioned, swiveling to the right to look at the younger twin. Osamu nodded, fidgeting ever so slightly.

“Yeah... m’sorry if it’s not that good- was my first attempt at makin’ f/f.” 

Shaking her head and placing her chopsticks down, Y/n smiled at him cheerily. “When you told me you could cook I was expecting something like a simple tamagoyaki- but this is what it’s like when you’re just experimenting? Miya Osamu you are seriously talented- this is some of the best f/f I’ve had in a long while- and I eat this a lot.” 

“Thanks so much, means a lot-” Osamu began, a small, genuine smile slipping on his face.

“IDHOISA Y/n yer so cute! Can’t believe I thought ya were a total jerk on Twitter-” 

“How tf did he say that out loud?” Suna wondered, referring to the verbal version of a keyboard smash.

“NO I WAS HOPING YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT TWEET.” Y/n screeched, appalled at the expected- but completely unwelcome- news.

“Pfftt-” The brunette snorted at her expense.

“TSUMU YA RUINED THE MOMENT YA ASSHOLE!”

“OW- THE HELL? YA WANNA FIGHT SAMU?”

To put it simply it was pure chaos, their chances at a peaceful lunch completely dashed. For the rest of the lunch break the twins argued, meanwhile Suna live streamed their idiocy, and Y/n enjoyed the chaos while simultaneously savoring her delicious meal...

Facts/Trivia

Y/n was actually pretty popular in Nekoma- but it took a good two weeks before she had her own fan club

So majority of her fan club actually liked her for who she was as a person and not because of her cousin

Her new Inarizaki fanclub is not like her Nekoma one

This club was only formed because people want to get to know her in order to meet Sakusa and Wakatoshi

Some people like first year kun are apart of it because they think she’s attractive

Yes some girls left Atsumu’s fanclub in order to simp for Y/n

Atsumu may not care for his fans but he does like the attention 💀

Any peace between the twins is ruined because Atsumu can’t stfu

Osamu and Atsumu are actually pretty good at sharing and not getting jealous over partners

Suna never helps stop fights

Good thing Y/n’s here now

Fyi the ramen incident is filed on Osamu’s highschool record 😭

It took all of Atsumu’s willpower to not ask Y/n to be their manager when she talked about cheering for him

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[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 6: Lies and Pressure

Shoot.

Because it wasn’t as if though he had a famous girlfriend he had been cheating on you, his ex-fiancée, with for who knows how long. And though the amnesia had seemed to make him more mellow - probably because he recognized nobody else but you and therefore clung to that sense of familiarity - you would still not consider him a friend. Also, technically, he was still an idol and probably had an endless sea of fans that adored him in every and any way possible.

So, he was neither eligible nor a friend, in addition to being an idol, and here you were, wallowing in your feelings. Great.

Before you allowed yourself to sleep, you decided to check with Sejin. The man was pacing back and forth in front of the door, and opened his mouth to speak when he spotted you. Immediately, you put a finger across your lips, silencing him.

“He’s finally asleep,” you whispered as you poked your torso through the opening between the door and the frame. “I’ll stay here until morning, but then I need to head to school. I think it’ll be good if someone can be here by then to guard him against nosy journalists or stop him from being all too problematic.”

“I can be here by six-thirty,” said Sejin.

“That will be perfect,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he said instantly. “I can’t even imagine how the situation would have turned out without you here. The kid is lucky to have someone like you.”

You blushed at the compliment. “I’m just doing what any good friend would do.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you admitted hesitantly.

“Are you dating?”

“No!” you blurted, startled by the question. You slipped out of the room and shut the door as gently as you could after you, as not to wake Jungkook. “We’re just… family friends.” This was sounding a bit repetitive even to you now.

Kim Sejin regarded you closely for a beat, but then relaxed. “Good. He already has one girlfriend to take care of. I would have hated to see him grow up into a type of guy to have several women on the side.”

You were tempted to laugh, but managed to rein yourself in. “Agreed.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You fell asleep almost before you had returned to the vacant hospital bed. Now, your plan had been to wake up before Jungkook and sneak out quietly as not to disturb him. But what you had forgotten from your earliest days of acquaintanceship - sleepovers, yes, there had been numerous of them during your childhood - was his eerie ability to wake up before anyone else. By the time your alarm went off, he was already awake, watching you in the dark.

You yelped.

“Scared you.”

You only barely discerned his smile through the dark. “Stupid,” you grunted as you tried silencing the harsh ringing. “I could have attacked you and injured you even more. Colored your eye to match the splint.”

“Didn’t take you for the fashion-conscious type.”

“You didn’t react to me threatening to throw a punch at you.”

“I know you’re violent,” he replied. “Besides, I know Taekwondo. I would like to see you try.”

His voice was smooth, like a soothing summer eve’s breeze. Or rather, as if he just had drunk from the glass of water standing on the bedside table between the beds. You sounded like a troll, and probably smelled like one, too.

“I know you do,” you grumbled as you sat up and fumbled for the glass. “Now, what did you just say about my fashion sense?”

“You never struck me as someone who cared about his or her appearance, that’s all.”

You downed the glass of water. “‘His or her’? Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Still tired?”

“Not a morning person,” you answered as you rubbed your eyes. “Why are you so talkative? Didn’t you drink last… er, about six or so hours ago? Shouldn’t you be the sour, surly one?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you drink so much you-- oh.”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you - amnesia is contagious”

“Clever,” you said with a chuckle. “But no, it’s not. I just have a case of bad genes.”

Your body ached as you rose and you stretched. You hadn’t slept in the most optimal position, nor any way near the amount you needed, and your body and mind made sure to remind you of that.

“You were going to try and sneak out without waking me, weren’t you?”

“Yup,” you replied.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?”

You threw up your hands defensively. “I merely thought you needed to sleep some more.”

“As do you.”

You turned on the lights and immediately found the room flushed with pallid light. You made a face and replied, “I don’t really have the freedom to do so. I have school and then errands to run because of you.”

You hurriedly unplugged your phone and checked the fourteen notifications you had received, thirteen of which were concerned texts from your parents’ driver. The last one was a message from Se-Eun, who wondered if you would pick her up as you usually did Monday mornings. You shrugged on your jacket and purse while replying to both of them. You didn’t think you could make it to Se-Eun’s, however.

“Try to rest, Jungkook,” you said absentmindedly while typing. “Be polite to the doctors and nurses. And eat something while you’re at it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Just then, a growl erupted from his stomach. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I won’t sit here, being fed by some stranger who treats me like I’m an infant,” he said sternly, his large brown eyes defiant.

“Just like you won’t wear the hospital gown or follow any other kind of normal hospital regulations?”

“Just like that.”

“You don’t remember you’re a world-famous idol, but you sure do behave like a diva.” You snorted. “Have fun starving until I get back then. I don’t have time to force-feed you right now, but I will later.”

Jungkook snorted, too. You headed toward the door after refilling the glass when he stopped you.

“(Y/N), before you leave…”

You spun around. “Make it qui--”

You felt your chest tighten. He was holding up your engagement ring.

Jungkook had picked it up and kept it after you left him.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t know what type of guy I was yesterday, but I don’t think I’d just walk around with gold and diamonds.”

“Maybe a new trend in the K-pop industry?” you managed stiffly.

“It’s too small for me,” he said as he slipped the ring onto his little finger. It stopped halfway down the digit.

You didn’t know what to say. This was your chance to tell him the truth: the two of you had been engaged ever since you were eighteen. But then, he had cheated on you and you had broken the arrangement. You could change all of that now. To be frank, you didn’t hate the idea as much any longer. You were the only person he trusted and, as you had acknowledged a few hours ago, you were starting to actually like him, no matter how scary that felt. And you would fulfill your promise to him - you would help him get through the amnesia.

But you couldn’t get the image of him and Park Yi-Jae out of your head. So even though it hurt more than anything else in the world, more than when you had broken your collarbone falling down a hill, more than all of Hye-Bin’s words and “pranks” combined, you decided to lie.

“There was a girl visiting you earlier,” you began as you felt your hand clutch harder around your phone. “Do you remember her? Slim and pretty, with short, curly brown hair.”

He frowned, but nodded. “Yes, she was just as weird as the guys.”

“You and she were--are in a relationship,” you went on while you inwardly prayed that you sounded convincing. “A romantic relationship. She is your girlfriend, Jungkook.”

“My… girlfriend?” The furrow between his brows deepened. “I don’t remember anything about a girlfriend. What’s her name?”

“Park Yi-Jae,” you replied.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“That’s the thing with amnesia,” you said with a voice you hoped sounded light and playful, at least in his ears. “You loved each other very much.”

“So you’ve seen us together?”

You forced yourself not to grit your teeth in anger. “Yes, I have. Just yesterday. You looked very happy together.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He simply held your gaze, his eyes trusting yet suspicious.

“If you say so,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well, anyway, I better leave now,” you said as you broke away. “I’ll be back sometime late afternoon with clothes and food. Call your parents if you want to be a bit helpful meanwhile.”

“I will. See you later.”

“Yeah.”

You left before he could add anything to prolong the conversation. You didn’t want to be there any longer. Still, though it pained you, you were proud of yourself. You had chosen the right option.

Yeah, sure you had.

Down by the front desk, you met Kim Sejin while he was purchasing some coffee from an old beverage machine. You doubted he had gotten much sleep, judging by the still present bags underneath his eyes, and gave him a half-hearted smile.

“He’s awake, hungry and probably a bit tense,” you greeted him with. “He’s not exactly convinced about the whole thing, but he has agreed to let me try and help him.”

“I’m afraid I have worse news,” he said grimly. “I spoke with a specialist just now, and he told me there’s a big chance that Jungkook won’t ever regain all of his memories.”

“That's not the worst thing in the world,” you replied, furrowing your brows. “He could have died.”

“Yes but with the situation being the way it is now, I don’t think Jungkook will ever be able to perform again, at least not with the rest of the kids. The director is already considering kicking him out of the group.”

“Why?” you exclaimed. “It’s not like he’s lost a leg or his mind or something - he can still dance or sing or whatever else you need him to do!”

You ignored the sharp look a nurse sent you as she hurried past. You were fuming. Here they were, this large company that probably made a fortune out of these seven guys - out of Jungkook. And they were just dropping him as soon as something - an accident - occurred?

“They just launched their biggest tour yet,” Sejin explained in a calm voice, though he also seemed disappointed. “The company poured a lot of money and planning into this. The boys are supposed to perform on a lot of shows and be on programs as well. But how are we - or anyone at all -  supposed to work with a kid who refuses to cooperate with people he doesn’t know? Who can’t seem to recall a single song or performance with his members? And don’t make it anything personal - the director is desperate not to lose him.”

“But what are you going to do without him?” you wondered. From what you had heard from Se-Eun, Jungkook was one of the most significantly popular members of the group, which probably meant his mere presence generated quite the revenue. And judging by yesterday’s concert, he had the most lines in their songs overall.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, probably considering the same things as you. “They might make it, they might not. Chances are, however, that without Jeon Jungkook, the Bangtan Boys will disintegrate.”

You placed your hand against your forehead and exhaled. You weren’t sure exactly what the idol life consisted of, but you had caught bits and pieces from Se-Eun whenever she rambled with her friends about the group. It wasn’t what you would have chosen to spend your youth doing. It just seemed too risky.

And now, all of Jungkook and his hyungs’ accumulated effort from years of work, promotion and practice could crumble.

His childhood dream could crumble.

“I’ve grown too fond of them to let it end just like this, though.”

You shook your head to clear it from your brief reverie. “What can you do?” you asked, hearing a budding idea in his tone.

“I think I can convince the director to cancel most of the concerts,” said Sejin as he scratched his stubble. “Though it might be a little tricky, it won’t be impossible or detrimental to the company since the money is best in Japan, which is where the tour ends. If the kid could somehow perform by then, I might still have a job tomorrow.”

“But as you said, he can’t and won’t cooperate with anyone,” you pointed out. “Not even with medical personnel.”

Sejin drank from his coffee cup, then grimaced. It had probably gotten cold from all your talking. “The doctor told me there is an unorthodox way of reintroducing memories to a person with any kind of memory loss. Unorthodox because it isn’t scientifically proven and because, more often than not, it fails and proves fruitless.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You really are a great friend,” he said, giving you an odd look of sympathy. “All of this relies on your ability to remind him of his life before the accident. Since you’re the only one he trusts, he might be more receptive to you showing and telling him about the other boys, their music and their performances. All and anything that might cause it to fall in place inside his head.”

“This sounds like a movie trope or something,” you said skeptically.

“As I said, it’s unorthodox. But it’s all we really have. There are no known cures or proper treatments for amnesia.”

“Very well then.” You managed a smile even though you felt the heavy mantle of responsibility weighing your shoulders down. “I’ll try. I have at least until the end of the year on me, right?”

Sejin’s expression fell and he groaned. “Damn it, I forgot you don’t know their schedule like the back of your hand.”

“What is it?” you asked. “What do you mean?”

Tension and trepidation already tightened your throat, but your heart was beating steadily. When you had offered to help Jungkook that night, you had known it would be tough. And as the conversation with Kim Sejin had continued, you had had a feeling that whatever he was going to say would be the opposite of good. Still, you hadn’t lost faith in Jungkook’s recovery. Even now, looking at his manager, you knew it would be bad since his face said as much.

But you had never thought it would be this bad.

“The beginning of the end of their tour starts May 30th. That means you only have a little more than three months to restore him, (Y/N).”

[bisexual-inuyasha]

The Hook

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

Prompt: “I shouldn’t be here.” “Well you are. Don’t even think about leaving.”

The next morning, Ling woke up alone. Ed had reminded him Al expected him back. And besides, Ling was all talk. He could kiss Edward Elric but anything more would have to wait until he dealt with his suitor situation. It wasn’t cheating, he knew. But that didn’t mean it was right.

Was he a suitor when he never bothered to ask? Ling’s eyes were itchy with lack of sleep. His cheek tingled from where he’d slept on it. God, mornings sucked. Especially early mornings after a late night.

Even still… he smiled. Last night had not been a total waste. He wrapped his fingers around something warm and smooth, something that had rested against his curled stomach through the night.

“Young Lord, I’ve brought you a snack before your meeting. You barely ate yesterday, so I brought extra.” Lan Fan’s voice carried through the doorway, especially loud. “Do you need anything to drink?”

“He’s gone, Lan Fan.” Ling sighed, sitting up. He was decidedly less dressed than when he’d gone to his rooms. By the time Ed left he was too tired to shrug into his sleep clothes. He’d been missing a shirt and his pants had already been half off. He’d just stripped into his undies and fallen asleep under a mountain of blankets.

“What’s that?” Lan Fan sat across from him, her legs crossed and posture careful. “A gift?”

“You could say that.”

It was only a small cat figure, crudely carved from a soft wood Ling had never gotten around to figuring out on his own.

“It’s. Um, cute?”

It wasn’t. It looked awful. Edward wasn’t artistically inclined in that way. Ling couldn’t care less. “Thank you.”

“Speaking of gifts, you’ve got another. It arrived this morning.” Lan Fan took a bite of Ling’s food. “You should eat.”

“What was the gift?” Ling scooped up a mouthful of rice. “Who was it from?”

“Not Edward Elric.” Lan Fan spoke around her food. “The other man you’re supposed to be involved with.”

Ling’s throat felt dry. He coughed. “We’ve certainly not been meant to be involved yet, Lan Fan. That won’t happen for another month. You know there’s quite a long engagement process in Xing.”

“Yes, Sire. I’m aware.” She closed her eyes. He watched as she considered for a moment. “When you are ready for my opinion I will be sure to give it.”

Irritation flared through Ling but he let it pass. Lan Fan was always free to give her opinion. The only thing putting him off was that he knew what her opinion was. And that she was right. He took a deep breath and pushed a smile onto his face. “I await the day.”

Today was not like the last two. He had so much to do. It was not like his engagement meant the kingdom stopped running. And his hands-on approach to ruling meant he couldn’t shove many duties onto his advisors and court. He was entangled in all of the decisions, from clan relations to trade negotiations. He had all the details and all the paperwork.

So he dragged himself up, splashing cool water on his face. Lan Fan raised an eyebrow at his undress.

“It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.”

“No, that’s true. I used to kick your ass when you’d wake up half naked after getting mugged in the Hua clans.”

“I wish you wouldn’t remind me of starving days.” Ling put on a pouty face. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to respect me now, Lan Fan? I’m working hard as emperor.”

“I have the utmost respect for you, Sire.” She smiled at him, and it was genuine. She wasn’t too angry at him, then. “I just want you to be careful. You are walking in a thin place. The thin places are difficult to keep you safe in.”

“You don’t have to protect me from everything, Lan Fan.” He gathered up his robes. With a celebration came the expectation of finery. “Though if you want to help me into this ridiculous outfit, I’d appreciate it.”

She did, and by the time his first round of consultation was to start, he was fully dressed. His hair was pulled back today, in the proper style. He arranged his expression into an indifferent coolness.

“Don’t forget, Sire. You’ve got the matter of the gift to deal with.”

His stomach clenched. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget it.”

When she wasn’t looking, Ling snuck the little cat into his pocket.

The mysterious suitor’s gift was on his mind through the whole morning. As his constituents asked about the borders of their fields and the negotiation, he ran his thumb over the figurine in his pocket and tried not to look towards the table where the gift waited for him.

A maze of questions and conflicts and negotiations later, he was being led to the gift. A no stuck in his throat. Refusal built like a physical pressure in his chest. The urge to leave was so strong his hands shook with it.

