#how in earth did I improve in just a few weeks

[smilesrobotlover]

I really wanted to draw the siren scene but the first time I did it (second uncolored drawing) it didn’t turn out very good. I wasn’t used to drawing Ody as well. But I finally did it. I drew the sirens. Also I just want to see more big bird women. It’s fun.

[love-quinn]

— PARTIAL CREDIT

summary — when a new member of the waitstaff starts undermining you, you worry that your job might be in jeapordy. carmen knows you better than you think.

warnings — swearing, i think that's it

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, semi (?) established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.2k

note — i know i fully dropped off the face of the earth but unfortunately i was too busy channeling waitress reader a little too hard, i actually have to leave for work in a few hours but i really wanted to get something out. this 100% isn't inspired by true events or me projecting in any way, anyway i hope you enjoy!! <3

Being the only waitress at a successful restaurant is hard. During the dinner rush, between wiping tables, grabbing drinks and running food, you’ve slowly learned to be more adaptable to the Bear’s new clientele base. That’s not without its struggles, of course. 

Fortunately, Carmy and Natalie seem to understand that it’s a major handful to simply do your job. Which is why Richie thought it appropriate to call you in two hours early to meet the new waiter.   

Liam’s nice from what you’ve gathered. He’s been working with you at the Bear for about two months at this point, most of that has involved you and Richie training him, and he’s been very receptive to your instruction. 

Sure, sometimes he mutters under his breath when a customer asks him for something, but hey, they’re annoying sometimes. And sure, sometimes you find him in the walk-in on his phone, but you’d be lying if you said you were never on your phone at work. He’s had no complaints, and the work is always done to a standard that’s expected (he is still in training, you’re not delusional). 

You’ve worked at the Bear since they were still the Beef, right after Carmen took over. He realised Richie couldn’t keep up with the stuff at the front by himself, so he’d gone with the cheapest option available and thanked god every day that you weren’t awful at your job. You had just graduated from UofC and if you didn’t get a job when you had, you would have been pretty much out of options. You had no work experience outside of being a TA in college (which apparently didn’t have a lot of transferable skills, according to most of your potential bosses). You hadn’t been able to score an insane internship, you didn’t make super stellar grades, you’d been too busy being desperately poor and struggling to keep up.

You’d been really lucky that Carmen had taken a chance on you when he had, and you had been desperate to show him you were aware of that. Liam didn’t seem to have the same sentiment.

He was the same age as you, and he’d actually gone to UofC as well. He’d gotten a pre-med degree but wanted to take some time off before he went for his MD at Rosalind Franklin. 

He picked up on the work fairly easily, remembered when you showed him where the cleaning supplies were, showed him how to work the buttons on the till to ring in orders, and introduced him to all the staff. They were nice to him, nice enough. It took them a while to warm up to him, just like it took them a second to warm up to Carmen, to Sydney, to you. 

But now, several months in, they all got along enough that work was going well. You didn’t have to work six days a week if you didn’t want to now that Liam was there to lighten the load (you did, you made sure Natalie knew that). Now, you could actually take your lunch break without worrying they were being completely overrun. 

On the whole, things seemed to really improve. 

Until, of course, they didn’t. 

You started hearing whispers, soft remarks of “Oh, I did that for her,” to Richie about greeting table seventeen. Small “I wonder why that wasn’t done, I’ll just do it quickly.” 

“Not to be that person, but I noticed that a lot of the straws haven’t been stocked up. I feel like I have to do it every time. I just wonder what she’s doing when she’s back here…”

You do your best to not let it get to you. He’s never worked in the service industry before, he’s probably just doing his best to make sure that his efforts are being noticed. You were almost lucky, in that way, that you were the only real waitress they’d hired. 

It’s an unusually warm day as you slide in through the back entrance to work. You’re your usual twenty minutes early, lucky that there’s enough work to do that Carmen often encourages punctuality (and thus, fairly compensates for it). 

Liam is scheduled today, but he’s leaving after the lunch shift. You get your break while the kitchen does prep-work for dinner, and then you’re coming back for dinner as well. 

Marcus is in his corner, kneading bread dough with a concentrated look on his face. You brush past him with an airy hello that he returns with a half-hearted wave, not looking up from his task. 

Tina is on vegetables, and she stops you for a moment to ask about a shipment arriving. You assure her that you’ll check when you get to the other side of the kitchen, making your way to the front.

The chairs are already all down, table cloths clean and freshly washed. Sydney went down to the laundromat to get them all clean that morning; she’d texted you and asked if you wanted to come but you told her that you really, really didn’t. 

Your first job is a pre-opening sweep, then a restock, then a menu review. You have 87 minutes until service, and Liam should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. You have just enough time to go and bug Richie into showing you more pictures of Eva’s last birthday party. 

You stick your head into the office just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence that you definitely weren’t meant to hear; “...doesn’t even stack the chairs? What is she doing here?”

Your work anxieties - the idea that every time something goes wrong it was your fault, that one missed drink or late appetiser would have you fired, that every time a customer berated you it was actually your fault - had definitely eased some in the six months you’d been working there. You’d stopped thinking that every time someone was complaining it was about you, but that meant that when they really were talking about you, you knew. 

Liam’s standing there, leaning up against a pile of papers that Carmen is staring roughly at. He looks tired - when doesn’t he? - and like he doesn’t really want to hear whatever it was that Liam was saying. 

“A lot more than you do,” Carmen grumbles. He runs a hand over his face from the bottom up, coming to a rest when it’s gripping onto his curls. 

“I’m always covering her sections,” Liam groans. “The amount of time that Rich’s given me her table’s drinks, it’s insane. We should start pooling our tips.”

Carmen wants to say a lot back to that. That his name is Richie, and calling him Rich doesn’t make him any more like the finance frat bros that Liam is so desperate to associate with. That tip pooling would be insanely unfair to you considering Carmy’s pretty sure Liam’s made less than what you make in a day. That he stacks the chairs because he likes to, and you know that. 

Instead, he settles on “you’re always covering her sections because she’s always covering up for you when you screw up.”

Liam looks like he’s unsure whether or not to go ghostly pale or beet red at the statement. “Wh- has my performance not been up to scratch, sir?”

Carmen stands. “I didn’t really notice it, at first, cause everything was going so well. She’d never tell on you, she knows what it’s like to struggle at a job.” He looks disdainfully down at Liam’s too-new dress shoes. Professional but impractical as a waiter. From what Carmen’s noticed, this is the second pair he’s ruined. “She’d never tell me that your silverware is never rolled, so she’s been staying late and rolling every single one of them. She’d never tell me that your tables are never cleared away. She’d never tell me that you had six meals comped in your first month because you couldn’t be fucked writing shit down.

So yeah, maybe you get her tables a refill when she’s too busy telling one of us one of your guests was coeliac because you forgot to, but that does not give you the right to look down your entitled fucking nose at her.” Carmen gets close, not close enough to the point where it could be uncomfortable, but much closer than he’d ever get to Liam if he could help it. 

“You don’t like picking up her slack? That’s fine, that’s fucking fine, because to be honest, it seems like you’re creating more work for her anyway. You’re done.”

He looks pointedly towards the door to the small office. 

Liam knows exactly what Carmy’s telling him. “Sir, I-”

Carmen raises a finger and points. “You’re fucking done.”

Liam scampers away so quickly he doesn’t even see you eavesdropping. 

Carmy knows, though. He seems to have a sixth sense for when you walk into a room. If you’re not planning on coming in to confront him about firing Liam then he has no intention of bringing it up with you. He sits down, putting his forehead on his fist. “Sir.”

You’re standing right in the door, it’s practically impossible for Carmen not to notice you. But he pretends, allowing you the chance to slip away and act like you hadn’t just witnessed him firing Liam for being slightly mean to you. 

He opens his eyes to see you standing there still. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” your voice is soft. The collar of your shirt is tucked underneath on one side, and Carmen has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out. He’s not quite sure why and he doesn’t feel like unpacking it. “He’s still learning, I don’t mind helping him out.”

Carmen doesn’t mince his words. “He’s a dick, don’t defend him.”

He swivels away from his desk and gestures for you to sit. After a second of hesitation, you perch yourself on top of the small surface. You’re not sure who moves first, Carmen to reach up and take your hands or you to reach down to let him. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, like a lot of things. How he always makes sure you get extra food and you make sure Carmen isn’t bothered while he sets up the dining room. 

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had been heightening your anxiety while he was there. “He’s not allowed to do that to you.” Carmy sounds genuinely pissed. “You do fucking everything out there, he’s not allowed to come in and treat you like some sanctimonious fuck. You… you should’ve come to talk to me about it.” He gives in. “You could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” You admit quietly. “You have enough without me.”

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t talk when he drives you home in the dark, in the snow. But he’d be naive to believe that the same rules applied to everyone else. The kitchen staff talks, none more than Richie. Carmy is surprised he hadn’t decked that pre-med asshole already. 

“You’re not a problem, honey,” he says gruffly. You stay silent for a moment before realising that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him. 

“I need to go prep dining for service,” you say after a moment, not wanting to speak too loudly. 

Camry’s grip on your hand tightens and for a brief second he feels panic set in. You clearly are feeling okay, so it’s not that he needs to check on you. You’re well ahead of schedule. There’s no reason for Carmen to keep his hand enclosed around yours. And yet he does. And yet you let him.

“Liam was just in here bragging about how dining room prep was already done,” he says after a short while. “You’re well ahead of time.”

“He is,” you point out airily. “I’d never want to take credit for his work.”

Carmen squeezes your hands once, eyes crinkling at the sides. You both know you need to go over everything Liam did in an attempt to make himself look better, not one hundred percent trusting him to have done it properly. There’s 56 minutes until service before Carmen finally lets you go (and only because he has prep he needs to get done).

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t say anything when he cracks his office door open for you when you need a breather. You don’t say anything when his station’s been cleaned for him miraculously while you’re waiting for him to finish paperwork.

Luckily for you, the rest of your coworkers seem to understand this time. Nobody mentions Liam or his absence. No one mentions the stars drawn on the band-aid on Carmen’s wrist. And, most surprisingly pleasant, no one mentions how Carmen has started calling you honey more than perhaps your real name.

It makes it even nicer when everyone heads out, leaving you and Carmen alone in the restaurant for the night. They seem to have miraculously developed tact over the last 24 hours, but you’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped Richie from telling everyone about the way that Carmen holds your hand the entire way to your apartment. 

[nectardaddy]

full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi

chapter five | painfully awkward | 🏎️

note: more written parts than smau for this one oops, kinda long so strap in I didn't want this to be in multiple parts

masterlist

He swallowed hard when he heard his passenger door open, a small "thanks for taking me," hitting his ears before the door closed. He didn't know what on earth could've possessed him to do such a thing as this. Not minding at first, offering as he was tired and only wanting his friend to stop texting, but now that she sat in his car he realized the space felt all too cramped. Seemingly caving in on himself as he averted his gaze and let out a hum of acknowledgement.

But the woman next to him, although riddled with anxiety of her own, was all too quick to notice his white knuckles and tightened jaw. He had tendencies peculiar to those who didn't know him; and although she wasn't chummy, she caught on quickly. "I'm kinda invading your space, sorry." Trying to make herself, almost, smaller in the seat genuinely made him feel a bit bad.

If he didn't know her habits from high school, he would've never agreed. Always tidy, well kept, and never coming to school sick. Ticking off boxes in his mind before he felt like he could breathe again. A quirk that was difficult to overcome, but he had learned to dial down, only ever so slightly, in recent years. "It's alright," speaking in a breath, "let's just get going."

Breathe. The woman told herself internally, shifting in the seat uncomfortably as tension was thick and silence loud. Just be yourself. An inner monologue of thoughts hammering her head as all she could do was keep her eyes glued forward. "So," she began, cringing at herself before sighing. This is so stupid. He's never been talkative.

"So?" He repeated, brows furrowing. Eyes flicking over only for a split second before returning to the road in front of him. Another pregnant pause, making both of their skin crawl from uncertainty and pressure to speak. "Where'd you learn to drift like that?" A question that left his lips without grace; where he usually took his time to think before speaking, but wanted something to replace the dreadful silence.

"Oh, uh," caught off guard, the woman sat up in her seat more and looked over to him. "I taught myself actually, more or less," shrugging as she continued, "youtube helped a lot."

"Christ," he mumbled aloud, "are you serious? You can drift like that and you taught yourself?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she grumbled. "You don't believe me?"

"I never said that," he corrected. "I just remember you had no clue how to even do a donut in high school. It's surprising you actually beat me a few weeks ago." Nonchalantly leaving his lips with a twinge of, very dry, humor.

A humor that was unique to him, a coarse humor that she didn't pick up on right away. Moreover, not at all. "Excuse me?"

"What?" He asked, once again flickering his eyes over to her. "I'm telling you that you really improved. You sucked in high school."

Closing her mouth as words fell short for her and letting a breath out of her nose, she shifted her gaze. "Well you haven't changed at all," mumbling under her breath as she rolled her eyes. This was a terrible idea, why did I ever like this asshole.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were a dick in high school," she admitted, stubbornly refusing to cast her eyes towards him again. "I always thought you were just broody and wanted space, but you're actually just an asshole."

Taken back by her statement, he inhaled deeply, fingers once again gripping the steering wheel tightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude," she groaned, not grasping that the man genuinely couldn't see his own actions. "You were always so short with me in high school, like it was annoying to even talk to me at all. And, you just said I sucked at drifting. That's like, peak asshole behavior."

"Oh," realization hitting him abruptly, slamming into him like a derailed train. Had he really been that callous? Did he not realize that his words would force her back rather than forward? "Sorry. I never knew that. And, I didn't mean it to come off rude. You've genuinely gotten a lot better, I'm impressed. Really."

Brows furrowing in confusion, she now found it within herself to look at him once more. He was serious. A strange, nonconforming, way of complimenting someone she almost found herself enjoying. Pulled in opposite directions of what to feel because neither the man himself knew what emotion swirled in his brain. "You're impressed?"

"Yeah?" Asking as if it was a given. But the man wasn't usually one for compliments, they were used sparingly and very few and far between. "I'll be honest, I haven't seen someone drive that aggressively in a street race in years. It was cool."

"I'm so confused," she blurted out, a nervous laugh following suit to try and break up the obvious tension. What she didn't expect; however, was him to match the anxious laughter. Neither party not knowing exactly what the other felt, but somehow, someway knowing that the back and forth had fizzled out. "But thanks, you're like the best driver I've ever seen, so that means a lot."

omi does not know how to talk to people like a normal person (same). he's way too blunt majority of the time but he's working on it

this man actually feels so bad. he didn't know she thought he was being an asshole

omi has really dry, basically sahara desert level, humor. he actually thought she would laugh or at least chuckle at what he said

he did the same in high school and didn't realize until just now he had done a HORRIBLE job at flirting with her

HE DIDN'T MEAN IT

this was painfully awkward for the both of them

both of them will pretend this situation never happened and never bring it up again. but they're in a silent agreement that everything is fine now.

yn will not be telling the group chat about this and will be taking it to her grave. this was peak level of both confusing and mortifying for her

hmmmm his laugh was probably so hot I gotta say it

the rest of the time was just spent talking about drifting and qualifiers

"you're the best driver I've ever seen" will be playing in his head the entire time he is in his car at qualifiers and he doesn't know what this means to him

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @hilichurl-lover @neuviloved @mayariviolet @wqnsho

@chosugarplum @dontmindtheevie @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses

[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[bonthefuckjourx]

Lucifer x Sinner!reader (Hazbin Hotel)

   SUMMARY: You wake up in Hell and realize you didn't make the cut into Heaven. You never did anything evil, but never believed in God. You wanted to live life by your own morals. Little did you know a group of hazbins would take you in and show you more kindness than anyone on Earth ever did. Then you met someone you never thought you would, Lucifer, the King of Hell. Then you did something you never thought you would, make a deal with the devil.

WARNINGS: n/a

WORD COUNT: 1900k+

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than normal, because I just needed to get another chapter out. I wanted the background of the story to be established before we really get into their relationship.

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

CHAPTER TWO: End Game

            Over the next few weeks life began to feel normal again at the Hazbin Hotel. You spent your time helping Charlie for the most part. Since you still couldn’t go outside by yourself you found purpose in improving the hotel and making friendships with the other rehabilitators. Charlie put you in charge of keeping tabs of their progress. Sir Pentious was making great efforts, as was Angel Dust, but you could tell he still had some demons to come to terms with. As for yourself you never really knew where you stood. You feared Hell and that part of you wanted to go to Heaven, but another part of you feared change. Scared you would go to Heaven and not have free will over your “immortal” afterlife.

            Your other job for the hotel was overseeing Charlie’s calendar. She was always all over the place and after a few times of you reminding her of events she just told you to keep her calendar for her. Today she had the meeting with Heaven in the embassy here in Hell. You were nervous for her, because she would have to speak. You were also very nervous for yourself as Charlie asked you to accompany here. You were frightened to leave the hotel, but it gave you another excuse to see Lucifer again. Three weeks had been three weeks too long since you last saw him. You admit, maybe you had a little crush, but more than anything he made you feel safe. A good friend that made you feel like nothing in the world could touch you. Surely nothing would come of it. I mean he literally made a deal with you to just be friends to help each other through your problems. Plus, from the pictures in the Hotel you could tell he had a wife. They weren’t living together, that you were sure, but you still didn’t know if he held out on a chance she would come back.

            You shook those feelings out of your head as you finished brushing your hair. Charlie was meeting you at the embassy as you weren’t sure how to tell her Lucifer and you. You didn’t want anything to become awkward. Standing up you put your hand over the invisible pentagram on your hand and thought of him. The pentagram lit up, waiting for Lucifer to respond. It only took a second for a portal to appear in front of you. As you walked through the portal a familiar face met yours.

            “Y/n, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

You looked around and realized you were in a drawing room. Near you was a coffee table set for two. He must have set it up after you sent the signal for the portal. Looking back at him you could tell how nervous he was. His hands were behind his back as he gently rocked on his heels.

“Hi sorry, I wasn’t sure how to ask, but Charlie asked me to accompany her to meet with Heaven. As you know I can’t quite go out by myself yet, so I was hoping…” His gaze softened as he realized you were struggling with asking. He stepped forward taking your hands in his as you were picking at your own skin.

“Yes of course. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“I know. Perhaps you can another day?” He tilted your chin up just as he did the day you two met. Your heart ached at the memory. He looked at you with reverence.

“Yea, another day.” With that Lucifer backed away from you, satisfied with the answer.

“When are you expected at the embassy?”

“Didn’t you set up the meeting for Charlie? Don’t you know what time it was?” Lucifer stumbled for an answer as he looked around the room, heat coming up to his face.

“Well, I… um you see… they said something and then I said something and then the time was said. Right the time, and-“He ringed his hands then started to rub his neck trying to remember. He looked nervous and guilty that he couldn’t remember.

“Luci, it’s alright! I was just joking. It’s at one.”

You stepped forward straightening the collar on his shirt. He wore a business casual collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You’re slightly taller than him, although standing together now you are close to his eye level.