His advisors were clueless. And of all the days, Lan Fan was busy with other affairs. She wasn’t even in the palace. For the first time since he was inaugurated, a clammy sweat broke over his forehead.

He stood at the box. He didn’t care what was in it. It wouldn’t change his mind, whatever it was.

But accepting the gift was a furthering. For every step into Xingese tradition he took, the expectation he would follow through grew. Maybe this is why he just stood, staring at the box, for several minutes.

The longer he took, the heavier the silence around him grew.

Low rumbling started in the back of the crowd. A few people grumbled and a couple shouted as someone aggressively, and rudely, shoved their way through.

Ed pushed his way near the front, a notebook in his hand, his metal fingers clasped around a pen. Ling heard him shout over the thin wall of people ahead of him. “Well, get on with it. How else are any of us supposed to know what’s in it?”

Ling laughed. He pulled the fabric wrapping from the box. It was a nice enough fabric. From far away, the cloth had just looked like a boring eggwhite, but up close he could see damasked swirls twisting around the corners. The box was equally almost boring--cream, slightly darker, with a line of gold around the opening. His expectations were low.

And good thing.

The gift was a simple, expensive shaving set. Ling felt like this was something Fu would have enjoyed. However, he, with his lack of facial hair and attachment to his other bodily hair, had no use for it. He quirked a brow, put the nice, ivory handled blade back into the oversized box beside the crystal container of what he could only assume was cologne. Maybe?

A single boom of laughter sounded from the general vicinity of Ed, but no one else seemed to think anything of the gift. And then, to his horror, one of his advisors cleared their throat.

“For when he is here, Sire. To shave your husband.”

Ling carefully closed the box. He was trying, and failing, to look nonchalant.

“Sire, should we respond with a gift in kind?”

Ling ground his teeth. “I will be in my room, crafting a response for my… suitor.”

He’d chosen the word specifically for its connotation of uncertainty. A suitor has not been accepted yet. The advisors all glared, and a few of the crowd closest to him gasped. He could feel the burning in his cheeks. Anger, embarrassment, and maybe a smidge of disappointment flooded his thoughts. He needed to be out of here.

Murmuring grew behind him, growing to a small roar as the heavy doors to the court closed behind him.

It was hard to stomp through all his layers but he did his best.

The kitchens were busy when he arrived. Lan Fan was elbow deep in a bowl of dumpling filling. She took one look at his face and picked up the bowl to move towards him.

“We should go, Sire,” she finished kneading the ingredients together and dumped the bowl into the arms of another kitchenhand. “Your face may frighten the staff.”

He shuttered his expression, pushing the emotions and thoughts deep inside until he could be somewhere private. It was not easy, and from Lan Fan’s face he could tell he was not fully successful. He tried, though, and that was the best he could do.

“It was bad?” Lan Fan spoke under her breath while she washed her hands.

He couldn’t speak on it. It was insulting, actually. The kind of gift given to a stranger. But worse so, because it was a gift truly meant for the gifter--a gift of expectation. A note that said one day, he expected Ling to serve him.

He did not become Emperor to serve over-confident old men.

The thought made him bristle. His face contorted into a sneer, despite his best efforts to keep a neutral expression. He turned away, so that only Lan Fan could see him. “It is best discussed somewhere else.”

She didn’t respond, only dried her hands and hurried from the room. Ling followed, though he could only go so fast without tripping over the length of his robes. The hindrance was especially frustrating, and even more so because he wanted to move. To push himself, quicken his steps and his body until he couldn’t hardly breathe.

He already didn’t want to do this.

He had a growing list of reasons to refuse.

Except.

Except there was a reason he accepted in the first place.

It was enough to fuel the fire inside him higher, until he was nearly bursting at the seams in his shuffling pace.

Finally, they were in an empty room. A quick glance around told him it was an empty washroom, and if not for Lan Fan’s very blatant disinterest in men, they may have been in trouble. As it was, she only slammed the door closed (a cathartic sound, though it did nothing for his thrumming body.) When she turned towards him, there was only concern. He hadn’t realized he’d expected anything less. But now, some tightness around his lungs loosened.

He’d been expecting a reprimand.

“What was the gift?” She started pulling his robes off of him.

Briefly, he wondered if this was unusual. The thought left his mind as soon as it crossed. He shifted his shoulders to help her remove the uppermost layer. “It was a shaving set.”

“Hm?” She moved to his front, untying a sash. “But you don’t have any facial hair.”

“It wasn’t for me to use myself.” Ling’s hands shook again. “Hua explained. It was for me to use, on him.”

Lan Fan’s fingers fumbled on the sash. “That doesn’t make sense, Sire.”

“It was meant as exactly what it was.” Ling stepped back and finished undoing the sash to his underrobe himself. “A notification of expectation. A signal that he wants me to be a doting husband.”

“I can see how in some twisted way that makes sense.” Lan Fan frowned. “Though he must be aware it doesn’t give a good impression.”

“He doesn’t think he has to care. He offered his hand in marriage without knowing me, Lan Fan. He wasn’t taking me into account at all. He wants Xing.”

“No.” She sat on an empty countertop. Her expression bothered him. “Not just Xing. He wants you, too. Sire.”

His skin felt raw. Only a few days ago, that may have been a relief. Now it was an irritation digging its way into his blood. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been keeping tabs on you through the advisors. He has asked specifically after your health and happiness. The reports have been mixed, but he’s asked more than once.”

For a moment, Ling went cold. “Have any of them mentioned--”

“No. No mention of him. But the Amestrian does seem interested in you, specifically, Sire.” She frowned. “Though, I can say from your reaction to the gift that it’s a hopeless cause on his part.”

“What do I do?” He sat on the floor. At least a dozen tailors would be scandalized at his treatment of his clothing, but what did he care? Those same tailors complained every time he wore an outfit a second time.

“I cannot answer you, Ling. I’m sorry.” She smiled. “You should go to breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.” He was too angry to feel hungry.

“Ed will be there. Surely, he will calm you down.” Lan Fan smiled. “Besides, you should at least try.”

Ling closed his eyes. “I’m not putting the robes back on.”

“You’ll scandalize us all, Sire.” But she was still smiling when she said it. “Please, at least keep your head around the boy.”

Ling blushed. He left, tired and still irritated.

He ignored the stares of the others. Admittedly, his under robe and darkest, loosest pants were not the usual outfit for an emperor. It would take until tomorrow for the rumors to reach outside the kingdom. And when they did, he’d solidify them with his announcement of withdrawal from the marriage.

What had Ed called it?

A soft rebellion.

He sat, heavily, in his seat at the top of the table. Ed and Al sat near him, like they had the night before. Soon, this would become noticeable. Soon, he’d have to deal with all of the fallout from there. Right now though…

“I like your new look.” Ed tapped his fingers on his glass, taking a deep drink. He stared Ling down, questioning. “It’s certainly to stir up some talk around here. Especially with how you stormed out earlier.”

“Surprised you noticed over all your laughter.” Ling stretched in his seat. The dining hall was chilly as the flame of his anger started to wane. “Al, you wouldn’t believe how loud your asshole of a brother laughed at me in my own court.”

“I’m sure he didn’t laugh half as loud as he snored.” Al contemplated, rubbing their chin. “Though I guess he didn’t do much snoring in your room last night.”

Ed and Ling both squawked a protest but Al just snorted.

“I gotta say, though. Your kitchen knows how to make a roast quail that just melts.” Al took a bite, a nibble really, and savored it.

“Al’s a bit of a foodie. In fact, I don’t think they’ve ever enjoyed a place we’ve visited as much. They go on and on about the food here in the room. Do you know how much I had to hear about the sugared sweet potatoes? That was a half hour rant at least.”

“They were good! And one of the cooks said she’d share her recipe with me.” Al’s eyes narrowed, a slow and innocent smile spreading across their face. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had to hear--”

“Ha! An-any way.” Ed waved his arm, the shine glinting with the bright lights of the room.

Ling caught the metal fingers in his, and Ed’s face lit up like a cherry sparkler. “Did you polish this?”

“Uh…” Ed’s mouth fell open as Ling openly observed the newly cleaned screws and gleaming plates. “Well, yeah. I mean, if I’m going to be modelling for an emperor, I figured it best be up to emperor’s standards.”

“Silly Edward.” Ling pulled the hand towards his face, checking the wear and tarnish. The scuff was still noticeable at the thumb, bits of unreachable fade peeking out from beneath overlapping metal. “I like your hands either way.”

Al coughed. “People are going to notice if you guys keep all that up.”

Ling dropped Ed’s hand and turned to his food. “So you say the quail is good?”

His appetite did return. He ate steadily through baked quail, quail egg dotted rice, taro starch candies, fried squash blossoms, sweet tomato filled dumplings. Occasionally Al would ask about a dish and he’d explain whatever he knew--not usually very much--and they’d write down a few notes to ask about later. And occasionally, he’d glance over to see Ed, a wide grin on his face, eyes alight, cheeks still tinged pink, and his heart would stutter.

This was the feeling he’d dreamed of as a kid. This excitement buzzing through him whenever he looked at Ed. The easy comradery between himself and the two brothers.

Ling leaned over, keeping his voice quiet and his body language inconspicuous. Al didn’t even look up.

“Let’s meet up where we met the first time, tonight.”

Ed nodded, and they continued through their meal until Ling had to excuse himself.

If Ed’s face turned a deeper shade of red, Al didn’t mention it.

As much as Ling was enjoying his scandalous outfit, he couldn’t justify doing any more official work in it. He changed into a simpler, less heavy version of the outfit he wore that morning. He hadn’t seen Lan Fan at breakfast. He assumed she had a good reason for wherever she was. Still. He wanted to tell her he’d made up his mind.

He toured through the city, overseeing repair projects and brokering deals between bickering businesses. The people weren’t quite sure what to do with him. And he was still learning exactly how to be what they expected of him. His advisors had tried to shepherd him into similes of past emperors. He chafed under their pressures as they tried to fill a shell they’d formed for him. The worst times were when they could cite legitimate reasons for their herding.

For example, he was exposed and in danger while out in the towns. So therefore, they must be able to have him well guarded. This very logical set of observations was followed with therefore every step he made had to be very meticulously timed and prescreened. Theoretically, he would spend only a small allotted time at each job, and no more.

One thing was always true, no matter how meticulously planned his outings. Each job multiplied. If he showed up to discuss the demarcation of a farming plot, the result would mean that already grown crops would have to be divided. Inevitably, a dispute would have to be settled. Then, as is only polite when you’ve just told at least one person they’ve less crops than they thought they did, he’d sit for a tea.

Today he didn’t get to lunch. Or back for another round of celebrations. And this was the way it always went, for any of his days he spent out with the people.

It was his favorite part of the job.

By the time he returned to the palace he was exhausted deep in his very bones. The robes, lighter he’d thought than the earlier ones, weighed him down. And still, he had dinner to go through. And the aftermath of this morning to handle. He wanted to sleep.

Then, he remembered.

He had a meeting. After dinner.

His steps still dragged, but a little less.

He made his way to his room and collapsed in his bed.

Only to jump up a moment later, shouting. “What the hell?”

A body wiggled under his covers. Fighting his way from a mountain of plush blankets, Ed’s head popped up. “Oh, you’re back. You were supposed to be back hours ago.”

A soft smile lit his face despite the heaviness of his limbs. “I can’t half ass a job with the people. They’d never forget and the bitching wouldn’t end for years. Probably until I died.”

“Even during your engagement?”

Ling scoffed. “Don’t play with me. You and I both know that’s a sham.”

“You sure?” Ed hugged the covers to his chest. Ling thought it was awfully cheeky that the Amestrian could sleep in his bed, wake up, and immediately start asking prying questions. Maybe he should have been bothered. Instead he was mildly impressed.

“Am I sure that the supposed suitor of mine who I’ve never met, who has no reason to have any interest in a decades younger new emperor in a country with an assassin problem, is nothing more than a sham of political leverage?” Ling slid his top off. He’d put it back on before dinner. But now, he needed to be lighter.

“Leverage? And what does that mean, for you?”

This conversation was a heavy one. Heavier than the exhaustion in his bones. Heavier than the robe he’d allowed to slide onto the floor. Heavier still than the thoughts that had been running through his head all day. “Do you know how I became Emperor?”

Ed frowned. “You fought your way through the other heirs, made alliances, made deals. That’s how every Xingese emperor ascends, right?”

“No. I’d have never been able to fight my way through 43 heirs.” Ling rubbed his eyes. “Promises. I made promises to those I didn’t need to fight my way through. Promises that their clan wouldn’t starve. Promises that I wouldn’t mercilessly kill those clans whose heirs I did have to fight through.”

“Sounds better.” Ed smiled. Ling didn’t.

“If I promised you, right now, that I would fix Amestris for you. That utilizing my marriage to your ruler, I would root out and destroy the corruption that causes Amestris to spread into neighboring countries like a virus. How would you feel?”

Ed’s face shifted, first to anger then to thoughtfulness, before finally landing on doubt. “How could you, even if you did marry him? Amestrians aren’t trusting. They’ve been in war after war--”

“Exactly. And yet, with the resources of Xing, the possibility arises that I could. And this is the possibility I’m faced with. Right now, I’m new, and my rule is based on promises that are thin until I fulfill them. And some of them will only be fulfilled when I die and haven’t killed off the opposing clans. When people aren’t used to honesty, believing in good things will become impossible.” Ling sat on the bed, pushed aside the covers. Ed was still dressed in this morning's clothes. As any normal person would be, Ling decided. “Having a strong military force behind my decrees would go a long way to making people take me seriously.”

“Sounds cowardly to me.” Ed crossed his arms. Ling was going to have to reign this conversation in, or he’d get no sleep before dinner.

“Yes, cowardly,” Ling wrapped his arms around Ed’s waist. “I’m certainly cowardly enough, but maybe not enough for this.”

Ed fought back his grin, but to no avail. “Well, I can’t believe I was lured all the way to the palace under false pretenses.”

“You mean you don’t want to become my mistress?” Ling placed a kiss against Ed’s throat. He wouldn’t usually be so forward, but he had found Ed in his bed.

“Don’t think I’ve got the legs.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to anyway.” And then Ling pulled Ed down, curled around the small statured boy, and fell asleep.

This way, exactly, was how Lan Fan found them. Ed, lying awake in Ling’s arms, and Ling, deep asleep.

“He seems relaxed.” Lan Fan shut the door quietly behind her. “This is good. I wanted to talk to you privately anyway.”

Ed sputtered. “He’s right here, it’s not like we’re alone.”

Lan Fan gave him a deadpan stare. Then she opened her mouth, talking loudly. “Ling! Oh, Ling, it’s an emergency, Ed is cutting off my leg with his automail arm. He’s going to kill me Ling, watch out!”

Ed gaped, waving his free hand in her direction. “Stop it stop it stop it! What are you doing?”

But Ling didn’t wake up. He only snuggled deeper into Ed’s chest, wrapped his arms tighter around Ed’s waist, and hummed contentedly.

“So, as I was saying.” Lan Fan on Ling’s desk, glancing through some of his pictures. “You came here before he got back. Before lunch. You must be hungry.”

“Starving, actually.”

“Careful, he’s got to be starving too.” She rested her chin on her hand, staring him down. “He’s been known to nibble in his sleep.”

“You two are close, yeah?”

“What are your intentions with the Emperor of Xing?” She uncrossed her leg, hopping down from the work desk. “How can I trust you?”

“We had an interesting conversation about trust earlier.” Ed looked up to the ceiling. “I don’t have any intentions, to be honest. I barely know him.”

Lan Fan was at the edge of the bed now. He could feel her cool touch on his leg, a threat more than a comfort. “That’s not a very comforting answer, considering what’s on the line.”

“You couldn’t very well trust me if I lied to you, could you?” Ed swallowed. “I like him. I have since I saw him half-passed out in the garden. He was so far gone he couldn’t stand, and he thought the flowers were stars.”

“It’s hard to understand why you went out after him.” Lan Fan’s grip on his leg tightened. “I had assumed he wanted to be alone. Why didn’t you?”

“I--” Ed hesitated. How much did he want to tell her? “I’ve had that look on my face before. The one he had when he went outside. I hadn’t wanted to be alone, then.”

“So you just took a chance? Followed a hunch?” She sat on the bed. Ling shifted beside him. “And then stayed out there with him, until we found you.”

“He doesn’t remember that part, I think.” Ed spread his fingers over Ling’s arm. “He asked me to lay with him. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

“You really don’t want anything from him, do you?”

“Just a chance.” Ed turned his face into Ling’s hair. “A chance to get to know him.”

“He wants you to.” Lan Fan sighed. “It’s time to get ready for dinner, now.”

“Right.” Ed ran his fingers through Ling’s hair, careful to keep the metal from tangling. “I should probably go. You probably wanted to talk to him, yeah?”

“I think it would be best.” Lan Fan didn’t move. “After all, it wouldn’t do for you two to arrive at dinner together, again.”

Ed moved carefully, lifting Ling’s arm and sliding out from beneath him. “He sleeps like a log.”

“Only after his visits to the people. It drains him but he loves it. He doesn’t do well sitting still.” She stood before Ed could reach the door, hand outstretched. “I think you’ll love him, before too long. I wish you good luck, Edward Elric. It is no easy task loving Ling Yao.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s worth it, every step.” Her hand hung in the air, waiting. “But he is emperor. And he doesn’t understand how important he is.”

“I make no promises.” He shook her hand and left, feeling somehow that he had made a vow, despite his claims.

Maybe he was already a lot deeper in than he thought.

They didn’t sit together at dinner this time. Ling was dressed in the robe he’d worn to town, only slightly rumpled, and smiling at everyone. A few people had attempted to ask him about his show over the gift this morning. He waved off their questions easily and changed the subject.

He’d even had one of the waiters sneak a baked taro bun over to Al, who had greedily devoured the whole thing. But he didn’t look at Ed.

Lan Fan stuck to his side, slyly moving him away from the less pleasant visitors. Ling pretended not to notice, but at one point he grew frustrated with a conversation, grabbed her around the waist, and did a circle around the room with her, ignoring any woh tried to talk to him. She laughed at him, and he ended up laughing with her. It was only a single round but it was enough to stir up the murmuring all over again.

The abrupt change had successfully signaled a change, however. The groups of people chattering needlessly started to break up into smaller groups, and music began playing. Ling watched as people stopped paying attention to him, concerning themselves with their own conversations.

He took a deep breath and sat down, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, that was becoming insufferable. I receive one shaving set and everyone has jokes and questions.”

“I think it’s more than that, Sire.” Lan Fan stretched. “Are you keeping your appointment?”

“A good emperor always does, right Lan Fan?” He grinned at her.

She squeezed his hand. “Just guard yourself, sire. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

He stuck his tongue out. “You’re always so serious. Never want to just have fun.”

“I have all sorts of fun when I’m with you, Sire.”

They both burst into giggles. He stood, brushing at the wrinkles on his top. “I’ve best get going. Ed disappeared quite a few minutes ago. He’ll be worried if I don’t show up soon.”

“Sire?” She tugged on his sleeve. “You do deserve to be happy. Don’t let any of us make you doubt that.”

A lump rose in his throat. “And is that your official opinion, Lan Fan?”

“That is always my opinion, Sire.”

He was still riding the high of knowing he’d be able to rely on Lan Fan, even if he made the selfish decision, even if he allowed his pride to rule just this once, when he made his way to the archway. Ed sat beneath, staring up at the tiny white flowers that dotted overhead.

“They do kind of look like stars, if you cross your eyes a bit.” Ed thumped back, stretching his arms above him.

“You’ll never reach them. They are the stars, after all.” Ling sat down and matched Ed’s pose.

“Do you remember asking to watch the stars with me?”

Ling shook his head. “No, I don’t. But I’d like to get the chance to try for real.”

“Well, that’s all up to you. I could always be your mistress.”

“You wouldn’t, you’re far too moral for that.” Ling hummed. “No, I’m going to call off the engagement. I can’t follow through with it.”

“Is this because of me? Don’t make a decision like that because of me. We just met, after all. What if we like different music or something?”

“Don’t worry. I’d probably have made this decision even if I hadn’t met you.” Probably. Maybe. Ling hoped he would have. “I’ve given up a lot to be Emperor. But I feel like this would be giving up more than I could actually bear.”

“I won’t argue with you.” Ed turned on his side. “I can’t say I wasn’t hoping.”

Ling opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a hand grabbing his arm. Lan Fan was here, and she’d obviously hurried.

“Lord, there’s been a development. We’ve just received word.”

Ling frowned, his brow pulling together. “What is it? Is everything ok?”

Lan Fan looked towards Ed, and then back to him. “Your fiance is heading here, to meet. He cites a misunderstanding as the cause, but I fear he may have learned of,” she made a vague gesture towards Ed. “Your extracurriculars.”

Ed’s face turned red again, a sight that would have usually sent Ling into cheery, warm feelings. But now his stomach felt it was digging its way into the dirt.

He would be meeting his suitor after all.

Ed grabbed his hand, already sitting up. "I shouldn't be here. People are bound to start showing up soon to congratulate you."

Ling didn't let go of Ed's hand as he moved to leave. "Well, you are. Don't even think about leaving me here."

Ed stopped, looking to Ling uncertain. "But--"

"Please."

And so Ed stayed, waiting for Ling as advisors came to tell him he only had two days before the King of Amestris arrived.

[radishthespringchild]

So this post was going to be a part of a much bigger post, but after realizing that I wouldn’t be able to address the character so quickly and shortly on something such as a countdown post, I relegated it to its own thing. Same with how I’m going to address each and every other character in Stardew Valley. Now, with that said, time to get on with said post. 

My Problem with Shane

I would say put down your pitchforks and torches, but I doubt all of you are willing to listen, but try to hear me out. Please.

Initially when I was going to write about everyone’s favorite chicken man it was going to be on a list dedicated to the bachelors and bachelorettes of Stardew Valley ranking all six in each post from least favorite to favorite. Shane, to everyone’s shock and probably offense *lol*, was put as dead last on the bachelor one. I did write my feelings about him promptly going to the next above him and going from there. I ended up not finishing the list because it kept bothering me that I didn’t cover my feelings or opinion enough on not only Shane, but the other few bachelors. So here we are where I’ve decided to scrap the old post and now cover all of those things I didn’t fully address on Shane.

I want to make this clear first and foremost: I don’t hate Shane. I just have some issues with him. He just rubs me the wrong way, if you will, and I say this as someone who has recently been diagnosed with moderate depression and grew up with an abusive alcoholic father: I would never marry, let alone date someone like Shane whether it be in the real world or in a video game. On some level I understand where Shane is coming from and can sympathize with him to some degree in the game (and in the fandom too) like it wants me to, but I feel as though there’s some gaps missing in his story because something doesn’t sit well in Shane’s story for me… Maybe his 10-heart event is completely different compared to his other heart events? Or how he sort of feels regressed back to his old-self when you first met in game when you get married? I also have very mixed feelings on the 14-heart event. Like, I understand, depressed people don’t magically get better and just coast along afterwards like they’re happy with the world and love life, but at the same time it’s almost like he had no growth after you got married. Hope I’m making sense…

I’d like to address an issue I have with the fandom regarding Shane. Not to sound rude or anything, but I feel as though a lot of people have this weird warped view of the man. Like, I remember seeing this fanfic titled “The One Where Shane Isn’t the Problem” (and no hate towards the author or anything) and I’m thinking: um?? Have you played the game?? He’s a bit of an asshole, especially upon first meeting him. He’s not some precious baby. Not saying he has to be rainbows and sunshine to strangers, but holy hell he is not some awkward sweet guy. He even addresses this as you get to know him and apologizes for being like that! I also find it weird that people like to draw/write him being built or having abs or being super tall when he mentions in marriage dialogue he wishes he was taller. Um, y'all know he’s a lazy drunk, right? He’s out of shape and in his pixel art it shows him looking sloppy. Since he eats junk food and drinks beer I’m pretty sure he has a beer belly. (I’m not saying out of shape or overweight people are unattractive, for the record.) Why do you guys fetishize the man?? I know for a fact that if y’all met someone like Shane in real life you’d treat him like shit or like you were better than him. I mean, maybe we’d have some people with that “I can change him or fix him” mindset, but by that point that’s just some of y’all with savior complexes and that’s just as bad… Either way, I am not a fan of Shane, as a depressed bastard myself. 

Now, I know someone is going to come in here talking about the reason why he was abusing alcohol, and I’d like to say that that doesn’t give Shane a freebie to do whatever he wants. I’ve lost loved ones that were near and dear to my heart, and even though I could have handled their losses better, losing people doesn’t give anyone the right to act, say, and do whatever they want to do, which in Shane’s case is to be a depressed drunk who lashes out at everyone including his living loved ones.

I will say that the memes and humor pieces of fanart (and some fanfiction) do make me laugh because I’ll admit that I have a pretty dark sense of humor. Not to mention I have read fanfics where they took the character fleshing him out better to where I related more with him as well as actually liked the character better.

[concubuck]

two guys going 🙃 and being awkward (9/10/21 chat log)

A conversation between Alastor/Buck (hi there) and Alastor/Alexa (@furby-organist/@killstreaming). So remember when Alexa said “you should turn your junk into a fan” and Buck said “one time i turned my junk into a garbage disposal wanna see” and an hour later Alexa went “I can’t believe I told my alternate to turn his junk into a fan” and Buck went “I can’t believe I showed my alternate my garbage disposal junk”? In a stunning and unprecedented display of mutual emotional maturity, they decide to mutually apologize instead of silently pretend it never happened.

concubuck

"Hi! Hello, am I reaching Alastor? This is your alternate speaking! The one that, uh..." AWKWARD PAUSE. "... The one from last night!" That was the only non-horrible way to identify himself, wasn't it.

killstreaming

Oh. Oh God. Alexa wanted to die significantly less today than he wanted to die last night after the post-clown clarity hit, but the feeling immediately SPIKED. Oh no. (Keep calm.) “Hi! Hello, alternate! Yes, speaking! What can I do for you?” He’s going to get chewed out, he knows it.

concubuck

Oh he answered. Buck had been braced to spend five minutes talking to dead air and never be sure if his alternate was silently listening or just not home. He sort of thinks this might be worse?

"Yes? Well!" Clears his throat. "I thought I ought to address last night before it festers. You see, I, uh..." A nervous pause; and then he sighs. "I—okay, look. Cards on the table: I haven't been human for several years. I'm doing a poor job of remembering human etiquette. Even the basic things, like 'don't send an unsolicited film starring your genitalia to a near stranger.' So—I—wanted to apologize for driving you to drink yourself to sleep."

killstreaming

Oh god, they were talking about last night. /Oh./ He wasn’t being chewed out. “I see. Alright. First and foremost, I appreciate you reaching out.” That meant /Alexa/ didn’t have to reach out. “Understandable and fair on all counts, apology accepted. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re entirely in the wrong here. What I’ll /mostly/ take you to task for is putting me in a position where I’d have had to deal with the awkwardness of declining /publicly/. But ultimately, moot point.”

“It was on topic, though, wasn’t it? I /started/ it, and for that, I owe /you/ an apology. I shouldn’t have roped you into that conversation to begin with. Admittedly, this sort of absurd lewd banter has become the norm on hotel grounds -- but with /friends I’ve known for a while/. I don’t know you well enough to bring up your genitalia, absurdist meem or not. I was out of line, and I apologize. I didn’t drink because of /you/. I wanted to exit consciousness upon realizing my social ineptitude, for which I have no excuse, as I’m currently human. So.”

concubuck

Apology accepted. Silent BIG sigh of relief. "Yes, I—I do recognize I put you in a no win situation, there. Modern etiquette hasn't yet provided us with a gentlemanly way of saying 'no, sir, I do NOT want to see your #### live and in color!'"

HE was owed an apology? He blinked in bewilderment, doing several rounds of mental gymnastics before he worked out WHY. "Oh! Oh. Yes, that's—right—well, I— Well that's—there you have it, just what I was saying about the difference between succubi and humans. It never even dawned upon me that the subject matter was unusual. In fact, I'm /sure/ I thought something to myself like 'oh! Dismemberment! How refreshing, a conversation that isn't sexual.'" Hi don't mind that slight edge of hysteria to his laughter, it's barely noticeable, hardly there, really. "Well—apology accepted, naturally. No damage was done, didn't even chip the paint."

killstreaming

“Pff--” Alexa cackled loudly, one hand uselessly covering his mouth. Live and in color, indeed. Alright, point made, looked like he and Buck were on the same page. “In retrospect, tuning in with no hesitation wasn’t the most grandiose display of decorum.” /Was/ there a correct way to have handled that? Alexa didn’t think so, so, no apology offered.

It was Alexa’s turn to internally sigh of relief. Good, he hadn’t irreparably weirded Buck out. “Hah, alright! I’m not entitely familiar with succubus etiquette, but I’m glad to hear it cast me in a better light than I otherwise would’ve been!” Oh, wheeze. “Hah, what people are into has never ceased to amaze me. Dismemberment, really. But hey-- I’m fine to say, no harm, no foul. I’m good if you’re good.”

concubuck

"... Mm. Perhaps." Tuning in with no hesitation was, in fact, exactly what he hoped and needed people to do. The suggesting that /watching what he offered to be watched/ was somehow inherently indecorous, as though to consume his content was an act of self-degradation... He shifted uncomfortably and tried to remember whether or not he would have agreed with his alternate back when he was human.

(Did it really matter? Wasn't it a succubus's duty to be a corruptive force? If gazing upon him made people a little dirtier, he was doing his job, right? He told himself that and tried to ignore how uneasy he felt in his skin.)

"It's less accurate to say succubi have etiquette around the topic and more accurate to say they have a near complete lack of barriers or standards. The mere fact I prefer not to cuss on air marks me out as queerly prudish." A rueful laugh. "No harm, no foul."

killstreaming

Good golly, Alexa, how do you eat when you’ve got your foot in your mouth so frequently? And he doesn’t even know this time! He’d intended to strictly critique /himself/, but it did imply something about the person offering, didn’t it? To make matters worse, he was taking Buck’s silence as judgment for being prudish about the matter.

Aaand then he wasn’t. Good, okay, they were fine, he really had to stop getting in his own head. “So you’re telling me it’s absolutely /lawless/ out there!” Dramatic hands to his cheeks. “Humans aren’t that much different -- they find me prudish for it as well. Anyway, my interactions with succubi have been largely business to this point, so I have much to learn about social norms.” There, a shield in case he shows his ass in the future.

concubuck

"Oh, succubi don't have much in the way of social norms worth learning." Which was probably a grave disservice to succubi for him to say, but he wasn't currently feeling very charitable to his own state of existence. "I interact with humans to interact with humans. Don't let me get out of line."

killstreaming

“Right, well.” And /that/ conversational door had been shut in his face. His smile thinned into a tight V. “Understood. Call me out if I’m out of line as well.” (He’d like to think his excuse is that he’s barely resocialized, but he doesn’t think it holds much water.)

concubuck

"I doubt you will be, but—yes. Of course."

He realized, a bit too late, that he'd come across as more dismissive than he'd intended to. He ought to offer /something/ more. "The thing is just that there is, as far as I can tell, nothing taboo to say among succubi. If a complete stranger says 'hi, how are you' and the other replies 'I caught something from this b##### and now my c### itches like a mother####er," of the two, the only one that said something surprising is the one who asked how the other is. So, there's—there's very little that /can/ be said wrong. Actions, /physical/ actions, can cross the line, but words are weightless. Almost meaningless, even."

killstreaming

“I-- pfft.” Buck’s sample of succubus dialogue threw Alexa off for a bit, he hadn’t been expecting that. Okay, give him a second, maybe you can hear him stifle another laugh.

“Really! No boundaries around oversharing whatsoever! Fascinating, and oddly reassuring! It’s not even that lax on hotel grounds!” And, well, Buck had gotten a glimpse of how wild those could get. “Look --all cards on the table, right?-- people think they can talk to my husband every which way because of his profession. Forgive me if I kick myself too easily over doing the same; it’s not a critique of succubus standards.”

concubuck

"Very few boundaries, at any rate. Personally, I think their could stand to be a few more. But when you're walking down the street, some oversexed pedestrian says 'hey there succuc###, wanna s### off my c###?' and you find yourself thinking 'do I have enough time for that?' instead of the more reasonable 'should I decapitate him or just give him a swift kick,' well... At that point you have to concede that the standards you think you should have and the standards you actually have no longer overlap, don't you?"

Which was a far more horrifying thing than he'd intended to admit. So he hurried on, "So—anyway, I appreciate the gentlemanly inclination; but don't beat yourself up too much over a comment that didn't even faze me, won't you? I'd hate for my own alternate to suffer needlessly on my behalf!"

killstreaming

Alexa wasn’t /judging/ Buck -- by what standards does one judge an entire other species & their cultural norms? it is what it is, -- but the divide between them was beginning to feel a bit more /present/. And did he want to hear about an acquaintance contemplating blowing a pedestrian? Not really, but he’d chalk it up to aforementioned cultural norm. He laughed to shake it off, and hoped it didn’t come out too awkward.

“Alright, alright, fair enough! Point taken. Don’t worry about me, then. And /you/ don’t beat yourself up either, alright? I don’t have much reassurance to offer other than that it takes a /lot/ to genuinely offend me, and I’d like to think I’m charitable regarding cultural differences.” He fidgeted, hoping he hadn’t said anything wrong. “I mean, because I /would/ like to keep getting to know you.” Did that sound like a come-on? If that came off like a come-on, he’d eat his whole foot. (The other one, the one he /hasn’t/ already stuck in his mouth.)

concubuck

It kind of did sound like a come on. But of the two Alastors who had watched his video, this was the one who HADN'T offered to fist him, and on top of that Buck didn't WANT it to be a come on, so he was going to take it on faith that it wasn't. "And I'd certainly like to keep getting to know you!" ... He hoped THAT didn't sound like a come on. "Ideally with less amateur pornography this time around."

killstreaming

Alexa almost made that stupid joke about waiting until the second date for that sort of thing (third if he's feeling REALLY old-fashioned), but no. Buck wasn't /in/ on the fact that Alexa was resigned from dating altogether. /That/ would be taken as a come-on.

"Ha! Sure, fair, sounds good. Now, I don't know how you feel about coffee, but if you'd ever like to meet for a cup, offer's on the table." Just whenever was good. (Something something morning afters are only awkward if you make them awkward, let me be a gentleman and handle breakfast -- it made more sense in his head. It was funny in his head. But really, a friendly coffee chat sometime would be nice.)

concubuck

"I'm practically powered by the stuff! Coffee sometime sounds delightful." And then, just because that really did sound like it could be a date, he added, "And since you're a married man, I'm going to trust that it's /only/ going to be coffee!" Little lighthearted joke—what's a marriage worth in hell with a succubus around?—but by God, he was determined to meet ONE alternate in person and keep it platonic.

killstreaming

"Good, that seems to be one thing we all have in common!" Coffee fiends, the herd of them.