“That’s new, I like it,” he muttered under his breath only loud enough to cross the narrow space between you two.

“I uh,” A blush crossed your face as you realized the nickname you used for him. You stepped back and brushed your hair away from your face.

“Why don’t we venture over to the couch? We a little bit of time to spare.”

You two made your way to the couch, sitting closer together then most friends would. His hand brushed your as he handed you a cup of tea.

“How have you been doing? I bet it can be lonely around here.”

“Me? Lonely? Pssh, never. Maybe a few times.” You placed your hand on his forearm instinctively.

“It’s okay, I’m here now. If you ever need me, I don’t mind talking a break from the hotel. In fact, late at night I am often alone as well if you wanted to join me.” He swallowed thickly letting out a small whimper.

“I wouldn’t mind making my nights a little less alone.”

He leaned in towards you. His eyes darted down to your lips then back to your eyes. He looked as though he was holding back. Your hand lifted to his face, gracing your fingertips across his cheek. He leaned into the touch as if it was a need.

“Sometimes at night I want more than a friend. If you said my name everything would stop,” you whispered into the nothingness between the two of you. His lips barely touched yours. He snaked his hand around your neck, sending chills down your spine. You arched your back involuntarily, trying to close the distance between your bodies.

“Y/n,” your name was barely audible across his lips as he met yours. His lips were warm and hungry as he leaned your back, using his knee to separate your legs. His body ran against yours as you fit right into it. His hair was soft as you gripped it and pulled him ever closer. His hand ran up your thigh kneading it, pushing your dress up. You tugged at his collar, pulling some of the buttons loose, running your hands against his chest.

You were pulled out of paradise by your phone ringing in your purse on the floor. You pulled it out to see Charlie was calling you. You looked at Lucifer, showing him who it was. Embarrassed you answered the call as he tried to keep from laughing.

“Hey Charlie.”

“Hey, y/n, I’m here at the embassy. Are you almost here?”

“Yea give me five minutes I’ll be over.”

“Sounds good, see you soon!”

With that you ended the call setting your phone on your chest rubbing your face with your hands. Lucifer laid himself across your chest laughing into the nape of your neck.

“We should probably get going Luci.”

“Okay, fiiine,” he muttered against your neck giving a small whimper as he started to stand up.

            “I didn’t know you had a phone. I mean it makes sense that Charlie would give you one.” He mentioned nonchalantly trying to fix his hair.

            “Yea she gave it to me so that I could help her with the hotel, but she lets me use it for whatever.” You stood up brushing your hair out with your fingers.

            “Here hand it over.”

            You gave him your phone, and as he gave it back you realized he added himself as a contact. He looked at you with a smile, one of his fangs sticking out. His face was flushed from kissing you, which made your heart swell.  

            “Only one thing could make this better,” you stated holding your hand out.

            “Your phone, sir.” You placed emphasis on the sir, his breath hitched. He then reached into his pocket placing his phone on your palm. Quickly you made yourself a contact in his phone, placing it back into his hand after the fact.

            “Don’t worry I won’t bother you I just thought-“

            “It’s a great idea.” His smile widened as a similar one crept across your face. He really was beautiful; you could stare into his eyes forever. You noticed his face almost had a glow to it and the way one of his fangs bit his lip when you were talking.

            “We should head out.”

He stood up breaking the comfortable silence, holding his hand out for you to stand up. You grabbed it, but the world around you started to darken. You leaned against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your back to catch you. After a few seconds the world came back to focus. He looked down to you worried, but now a different emotion etched across his face. It felt like love and excitement and intimacy all at once. He helped you up, careful to not let you fall again. You kept telling him you were okay, but he wasn’t so sure. After a few minutes of him fretting over you and telling him you were okay he finally decided that you were. With a snap of his fingers, he created a portal.

            “After you.”

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

With Lucifer following closely behind you walked into the embassy. Charlie noticed you immediately and waved you over with a confused look. Her dad followed you closely behind and her eyes widened as she finally understood.

            “Y/n. Dad. Good to see you. You know it’s funny, I just called y/n and now you are here too. Makes me wonder.”

            “Charlie, darling.” He laughed awkwardly looking around the room trying to think of something. That’s when Charlie noticed his shirt was wrinkled and slightly unbuttoned.

            “You have a lot to spill when we get back to the hotel, y/n.” She said it with a smile, but that wasn’t all of it. She seemed excited maybe. It was hard to tell.

            “Charlie please nothing happened. Plus, your father is allowed to find love. You know back in the day, plenty of women lined up just for-“

            “DAD! That’s enough please just don’t.” She looked embarrassed as she rubbed her eyes.

            “Fine, I’ll go. Have a good meeting you two. I’ll see you later y/n.” He made a finger gun at you and summoned a portal to walk through.

            “Dad. Leave. Now.” With that he made eye contact with you before he turned into the portal. Your hand felt warm, almost as if he was letting you know he was still there. It was obvious to you now that Lucifer was the sin of Pride, however he tended to be prideful at the worst of times.

            “I’m sorry about that, Charlie. You didn’t need to know about that.”

            “Oh, we’ll talk later about this new development. Honestly it took my mind of the meeting a bit. I feel less nervous. Let’s totally rock this.” She turned towards you putting her hand out for a fist bump. Your knuckles met hers and she opened the tall door for you two to walk through.

            Turns out we totally did not rock that.

[hisui-dreamer]

to the happiest place on earth

Characters: Octavinelle (Azul, Jade, Floyd)

Synopsis: going on a date with them to Tokyo Disneyland!

Tags: fluff, Disneyland date hehe, reader's tolerance for attractions is based on my own, self indulgent, bot proofread

Word count: 1.4k+

Notes: because obviously i kept thinking about the fish mafia when i was in tokyo disney resort

did i write too much for jade? no

Masterlist

Azul plans everything

weeks before even going he's doing so much research on every little aspect of the park

he's become an expert, because how else would he impress his angelfish?

asks you what rides you like and sets out the perfect plan for you to experience everything

basically you just need to tell him what you feel like doing next and he'll instantly suggest the best plan

fast pass? fast pass.

he's rich, he's definitely going to buy all the available passes only to improve your experience

time is far more valuable than money! the less time spent lining up for rides and azul having to come up with engaging conversations, the better

his headband of choice:

doesn't really understand why the mouse ears are so prominent in the park, but he wants to match with you and take nice couple pics hehehe

also apparently that's a sorcerer's hat?? perfect! he's a diligent student of magic and follower of the sea witch!

is reluctant to get on fast rides like space mountain and you can see how pale he looks afterwards

he doesn't complain at all tho, and he's very willing to try rides with you

he has great night vision (deep sea octopus), so he is less affected by rides like haunted mansion and pirates of the caribbean

speaking of the latter, he's incredibly grateful for the darkness of the room, because the way he blushed when you held on to him when the boat fell from a waterfall shook all three of his hearts

fascinated by stitch encounter and considers making a mascot for mostro lounge using the same tech

also definitely gets the best seats for the fireworks/parades so his angelfish won't have their vision blocked

overall great experience, the capitalist thrives in capitalism, and he gets to experience all the joy and wonder of the theme park

The sound of the waterfall only seemed to grow louder and louder, yet there was not a single one in sight. Unless...

"Angelfish," Azul whispered, trying not to disturb the other guests. "Hold on tight, I think the ride will drop off from a waterfall."

You barely had time to react to his words as you felt the pull of gravity on you. By instinct, you reached out to hold onto him for dear life, letting out a shriek of surprise as you crashed onto the water below.

Thankfully, the fall was over in seconds. Azul coughed and shakily whispered, "A-ahem, are you alright Angelfish?" he murmured, though with your ear right next to his chest, it seemed he wasn't really alright himself.

Jade doesn't really plan as much as azul, but he does come pretty prepared

briefly learns about what rides and restaurants there are and considers your taste all the while

you brought a cute but small bag that couldn't hold a lot of stuff? no worries! your boyfriend is used to hiking with minimal packing

he can help you carry all your essentials and not have it affect him at all!

his headband of choice:

ok so apparently moray eels eat flounder fish? so I believe this silly eel would find great pleasure in wearing this headband (even better if you're wearing the ariel headband to match)

he's definitely more into the thrilling rides, but he's very happy to sit along for whatever ride you'd like

he's really really good at the buzz lightyear astro blaster, but his favourite is definitely haunted mansion for the chilling atmosphere and the way you clung onto him while convincing yourself everything was fine

whispered things in your ear to calm you, but he definitely tried to spook you a few times bc of how cute you were

your man is a foodie ok, the way his eyes sparkle when he stares at some street food other guests are holding is telling

he's absolutely interested in all of the disneyland food though, so apple caramel churros from le fou's shop, popsicle sticks from food stands, baymax curry, etc.

wdym food's expensive? he's also rich from working with azul and his family background

also super attentive to you, oh you'll need to take off your headband for this ride? gently plucks it from your head and places it in his bag before you can even do it yourself

and oh dear, your hair is a bit messed up after space mountain, let me just brush your hair and smooth it out for you

gets ugly plushie keychains for azul and floyd as a joke saying "i think it quite resembles you, no?"

tall boi sees the parades really clearly and he lifts you up to eye level so you can enjoy the same view as him

and dw about the disappointment of other guests behind you because one eerie smile from your eel is enough for them to know your boyfriend is not to be messed with

overall a very food oriented visit, and plenty of moments where this teasing eel tries to make you flustered

"Oh, it seems we must take our headbands off for this ride as well," Jade mused as he observed the guests in front. In a quick, but gentle motion, he took off your headband and smoothed out your hair.

At your flustered expression, he merely chuckled as he reached up to take off his own, carefully placing both into his sturdy backpack.