This was probably /not/ the time to 'actually, it's an open marriage', oh well, Buck was just going to have to get blindsided next time Alexa wilded on voxblr. "Haha! Yes, yes, that's all, just a friendly chat over coffee. Unless the bakery items catch my eye -- then it's over coffee /and/ a croissant." Scandalous. Hey, some of those places made a mean pain au chocolat.

concubuck

"Well, who am I to say no to a croissant!" Okay, this was okay, they'd navigated this mess successfully and were coming out of it on the same page. Hah. Good. Good job, team.

killstreaming

"Aha! I’ll be looking forward to it. Just reach out whenever's good.” Well done, everyone. Crisis very much averted! The deersasters are going to be okay.

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing. 

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us  Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show?  Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout. 

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

[ibijau]

Jin Rusong Lives / On AO3

Nie Huaisang has a conversation with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian about Lan Xichen

The very last thing that Nie Huaisang wanted in life was to deal with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. Already as individuals they could be difficult to handle, but as a unit they were simply unbearable. It wasn’t just their married bliss that was annoying (though Nie Huaisang, who’d had to give up on ever having that, certainly did find it annoying enough) but more so their tendency to support each other and bring out the worst in each other.

The best too, of course. Which, come to think of it, was even more annoying.

So Nie Huaisang did not want to go anywhere near those two, but he also knew from experience that they had no regard for boundaries and private property if they thought they were in the right. A servant was called to look after Jin Rusong while he continued drawing, and Nie Huaisang left with Nie Funyu.

“How upset do they look?” he asked his first disciple.

“Nie zongzhu, how should I know? One looked annoyed and the other was smiling, but they’re always like that.”

Nie Huaisang gritted his teeth. There were layers to Lan Wangji’s lack of expressions, and Wei Wuxian’s smiles could express anything from actual joy to murder intent. He prided himself in being able to decode at least some of that. After dealing with Jin Guangyao for so long, these two were easy to read.

“Go see if Zewu-Jun is awake,” he ordered Nie Funyu. “If he’s sleeping, let him sleep, I’ll deal with those two. If he’s awake, ask him if he wishes to see them. Make it clear he won’t have to if he doesn’t want to.”

“He’s their problem,” Nie Funyu objected. “Let them take him home and be done with it.”

“He’s my… guest,” Nie Huaisang said, unsure friend was the right word anymore, not after everything, not when Lan Xichen had called him Nie zongzhu as if they were strangers. “I’d be a poor host if I just handed him over to the first people who asked for it.”

Nie Funyu frowned, unhappy with that decision, but obeyed. Nie Huaisang went alone to the throne room, and asked for his new guests to be brought to him.

From the moment he stepped into the room, it was obvious that Lan Wangji was worried for his brother but trying to hide it. As for Wei Wuxian, who stood right next to his husband, his smile had sharp edges that Nie Huaisang did not like in the least. It was clear to him that these two were expecting the worst from him. Nie Huaisang could not exactly blame them, all things considered, but it still upset him.

“Huanguang-Jin, what a pleasure it is to have you here!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed as he went to sit on his throne. “And you brought your husband as well, how lovely! You know, normally I’d complain about guests dropping by unannounced, but I’m getting quite used to that lately.”

“Where is Zewu-Jun?” Lan Wangji inquired with a hint of impatience.

Nie Huaisang opened his fan. 

"Resting I hope, or else our doctor will be very cross and probably take it out on me. He was very tired when he arrived last night." 

"So you don't mind if we go check on him?" Wei Wuxian asked with a dangerous smile. 

"I've sent someone to warn him," Nie Huaisang replied, fanning himself with calculated indolence. "If he wishes to see you, he will. Otherwise, he won't. It's up to him."

There was the slightest hint of a frown on Lan Wangji’s face at that answer. Nie Huaisang interpreted it as worry, and felt annoyed. He had never, at any point in the past ten years, done anything to threaten Lan Xichen. And most of what had happened in that damn temple had been entirely out of his control. It certainly wasn’t Nie Huaisang who had let Lan Xichen go confront Jin Guangyao alone, thus allowing for him to be tricked and kidnapped. The only risk Nie Huaisang had taken that night had been to cut his own leg so his brother’s corpse wouldn’t be sealed away before having obtained his revenge… and even that had been mostly calculated, because at that point Wei Wuxian had proven that he could easily handle the situation anyway.

Nie Huaisang had never purposefully done anything to cause Lan Xichen pain.

But of course, he knew too well that another had claimed the same, and caused great harm nonetheless.

“We will see him,” Lan Wangji insisted.

Nie Huaisang shivered, and glanced toward the door, hoping that Nie Funyu would soon return and save him from this. Of course, he couldn’t be so lucky.

“Hanguang-Jun, I’ll be very frank with you,” Nie Huaisang said.

“That’d be a first,” Wei Wuxian noted.

Nie Huaisang glared at him, more annoyed that it could once have been said as a joke than by his former friend’s distrust.

“Listen, you’ll be cross. I know you’ll be cross!” he sighed, fanning himself faster, letting his voice rise as if in fear. It took little effort. Lan Wangji had always scared him a little since they were young. “You’re going to be so cross at me, but I have to say it anyway, because you’ll be more cross if I don’t say anything. Hanguang-Jun, I am not a very clever man, but even I can see that your brother is unwell. Very unwell! And I am very worried of course, because he’s my friend, even if I’m not his anymore. And you have to understand… well, this is the part that will make you cross,” Nie Huaisang explained with a nervous chuckle. “But Hanguang-Jun, seeing him this unwell, seeing that he left his home in such a hurry, seeing that you’ve come here in pursuit of him… of course you understand that this doesn’t look very good, right?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed, visibly so, and Wei Wuxian dropped his smile.

“Are you accusing us of something, Nie zongzhu?”

“Of course not!” Nie Huaisang squeaked, fanning himself so hard that his wrist was starting to hurt. “All I’m saying is that it is very odd, and I don’t want to act carelessly when I have no idea what has caused his current state of health.”

“You know what caused it,” Lan Wangji retorted.

Nie Huaisang’s fan stilled, hiding his face, giving him a chance to grimace. Maybe Nie Funyu had been right to say that Lan Xichen wasn’t his problem. At the same time, he could not sit there and watch someone he cared about be in worse health than he ought to have been, and just trust that the people who were looking after him were doing the right thing. 

Not after how things had turned out the last time he’d blindly trusted in people’s good will.

He didn’t think Lan Wangji would ever do anything to harm his brother, but he hadn’t thought that Jin Guangyao was capable of it either. 

Thankfully, before the conversation could get worse, they were joined by Lan Xichen himself.

When he entered the throne room, Lan Xichen had to be supported by Nie Funyu, who looked as if he were eating lemons at having to help that man for whom he held little respect. Nie Huaisang made a mental note to give his first disciple a few days off. Between having Wen Ning come so often and now Lan Xichen, he had really asked a lot of Nie Funyu lately.

“Brother!” Lan Wangji exclaimed, elegantly rushing to Lan Xichen’s side so he could be the one helping him instead.

The instant he was freed, Nie Funyu brushed his arms, as if feeling dirtied. Nie Huaisang glared at him for it, for which his first disciple shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“Is Brother unwell?” Lan Wangji asked.

“A little, yes,” Lan Xichen admitted, leaning harder against him than he had with Nie Funyu. “Nie zongzhu has been taking good care of me, and had his doctor check that nothing is wrong. I’m sorry I caused you worry, Wangji. But you should have told me about A-Song.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had the good taste of looking embarrassed over that, while Nie Huaisang nodded without even realising. Of course they should have told Lan Xichen. Wei Wuxian could be excused for not realising, he hadn’t been there for all this, but surely Lan Wangji ought to have known better.

“I feared the effects of the news,” Lan Wangji soberly said, his nearly toneless voice managing to convey that recent events rather proved he’d been right to be worried.

“And I wish I could have heard about it in a less abrupt manner,” Lan Xichen replied, not quite a reproach. “I understand your concerns, since I have made certain things difficult for you recently. Understand my concerns as well when people keep secrets from me.”

Lan Wangji flinched, his eyes darting toward Nie Huaisang who pretended not to notice and started fanning himself again.

“Brother knows now,” Lan Wangji said. “We can return home.”

Lan Xichen hesitated, and tried to catch Nie Huaisang’s eyes, in vain. The younger man was pretending to be fascinated by the movement of his fan.

“I actually would like to spend more time with Jin Rusong,” Lan Xichen carefully said. “If that causes no trouble.”

“Well, he can come home with us too,” Wei Wuxian suggested.

Nie Huaisang froze, the breath knocked out of him by that proposition. His grip on his fan tightened to the point he could feel the wood start cracking under his fingers. 

"Absolutely not," Lan Xichen said, his voice still gentle but with a firmness that Nie Huaisang hadn't heard since the temple. "As I've already told Nie zongzhu, I came here to see Jin Rusong, not to spirit him away. It is my understanding that his cousin is satisfied with his care, and I have not seen anything to make me think A-Song should be removed from the Unclean Realm." 

Again, Lan Xichen tried to meet Nie Huaisang's gaze, who pretended not to notice. 

"You just said you wanted to be around Jin Rusong," Wei Wuxian complained, clearly confused. He paused a moment, and frowned. "Zewu-Jun… are you trying to ask to stay in the Unclean Realm?" 

"If Nie zongzhu allows it." 

This time, Nie Huaisang could no longer avoid looking at Lan Xichen. He shivered at finding those golden eyes on him. Lan Xichen still looked too frail, too tired, but right then there was something of his old calm and determination back. 

"Of course I allow it," Nie Huaisang heard himself reply. Then, feeling the shocked gaze of the other men (shocked and furious in Nie Funyu's case), he quickly added, "It would make Jin Rusong so happy to have his uncle Lan here. And aside from that, Nie Zhilan would murder me if I kicked you out. You're her patient now, and I'm not quite stupid enough to cross her." 

Lan Xichen stared in obvious surprise for a moment before his expression shifted into a smile so warm and earnest that Nie Huaisang had to look away again. He just couldn't bear to see Lan Xichen smile at him this way again, after everything else. 

"Brother," Lan Wangji calmly objected. 

He said nothing more, but when Nie Huaisang glanced ahead, he saw the Twin Jades staring at each other, locked into one of those silent conversations they had sometimes, so different from his shouting matches with Nie Mingjue and yet very similar in nature, or so Lan Xichen had told him once. 

This argument ended with Lan Xichen smiling almost smugly as he still leaned against his brother who Nie Huaisang could have sworn was pouting, however slightly. 

"I will gladly take Nie zongzhu's invitation," Lan Xichen announced. "Thank you for allowing me this whim. I will do my best not to be a burden on Nie zongzhu." 

"Lan zongzhu, you could never be," Nie Huaisang replied. "Though I think we have made you stand long enough. Nie Zhilan will not be happy that you left your bed without her permission. Funyu, could you direct Lan zongzhu, Lan gongzi and Wei gongzi back to my room? Now that we know Lan zongzhu will be staying I will see to have a room prepared for him, but for now my room is still the best option for him to rest."

Although he did not object due to the presence of people he so clearly counted as enemies, Nie Funyu glared at his sect leader. Nie Huaisang had to hide a grimace behind his fan. There was a lecture about security and safety coming to him in the near future, and perhaps this one would be deserved. 

Still, Nie Funyu asked the others to follow him, which they did. Wei Wuxian lingered a moment at the back of the group, as if he might say something, but he quickly caught up with the rest when Nie Funyu called for him. Left alone at last, Nie Huaisang closed his fan and slumped on his throne, feeling drained in a way he hadn't been since that night at the temple. 

A full day of sabre practice would have been less exhausting than that. 

So Nie Huaisang, always too ready to indulge himself, took a moment to recuperate from this conversation. He was half certain he would end up regretting everything he'd said, but that was such a familiar feeling that he easily ignored it. Then, when he felt ready, he put on a smile and left to find the head of staff to let her know a guest room needed to be prepared for a long stay, another for just that night, and that they'd be having guests for dinner. 

Said dinner, when it arrived, was a less awful affair than Nie Huaisang would have expected. Certainly Lan Wangji was rather sullen the whole time, but Wei Wuxian made up for it by being aggressively friendly in a way that Nie Huaisang had missed. After a period of awkwardness, he found himself exchanging careful banter with the man who had once been his friend, almost as if things were back to what they had once been in Gusu. 

More importantly, Lan Xichen had gotten permission from Nie Zhilan to leave his bed and eat with them as long as he did not overexert himself. It warmed Nie Huaisang's heart to see the other man so radiant, Jin Rusong sitting on his knees. 

Lan Xichen hadn't stopped smiling once since the little boy had given him a painting, which he explained was a terrifying monster from a story read to him in class. Lan Xichen had received it as if it were the long lost work of a great master, and Jin Rusong had refused to be parted from his uncle Lan for even a second after that. 

And Nie Huaisang, who just some months earlier might have sworn he no longer had a heart, found it beating hard in his chest at seeing those two people so dear to him look this happy together. He could not even feel jealousy when Lan Xichen had to retire early, still unwell in spite of his improved mood, only for Jin Rusong to ask to sleep with him. There was just something right about the sight of Lan Xichen holding the little boy's hand as a servant led them to Lan Xichen's room. 

“You were right,” Wei Wuxian said, forcing Nie Huaisang to look away from the door and pay attention to the guests still in his company. 

“I usually am, but it always surprises people,” he retorted without heat. “About what, though?”

Wei Wuxian nodded toward the door where Lan Xichen and Jin Rusong had just disappeared. 

“You were right about him. Lan Zhan will need a while to admit it, so I’m saying it for both of us. You said that it would be good for Zewu-Jun to know that Jin Rusong was alive, and that he’d want to know and to be with him. You were right.”

"Hanguang-Jun was in seclusion for a lot of Jin Rusong's life, he could not have known," Nie Huaisang replied, biting back a remark that Lan Wangji had been freed from his punishment by the time the child died, and so should have witnessed his brother's grief. "And I know I am not the most trustworthy of people, especially on certain subjects." 

Wei Wuxian grinned, and poured him some wine. 

"Nie-xiong, you're not wrong, but I'm starting to think you might not be quite right either. Now come on, have a drink. A-Song can't denounce you to your doctor anymore, you can have some fun." 

Nie Huaisang snorted, and grabbed the bowl of wine. 

"Wei gongzi, you're still a bad influence, aren't you?" he mocked. 

He felt a little lighter when Wei Wuxian only cackled at that, the same way he used to do when they were young. 

He had missed having someone to laugh with. 

[chimaerakitten]

(via https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2eF2BW8QhNO2UesloUNkuk?si=SfOWQO6CTQy28MPE0ndjMA)

so, now that I am officially free of both finals and my work on the TQT title sequence animation, I thought it would be a good time to turn to my other bit project for this fandom, Chi’s crazy-long chronological playlist. I started this. One week after ROTT came out. ONE WEEK. I thought I’d get it done and written up in two or three days. It is now. December the 15th. Two months. TWO MONTHS, THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS

Bellow the cut: A writeup explaining the position of each song + a little bit more commentary on it from me (spoilers. everything is spoilers all the way through ROTT below the cut):

This is a mix of some pretty typical fanplaylist fare (there is. A lot of Bastille on here) some Queen’s Thief must-haves (can you really have a Queen of Attolia playlist without Achilles Come Down?) and my own really weird music taste (Filk like Tin Soldier and Courage Knows No Bounds)

Some of the ones I’m most proud of are Monster by Starset for the Mede camp scenes in ROTT (I mean, it starts with “Under the knife I surrendered” It’s kinda perfect) Laughter Lines for Relius and Teleus (I have it on good authority that that caused a lot of heart pain for other fans) and Soft to be Strong for Irene and Relius.

without further ado, the song list:

“Eddis”—Warriors

“Thief!”—Second Child, Restless Child

The Thief

Whatever it takes—“I can steal anything”

Tin Soldier—“Nobody would mistake you for anything but a tool, Gen.”

Centuries—“His name would be carved in stone on a stele outside the basilica, and mine would be written in the dust.”

Everybody Wants To Rule the World—“He doesn’t want the queen…He just wants the pass through the mountains so that he can invade Attolia.”

Patron Saint o’ Thieves—Eugenides and the Sky God’s Thunderbolts (I will be honest. This one was chosen based on title and Vibes, tm, not lyrics)

The Only Exception—“But if there hadn’t been one that I loved, I wouldn’t have landed myself in the king’s prison.”

Thief—Before braving the temple of the Aracthus.

Come Wayward Souls—Inside the temple.

History Has Its Eyes On You—The answered prayer for silence.

The Queen and the Soldier—“You are more beautiful, Your majesty... But she is more kind.”

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)—Walking to Eddis.

Stand By Me—“Oh, It’s you, Eugenides.”

Family—Helen, Eugenides, and the Minister of War.

“Destruction”—Dread Sovereign

The Queen of Attolia

Run Boy Run—The chase through the palace.

Icarus—Eugenides, caught.

When the Chips are Down—“I still think tradition might hold the best solution to my problems with you.”

Achilles Come Down—Eugenides, after returning to Eddis.

Heroes—The Secret War and the expectation that Eugenides will die soon.

Burn It Down—Burning Sounis’s navy.

Sit Still Look Pretty—“It was her fiancé who gave her the name shadow princess.”

Heroes and Thieves— “She pulled the bedclothes up as far as they would go and suppressed a perverse wish to have her old nurse come to chase away the darkness, perverse because she didn’t know if she wanted the shadows to be empty or not.”

Thousand Eyes—The plan to take Ephrata.

We Remain—“There’s an easier way for a man to become king,”

Black Water—“She reached up to push the wet hair out of her face, wondering when she had sunk so low that she had begun torturing boys.”

Simple Song—"I watched you walking between the rows of cabbages and then dancing under the orange trees. I was above you, in one of the trees.”

She’s Always a Woman—"Eugenides had accepted gladly and read carefully, trying to see whether Attolia could be the monster in human guise she was accused of being, or only a woman who ruled without the support of her barons.”

Queen of Peace—“Just asleep,” Eddis reassured her.”

I’m Not Calling You A Liar—“I sometimes believe his lies are the truth, but I have never mistaken his truth for a lie.”

Losing My Religion—“You made a mistake,” Attolia agreed. “You trusted your gods. That was your mistake.”

Pompeii—The vision of the volcano.

All I’ve Ever Known—“Love I am not familiar with.”

Love Love Love—"Who am I, that you should love me?

A Healing In This Night—“And she believed him.”

The King of Attolia

Bow to the Crown— “He dropped to his knees before his queen and lowered his head almost to the floor.”

Shut up and Dance—"Her queen danced like a flame in the wind”

Carry Your Throne— It was not a kiss between strangers, not even a kiss between a bride and a groom. It was a kiss between a man and his wife.”

It’s Alright—"If it was embarrassing to wake like a child screaming from a nightmare, how much more embarrassing to be the reason your husband woke screaming.”

Believer—“like a god revealed” and the fall of the house of Erondites.

I CHOOSE YOU— “He was very likable—Eddis would have married him.”

Hunger— “I did not say that I am afraid. He is, though, I think. Afraid of his own desire for power.”

Soft to Be Strong—"I have learned that there is a flaw in your philosophy. If we truly trust no one, we cannot survive.”

Gold—Eugenides on the crenellations.

True & Destined Prince—“He is an Annux, a king of kings.”

“Knife Dance”—Human

A Conspiracy of Kings

Things We Lost In The Fire—The raid on the villa.

Constellations—Sophos and Moira in the dream library.

Welcome Home, Son—“I didn’t want a choice; I wanted to stay right where I was and build walls and share poetry with an avid audience and enjoy a swim with friends, but I didn’t want it to be my choice.”

Words as Weapons— “Eugenides looked me in the eye as if I were a complete stranger and said, “The simplest way to end a war is to admit you have lost it.”

Share Your Address— “You made a proposal in your previous letter. Perhaps it was only hypothetical?” “It was not.”

I Love You—“When I was working in the fields, I knew how unfounded my hopes were,” he said. “I was a poor excuse for an heir of Sounis when I made the proposal and then became even less than that.”

Iron—“I will go to Melenze. And hope to delay the Medes long enough to find some other solution to their imperial expansion. Of course, that assumes the king and queen of Attolia intend to honor the laws of hospitality and allow me to travel safely to the border.”

Young Volcanoes—“Just what makes you think you can get away with that?” he asked the young man standing over him with a butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth expression incongruous on his scarred face.”

The Fates—Sophos’s naïve speech before the first vote.

Handmade Heaven—Shooting Hanaktos and Akretenesh, lifting a hand to the sky for a lightning bolt that will not come.

I Bet My Life—"There is no reason I can see that I would not be honored to join Eddis to you.”

Flaws—“Eddis stared at him for a long time, knowing that forgiving someone because you have to is not forgiving him at all.”

For The Dancing And The Dreaming—“Are you certain that you want to be my wife?” “Absolutely,” said Eddis, quietly. “Eternally certain.”

Blood Brothers—"He had been saved by the men Eugenides sent, though he did not yet know the ferocity with which the king of Attolia had stripped those men from other posts, the capital he had expended, the secrets that had been revealed in order to send help to Sounis.”

Thick as Thieves

I’ll Believe In Anything—"If there had been any alternative, I would have taken it, but I could see none, and there was no time for hesitation.”

You’ve Got A Friend In Me—“Head wounds bleed, but we can stitch it up, I’ve done it before, don’t be afraid. Kamet, I wouldn’t tell you this if it weren’t true. I swear to you, I am not going to leave your dead body beside the road to Perf. I didn’t come all the way to this godsforsaken cesspit so that I could go home and tell my king I failed him.”

Desert Song—Costis and Kamet crossing the empire, eating caggi.

Empire—"It would be possible, I supposed, for an outsider to see disruption and think the empire might collapse, but it was too all encompassing, too well sewn together to come apart. As each smaller nation was absorbed, it was integrated into the whole, enjoying all the benefits of being in the empire.”

Fell In Love With A Girl—Kamet’s story of Marin the dancing girl.

Foreigner’s God—Kamet’s encounter with Ennikar while Costis is in the well.

The Hell If I Go Home—Kamet trying to leave in Sukir.

Stray Italian Greyhound—“If you had told me in Sukir, I would have let you go.” / “Costis,” I said, using his name for the first time since he had told it to me, on board the riverboat at the start of our journey. “Costis, I’m sorry.”

Poet—"I began this narrative in the palace of Attolia but have only recently neared its completion. I will eventually send it to Relius, when I am sure it can be delivered without interception, and I hope he will be satisfied with my account, as I would be honored to have it added to his library.”

All This And Heaven Too—“Immakuk and Ennikar,” he said. “Where?” I snapped my head around to scan the dock, and he nudged me with his elbow. “Idiot. Us,” he said.”

Return of the Thief

How Far We’ve Come—Exordium.

The Great Escape—Pheris finding a place for himself.

The Heart Is a Muscle—“Someone loves me very much, even with all my faults”

I Will Wait—“His heart is unlikely to be in his work.”

Laughter Lines—Relius and Teleus saying goodbye.

Stole You Away—“Attolia says she leaves with you”

Poison & Wine—“I think they have to show their worst selves sometimes”

United at War—“Sounis will not run…nor Eddis.”

This is War—Arrival at Leonyla.

No Light, No Light—“All wars make men monsters, all wars and all men.”

Survivor’s Song—The Etisian winds came early.

Daniel in the Den—The ambush and the Mede Camp.

Monster—“Nahuseresh tells me I am not king. We’ll see if he really prefers the Thief.”

Natural—“Once, when I said he had saved me, you said I had saved him. From what?”

Tomorrow I Leave For Battle—Before the Naupent.

March of Cambreadth—The Naupent.

Courage Knows No Bounds—A pyre that burned for three days.

Bad Blood—The pardon of Sejanus.

Call the Names—The naming of Hector and Eugenia.

Here’s To Us—Dancing on the Roof.

I lived—Pheris, and the gods were pleased.

“Alyta’s Missing Earring”—Falling and Empire

final note: I did my best to have songs have at least one meaning in the pace they were put, plus more meaning when considering the series as a whole—for example, “Tin Soldier” appears early on in the context of the king of Sounis and the Magus using Gen as a tool, but if you loop back around to it after Return of the Thief, Gen being “weapon more than child” gains a whole new meaning. "She’s always a woman” is an Irene song in the context of QOA, but the more we learn about Helen, the more it applies to her, etc. etc. Not every song is like that, but I wanted to give the playlist at least a bit of re-listen value, in the spirit of the books’ reread value.

[rons-wheezely]

Ron || Inseparable

[Requested]

Genre: Fluff

Summary: this dude you don’t know really wants to be your friend??; Ron x reader “...I mean, I guess he’s cute or whatever, so it’s fine.”

----

It all started in charms class. Ron dreaded that class more than anything in the world, spells and incantations were definitely NOT his thing. Today, Professor Flitwick set up a bunch of locks in front of each student. He cleared his throat and said," Today, students, we will be learning blah blah blah.."

Every time Flitwick speaks, it's like jibberish to Ron. He's tried many times to concentrate, but last time he pulled a muscle or something because he had migraines for a whole week. Hermione says it's because his brain was smaller than a pea. What in the bloody hell was a "pea"? Definitely not piss, he hoped. He sucks at this class and it's painfully obvious..

"Ah, everyone play close attention to y/n's incantation and the subtlety of her wand. It's near perfect for a first try."

Ron turns his sights to you, who is now burning a Gryffindor red, as you redo the spell for everyone in the class. There was something beautiful about how you casted the spell, dare I call it magic. Ron Weasely couldn't take his eyes off of you like a star struck fan meeting his favorite quidditch team.

After that, Ron kept spotting you in crowds from class to class. He didn't want to sometimes, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't escape the memory that replayed in his head. The way his heart leaped out of his chest, how his fingers itched to shake yours for the first time and introduce himself. It was like you radiated some type of aura that drew him in. It's an overused description, but there was no other way to describe the way you pulled him in like a sinking black hole.  A problem still stood between him and his desires, however.

"I just wish we weren't strangers and that I could ask her out already, but then I'd--" Ron pouted to his friend Harry, who always seemed to get the girls. "You wouldn't understand though, since everyone seems to think you're the 'chosen one'." He mocked the voice of the masses. Everyone loved Harry, after all.

"Why don't you just talk to her?" Harry shovels his lunch into his mouth,"There's nothing stopping you, is there?" Harry says this so nonchalantly as if he's done it several times himself. "Unless you're chicken of course."

Half out of spite and half out of impatience, he wanted to prove that he could be friends with you. He introduced himself to you in the next class he shared, and days after that he'd wave to you when you two made eye contact. He thought it was embarrassing to be so excited to see someone he didn't know well, but it didn't stop his heart from beating faster than it had before.

After a week, Flitwick assigned a new project. "You shall team up with one person of your choosing and begin today's work." Before he was even finished speaking, you could see people making eye contact with their friends across the room. You didn't really have anyone you knew, as per usual, until you suddenly make eye contact with Ron Weasley.

His eyes are sparkling and it's like his whole life has lived up to this moment. He coughs into his elbow as he dusted off his robes when he stood up. Did he remember to brush his teeth this morning? God, he hopes so. He takes a deep breath and walks over to your seat. "Do you, uh, want to be partners?" He shifted under the feel of your gaze,"For the project of course; only if you want to."

Of course, you aren't in the position to say no, being that you've never been asked before, so you agree. However, that was just the beginning of your friendship with Ron. Overtime, it was like you two were always joined at the hip. You two would meet up and walk to class together, eat together, and even get caught up in Harry's adventures together. You never expected to be this close with Ron, or even anyone for that matter.

After school hours, you and Hermione hung out in the courtyard. It was her move in Gobstones when she brought up an interesting question. "I'd never actually think I'd see the day that Ron could be tolerated for more than a week. How do you do it?" She paused and mulled over her words. She spoke up again saying," Do you ever think he's clingy sometimes? It's like you two are conjoined twins or something... I'd say he was in love with you if it wasn't for Lavender Brown."

You hesitated in your response, feeling as though you were revealing too much," ...I mean, I guess he's cute or whatever, so it's fine." you attempt to shrug it off and focus on the game. Hermione's eyes burned holes into your skin as you tried to shake her uneasy stare.

Hermione gasped so loudly, it caught you off guard. Did you say too much? Did you say something wrong??? You shushed her in a panic, looking around at the other students staring at you. She recomposed herself with a deep breath, but she exploded in a flurry of whispered questions.

"So you think he's cute?? As a friend or... as something more? How long have you felt this way? Does anyone else know about this?" Hermione bombarded you with so many questions it was like the room started spinning.

"I wouldn't mind if we were something more," You could see Hermione about to gasp again," BUT I really don't think this is the kind of love story you think it is. He dated Lavender Brown up until two days ago, so he probably doesn't think of me that way, like you said earlier." The more you talked, the more you felt like you were giving away the secret krabby patty formula. Why can't you shut up?? "He probably likes girls like that."

"Or maybe he wanted you to be jealous?" Hermione spoke and won the game in one smooth turn,"Think about it." As you clean up the game pieces, she puts her hand on your shoulder. "I know that when he was dating Lavender, he walked with her to class, right? But don't you normally walk with him?" Hermione strolled the hallways with you. This situation was so stiff the outside air of the courtyard was suffocating you, leaving no room albeit to give in.

"I.. I don't know, Hermione. Maybe we're thinking into it too much?" Your head drifts to the outside scenery of Hogwarts. "Besides, why would he want to date me?"

A couple days later, Ron came back to the old routine of walking with you everywhere as if he'd never left. You wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for that conversation with Hermione. It itched in the back of your mind like a spider on the back of your neck. You felt like you were reading too far into his jokes, and when he laughed at one of yours, there was a flip in your stomach and blood rushed to your face.

Now, his touches set your skin ablaze. It lingered and danced along the surface of your senses. Every breath of his that reached you was warm, his hands were a little too soft, and you could list a thousand other things that sent your mind running. Does he really like you like that?

"I thought she'd crack by now, Harry." A frustrated Ron brewed in his own bits of misfortune. "What if she's not into me like that?"

Harry looked at him. Harry's eyes glance at the clock before responding," Ron, it's like 11 pm and you're thinking about y/n?"

Ron nodded with a pout on his face.

Harry sighed," Why don't you just tell her?" Before Ron could reply with a flurry of doubts, Harry interjected. "You've literally had a crush on her since like First year, and I haven't seen you make your move. If you're that worried, you could try..." He looked around the dormitory room for a clue. His glasses glinted like an anime character when his eyes settled on a potions book. "You could always make a uh, forgetfulness potion?"

That seemed to satisfy Ron's stress and he laid back down in bed. He predicted that in the next 24 hours, he'll have confessed his feelings and then forced you to take his concoction of a "forgetfulness potion."

"Y/n." Ron had taken you outside the Great Hall during lunch. His palms are so sweaty and cold it could be a slip 'n slide (except he wouldn't know what that was.) You were talking to Harry about the next Quidditch game when he decided to confess. It took some persuading to leave the conversation, but you eventually gave in.

"Yes, Ron?" You prodded his shoulder. His face was pale, and the awkward silence was becoming unbearable. "...Ron? Are you monologuing or something?"

"I... I like you."

"Uhh me too? That's why we're friends." You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you again. He wasn't confessing.. right?

"No I--" He stammered. "I like you. Like a lot. Since first year.." This was it. Any second you would reject him, and then he'd have to whip out his potion and apologize profusely while you guzzle it down.

"Oh." You blinked. Once. Twice. "Really? So this is a confession?"

"Will you go out with me?" He looked into your eyes. He was done for, he knew it. But, the disgust of rejection never came.

"Yeah.. I'd actually like that, Ron." You hugged him with all of your might. If this was a dream, then you hoped you'd never wake up. You were trying so hard not to let your feelings get the best of you, if only you knew he felt the same way. This past month's emotional procrastination was futile, and you can now admit the blooming feeling in your heart.

Ron was stunned. It was only until his robes were getting wet that he looked down. You were crying, but they were tears of joy? He really was prepared for the worst. Once the shock had died down, he embraced you. He never thought this day would come, but when it did, it was the greatest emotion he'd ever had. He kissed your forehead as the rest of your face was buried in his arms. "I love you."

---- 

-A/N-

Just a heads up, in the future I’d like to write and include other HP characters if y’all don’t mind (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ It’ll be about other HP characters in the same year probably, except for the other Weasleys. Love you guys ♡

p.s. I’m sorry that I took so long on this rip I wrote a whole different ending where you fake date Harry for a hot second, but it got out of hand and I scrapped it lol

[jawabear]

(4) A Lesson In Want (Maxwell Lord x Reader)

A/N: Here is part 4 of the story. its a little long so I’m sorry about that but Max is really cute I swear. I don't really know how to summarise this part because quite a lot happens.

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Smut, slight choking, sub!Max, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Together again

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Epilogue

She stood in the mirror looking at the dress she was wearing. It was somewhat similar to the one she had worn before. Although, it was a little more concealing then the other. The mirror its self was dirty but she didn’t really care, it just matched how she saw herself, dirty. Her job wasn’t exactly the most respectable profession but she felt she wasn’t made for anything more.

The room was dark, but she was used to it, somehow accustom to living in the darkness, a small light above her that shone a dim orange light through the room. It was cold in her room, nothing more then an attic in a giant tall building that was just as dark and cold through out its lower levels. She often wondered if everyone else who lived in the building was used to the cold as she was, but she never thought to ask, it was rare she would see anyone else anyway, she was professional and couldn’t deal with others, aside from the girl who she shared her room with, although at times she was completely unbearable.

It had been weeks since she had last seen Max, since their wonderful night together. And since that night, she had been horrible distracted. She couldn’t do anything without seeing his face or hearing his voice in her mind. She could remember the face Max made when he looked at her when he saw her in that dress when she pulled him away to please him, he made her feel so special. And their night together was just the greatest night of her life. She wanted nothing more in that moment then to fall back into his strong chest whilst his arms wrap around her and he whispers to her how beautiful she looked. Her eyes slid shut and she held a dreamy smile on her face.

She could practically hear his hushed voice in her ear as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to replicate his warmth. She could hear his low whispers of praise. She could feel his soft lips pressing against her neck. She was once again in front of his grand fire, the heat from the flames was no match to what he gave her. His living room was bright but his eyes were brighter. His hands all over her body, caressing her skin with his rough fingers, his lips against every part of her making her feel as if she were dreaming. And she was.

“Having fun?” came a teasing voice from behind her. (Y/N) was pulled from her daydream back into the harsh reality of her life. Back into the cold dark room. She saw her friend Mia standing behind her reaching for a file. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love” she smirked looking at the file.

“I don’t do love” (Y/N) argued firmly as she straightened her dress. She then stopped again and her friend came and stood next to her, looking at (Y/N) through the mirror.

“What is it about him that’s gotten you like this? You’ve done this a loads of times, this has never happened before. So he must be special, there must be something about him” (Y/N) didn’t answer and just walked away from the mirror over to her desk, she picked up the file that Mia had picked up moments before, which read “MAXWELL LORD” in bold black letters.