"Come, my pearl," he said as he reached out a hand to you. "Should you be afraid any moment, feel free to hold onto me," he teased, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes glinted in amusement.

Floyd is very much going with the flow and sees where you/ his energy wants to take him

did no research at all because his Shrimpy can be his tour guide hehe~

also brought minimal stuff, but he definitely takes a moment to show off his new shoes that he bought recently to go on the date

given his mood swings, it's not a great idea to line up for 30 mins plus, particularly if there's minimal air-conditioning

so definitely fast pass where available, water bottles and mini electric fans

also consider downloading some 2-player mini games on your phone to kill time

his headband of choice:

he finds the "rubber duckies so cute and squishy! just like Shrimpy!" and chip and dale in sunglasses just gives off a memeish chill vibe

you can't convince me this man doesn't consume stupid memes

once he's tried one thrilling ride, he basically demands to ride all of the thrilling ones

runs off to the next one and pulling your hand to catch up because he memorized the map smh

absolute menace when it comes to teacup rides

like you are not walking straight after that intense spinning all the better because he gets to hold you and support you

he will be a menace again and push you in front during the baymax cool down parade so you'll get wet

but you can't stay mad at him for too long when he's laughing so innocently

okay maybe slap him on the shoulder a bit

absolutely gets the electric fans with the water sprays, and attacks you with sprays of water

laughs at you whenever you get scared in haunted mansion, but also "don't worry" because he likes protecting his Shrimpy

funny selfies from weird angles or everything's just a blur

also it's very convenient to have a big scary eel glare at the other guests to convince them to line up another time :)

in conclusion this menace of an eel will without a doubt have a blast stringing you along to his shenanigans, and you find yourself laughing with him all the way

"Ahahaha! That was sooo fun~" Floyd exclaimed as he got out of the teacup. The world continued to spin though the ride had long come to an end. You felt Floyd reach out and help you out of the ride, and you leaned into his touch for help as if you were drunk.

"Hahaha, Shrimpy's all dizzy!" he giggled. "You wanna go again?" As soon as the words registered in your mind, you turned to look in his general direction to glare at him, but maybe your direction was off or you just didn't look intimidating enough, because he just laughed even harder.

"Okayy, okayy, let's do another ride," he said as he began leading you to the exit. "Your choice this time then, where d'ya wanna go Shrimpy?"

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | With A Musician Reader

Request: hi mina how have you been? i hope you’re doing ok c: i was wondering if you’d write a scenario about human!reader showing off her greatest musical creation to the elves? it’s a piano they’ve spent a decade workshopping & building to perfection. readers also made middle earth versions of the upright bass, acoustic guitar, & cello. they plan on making more instruments cause it’s their passion and how they want to be remembered by. for the lords of gondolin - @dicksoutformtl

A/N: I’m doing just fine! It was fun writing this request know that all of them would be impressed at reader’s craftsmanship. Enjoy!

.𑁍༊˚ Galdor

Galdor is thoroughly impressed by your craftsmanship in creating new and improved versions of some of the instruments they already have while crafting newly discovered pieces as well.

He would have known you were into the musical arts, hence why you were always playing or composing a new piece every few weeks. However, what he had never suspected was a entire batch of new instruments being presented to him.

He is enthralled and eager. While some instruments may not be a favourite to his ear due to the sounds they emit, you can bet he’s informing you of some upcoming festival where you can show off your creative talents.

Galdor is a proud elf Lord who would happily talk about what you’ve created to the others and recommend you to the King to play your pieces at balls. He wants everyone to be aware that you’ve made inventions and they’re groundbreaking.

There are moments when he’d sit around and listen as you explain to him how you created each piece and the inspiration behind them or watch as you play songs on them.

It touches him when he becomes aware of the purpose of your collection of paper in the corner of your room. They were all songs written to be played on these instruments about how much you like or care about him. He’s touched and appreciative.

.𑁍༊˚ Ecthelion

The musical master is too stunned to speak as he enters your humble abode and notices all the new “classical” instruments lying about. Ecthelion’s curiosity gets the better of him and he can’t help but strum the strings of the bass and cello, or press the keys on the piano and gasp at the new pitch echoing.

He becomes aware that these are not instruments that exist in Middle Earth and bombard you with a million questions. “How did you make this?” “Where did your idea come from?” “What inspired you?” “Who are you really?”

Ecthelion probably assumes that you’re not normal to come up with all these instruments since the Valar would have created their instruments for them…so are you a Maiar or Valar in disguise?

You will be followed around until you answer all of his questions with responses that tickle his brain the right way. And be prepared for him to request if you two can now play duets at festivals and balls. He wants you to be the musician couple.

Ecthelion will show you off, more than Galdor and some of the others because he’s proud and wants everyone to know how talented you are. He doesn’t care if the other Lords comments that you’re more talented than him, he would simply acknowledge and say, “Yes!”

And not to forget, he’s making sure that your name gets recorded in the history books as an important figure in music. He’s even more proud when he realises that you’ve outdone musical protégé like Maglor and Daeron.

.𑁍༊˚ Glorfindel

There is not a person without a ten-mile radius who hasn’t been alerted by him of your musical genius abilities. Even Lord Elrond would be shaken aggressively as he is being told about your creation. “Y/N has reinvented the world of music! There is no one as great as them!”

Goodbye Lindir or Ecthelion, hello to Y/N, the new musical protégé of Gondolin or Imladris. Get used to being announced at dinners or balls to play your newest pieces and having Glorfindel looking like a proud dad (if he had a camera, his look would be completed).

Anytime you’re making a trip to your music room, don’t go without Glorfindel or else he’ll barge in all grumpy, complaining that you forgot him. He wants to be present at each new masterpiece you’re making, whether it be a new instrument or song. He likes watching the look of concentration as you play each piece to conclude which suits the song best.

Be noted that he’s curious, so he is bound to touch the piano or cello and gasp as the notes ring out. I can see him being drawn towards the guitar and requesting that you teach him. I don’t know, but Glorfindel playing the guitar suits him (idk if it’s just me).

Cue Glorfindel wanting to join you whenever you’re playing and the guitar can be included. He’ll happily sit beside you and strum away lightly while you play the piano or violin.

Like Ecthelion, be prepared to be announced/talked about by Glorfindel any chance he gets. He’s not rubbing it in anyone’s face, simply expressing how proud he is of his little human creating instruments that “change everything”.

.𑁍༊˚ Egalmoth

Most proud of them all, however, he’s torn between wanting the world to learn about your skills and also keeping them hidden so he alone can know this secret and cherish it.

A bit stingy sharing your talents with the rest of the world because they should be for him to enjoy and praise. He does complain when people don’t praise you enough and encourages them to be louder.

I don’t see anyone surpassing him in terms of being the biggest cheerleader. This elf considers himself blessed to be around such a gifted person (you’re more gifted than his friends in his eyes). You’re a miracle worker creating new instruments unheard of or reinventing old ones.

He wants to learn about your pieces even though he doesn’t know about music deeply, he would to be told everything. Don’t worry if it sounds all foreign to him, he’s understanding.

Egalmoth would inquire if you would like more materials to make more instruments because he understands that it’s your passion. He would even ask if you would like to open up a school to teach others.

Like the others, he would request that you play at dinners when the Lords come over or if the King is hosting a dinner party. Might get annoyed if someone wants to collaborate with you because you sound great on your own.

.𑁍༊˚ Rog

This craftsman is enthralled, amazed, excited, and proud of your creation. You made these instruments all on your own! Rog cannot cease talking about how you designed and crafted all the instruments by yourself. This is one of the rare moments when he's talkative nonstop.

You’ve got one of the great blacksmiths hooked on your inventions and wants to know the process you took to create each piece. He’ll be teary if you mention that you used some of his instructions during his days of teaching you basic material crafting.

Learning more and more that everything was done on your own and you spent years making each puts a type of ride in his heart that’s unshakable. If you show him how each piece is played, Rog finds himself whipped and ready to boast.

It’s strange seeing the quiet blacksmith boasting and talkative, and it’s for good reasons, you. All the Lords know, the citizens know and the King as well. Very soon, you’ll be having a hearing with the King who was intrigued by your new inventions courtesy of Rog cheerful chattering.

Rog doesn’t mind whether you choose to play privately or publicly, the choice is yours and he’s pleased with either decision. He wants you to be comfortable, but he would ask if you could play him a piece so he could experience the beauty of your creations.

.𑁍༊˚ Maeglin

Curiosity caught his attention for a great purpose and it led him to discover new things worthwhile. Maeglin is enamoured and his curiosity is piqued tenfold. Questions rattle off the top of his head about all that he’s seeing and how did you manage to think about creating these pieces.

You’ll be seen as someone highly skilled and great in his eyes because you’re out here reinventing the world of music, something the elves are passionately known for.

“Can I come to watch?” “Can I sit and listen?” “Will you play for others to see what you’ve made?” He will stand in the doorway as you play your pieces and write songs suited best for each with a sense of pride in his chest. You’re a part of his House and creating all these great inventions to make a name for yourself. How could he not be pleased?

Definitely another one who would recommend you to the King to present your showstopping performances during balls. Whether you play with the orchestra or sole, Maeglin is supportive.

You’re Maeglin little songbird who he wakes up to playing your piano or guitar on the balcony or in the drawing room. You provide him with melodies that allow him to melt in and drive his tension away.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @mcwentfandomtraveling @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @hermaeuswhora @lamemaster @zheiya @addaigio @involuntaryspasms

[shagnanigans]

Melting Ice

[Lawrence Oleander x Reader]

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, AFAB reader, temperature play, threats of violence

[[a/n: I haven't rlly written anything recently, but I did this, so I hope people enjoy! It's also my first time writing for BTD so plz be kind]]

NSFT UNDER THE LINE

Living was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Of course, some days were better than others under Lawrence’s care (if you could really call it that). But things had improved after the first few weeks. You did survive, after all. Despite how much he hurt you, he took you apart and put you together again. The warmth was what kept you going. The brush of cool fingertips over the base of your skull, the lips mouthing at your jaw to feel your heartbeat pulse under his lips.

The multiple keys unlocking the front door were the only warning you had that Lawrence was home. His footsteps were barely audible as Lawrence entered the studio apartment and took off his shoes.

“How was-“ Your question was cut off by Lawrence.             “Shh.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but an order. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he started pacing around in the living room. You didn’t really need an answer when he was acting like this. So, you shut your mouth while you could and turned your attention back to the kettle that was nearly at a boil on the stovetop. The apartment is silent as you rush to make Lawrence a cup of tea. When you creep over to him and hold out the steaming mug, Lawrence stops his pacing and looks down at it for a moment.

One of his hands darts out and grabs your wrist, and he uses the other to take the mug from you. “Get in bed.” He demands it quietly. His pale blue eyes are glaring at you. As you crawl into the small bed you shared, Lawrence went into the kitchen. You could hear the fridge door open and then one of the drawers opening. What on earth was he doing?

When Lawrence steps back into the main room of the studio, he walks over to you, setting an ice cube tray on the nightstand at the head of the bed. In his other hand was a knife.

“What are you-“

“Shh. I don’t want you to talk. Just lay on your back,” Lawrence relaxed as you laid back, “There. Now, be quiet. I’ll take out your tongue if you don’t.”

The first thoughts going through your head were, ‘Great, this is it. He finally decided he was bored with me and he’s going to kill me’ but you almost let out an audible gasp as you heard a loud rip. It was immediately followed by air on your bare thighs as Lawrence used the knife to cut open your pants and underwear. Lawrence then shoved your shirt up over your stomach, cracking the ice cube tray in a rush and taking one of the cubes between his fingers.

The ice cube was hurriedly shoved up your shirt, pressing incessantly against your bare stomach. Lawrence let your shirt fall back down over your stomach, leaving the ice cube to cool your skin. Water began soaking into your shirt as it slowly melted.

Lawrence crawls between your thighs and picks out another ice cube, pressing it against your lips. His eyes dart from your lips down to your exposed sex, never making eye contact for more than a split second as you watch him.

“Open.” He orders you quietly. When your lips part, he pushes the cube into your mouth so you can suck on it.

“You’re…so warm all the time. It’s better like this.” He murmured, staring at your lips. His patience wears thin, and the ice cube is only half melted in your mouth before he dips his head down and kisses you. His tongue delving past your lips to explore the slightly cooler expanse of your mouth and tongue. Lawrence only pulls away when you accidentally let out a little moan.

“I told you to be quiet.” Lawrence warns, letting out a sigh. One hand reaches for another ice cube, and he grabs your hip so hard that you’re sure there will be bruises once he lets go. A sudden jolt of painful coldness presses right against your clit. Biting your lip to avoid making another peep. Your hips reflexively trying to buck away, but Lawrence’s grip only tightens to wrangle you into place on the sheets. You really don’t feel like seeing what Lawrence may do if you don’t obey his orders, but you also can’t help but shiver and try to arch away.

Lawrence’s hands guide the piece of ice up from your folds, over your stomach, and up to your throat. His body moves along the path of cold water on your skin. His lips following the same path to feel your cool, wet skin under his rough lips. You hold your breath as Lawrence grabs your thighs, pushing them up and apart so he can slot himself against you.

When the ice cube finally reaches your lips, your eyes meet Lawrence’s. His eyelids were heavy, and his cheeks flushed pink in excitement. He doesn’t need to tell you what to do; your lips parting for him. The ice cube is popped into your mouth, his hand gliding down again to your neck. His fingertips cradling your throat to simply feel as you hold the ice cube on your tongue. Cold water fills your mouth as you lay still. Any discomfort you may feel is overridden by the delighted glimmer in Lawrence’s eyes, a rare treat.

After a moment of simply staring at each other he reaches up, pushing two fingers into your mouth to feel the cool muscle and flesh inside your mouth. The ice cube is now reduced to a sliver. A groan leaves Lawrence’s lips as his fingers explore your maw. Alarm bells ring off in your brain, but you know fighting back would make this worse for you.

Lawrence’s breath escapes him in shaky pants, “So good . . so cold. You’re perfect for me.”

He backs off, dragging his fingers out of your mouth, leaning back, and grabbing two more ice cubes. Both are bullied into your cunt, and his free hand is clamped on your hip. When Lawrence is satisfied, he removes his fingers and pushes down his pants enough to release his swollen cock. Precum is dribbling down the shaft. There’s very little time for you to admire him as he pushes inside of you alongside the ice cubes.

A guttural mix of whimper and groan is punched from Lawrence, his hips grinding forward until he is fully sheathed inside. As you moan in discomfort, you’re met with an annoyed glare. Lawrence lifts your hips into the air and sits up on his knees. Leaving your lower body lifted by his hold on your hips alone.

An immediately brutal pace is set, with whimpers and choked gasps filling the air. The freezing ice is being pushed around inside you as Lawrence chases his climax. He’s in his own world as you moan, his cock and the ice cubes reaching your g-spot repeatedly.

“We N-Need to do it like this more often,” Lawrence mumbles, hunching over you and licking a stripe over your breasts, his hot breath fanning over your moistened skin.

When you move one hand to try finishing yourself off, you receive a harsh bite on the tender swell of flesh Lawrence had been breathing against. “You squirm too much. I’d kill you if I didn’t want you still.”

Those words are enough for you to let your hand drop limply against the bed again. Flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, his thrusts growing more relentless. A telltale sign of his approaching climax. Shocking warmth suddenly exploding inside you. Explosions of pleasure shot up your spine and made your entire body rigid as your own climax followed.

He slowly draws himself out of you. Sighing in relief and slowly lowering you to lay entirely on the twin bed. All is quiet, save for your combined pants for breath. His cum was a stark contrast to the ice cubes and cool water dripping out of you and coating Lawrence’s groin. Lawrence was the first to speak.

“I’ll get a towel and warm up the tea you made,” he says, quickly disappearing into the kitchen. A slight pep in his step as he bustles around for a towel to clean you up and to reheat the tea you made for him. Based on his attitude, you can only assume this odd temperature play will be mixed into your sex life for the foreseeable future.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

Soap has always been your hype man. Before you met him, your confidence was utter shit. Then he slung an arm around your shoulder—literally taking you under his wing—and you haven’t been the same since.

Sparring on the mats in the gym? He’s barking orders—keep your hands up, lass! Protect your face!—and singing your praises when you get in a good hit, knocking him back a few steps.

“That’s it, hen! Fucking hell, woman, look at you! Damn near took me out with that right hook!”

He coaxes you through discouragement when you just can’t get that kick-punch combo he’s been trying to teach you for ages. You want to quit but he won’t let you, squeezing your shoulders and giving you tips on how to improve, even though he’s told you a thousand times already.

“Don’t hold back now. You’re just a wee sweet thing but I know you’ve got some fire in your belly. Come on. Let it out. Hit me with all you’ve got!”

And when you do finally get it right? He has his arms in the air, victorious, before he scoops you up into a hug.

Drinking him under the table on a Friday night? Soap is the one cheering you on the loudest. Sure, he talks a big game, and he’s competitive as fuck. But you’re his weakness, his Achilles heel. He wants you to win. He wants to see you confident with victory, even as he plays it off.

“Ya cheeky lil’ shite, I’ll get you next time. You can run that mouth all you like, sweetheart.”

When you gloat and rub his face in it, he gives you the fondest look of adoration on planet earth.

The only time he’s suspiciously and noticeably not hyping you up is when you have a date. He’s kinda…grumpy about it actually. And he scowls a lot with his arms crossed, grumbling.

“What did you say this boy’s name was again?”

“You’re not running a background check on him, Soap,” you reply smoothly.

“Just thought I’d give him a wee talkin’ to. You know, man to man.”

You shoot him a look that clearly says, not going to happen.

He doesn’t say anything when you leave. No parting words of encouragement. You had expected at least an off-color joke like the ones he tosses around with the rest of his team, something about staying safe and using condoms. But his gaze is uncharacteristically solemn as he watches you walk away.

However, Soap will be right there with ice cream and beer in hand when the date doesn’t work out and/or you break up. You’re a mess—eyes puffy, can’t stop crying, putting yourself down because I just wasn’t good enough for him—but Soap sits on the edge of your bed as you cry on his shoulder and he gently corrects you.

“Come on, my bonnie girl, you know that’s rubbish. He’s the pile of steaming pig shite you should be cussin’ out. Don’t waste your tears on him, all right? He doesn’t deserve them and he certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

You manage a watery little smile and Soap cups your cheek, kissing your forehead.

That kiss stays on your mind. For weeks and weeks. It was a simple kiss—a gesture of comfort, nothing more—but the firmness of his chest beneath your hand on his heart, and the way you wanted to just melt against him had you entertaining a thought you had never considered before.

Maybe…maybe Soap wasn’t just a friend.

After that, you looked at him in a new light. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it. If he said no, he didn’t share your feelings, you were certain it would break your heart in two permanently.

So, when Soap came back from a mission, bloodied, bruised, and wincing in pain, you thought you were going to be sick with worry. As you flew into his hospital room, he was already sitting on the edge of his bed. And he caught you with an arm around the waist, hugging you into his side with a small grunt of relief.