Mia let out a soft laugh from behind her “is it his money?” She asked “he could be the richest one you’ve ever been after”

“You know I don’t care about money” (Y/N) muttered. She opened the file and looked at the picture that was clipped inside along with pages of writing that she couldn’t be bothered to read. It was probably all lies anyway. About how vile and self-centred he was, he had proven to her that he was more then the news made him out to be. He was a sweet, caring man.

“So what is it then? His status? His connections?”

“He’s...he’s nice to me”

“He’s nice to you?”

“I’ve done this so many times...giving myself to all of those dirty men for the sake of completing the mission and after all these years, he’s the first person to ask me what I want. No one else has treated me with such care, to them I was an object, a pretty face, but to him...I’m more then that. He’s gentle and kind. He said he likes me. He said I’m the woman of his dreams...” she let a soft smile form on her lips as her fingers gently grazed over his picture “he said that he didn’t believe I was real...”

“He’s just another rich guy looking for a woman to hold on his arm to impress people, (Y/N)” Mia told her.

“You don’t know anything about him” (Y/N) scoffed defensively. “He’s not like everyone else Mia...he’s different”

“He’s different” Mia repeated “there’s no such thing as different. But I will say one thing, he must be quite something you get you in this state. You’re usually the most professional of us. You seem a little distracted all the time, thinking of Mr Lord no doubt. If he’s so different, maybe after this mission you should try it with him, leave this and be with him”

“You say that as if they won’t want me to kill him at the end” (Y/N) said and closed the file “Besides, I can’t see that he’ll welcome me with open arms when he find out who I am”

“If you think that, then maybe he isn’t so different after all”

As much as (Y/N) hated to admit it, Mia was right. If, one day, she told Max who she was, what her job was, and he hated her for it, then he wasn’t the caring person she had thought. But she didn’t want to think he wasn’t, he had given her no reason to suspect that at the first sign of trouble, he would drop her and move on, but she couldn’t deny that that thought was eating away at her mind constantly since meeting him. The thought that he would leave her and she would be alone again.

She quickly shook her head of the thought and grabbed her shoes, quickly pulling them on and storming to the door. “Are you ready?” She asked her friend, more like ordered.

Mia laughed and turned to face her holding out her arms to the side “what do you think? Can you recognise me?”

“I can when you open your mouth” (Y/N) muttered before leaving the room.

The gathering was a charity event at a local history museum. Max didn’t really try his hand in history that much, although he was quite fond of Greek literature, he loved to read about the gods and myths of the ancient world, the love and the tragedy. The museum needed extra funding and what better way to source money then to drain it from the richest people in the city. Maxwell Lord being one of them.

Max was used to the deal by now. Getting hounded by wealthy men and women who all want to flaunt how rich they were to each other, a test to see who had the biggest ego. Talking rubbish about history that they didn’t understand or care to look into. They would try and show off to him about how much they knew, Max was half tempted to correct them but he thought it was funny to hear them big themselves up.

Max tried to play along as best he could, nodding along to whatever they said but he had to admit that his mind was elsewhere. It had been weeks since he had heard anything of (Y/N). And he missed her everyday he was apart from her. He desperately wanted to see her again. He didn’t care what happened between them, whether they return to his home to recreated their night or simply just talk. He didn’t care, being in her presence alone would be enough for him. He had wanted nothing more then to see her smile, hear her voice, look into her beautiful eyes. Just to be near her again.

He figured if he were to see her again, it would be tonight. So he dressed up smarter then he usually would, not that he was ever scruffy looking. He wore he best and most expensive black suit. A crisp white dress shirt, black tie, shining shoes and his hair slicked back. He definitely dressed to impress this evening.

“I’m starting to get the feeling you aren’t a fan of these gatherings Mr Lord” the young gentleman in front of him, who had introduced himself as James Felis said pulling Max’s attention from looking for her to him. He was a clean looking man, clean shaven, dark eyes and dark hair, quite tall but a little shorter then Max. He was new to the business world, his name only just starting to get know. Max had spoken with him a few times at past events, he seemed nice enough, more genuine then most which Max found surprising due to his young age. Max was very arrogant when he was younger, figuring that’s how he would get what he want. He had however mellowed out over the course of his business.

“What makes you say that?” Max asked even though he was right. Max took a sip of his drink and tried to focus on James but him mind betrayed him, her beautiful face was at the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t stop his eyes from wavering around the room they were in. The ancient history wing of the museum, standing beside a painting that depicted the Trojans brining the famed wooden horse into the city walls of Troy that was soon to be destroyed by the Greeks that were hiding inside its belly.

“Every time we speak, your mind seems to be elsewhere. Either your looking for a quick escape or my voice just bores you”

Max let out a stiff chuckle “no, it’s not either really. Just...admiring the outfit choices, always different and of course be art work beside us” he said pointing to the painting with his glass.

“Looking for someone in particular?” James teased as he took a sip of his own drink. “I’m surprised you are not yet in a relationship. Women must be lining up to get a taste of Maxwell Lord. Can’t be difficult for you to find a partner”

“No, you’re right. But, I haven’t found the right one” Max shrugged. He had found the right one. He wasn’t sure if he should admit it, she was so secretive about herself, Max wasn’t sure if he should reveal their little ordeal to a stranger.

“Never would’ve taken you for the sentimental type. Thought you would be like any other rich man”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, you know, sleeping around. Waking up to a different woman in your bed every morning”

“Maybe when I was a little younger” he admitted “but I haven’t done that for a long time. Thought maybe it was time to really start looking. Is that the lifestyle you live by?”

James laughed and shook his head “no, there are a few occasions when I will bring a woman home with me to bed, but not every night, like you, I am also looking for the right woman”

“Excuse me gentlemen” came a soft voice as a woman with fiery red hair slipped into the conversation. Max’s eyes fell on her.

“Hello~” James drew out “and who might you be?”

“Scarlett Diaz” she introduced with an innocent smile holding out her hand to him. He took it and brought it to his lips pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles and winked at her making her giggle “and who might you be?”

“James Felis” he introduced. She then turned to Max. She had unreal blue eyes. Her lips bright red which matched both her hair and her dress.

“And you sir?” She asked in a smooth voice that reminded him of (Y/N). Their voices were almost identical. But it wasn’t her he was looking at. Maybe he was just too obsessed with her that now any woman sounded like her.

“Maxwell Lord” he greeted. He wasn’t as gentlemanly as James had been, opting for just shaking her hand instead.

“Of course, I should’ve know. I’ve heard all about you in the news. Quite the name you’ve made for yourself Mr Lord, I’m impressed. I myself am not much for the spotlight like you seem to be”

“Really?” He said. He looked her up and down and gave her a soft smile “you seem to stand out in a crowd. I’ve never seen hair so red before”

She smiled to him and brushed a strand behind her ear “yes, well, we all need to be a bit adventurous with how we look sometimes. Much better I think then wearing simple black or white. Adds a little colour to people’s lives. Wouldn’t you agree Mr Lord?”

“I would agree” he nodded “although red would not be my colour of choice”

“It would be mine” James chipped in, but he seems to be ignored for the moment.

“And what would your colour of choice be?” She asked him but didn’t give him time to answer “gold perhaps? Or maybe you like a woman in (f/c)”

Max was a little shocked at her words. Confused as well. It could’ve just been a lucky guess, but he felt it was something more then that, as if she knew. “Yes,” he mumbled “I think (f/c) would be favourable to me” he looked away from the woman and took a large swig of his drink finishing it off “excuse me” he nodded curtly to the two in front of him before leaving. He was heading towards the bar to get a drink but something in his mind had stopped him and told him to look right.

And he was gazing into the most beautiful eyes anyone could ever look into.

She was there.

And she was wearing (f/c).

He noticed her give him a soft smile before she walked behind a wall going deeper into the exhibit. He was quick to follow after her, not much caring for another drink now, he wasn’t going to loose her. At some point he had put down his empty glass but he couldn’t recall where.

He rounded the corner and saw her standing alone staring at a painting holding a half filled glass of champagne in her hands.

As he had the night she had first touched him, he straightened himself, regaining his composure before approaching her. He stood next to her but keeping a slight distance, trying his best to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her.

“Beautiful piece” she said not looking at him.

“It is. Are you familiar with the story of Dido?” He asked her, his eyes on her.

“The queen of Carthage. She was shot by Cupid and made to fall in love with the Trojan leader Aeneas by the queen of the gods, Juno’s orders. But he had to leave to found Rome and left her alone in Carthage. So hopelessly in love with him by the gods hands she throws herself onto Aeneas’ sword and dies” she summarised.

“Did you study the stories?”

“Only to make conversation” she shrugged making his laugh softly

“It’s nice to see you again (Y/N)”

“And you Mr Lord”

“Mr Lord?” He repeated raising an eyebrow at her. She turned to face him, taking a teasing sip of her drink.

“Is that not your name?” She asked him “I would’ve thought you would prefer me to call you by your title rather then your first name at such a formal event. Maybe we should keep the use of your first name for when we’re alone”

“Will we be alone again anytime soon?”

“Perhaps” she nodded

“I’ve really missed you”

“You have?”

“You sound surprised” he chuckled “did you think I would forget you?”

“Not exactly” she said “I just thought you would be done with me”

“Clearly you are not done with me” he retorted “if you were, I don’t think you would’ve made yourself known to me tonight”

“I guess you’re right”

“Just so you know, our night together didn’t mean I was done with you, I meant what I said (Y/N), I like you, more than just a sexual liking”

She gave him a light chuckle and sipped her drink again “and I like you too Mr Lord”

“Will you let me take you out to dinner?”

“No” she answered firmly

“Why not?” She paused for a moment “is it because of your job?”

“Partly. But also because I hate people”

“But yet you come to things like this, places full of probably the worst kind of people in this city”

“I know, but I never talk to any of them, I’m very good at hiding. I could stand in the middle of the room and still no one would pay any attention”

“Which I still find hard to believe. Someone as beautiful as you must’ve caught the eye of someone”

She smirked over to him “clearly I have, so what is it about me Mr Lord that interested you to take notice of me? Was it simply just my looks?” She was testing him at this point, seeing if Mia’s theory was right.

“You can’t blame me for being drawn to a woman as beautiful as you. But it wasn’t just your looks, it was how easily you managed to slip away in a split second. One minuet you would be in front of me, the next you would be gone. I was interested to know, as I’ve told you before, if you were real. I’m interested by you’re aura, you have the ability to disappear but then be so obvious like you are now” he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear “there’s something about you that draws me to you but I can’t tell what it is. Maybe it’s your eyes, you’re beautiful eyes, or maybe it’s simply that I don’t understand you, and I wish too”

“What about me do you wish to understand?”

“Who you are”

“I can’t tell you that”

“I know” he nodded “I respect that”

A silence fell over them as they both stared at the painting in front of them. It was a peaceful silence though, they could hear the busy chatter of the guests in the other room but it was mostly muffled but the wall that separated them.

“There’s a woman here tonight who is a lot like you” he said “she looks nothing like you but she has the same feel about her”

“What’s her name?” She asked him.

“I think she said it was Scarlett? Scarlett Diaz”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of her before” (Y/N) shrugged

“Well, she seemed to talk the same as you. But maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks on me”

“Maybe”

“If it’s not to much trouble, would you allow me to take you back to my house?”

“What would we get up to there?”

“Anything you want to. It been a while since we’ve seen each other and I’d rather spend time together when I know you can’t slip away from me into a crowd”

“Very well” she nodded with a smile as she finished off her drink “I’ll meet you outside Mr Lord” she held up her glass to him and slipped by him, her hand gliding across his back.

He smiled as he watched her slide into the crowd, but this time he wasn’t worried about loosing her. He quickly made his own way through the crowd outside where his sleek black car was waiting. He leant against the car and looked to the entrance of the museum waiting for her.

It didn’t take long for her to emerge from the entrance. Looking like a queen, a goddess from the stories he loved to read, to be honest, he would be surprised if she was in fact a goddess in disguise. She seemed to glow as she walked carefully down the steps to the museum, holding her dress up slightly to ensure she didn’t trip.

He held his hand out to her and helped her down the last few steps and opened up the car door for her “after you my lady” he said with a polite smile, she couldn’t help but blush as she got into his car. He slid into the seat next to her and told his driver to take them back to his house.

He couldn’t help but look at her the entire way, how radiant she looked, the way she gazed out of the window, her eyes every so often catching the warm orange glow of the streetlights they passed. He couldn’t resist touching her anymore, it was warm gesture and it sent her heart into over drive.

He rested his hand on her knee. Her gazed was pulled from out the window to his hand and she smiled “you look so beautiful tonight (Y/N)” he complimented.

“Thank you Max” she said.

“Back to first name basis?” He asked with a soft smirk.

“Well, we are alone” she shifted slightly so her body was now facing him, her hand running up and down his arm. “You look a lot smarter than usual. Is this a new suit?”

“Newish” she shrugged “I’ve only worn it once, it’s my best suit. Only for the most special occasions”

“Did you dress up all nice and fancy for me baby?” She asked him in a seductive whisper “because I don’t think that event classes as a special occasion”

“Wanted to look my best for you baby” he said in a broken whisper. She looked to where the drive would be and saw a dark screen that blocked them from him.

“How long till we get there?” She asked him. Max looked out of the window.

“Maybe about...20 minuets?” He guessed. He heard the click of her seatbelt undo and she was quickly on his lap, straddling his waist.

“Do you think 20 minuets is enough time?” She asked as she bit her bottom lip. He nodded rapidly and swallowed thickly, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “I don’t want to make a mess on your fancy suit”

“I don’t care. You could fucking rip it to pieces if you wanted to” He panted slightly to her, he leaned forwards to kiss her but she smirked and pulled back.

“Well I don’t want to do that baby” she chuckled, she reached between their bodies and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. She reached into his boxers and pulled out his length. She stroked him a few times and he shuddered, his eyes never leaving hers.

She slowly sunk down his body and ran her tongue over the head of his dick “(Y-Y/N)” he whimpered. She then licked up his entire length and he let out a pathetic noise that was sent straight to her core. She hummed happily against him and took as much as she could of him into her mouth, what she couldn’t fit in her mouth she pumped with her hand. He whimpered and whined pathetically as he thrust his hips up into her slightly, his head falling back and his eyes sliding shut. “(Y/N)” he moaned, his fingers sliding into her hair. “I want to be inside you” he muttered.

She immediately pulled him out of her mouth, a small bit of drool sliding down her chin. She got back onto his lap and he lifted his thumb and wiped her saliva away from her chin. He brought his thumb to his lips and slipped it past them, sucking her drool off him.

She smiled to him and bit her bottom lip “such a good boy for me aren’t you” she praised lightly. He nodded and removed his thumb from her lips. She moved one of her hands under her dress between their bodies and moved her panties to one side and took him back into her hand. She aligned him with her entrance and slowly sunk down onto him. He let out a harsh breath when she did and he gripped her hips tightly.

(Y/N) began bouncing on him almost immediately, Max’s eyes grew heavy and eventually closed as his head fell backwards again “oh baby, you feel so good” he groaned. She hummed in response and placed her lips to his neck, sucking on the skin between his neck and his jaw. His finger tips dug into her hips as he moaned out her name multiple times, repeating it as if it were some kind of chant.

Her hands slid up to his hair and she grabbed the strands and pulled his head up “I want you to look at me while I fuck you” she ordered in a whispered to him. His eyes opened and met with her seductive glare that made him shake and whimper.

“Will...will you choke me?” He asked quietly, his cheeks flushing bright red at his request, he felt so small but he loved it, he loved the dominance she had over him in that moment. He loved the way she looked at him, the way she spoke to him, she way she felt around him. “P-please?”

He looked at her with wide eyes, puppy eyes. Big, brown and beautiful. Pleading her to grant him his wish and she was more then happy to comply, she just hoped that she wouldn’t be too hard on him. She moved one of her hands from his hair and wrapped her fingers around his neck, applying light pressure. “H-harder” he breathed when she pulled his hair.

She did as he ask, her fingers getting tighter around his neck as she rolled her hips against her. His moan came out broken and it made her groan. She could feel his dick twitching inside her and she decided to go faster. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, the pleasure and lack of air was making his head spin in the best possible way, he couldn’t help but smile as she fucked him.

“You like that?” She smirked into his ear, her heavy breaths going straight through him “you like to be dominated? You like having my hand around you neck?”

“Yes...yes I do (Y/N)” he gasped and nodded “oh fuck, I’m gonna come” he moaned shakily. He moved one hand from her hips and grabbed her wrist, pushing it into his neck. “Fuck! (Y/N)!” He yelled as he came suddenly inside of her, his hips bucked wildly up into, his body shaking. The warmth of his come and the sight of him falling apart was enough to send her over the edge, her walls clenching around him making his head fall back.

She removed her hand from his neck and noticed it was slightly red but she could tell it wouldn’t stay like that for very long. She slowly slipped off him and tucked him back into his boxers and tidied him up a bit, he was too fucked out to do it himself. She sat beside him again and slowly ran her hand up and down his heaving chest while he came down from his high.

He let out a low breath and turned his head to look at her, his eyes opened and they were blown black with desire. She smiled at him “did you like that Max?” She teased.

“Yes” he nodded “I really did...I’ve never...never felt so good...”

“I’m glad you liked it baby” she leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. He took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together when he pulled away to look out of the car window. She looked at their joined hands and her heart swelled. Such a small action, but it meant the world to her.