“I’m fine, hen, I’m fine. A few bumps and bruises, that’s all.” Then he gets this little smirk on his face. “Although it couldn’t hurt if you worried your pretty head over me. Just a wee bit.”

You gave a shaky little laugh and mumbled you’re so full of shit but he just shrugged. And then his smile faltered and—God help you—his gaze fell to your mouth. He brought his hand up, cradling your cheek in his palm, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.

“Johnny,” you whispered because your body was on fire with want, and if he didn’t mean it, you were going to combust.

He cupped your chin, his thumb anchored just beneath your lower lip. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. Pressing his mouth to yours in a deep, searing kiss was enough to take your breath away and tell you everything you needed to know.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (see full series list here)

1995

You thought Professor Umbridge was a pain in the ass when she first started, but now you realise you were seeing her at her best, and you’re about to start facing her worst. 

It happens one night as you enter your classroom and greet your students, setting your things out on your desk before turning to them — and that’s when you spot her bright pink, woolly cardigan and the clipboard resting in her hand, quill at the ready. She looks expectantly at you, blinking and pursing her lips. 

You have to fight down the irritancy from showing on your face, and you give her a nod, gritting your teeth. “Professor Umbridge. I was not expecting you tonight.”

“I believe an inspection is most accurately performed when the teacher is not made previously aware of it,” she replies in that sickeningly sweet voice, smiling at you.

You resist the urge to wince.

She dips her quill in ink, positioning it over her clipboard. “Please, continue.”

You take a slow breath before gathering your papers in your hands and you move down through the rows of desks, handing essays back to students. You're just going to have to ignore her. “Now, your homework — I graded them to O.W.L. standard, just to give you a general idea about how the exams are marked. Don’t worry about what grade you got, I thought your essays were pretty good overall, and I’ve left you all some feedback at the end with a few tips and comments on how to improve them. If you have any questions, you can come up to me at the end of class.”

You wait for the chatter and comparison of grades to die down before waving your wand and quenching the candles around the room, plunging it into relative darkness. Umbridge lets out a surprised squeak and you can’t the small smile of satisfaction that tugs at your lips, unknown in the dark. Your students are used to this, of course, and are ready when you place your wand in the air again, making a circular motion and projecting a glittery star map above you. 

“You’ll all recognise this constellation, I hope…Pegasus,” you say, glancing as the students watch on with interest — using the telescopes and seeing pretty stars right in front of them like this tends to be the most favoured activities of your students — and you have to say you wholeheartedly agree with them. Umbridge glances up at you for a split-second before she scratches something down on her clipboard loudly. 

“Now sometimes it can be hard to identify the shape of this constellation, a winged-horse, but if you turn it this way…” Using your wand, you slowly rotate the map in a different direction before stopping. “You can see the vague outline of Pegasus’s head and two front legs. I actually wanted to bring this up because an amazing discovery was made by two Muggle astronomers just last week —”

“Hem.”

“—it’s astounding, really. 51 Pegasi, this star right here — “ you point to one of the glittery stars in the map, one that doesn’t stand out at all and looks practically the same to all the others, “ — it’s quite similar to our Sun, and 51 actually has a planet orbiting around it! That makes it the first sun-like star to possess a planet other than our own, and it was discovered by Muggles —” 

“Hem.”

“It’s incredible the way they found out, too — you see, it’s impossible to see from Earth, but these Swiss astronomers discovered it through a slight wobble in 51 Pegasi’s motion caused by the planet’s gravitational pull, and they did it all without magic —”

“Hem!”

You stop, your excited smile dropping as you look at the unsightly woman. What could she possibly have a problem with? You thought you were doing pretty well. 

“Is there a problem, Professor Umbridge?” 

“Oh, well…the Ministry does not usually condone the teaching of Muggle beliefs, we are all witches and wizards here, after all,” she says sweetly, smiling fakely at you. 

You chew on the flesh of your inside cheek, blinking back at her. “Yes, but Astronomy is the only subject that Muggles also study, and it’s a science — everything must be proved and well, a discovery is a discovery, no matter who makes it —”

Umbridge lets out an odd, patronising squeak and scratches something down on her clipboard. 

You watch her, nervous, and continue. “It’s fascinating, really, how it ties our worlds together — with magic we are so much more advanced than Muggles and yet they manage to come to new and different conclusions and revelations, all through hard work and time and — “

“Hm.”

You spend the rest of the lesson on edge, Umbridge taking everything you say as a mistake, total flaws in the way you teach, the way you’ve taught for the past fourteen years.

When the lesson is finally over, the students rush from the classroom and you rub your temples, sighing deeply. You glance up at Umbridge, who stands up and taps her clipboard thoughtfully, humming annoyingly. 

“How long have you been working at Hogwarts?” 

“Fourteen years,” you answer bluntly, turning your back on her and stacking papers loudly. 

She hums, clicking her tongue. “And what did you do before taking this position?” 

You stop what you're doing and slowly turn around to face her, meeting her beady eyes. “Why do you want to know that?” 

She shrugs, smiling tightly at you. “Just curious.” 

You bite your tongue, exhaling, looking into her cold eyes. “I don't see how that's of any concern to you, professor.” 

She hums, again, tapping her clipboard. “Most Aurors are quite secretive, even to Ministry officials.” 

You don't say anything. 

“You will receive the results of your inspection in ten days.”

She makes her way to the stairway, but before she begins her descent, she stops, looking at you once more. You glare back at her. 

“Albus Dumbledore may trust you, but I certainly do not. I know you're hiding something…or should I say, someone?” 

She smiles proudly, a satisfied squeak escaping her as she stares back at you. She's bluffing, you know it — there's absolutely no way she could know about Sirius. She’s just pinning the blame on you, of course, like they all do. 

Despite knowing this, you can't stop the way your heart rate picks up, a sick feeling rutting through your body. 

You glare daggers at her, arms folded tightly across your chest.

“I have nothing to hide.” 

“Hm.” She flips a page on her clipboard. “We’ll see about that.” 

You listen to her distinctive pink heels click-clack down the stairs, echoing around the tower, and grate your teeth. 

So, if you thought you hated her before, you weren't even close to what you're feeling now. 

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

October, 1975 

“Okay, you stir it…and then it should go a pearly kind of colour…” 

Lily picks up the metal stirrer and carefully stirs your brewing potion, and you breathe a sigh of relief when it gains a pearl sheen and fumes emanate from it in spirals. 

You clap excitedly. “Perfect!” 

Lily beams back at you. 

“Okay, okay, let me see what I smell…” you say giddily, leaning in closer to the cauldron and inhaling a breath of the fumes. 

Fresh parchment, tea leaves, leather, rich cologne and…cigarette smoke? 

You pull back in horror, bringing a hand to your mouth. There’s only one person that comes to mind with that combination of scents: Sirius. But that’s not right, you know that’s not right, because this potion shows a person’s deepest desires, and though from time to time you find him attractive, and from time to time you might just entertain the idea of dating him — he’s far from being your deepest desire. Completely preposterous.

Lily gives you a concerned look. “What? What's wrong?” 

You stand further away from the cauldron, breathing out of your mouth and shaking your head. “Nothing.” 

She laughs lightly, waving you off. “Oh, you're just surprised at yourself. It's completely accurate, you know — “ 

She leans forward and sniffs, and a second later her face drops and she jerks back, looking like she’s about to be sick. She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Well, we clearly prepared it wrong. That's entirely inaccurate.” 

Slughorn appears at your desk, looking into your potion. He dips a spoon into it and raises it high above the cauldron, tipping it over and watching as the liquid drips back into the potion. He nods in approval, smiling at you and Lily. 

“Perfect. Couldn't fault it!” He grins, waddling away to check another pair. 

You stare after him, jaw dropped. You turn to Lily, her expression a perfect mirror of your own. “Uh…”

“Definitely brewed wrong.” 

“Definitely.” 

“Couldn't possibly be correct.” 

“Never.” 

“I'm not going to tell you, uh, what I smelled, by the way — just because it's entirely wrong and would only confuse things.” 

“Oh yeah, me neither, must be someone else’s potion fumes drifting over to our desk…”

You quickly flick through your potions book, reading down through the recipe. Absolutely wrong, that’s for sure. You must’ve messed the potion up somewhere, maybe you stirred it clockwise when it was supposed to be anti-clockwise…Slughorn is pretty barmy, too, he probably just got confused when he said it was perfect…

“Lily, darling, let me guess what you smelled…me?” James suddenly pops up in front of your desk — you have to give him credit for it, he has a knack for sneaking up on people and taking them by surprise — and grins at Lily, running a hand through his hair to muss it up. 

“NO!” She shrieks hysterically, grabbing the bottom of the cauldron and yanking it closer towards her as if to shield it from James. “Just go away, James!”

Her chest heaves with distress and you softly place your hand on her back. James’ eyes widen and he frowns, hurt flashing across his face. 

“I — I’m sorry, Lily, I didn’t mean to upset you —”

You look past James at Sirius, who is standing with his arms folded beside his cauldron, a confused look on his face. 

“Sirius, please take James back,” you call with a sigh, and he turns around to look at you. Did he do something different with his hair today? It looks different. Why are you just now noticing how lovely his hair is? Is it soft? It looks soft. Why do you feel an intense urge to reach out and pull that stray lock of hair out of his eyes? 

“Happy to.” 

You shake yourself out of your stupid stupor, and push James towards his awaiting friend. As your arm passes by Sirius’ face, he stops and his eyes go wide.

“Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeah, why?” 

He stares back at you for a moment, an odd look on his face, and swallows thickly. “Where did you get it?”