“I think we’re nearly there” he said quietly, his breath slowly coming back to him. She hummed in acknowledgement and lifted their joined hands to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled to her. “How about, when we get back, we take a bath together?” He offered. She shuffled closer to him, bringing their joined hands to rest on her lap while her head rested on his shoulder.

“I’d like that” she hummed. He pressed a soft kiss to her head and they sat in a comfortable silence for the remaining few minuets of the car journey.

15/04/20

[sankyeom]

i’m terrified because i’ve never felt this way before | j.ww

series: 13 ways to say i love you prompt: “i’m terrified because i’ve never felt this way before” pairings: wonwoo x reader genre: angst with a smidge of fluff idk probably doesn’t even count, idol!verse themes: first relationships, not knowing how to express yourself word count: 2.8k 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Your relationship with Wonwoo had been troubling you for a while now. For the first few months, things seemed to be going really well. Despite the fact that you had dated and been in relationships before, everything was a first for Wonwoo. This wasn’t a big deal to you at all. In fact, there was something special about experiencing everything for the first time with Wonwoo as the two of you progressed in your relationships.

First, it was skinship. Despite living with twelve other guys for well over four years now, Wonwoo still wasn’t quite comfortable with skinship; at least not on a romantic level. Holding hands made his cheeks and ears blush a deep red. Hugs and kisses made his heart rate increase and his breath catch in his chest. Seeing it made you grin. You were excited that he was so responsive to your actions and he seemed to have a lot of affection for you as the skinship multiplied every day.

Soon, you and Wonwoo were able to hold hands in public – under a disguise, of course – with no issue, and Wonwoo was confident enough to do the same in front of his members. The better the two of you got to know each other and the longer the relationship continued, the more nonchalant Wonwoo was about skinship and expressing your feelings for each other with physical contact.

The verbal thing, however. That could use some work.

You didn’t really mind it at first. When you had expressed that you loved being in his presence, or were having an amazing time and wanted to stay in that moment forever, Wonwoo seemed to freeze up entirely. His whole body stiffened and he often changed the subject instead of responding to your verbal expressions of affection. It wasn’t something that bothered you in the beginning of your relationship, but now that you were nearing a year of being a couple, it was something that concerned you.

Of course you were aware that different people experienced emotions like love and affection at their own rate, and you never wanted Wonwoo to feel like you were pressuring him to tell you he loved you. But when Wonwoo began to withdraw from your touch and cancel plans more regularly, you couldn’t help but feel insecure and hurt.

The more serious your relationship got, the less Wonwoo wanted to interact with you at all. Comeback and tour season you understood was busy and difficult on him, but blatantly avoiding you seemed to have nothing to do with his work schedule.

“I just don’t know anymore,” you said, clutching onto your phone. Your best friend Soonyoung had called you after dance practice to check in on how you were doing. Soonyoung had been the one to introduce you and Wonwoo, and he was very invested in your relationship.

More invested than Wonwoo, it seemed sometimes.

You were lying on the sofa of your apartment, staring at your ceiling fan moving in circles as you spoke. “It just feels like we’re prolonging the relationship to avoid an inevitable breakup.” This wasn’t the first time you had a conversation like this with Soonyoung. In fact, talk of breakups and separation were becoming more and more regular during your phone calls with your best friend.

“That isn’t true and you know it.” Soonyoung insisted with a scoff.

“I don’t know about that anymore, soo.” you sighed, closing your eyes. The ceiling fan was starting to make you dizzy; or maybe it was just the conversation. “We gave it a good shot. It was a good run.”

“Stop talking about your relationship like it’s already over.” Soonyoung said sternly. “It’s not over. I know things have been a little… off lately. But I'm 100% sure it’s just temporary.”

You sighed. “Well I'm glad one of us is 100% sure of something.” you retorted, sitting up from your place on the sofa.

“Maybe you guys just need to like… go on a date or something?” Soonyoung suggested, though it sounded a lot more like a question than actual solid advice.

“Okay scratch my previous statement. I’m 100% sure that would just make things worse.” you deadpanned, picturing it all. Sitting at dinner with Wonwoo as he stared at you with vacant eyes and paid little attention to the conversation.

“Oh come on!” Soonyoung whined, clearly not happy with your response. “I think that a date could be good. I don’t want my best friends to just give up on each other.”

“So you admit that he’s given up on me, then.” you said, trying to sound more like you were kidding than hurt by the suggestion. If soonyoung noticed the difference, he didn’t say anything.

“Please, Y/n. you have to at least try.” you could hear the sound of keys turning and assumed that soonyoung had arrived back at the dorms. “It just hurts to see you so upset. If it doesn’t work after the date, then you guys can,” he sucked in a breath, as if his next words pained him. “Break up. All you have to do is give it another try.”

“Okay.” you gave in. “I’ll give it another try. I just… I don’t want to really try and end up broken up anyway.” you confessed, biting your bottom lip at the idea of breaking up with Wonwoo. Even though you were sure it was what he wanted, the idea ripped your heart to shreds just thinking about it. “I don’t think I'd be able to handle that.” you laughed softly; sadly.

“I know, Y/n. and I’m sorry. But if it doesn’t work, we can watch movies and eat ice cream all you want.” Soonyoung promised.

“I think that would just make it worse, but I appreciate the thought Hoshi.” you admitted, teasing your best friend with his stage name.

“Okay I gotta run.” Soonyoung whispered abruptly before hanging up the phone. You assumed that it meant that Wonwoo had come out of his room and joined Soonyoung in the living room, and he didn’t want him to know that you guys were on the phone.

You cringed as you opened your message app and pressed on Wonwoo’s contact. The picture was a funny selfie he had taken on your phone, and a cluster of emojis followed his contact name. A nostalgic, fond feeling erupted in your belly, but the sadness that followed quickly overshadowed the original, happy feeling.

Nervously, you began typing your message to him, asking if he had time to grab dinner tonight or eat in at your place. When you saw that he had read the message but made no move to reply, you nearly threw your phone across the room in frustration. Instead, you placed it face-down on the coffee table and decided to just get ready for the day.

After showering and making yourself a light lunch, you circled back to your phone and were surprised but relieved to see that Wonwoo had replied to your message, and agreed on dinner. Seeing that he was in the mood to eat out made you nervous. Breaking up in public was never ideal. It was messy, awkward, and always had spectators; no matter how much it looked like nobody was paying attention.

You agreed on a slightly fancy Chinese restaurant downtown as the location for the evening, and soon distracted yourself with the new season of Stranger Things on Netflix to pass the time.

Once you were ready for the evening and dressed, you opened your door just as a knock sounded. You were surprised to see Wonwoo standing in front of you, flowers in hand and something that almost resembled a smile on his lips. “Oh,” you said dumbly as a form of greeting, still surprised to see him. “I didn’t realise you were picking me up.” you admitted, wearily eyeing the flowers he had brought.

You thought back to when you first started dating Wonwoo, and he told you that he thought there was nothing more romantic than a single rose. Now, he stood before you with a bouquet of daisies.

Awkwardly, Wonwoo fumbled with them before pressing them to your hands. “these are for you.” he said, like it was obvious. You supposed it should have been. You grasped them as gently as you could, smiling awkwardly at him before placing them on the countertop and grabbing your bag.

“Let’s go.” you suggested. You didn’t want to look at the daisies any more than necessary. Wonwoo was an expert in all kinds of things, even the meanings of flowers. New beginnings. That’s what a quick google search on the way to the restaurant told you.

He might as well have stabbed you straight in the heart.

Waiting for a table was even more tense than you had expected. Since you didn’t have a reservation, you had to take a number and wait in the busy restaurant to be seated. You felt guilty for thinking it, but – just briefly – you had wished you were out with all the boys instead of a date. Junhui would teach you crude words in Mandarin while Minghao would shake his head at his friend’s antics; Wonwoo might actually be talking and laughing instead of staring at his shoes in silence.

When you were finally given a table, Wonwoo awkwardly stood in front of the table as he realised the size of it. It was a small table, meant for two people, in an intimate corner of the restaurant with ambient lighting and soft, romantic music playing. The image of the table itself seemed to stun Wonwoo, but he tried to hide his fumble by sitting down.

His long legs, however, had always been slightly less coordinated than his sharp mind, and he stumbled over the chair’s legs before taking his seat. The waiter seemed to be confused by his behaviour, but played it off with a smile aimed at you as he pulled out the other chair for you to sit.

Realising this, Wonwoo stood up quickly again, trying to tuck your chair in for you as you sat. “It’s fine.” you interrupted, giving him a tense smile as you took your seat without the help of the waiter, or your boyfriend.

Once your food was arriving, you decided to just grit your teeth and go for it. “So, are we going to talk about it?” you asked, poking your broccolI with you fork but too queasy to actually eat it.

Wonwoo, whose mouth was full of rice, choked on his food before chugging water to force the food down his throat, coughing as he went. “W-what?” he stammered once he could breathe again.

“I mean, I think it’s been a little obvious what’s going on so we should just talk about it.” you explained patiently. “Soonyoung said that we should get together and just figure it out so,” you gestured around you at the restaurant.

“Okay. Um, yeah.” Wonwoo nodded his head quickly, pushing his plate forward so that he could place his hands on the table, folded together in front of him. “Yeah, let’s talk.” When nobody said anything afterwards, he gestured in your direction for you to start.

“I kind of had an idea of how you’ve been feeling for a while now.” you began, trying to hide the way your hands were shaking, and your voice was soon to follow.

“Oh?” Wonwoo asked, his voice a higher pitch than usual.

“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing down at your lap to prevent Wonwoo from seeing the tears that were starting to collect on your waterline. “And I just wanted to say that it’s okay.” you paused, before adding: “If you want to break up.” just in case he didn’t understand.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows rose so high that they hid behind his hair. “Break up?”

“Well, yes.” you confirmed, frustration coming out in your tone. “Soonyoung said we should go out on a date and try one more time but clearly it isn’t working so we don’t have to-“

“Excuse the interruption,” Wonwoo interjected, elbows on the table and hands now flat against one another. He looked deep in thought. “But you texted me to go out so that we could break up? That’s what this is?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “Of course that’s what this is.” you confirmed. “You’ve been wanting to break up for a while now, did you think I hadn’t picked up on it?” now you were sure you would start crying any time. “I thought that we promised to be honest with one another. If you wanted to break up, I would have much rather you told me when you first started feeling that way rather than having to deduce it myself from your signs.”

“There were signs?” Wonwoo was unusually calm, and it was starting to frustrate you further.

“Yes,” you said firmly, your gaze finally meeting his across the table. The sight of tears in your eyes seemed to only confuse Wonwoo further. “We had finally gotten somewhere with the skinship and the opening up and then suddenly, you started shrinking away from my touch and avoiding any type of conversation with me. You would just stare at me with the most vacant eyes an-“ you cut yourself off once you felt your voice crack. “I just wish you would have told me.”

“Oh god,” Wonwoo groaned, bringing his palms up to cover his face. “I can’t believe I made you think that.” He seemed to sit there for a moment, contemplating, before he moved his hands to look at you. “I don’t want to break up.” he told you, each word enunciated slowly and carefully.

You laughed tearfully, removing the napkin from your lap to stand up. “I can’t do this anymore,” you stated, wiping your cheek quickly as a few tears escaped. “I’ll take a cab home.” you informed him.

Wonwoo stood too, and the abrupt scraping of his chair brought attention to the two of you. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid. “I’m terrified.” Wonwoo blurted out. “I’m terrified because I’ve never felt this way before.” he amended, stepping forward to gently take your hands in his. Your teary eyes widened at the confession. Wonwoo’s eyes darted around, aware of the eyes on you. “Can I drive you home?” he pleaded in a whisper. You nodded, and let him lead to out of the restaurant after paying.

Once you were in the car, Wonwoo turned to face you. “I’ve been pulling away because I’m scared. because I’m falling in love with you and you could crush my entire being if you didn’t return my feelings.” he threw his head back in frustration. “But now I’ve gone and made the woman I love think that I want to break up with her, even though all I want to do is spend every waking moment with her.” he brought his eyes back to yours. “And that terrifies me. And now I’ve made a huge mistake, and you want to break up with me-”

“I don’t want to break up!” you exclaimed. “You wanted to break up,” you paused. “or at least I was sure you did. And Soonyoung was sure too. And all of those trashy magazines that try to give you relationship advice? Yeah they all pointed in the direction of ‘break up’.”

“I’ve been struggling a lot with figuring out how to express myself in relationships.” Wonwoo explained. “The skinship was new, and then expressing myself verbally was just even more difficult for me. And once I realised I loved you I guess I just... froze. Even more than before.” Wonwoo chuckled sadly. “But now it seems that I’ve just ruined any chance I had.”

“What about the daisies?” you asked before adding: “New beginnings?”

“They also mean true love,” Wonwoo retorted, eyes clear. “but I do see how I really screwed that one up.”

The idea that Wonwoo didn’t want to break up with you was still difficult to process. For weeks now you had been transfixed on the fact that you would be breaking up. You were so sure of it. Yet now, he was telling you that it was all just a misunderstanding?

“You love me,” you finally processed.

At your words, Wonwoo flushed red. “Well, yes.” he agreed. “I love you.”

Your heart wanted to scream. “I love you too, you know.” you told him, firm and sure of yourself.

Wonwoo looked like he might faint he was so relieved. “Really?” he asked. “Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to say that if you don’t actually-“

You cut him off by grasping his jaw and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve been falling apart for weeks, thinking of how I could let you go and still keep it together.” you whispered, stroking his jaw with your thumb. His eyes closed in ecstasy at the intimacy of it all.“I’m sure. I love you.” you promised.

Wonwoo sighed happily, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips. Then another, and another, and another. “I love you.” he repeated. “Finding the courage to tell you was nowhere near as hard as the thought that I might lose you.”

“You won’t.” you replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

a/n: yeah idk how happy i am with the ending but here it is

[watchmebackflip75]

How to Train Your Wizard

Maybe I wrote a RED SHOES story involving a Viking. No it’s not those dragon riding Vikings. 

xx

SourceURL:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142545        How to Train Your Wizard - BleedingHeart911 - Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs (2019) [Archive of Our Own]    

… The mermaids of the beach found the tourist humans too odd by a starfish-half. Giant umbrella over their fully clothed bodies; these landmaids were in the wrong climate. The strange landfolk separated from nature further by sitting in lounging chairs as if the boulders in the ocean weren’t cool enough.

“Gotta love that sun.” Snow White said under her sunhat. In one hand she fanned her soft chin, in the other her fingers laced in her boyfriend’s hand.

“Yes, and this fresh sea breeze.” Merlin said dozily, his eyelids closing under his sun-obstacles. He snapped his long fingers and a candle enchanted with bug-repellent burned green and smelled like a sunflower. They sighed in unison, their cares slipping away.

The cawing of seagulls became the yelps of scared mermaids. Snow and Merlin open a single eye each to see a wooden dragon raging towards the shoreline.

“Who would think building a giant dragon puppet easier than taking the beast as a pet?” Merlin asked as he dropped his lite beach-rob. He flipped through the spell-cards in his belt-satchel.

“Sweetie, that’s a Viking’s ship. You might want to pull out a big zapper.” Snow said as she closed their umbrella. Merlin had his magic, she had the strength to stab and whack. They sped-walked to the gentle waves, weapons in hand but allowing the strangers to arrive.

“Never fought a Viking before. Heard they’re like minotaur-pirates without dental plans.” Merlin said, watching the huge sails.

“That’s the stereotype. It’s not untrue but I’ve known some exceptions.” Snow said as the boat pushed into the sand.

Merlin smirked, he thought about asking if his princess had known a lot of disgusting pirates growing up in the sheltered ballrooms. He didn’t ask since the horned, hairy, man-like fiends jumped onto the beach, shaking the earth.  

The hairy beasts groaned in warning, weapons in hand though they stood in wait. A huge, maybe seven-foot-tall, yellow-haired beast jumped off the side. His smell made Merlin’s stomach turn.

“I’m going to hit him with a soap-spell first.” Merlin said as he raised a spell-card.

Snow grabbed his hand, “Wait a minute. Brutechel?”

Under the unruly hair and horned-helmet Merlin saw bright blue eyes and the scruffy stubble of a young man’s sickly smile.

“Snow! You’re alright!” The Viking exclaimed, swinging his mallets over his head.

Snow laughed and ran into Brutechel’s hug. The Viking’s thick muscles had no problem raising Snow off her feet in a twirl. The sight disgusted Merlin; he felt a flicker of lightning trickle up his thin arms.

Brutechel placed Snow back on the sand and held her fair little hands in his hammy ham-hands.

“I wanted to come sooner- when I heard about your step-mother –“

“It’s fine, we’re fine. You had your reasons for not-“

“No, my chief hid your letters. He had- I had no idea… You must have thought I was the most selfish son of troll.” Brutechel said with regret.

“Never.” Snow’s big brown eyes looked up at the young man two-heads taller than she.

Brutechel sighed deeply with tears of joy. “Thank Odin you’re alright.”

“Yes, she is.” Merlin stated loudly, stepping to Snow’s side. He put an arm around her possessively and said, “Hi, I’m the hero who saved the White Castle, among others. Merlin, leader of the Fearless Seven, I’m sure you heard of us.”

“Thought you guys were a democracy.” Snow said, dropping her hands from Brutechel’s grip.

“When my quick thinking and skill can’t find an advantage, yes we can be.” Merlin amended.

“Oh, yeah I have heard the F Seven. Thought they died a year ago?” Brutechel said, eyeing the overly-groomed fishbone holding Snow.