You laugh, raising your eyebrows at him. “What, do you want a bottle? My grandmother gave it to me, she makes homemade perfume in her spare time.” 

He kisses his teeth. “Huh.” 

He grabs James by the sleeve and drags him back to their desk, before proceeding to gulp down a bottle of water in seconds, tapping his foot. 

You give Lily a look. “What was that about?”

She shrugs, grinning at you. “Maybe he smelled your perfume in the cauldron.”

You snort, throwing your books into your bag. “Yeah, right.”

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

One evening you’re dangling a length of string in front of Dubh with your wand, watching as she joyfully bats at it with her paws, mesmerized by its movements, when there’s a knock at your office door. You drop the string on the floor at Dubh’s feet and she rolls around beside it, trying to clasp the thin string between her paws. Much harder than it looks, apparently. You sigh, smoothing down your jeans as you stand and glance in the mirror quickly — looks presentable enough. You can only pray and hope it’s not Umbridge. 

Thankfully, when you open the door, it’s not the squashed face of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor you’re met with, but Harry, Hermione, and Ron. 

“Oh, hello.” You smile at them, opening the door wider for them to enter. “Come in.”

You sit back down at your desk, fetching a packet of biscuits from the drawer and setting it in front of them as they each draw up chairs and sit down. Dubh rubs against Hermione, purring, and the girl smiles and gently pulls her up into her lap, petting her. 

“I’d ask if you’re just here to see your favourite teacher but I can tell by your faces that you want to ask me for something,” you say. “Go on, what is it?” 

The trio glance at each other for confirmation, and Hermione clears her throat. “Well, um, we told you about Professor Umbridge refusing to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts properly.”

You nod. 

“And we decided to take matters into our own hands and learn it ourselves.” Hermione looks at Harry before continuing, “We’ve formed an association, the Defense Association — and we need somewhere to practice spells. Harry’s going to teach us.”

“And you want my help finding you somewhere away from Umbridge?”

“We were thinking maybe we could use your classroom,” Ron suggests. 

You think for a moment, before shaking your head. “Sorry, but if Umbridge found out I gave you permission to use my classroom for an illegal society she’d have me sacked in an instant. No, no, you’ll have to find somewhere more secretive…”

You hum thoughtfully, thinking of all the secret passages and rooms you learned of when you were a student. “There’s a secret room hidden behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you know, it might be big enough to practice a few jinxes — how many people are in this thing?”

“Twenty-eight,” Hermione answers, and you blow a whistle of air out your nose. Lot more than you expected.

“Sirius suggested that room too,” Harry says with a small chuckle. “But Fred and George said it caved in or something.”

“Sirius?” You repeat instantly. “You were talking to him?” 

Harry gives you a confused look. “Yeah, last night. You weren’t?”

Though you know it’s petty, you feel a flash of jealousy and hurt prick your chest. Sirius talked to them, and not you? 

“No, I — I didn’t. How did you —”

“Fireplace.” 

“Oh.” You frown. “He never changes, always loves to take the risk—” You sigh. “He’ll get himself caught one of these days.”

“Uh…”

You look at the kids. They’re glancing at each other nervously, expressions grim. 

“What happened?” you ask quietly. 

“It was Umbridge,” Harry replies, swallowing. “She knew he was there — her hand appeared in the fire.”

You breathe deeply, the room silent as you stare at the chipping wood of your desk. That explains what happened.

“So that’s why she tried to break into my office last night?”

“What?”

You nod, feeling sick to your stomach. “I was with Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout, we had a game of cards in Minerva’s office…and when I came back here afterwards, someone had been trying to lift the enchantments on my lock — it’s charmed to glow red when someone tries to enter without the key. I thought it might’ve been her, but it also could have been anyone — students get bored, it happens, I understand…”

“So she thinks it was you he was talking to?” Ron asks. 

“Of course she does,” you say with a sigh, drumming your fingers on the desk. “Who else would she think? I haven’t talked to Sirius since we left London — it’s far too dangerous. You — you just have to be careful, alright? She won’t be able to do anything to you unless she catches you red-handed…but even the smallest hint of Sirius around the castle and she’ll come for my head. I’m lucky I wasn’t alone last night and the teachers can vouch for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets her hands on some Veritaserum.” 

You’ve had so much of the substance that at this point you think you might have a tolerance built up against it — but you’re not keen on testing that idea in front of Umbridge. 

Harry has a guilty look on his face. “I didn’t even think about that. I’m sorry.”

You wave him off, chuckling bitterly. “Not your fault at all, Harry. Sirius should know better — but I don’t blame him either. He’s not having a good time stuck there while we’re all here. Besides, you think I’m not used to the Ministry watching my every move? They’re quite obsessed with me — it’s almost flattering.”

You click your tongue. 

“I like your idea, by the way. The Defense Association,” you say, smiling. “It’s very brave. But you seriously have to be careful with this.  I have a feeling that woman will stop at nothing until she gets what she wants — and she wants complete control over every little thing you do, over this whole school. Don’t give her any more reasons to take away the things that make your time at Hogwarts enjoyable.”

You pluck a biscuit from the open packet on your desk, pushing it towards them. “Biscuit?”

Hermione politely refuses and Harry and Ron both reach forward to take one. The sleeve of Harry’s robe falls as he moves his arm, revealing the skin of his right hand, which is red and seems to bear several scratches. He quickly drops his hand pulls his sleeve over it. 

“Harry? What happened to your hand?” 

He looks at you, holding up his left hand for you to see. “Huh? It’s fine.” 

“Your other hand.”

Hermione and Ron seem to hold their breath, looking at Harry, nervous looks on their faces. 

Harry shrugs. “Nothing. Crookshanks scratched me.” He suddenly stands up from his chair, sharing glances with his friends. “We should probably get going, homework to do, you know — “

“Harry,” you say seriously. “Don’t try to lie to me. What’s happened?” 

“I told you, it’s fine.”

“If it was really fine you’d let me have a look —”

“We need to go.”

“No, Harry, tell me —”

They turn to leave and you reach out and grab onto his arm, but he instantly wrenches free of your grasp and twists away from you. 

“It’s FINE.”

He glares at you and storms out of the room. Hermione and Ron watch as he goes, the room utterly silent. You feel absolutely horrible — he looked at you like he hates you. You shouldn’t have pushed him so far, but you knew he was lying, and if it was nothing to worry about why would he lie? 

“Harry!” Ron rushes after him, hurrying out of the room, leaving you with Hermione. 

She gives you an apologetic look. “I - I’m sorry, professor, I’ll go check on him — “

You sigh, shaking your head. “My fault, I shouldn’t have pressured him like that…” you open your desk drawer and pull out a small bottle, handing it to Hermione. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good. Make sure he puts this on it, it’s a salve. And I have a feeling he’s going to avoid me now for a good while…tell him I’m sorry. Goodnight, Hermione.”

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

When you were younger, you found it hard to decide on what career to go into. You adored astronomy, of course, but you also wanted to help people — something like a healer, perhaps. And then there was another part of you that loved Quidditch and commentating at the school games, maybe you could’ve gone into entertainment like Ludo Bagman. You used to pore over sports magazines and argue with James over who supported the better team — you the Chudley Cannons and James the Holyhead Harpies. 

But when Voldemort started to really gain more power, and the death counts were ticking up in the papers, you forgot all of that and put your efforts towards becoming an Auror. It was a choice between living in constant fear at home, or going out and turning that fear into something else — and becoming someone that the Death Eaters were afraid of. 

You would never have thought you’d be here teaching at Hogwarts. And though it may not sound exciting, every day is different.

And you still get to watch Quidditch matches — even if the latest match between Gryffindor and Slytherin has turned into a brawl. Really, it happens quite often, though you’re not too chuffed to see Harry in the middle of it, landing a blow against Draco Malfoy. Fred and George too, one of them sporting a particularly nasty split lip. Minerva and several other teachers are livid of course, and you and the rest of the crowd watch on in silence as she furiously marches Harry and the twins off the pitch and up to her office. Umbridge hurries after them, looking more satisfied than you think she intends to let on. 

This altercation results in a new sign stuck up on every noticeboard around the castle: 

EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY-FIVE

The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the ability to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed,  Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class

She banned Harry and the twins from playing, and for the next week your Gryffindors were particularly sour in class and you often heard them whispering to each other about someone called ‘Umbitch’. Wonder who that’s about? 

Hagrid comes back — you spy the lights on in his hut and hurry down to see him. He had been off to find the giants, Dumbledore had told you at a meeting during the summer. And it seems you’re not the only one who noticed he’s back, because the moment you knock on Hagrid’s door you find the infamous trio sitting at the table, talking to him. You can’t help but gasp when you see him. His hair is matted with congealed red blood and his face is littered with scratches and bruises and redness. 

“Fucking hell, Hagrid, who’d you kill?”

He picks up a nasty looking slab of dragon meat and drops it onto the side of his face with a slap. Green blood oozes out from underneath it. 

You wince. “Or, uh, who tried to kill you?” 

“It’s nothin’, don't you start worryin’ ‘bout me now.” 

You scoff, sitting down at the table beside the kids. “Yeah, right. Spill.”

You listen intently as Hagrid tells the tale of his and Madame Maxine’s journey to find the giants, and how when he found them, their leader Golgomath had already set his allegiances with the Death Eaters, who had been currying his favour with gifts for several days before.

“So…so no giants are coming to fight?” says Ron, looking disappointed. 

“Nope,” Hagrid replies, heaving a deep sigh as he turns his steak over and applies it to the other side of his battered face, “but we did what we were meant ter do, we gave ‘em Dumbledore’s message an’ some of ‘em heard it an’ I s’pect some’ll remember it. Jus’ maybe, them that don’t want ter stay around Golgomath’ll move outta the mountains, an’ there’s gotta be chance they’ll remember Dumbledore’s friendly to ‘em…”

Snow patters softly against the window, the bottom pane covered by white.