“Sabbatical.” Snow shrugged slightly annoyed with Merlin’s bragging, “So yeah, Brutechel this is Merlin, Merlin this is my dear old…. Brutechel.”

Both boys heard her take a beat to avoid using ‘old/ ex boyfriend’.

“Uh-huh.” Brutechel said, folding his ox-like muscles across his chest.

“Yep.” Merlin said with a pop of his lips.

Snow groaned through a smile and pushed Merlin’s hand off her shoulder. “Bea, tell me you didn’t come all this way just for me and my problems.”

“I would’ve crossed any seas if I thought you were in danger.” Brutechel said gently.

Merlin tried to say something but Snow spoke over him with, “Then the least we can do is invite you to dinner.”

“I’d be honored, Snow Bunny.” Brutechel said, barely moving his eyes from Snow, “That alright with you, chum?”

“Of course, and allow me to cook for you, bud.” Merlin said with a very fake smile.

“I’ll bring something over, that fine with you, Murray?” Brutechel said unamused.

“Don’t go out of your way, Brutus, any allergies I should know about?” Merlin asked stepping closer.

“Nope, but I don’t eat meat or dairy, dude.” The Viking said, crouching over string-bean.

“You’re a Vegan Viking, lad?” Merlin asked, noticing a few teeth were metal and gold.

“You bet your pointy hat, pal.” Brutechel said, wondering when non-Viking men started wearing perfume.

Merlin held back a flicker of lightning in his palm, “We’ll keep that in mind, and don’t trouble yourself with dessert. I know a guy.”

“I know a guy, too.” Brutechel said, curling and uncurling his fist.

“Oh boy,” Snow said drily, she clapped her hands, “You guys, hey.”

They both stared at her, their postures aligned to pounce.

“How about we all agree to meet at the castle around sunset? That good for you, Brutechel?”

The smelly oaf softened, “Oh course, Bunny, I look forward to tonight.”

“Me too.” Snow said sweetly as she grabbed Merlin’s arm, “Let’s go get ready.”

“Of course, my darling.” Merlin said, looping his arm around Snow’s elbow. “Now don’t you pillage when we turn our backs.”

Snow pinched his arm and they waved to the Vikings to Brutechel’s horde. The couple noticed some had buckets of popcorn. The Vikings waived back in a friendly manner.

On Risky Rock, Arthur’s laugh dug so deep the side of his dwarf-green abbs began to ache.

“Pure barry,” Merlin’s oldest friend said while beating the table. “Snow use to date a Viking? One of those lugs would use you like a toothpick. This has to be killing you, Merlin!” “Shut up, Arthur.” Merlin said while pouting in his chair at their oval table.

“Poor Merlin, the cute cure to your curse came with some burly baggage.” Jack said, also still green, small and polishing his nails to a shine. Pino, Noki and Kio stated different similes for Jack’s alliteration.

“I really can’t see how a girl as lovely and demur as Snow would ever even think of going near one of those filthy vandals.” Merlin said, relieved he could complain far from his girlfriend’s ears.

“Ah, la vache, you would’ve said the same thing about your squat little self when she met you.” Jack countered. Arthur was still chortlings, rolling on the floor.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I really doubt there’s anything hidden in that bear. But it is so like her to take a stray home and try to bathe it.”

“I’ve tried to do the same thing will all of you.” Jack stated, causing Hans’ brow to wrinkle in confusion. The ginger chef came out with meatless stroganoff in a glass dish with painted candies dancing around the sides.

“Here, Merlin, I replaced the beef with tofu.” Hans said. He liked trying an old dish with a new twist.

“Right, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Merlin said, he wondered if he poisoned the tofu would it hurt Hans’ feelings. After he closed the door his friends hovered at the oval table.

“We’re going to that dinner, right?” Hans asked in the huddle.

“Affirmative.” Pino said cheerfully.

“You got that right.” Said Niko.

“Let’s bring a boardgame.” Kio said.

In the White Castle the princess set the table. The incident of her step-mother, may she rest in peace, turning her entire court and staff into trees made rehiring very difficult. Princess Snow didn’t mind setting the table, it reminded her of childhood tea parties. The memories of the princess guests judging her when she ate a cookie or scone wasn’t so nice. Snow accepted the past, forgave the foolish, remembered how Princess Katherine got kicked by a unicorn for being too boney and looked forward to her future.

“Have you thought about hiring elves? I hear they’re inexpensive.” Merlin said as he folded the napkins into swans.

“I sent notice, and I offered to pay them above the average non-human rate. Did you know Elves can catch all the same diseases we can and still don’t get health insurance?” Snow said, lighting candles.

“Shame. But they should be grateful at least one saintly princess cares.” Merlin said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Aww. Oh, thanks for getting Hans’ dish.” Snow said, raising the lid to see the home-rolled pasta Hans made. He rolled two different colored pastas to look like a candy cane swirl.

“Gladly. Do something for me, darling?” Merlin asked with a handsome smile.

“What’s that?”

“Cancel on Brute-a-chelli and enjoy a private dinner with me?”

“Merlin.” Snow said in a balanced tone.

“Whhhhhy are you making me hang out with the man who’s obviously still in love with you? How do you think that makes me feel??” Merlin whined.

Snow put a hand to her hip and raised her fingers as she made these points; “Okay, One; he’s not still in love with me, two: he’s a great guy I think you’d like after you get to know him, three: because I want to remain friends with Brutechel he needs to see the wonderful man I’ve chosen.”

The doubt that any man would be evolved enough to see his former love happy with a new beau ran deep in Merlin. He carefully considered choosing his words so he could squash her hopes in the most respectful route.

Snow placed her hands on his chest. “How about this? You really try to be nice tonight and after I’ll show you the flexible Valkyrie dress in my closet.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, “Bribe accepted.”

Brutechel brought a salad in what looked like a giant yak skull. Merlin didn’t like pesto but he generously complimented the inscriptions carved in the bone-bowl. Brutechel the Kittenish was an animal lover. He had a zoo of pets on his ship and more at home; all rescues. At age six he tamed a sabertooth tiger and dedicated the rest of his life to respecting and caring for beasts found during sailing by the family business. Officially the ‘family business’ was exclusive pottery and dishes from ‘recycled’ materials. The wizard found the doe-eyed Viking simple and boring. Merlin became less jealous the more Brutechel droned on about different feeding tests. To his joy he noticed Snow was only polite with the guest, she appreciated the kindness but was only just not asleep in her goblet.

“Oh look, the bottle’s getting low. Excuse me, I’ll grab a refill. Any preference?” Merlin merrily asked.

Brutechel took the last glup of his goblet. “More of this, please.”

“Yes, thank you.” Snow said, her porcelain cheeks a light pink.

Brutechel watched the skinny snob leave the room. He searched for his courage and gazed at the glorious queen before him.

“So how’s your cousin with the pegle-“

“Bunny, I love you!” Brutechel admitted, his eyes wide with seriousness.

A lump formed in Snow’s throat. “What?”

“I am crazy about you, so how about we leave and talk about the rest of our lives for the rest of our lives?” Brutechel said, leaned him large hands over to hold her.

Snow gently whacked them with her soup spoon. “Brutechel, no! How can you say that to me with my boyfriend around?”

“He’s not around now. And Bunny, come on, he can’t protect you from bears.” Brutechel said, surprised she wasn’t thanking him for the out from the malnourished lizard.

“Why do you always bring it back to bears?” Snow winced and raised her hands, “No, I am not engaging in this conversation again. I say no, Bea.”

“But he’s so…. Shrimpy!”

“He’s also kind and clever and cute in all the ways and I choose him.” Snow said, putting a hand over her heart.

Brutechel felt his heart drop. He looked over Snow’s shoulder to see the smug sorcerer dancing and meeting his eyes with a poking tongue.

“I’m not sorry, I love Merlin.” Snow continued, not aware in the slightest the Merlin was making insulting gestures of victory to the denied suitor.

“You sure about that?” Brutechel asked, growing agitated at the arrogant snake’s dance.

“Yes.” Snow said with resound certainty, “I love him with all my heart.”

Brutechel groaned, “I want you to be happy, Snow White. I should go.”

“I do want you to be happy too, Bea.” Snow said, she felt pity that such a kind soul hadn’t found his right person yet.

The Viking slung his bear-skin over his shoulder and said not to worry about returning the skull-bowl.

Slipping back to the pantry Merlin soundlessly stomped the floor in glee. He picked a random wine bottle, did a twirl, and swung his arms without shame. He had no idea the Dwarf Six were watching him under Jack’s invisibility cloak. He muffled their laughter and followed the goofy friend to the dinning hall entrance. Merlin exhaled his delight and put on a façade of indifference when he approached Snow.

“Here we are, darling. How’s your goblet, Brutty? Oh my goodness, where did he go?” Merlin asked in phony surprise.

“He said he had to turn in for an early sail.” Snow fibbed, her face a little slumped.

“I see. Oh, dear. I’m sorry you’re disappointed.” Merlin wasn’t completely fibbing.

“It's how it goes.” Snow said as he kissed the top of her head.

“It’s getting late, we can raincheck the skimpy outfit you promised me.” Merlin said, he was already happy with the night so he could extend the excitement.

“Really? Honestly yeah, I’m not feeling it right now.” Snow said, placing her napkin on her plate. “I’ll clean up if you get the pillows cleared off.”

“I’ll clean, you get the cuddle chamber ready.” Merlin said as he took Hans’ dishware to the kitchen. Placing the dish in soapy water Merlin caught his reflection in a shiny tea pot.

“Hello gorgeous,” Merlin said to himself, “The smelly beast is gone and now Snow can get Merlin’d happily.”

Lightly parting his hair Merlin noticed a figure on the slant of the teapot. Instinct had him swiftly crouch down and miss the blow of the sink-size mallet. Merlin jumped up to see Hans’ dishware was intact, good, and he slapped a spell-card on the assailant behind him. The man was four times thicker so there was plenty of target. Merlin slide to the side and clapped his hands for a blast of lightning.

Brutechel blew the smoke from the burnt spot on his pec. The blast stung like a bee.

“Okay, let’s talk about this.” Brutechel offered, he felt a bad sport to attack such a soft puncher.

“Oh lets.” Merlin raised more spells in his fingers, “You got dumped, I make Snow happier,”

The wizard said this as they walked around a kitchen island. “Brute, chum, you can leave with a smidgen of dignity and I can be alone with the woman I adore. Or I zap you until your thick skull is a soup bowl”

Brutechel scoffed as they circled the steak knife set.

“You have tricks up your sleeve where Snow lays out her heart. My Bunny doesn’t need that.” Brutechel said as he threw a ladle at the wizard’s head.

Merlin dodged the ladle and threw a lightning bolt at the Viking's face. The stubble wouldn’t kindle but the ungroomed eyebrows burned clean off. Brutechel grabbed the saucepan and swung it in his palm.

“From what I heard you haven’t a clue what she needs.” Merlin said, he held up his arms so her magic could block the blows. “And you are the worst listener!”

Braced for another punch Merlin felt winded when nothing met his sizzling force fields. He lowered his guard to see Brutechel kneeled on the floor, hands down at his side.

“Go ahead, demon-whisperer, take me out so my Bunny can live in peace.” Brutechel said sadly, offering his thick neck open to a strike.

“Oh get up. As much as I loathe hearing you call my love ‘Bunny’,” Merlin rolled his eyes and shook with revulsion, “it’s no sport to disfigure a martyr.”

Brutechel nodded at the reasoning. He stood up, a head taller than Merlin, and wiped his hands, “If I ever hear you hurt her, I will use your straw arms for oyster forks.”

“Sure. Want a meal for the road, er, sea?” Merlin offered, he pointed to the pantry of fresh vegetables.

“Oh come on!” An oh too familiar voice bellowed from the shadows. Merlin groaned with annoyance while the spooked Brutechel searched for the demon source. Arthur threw off the cloak and slapped Merlin’s thigh.

“Mate, if you don’t defend Snow-belle’s honor I will disown!” The cursed prince said.

“Demon!” Brutechel yelled, grabbing his mallet and aiming to smash the little green monster. The mini monster caught the mallet’s face and pulled it from the Viking’s hand.

“No, I wouldn’t do it right. You can go right ahead.” Merlin said flatly, the two lug-heads were already crashing and destroying the royal kitchen.

The rest of the group sat on the kitchen island, eating the leftovers. One of the triplets shook a dice inside a cup.

“Hey.” Jack nonchalantly said, signaling they would clean up before the sun rose.

“Hey yourself.” Merlin waved in a quiet thanks to his friends. He rolled his neck and walked to Snow’s bedroom.

A lit candle was left on her nightstand. Snow faced away from the glow as she slept. In the pajamas that matched hers Merlin slid between the sheets. He pulled her head under his chin and lightly ran his fingers over her skin.

“You took a while. I should’ve helped washed.” Snow yawned against his neck.

“You're fine, darling. You're perfect.” Merlin quietly told her, he snapped his finger and the flame sparked away.

[cheekytorah]

~ It’ll Be Alright | Pt 2 ~

Masterlist

Remus had never been a huge fan of pubs, mostly it was the screaming and the crowds making him bump elbows with strangers around him. He was much more of a stay-home-and-read-in-the-quiet kind of man, anyways. The tall athletic looking guys that crowded the pubs always made Remus feel very insecure, though it was 2019, the world was still at times unkind to the gay community. Remus felt he was the gayest of gays that ever gay’d, though Alice eloquently pointed out, he didn’t “look gay” tonight, whatever that meant. As if ‘looking gay’ meant walking about with a fucking rainbow flag drawn on his face. He did love her—for some reason—and he had to keep reminding himself of that.

Henry, the tall shy Sociology Major, stood near Remus playing with his glasses every so often and exchanging amused banter with him throughout the night, inching closer and closer to him. When he laughed Remus noticed his blond hair would fall into his eyes. He was an attractive bloke, but could he handle Remus and his baggage, was the real question. 

It wasn’t like Remus completely hated the idea of sharing his life with another person, he thought about it sometimes, how early morning cuddles or support for his many appointments would be...nice.  Though the concept of a partner was alluring, the reality was a disappointment. He was sick of the stigma that always scared people off.  The last time he went on a date he just laid it out on the table from the start and the guy had pulled his hand away then hardly even looked at him the rest of the night. He had pushed his food around his plate and the second dinner was over he graciously paid the bill and dashed out of the restaurant as quickly as possible.

“Those glasses aren’t getting any cleaner,” Remus smirked and looked at Henry.

“I figured I’d try to work them down to a different prescription before I left.” Henry nervously grinned.

“Sit, relax, I don’t bite.”

Henry grinned and sat down beside Remus, their knees bumped together. 

“I’m not sure if that mollifies or disappoints me,” Henry said but his face was bright red and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.  It was endearing really, how anxious the man was with his attempts to flirt.

Hope. Hope was the scariest thing next to love. As the night went on, Remus felt hope blooming in his chest. Henry was funny, handsome and intelligent. They learned quite a bit about each other as the night went on. If he let Henry walk him home, he may try to kiss him and knowing how poorly some reacted to such things—when they are told after the fact  that the person they were just locking lips with was HIV positive—he decided he had to get it over with.  So they walked back to his flat in silence.

They came to a stop outside of Remus’ upper and the two awkwardly stood there looking at each other and the ground, back and forth, back and forth.   

“I had a nice time tonight, I’d like to do this again,” Henry said finally, apparently mustering the confidence that Remus had lost somewhere between the pub and the stairs leading to his flat.  Remus nodded and blushed. It was that moment that Henry leaned forward, his mouth dangerously close to Remus’ own. He stepped back slightly. 

“I need to tell you one thing, and it’s not an … easy topic...”

“You can tell me anything,” Henry tried to reassure him.

“Right...sure...well…”

~

Remus never heard from Henry, not that it had surprised him much.  He expected as much, he always did.  This was why he didn’t date, he’d get to know someone, they’d chat and he’d start to feel too comfortable. A few hours of friendly conversation and banter was never enough to determine a likely outcome, positive or negative.  It was probably for the best anyways, two awkward people trying to date each other was likely a recipe for disaster. He could see them on a real date; both fumbling for responses. The act of holding hands becoming a ridiculous endeavor of ‘should I? Oh, I won’t’ and ‘oops, I’m sorry’, and both of them turning red before calling it a night. So it really wouldn’t have been a great match. 

A couple of weeks passed and Remus was preparing for his exams when Alice decided it was time to attempt yet another match.  While they were studying one night, she had offered to set him up with a cousin of hers, and he had promptly refused.

“Come on! You and Gideon would be really great together! I can set the whole thing up, all you’d have to do is show up, eat food, watch one of those dorky movies you love so much and then call it a night.” 

Shifting awkwardly in his seat Remus wracked his brain, and searched for an excuse to get him out of yet another of Alice's sad attempts at matchmaking. 

“I’m...I’m already dating someone!”

“Really? I don’t believe it!” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me his name then!”

“It's true!  It’s just all so new is all.”

“Fine..but what’s his name?”

“Uhhhh, his name is…..” Remus thought to himself.  Why couldn’t he think of anything?  He looked down at the Astronomy textbook in his hands, the collection of stars he was currently looking at and words just started tumbling out of his mouth. “His name is Sirius. He’s pretty, and super bright.”

“Oh yeah?  And what does he do?”

Remus’s head snapped up as he looked at Alice, maybe she was buying his story.   

“He works at one of those little hipster coffee shops you hate...the one on First Street,” Remus said, figuring she wouldn’t show her face to such a place just to investigate.  She’d likely have to take him at his word.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Remus could see the disbelief on her face but figured at least this would keep her at bay for now.