“Hagrid?” Hermione says quietly after a while.

“Mhm?”

“Did you…was there any sign of…did you hear anything about your…your mother while you were there?” 

Hagrid’s rests the eye that isn’t obscured by the dragon steak on her, and Hermione looks rather scared. 

“I’m sorry…I…forget it —”

“Dead,” he mutters. “Died years ago. They told me.”

“Oh…I’m really sorry,” Hermione says in a small voice. 

Hagrid shrugs his shoulders, grunting. “No need. Can’ remember her much. Wasn’ a great mother.”

The room goes silent again, and you clear your throat. “You still haven’t told us how you got into this state, Hagrid,” you say, gesturing towards his bloodied face.

“Or why you’re back so late,” Harry adds. “Sirius said Madame Maxine got back ages ago —”

“Who attacked you?” Ron asks. 

“I haven’ bin attacked!” Hagrid exclaims emphatically. “I —”

A loud rapping on the door grabs your attention, and you all whip your heads to the source of the sound. You jump; Hermione gasps and her mug slips through her hands and smashes on the floor with a crash; Fang yelps. Silent, you stare out the window beside the doorway at a familiar squashed figure standing behind the thin curtain. 

Your face drops. “Fuck.”

“It’s her!” Ron hisses.

“Get under here!” Harry says quickly, seizing the Invisibility Cloak and wrapping it around himself and his two friends. Huddled together, they back into a corner while Fang barks madly at the door. Hagrid looks thoroughly confused. 

You hastily grab the kids’ mugs and shove them under the cushion in Fang’s bed, while the dog leaps up at the door. Hagrid pushes him out of the way with his foot and opens the door. 

Umbridge stands in the doorway, wearing a pink tweed cloak and a matching hat with earflaps to match. Her eyes widen at the state of Hagrid’s face and she purses her lips.

“So…you’re Hagrid, are you?” 

She speaks very slowly and very loudly, over-annunciating her words as if she is talking to someone who is hard of hearing. Without waiting for an answer from the man, she strolls into the room, her nose high in the air as she surveys the hut as if looking for something. Her eyes land on you and she doesn’t make much of an effort to hide the disdain on her face when she spots you. 

“And what are you doing here?” 

“Er…I don’t want ter be rude,” Hagrid says, staring at her, hand still on the open door, “but who the ruddy hell are you?”  

“Visiting my friend,” you say, gritting your teeth. “Are you going to tell me I’m not allowed to do that?”

She wrinkles her nose and clicks her tongue.

“My name is Dolores Umbridge.” 

Her bulging eyes sweep the cabin. Twice they land on the corner where Harry, Ron, and Hermione are hiding. 

“Dolores Umbridge?” Hagrid says in confusion. “I thought you were one o’ them Ministry twa — don’ you work with Fudge?” 

“I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes,” Umbridge says, now pacing around the cabin, scrutinizing every detail. “I am now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher — “

“That’s brave of yeh,” says Hagrid. “There’s not many who’d take tha’ job anymore — “

“ — and Hogwarts High Inquisitor,” Umbridge continues. 

Hagrid frowns. “What’s tha’?”

“Precisely what I was going to ask.” The ghastly woman points to the broken shards of Hermione’s mug on the floor. 

“Oh,” Hagrid says, glancing at you for help. “Uh…”

“Fang has broken more things in this cabin then there are to count,” you say, scratching the dog’s head affectionately. “He got excited when you knocked on the door and bumped the table.”

She looks at you momentarily, her nostrils flaring, before she turns to Hagrid and rakes her eyes over his form, taking in every detail of his dishevelled appearance.

“There are four sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin,” she says sleekly. 

“Well, one of them’s mine,” you say simply, shrugging your shoulders. 

“And the other three?” 

“Well, I only jus’ got back,” Hagrid says, waving his hand at his travelling cloak on the coat hook and the large bag beside it. “Maybe someone came ter call earlier an’ I missed ‘em.”

“There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin.” 

“Well…I…I don’ know why that’d be…” Hagrid says weakly, tugging nervously at his beard and glancing over at the corner where the trio are hunched beneath the Invisibility Cloak.”Uh…”

Umbridge wheels around and strides the length of the cabin, looking around carefully. She opens the cupboards, bends and peers underneath the bed, and comes dangerously close to where the kids are hiding. After inspecting inside the enormous cauldron Hagrid uses for cooking, she wheels around again and says, “What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?”

“Oh…I…had a bit of an accident,” he says lamely.

You have to resist the urge to wince at his inability to keep his cool.

“What sort of accident?” 

“I - I tripped.”

“You tripped.”

“Into an enclosure of blast-ended skrewts, right, Hagrid? That’s what you told me,” you chime in, giving him a look over Umbridge’s shoulder. 

“R-righ’,” Hagrid agrees. “Straigh’ in there, set ‘em all off, y’know…”

“Where have you been?” Umbridge asks coldly. 

“Where’ve I…?”

“Been, yes,” she says, pursing her lips. “Term started two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes.” She glances at you, frowning. “None of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?” 

Hagrid stares at her and you can practically hear his brain whirring furiously to find an explanation. 

“I’ve…I’ve been away for me health.”

“For your health.” Umbridge’s eyes travel over Hagrid’s discoloured and swollen face; dragon blood drips quietly onto his waistcoat in silence. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Hagrid says, swallowing thickly. “Bit o’ — fresh air, yeh know—”

“Yes, as gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by.”

“Well, change o’ scenery, always good —”

“Mountain scenery?” Umbridge says swiftly. 

She knows. Oh my god, she knows. 

“Mountains?” Hagrid repeats, shaking his head as though he’s never heard the word before. “Nope, south of France for me. Sun an’ sea.”

“Really? You don’t have much of a tan.”

“Yeah, well…sensitive skin,” says Hagrid, attempting a smile — you notice two of his teeth have been knocked out. 

Umbridge stares back at him coldly, and his smile falters. “I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return. You ought to know that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough.” 

She turns from him and marches promptly back to the door. 

“You’re inspection’ us?” Hagrid echoes blankly, staring after her. 

“Oh yes,” Umbridge answers, her hand on the door handle as she looks back at him. She glances at you, a smirk tugging at her thin lips. “The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Good night.”

She leaves, closing the door behind her with a snap. You wait a few seconds before standing up and pulling back the window curtain an inch, peering out at Umbridge’s stout little form making her back to the castle in the snow. 

“It’s alright, she’s going back now,” you say softly, turning around and heaving a sigh. 

“Blimey…inspectin’ people, is she?” Hagrid says. 

“Yeah.” Harry pulls the cloak off, revealing the trio once again. “Trelawney’s on probation already…”

“You’re gonna need to be careful, Hagrid,” you warn. “She’ll be at your first lesson back, I’d put money on it. She’ll scrutinise every little thing you do and say.”

“Don’ worry, don’ worry…I’ve got some really good stuff planned for their lessons now I’m back.”

You raise your eyebrows. 

“Now, you lot had better get back up to the castle, an’ don’ forget ter wipe yer footprints out behind yeh!”

You open the door and poke your head out, swirling snowflakes landing on your hair and eyelashes. The kids make to follow you and you thrust your hand out. “Wait, put the cloak on.” You look up at the castle, eyeing the lit windows facing the grounds. “She could be watching from the windows.”

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

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[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Fan Prize Story #1: Training in the Water

Credit: FlamMabel

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Thank you @flammabel for participating in the Act II opening weekend for The Way He Looks at You. I hope you enjoy your prize!

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Master List: One Shots

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Summary

You, a former Jedi, watch Cal practice his forms. He offers to jog your memory on how to do them. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.2K

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You could hear him before you could see him. The sounds of splashing as he moved through the water, practicing, always practicing. You had been traveling with Cal for a few weeks now and his commitment to rehearsing the forms of the old ways impressed you. You knew the forms, but you practiced them much less. It was honestly embarrassing to attempt them in his presence.

Cal had helped you escape a deadly situation with the Ninth Sister. Your ability to save yourself had waned since the Purge. Lying low for years will do that to a body. You weren’t out of shape, per se, but Cal had been training more in recent years than you. Still getting to know the man, it felt awkward to ask him to teach what you both learned as padawans. So you settled for watching him move through the familiar but forgotten movements. Then sneak away to practice in your room aboard the Mantis.

Your short copper hair danced along your temples as a light breeze rustled the trees of the lush and beautiful planet. The sound of splashing grew as you neared where Cal was practicing. Your heart rate increased as you rounded the corner, exposing the handsome man.

He was wearing trousers and an undershirt that pleasantly showed off his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but let your eyes rake across each flexing inch of skin as he moved. His red hair speckled with dark stains from the water droplets he has stirred up.

Cal looks up to meet your eye as you approach. He offers you a cheeky grin and a small wave before returning to his forms. You make your way to a large flat rock by the edge of the water. The smooth stone was now heated to a comfortable temperature in the sun.

You nod your head to Cal and lounge on the rock, thinking perhaps you could meditate here. But the thought of taking your mind elsewhere when the view in front of you is so beautiful seemed impossible. So instead you watched, as you have many times before.

Mostly you tried to stay focused on learning from his movements, but your brain had other ideas. It saw each movement as more than Jedi training; it saw opportunities for how he might behave in a more intimate setting.

His long fingers, trained to coax objects into his hands using the Force, could instead coax out multiple orgasms from your aching- No. You can’t think of him like that. You barely know him. The Order fell, but you can stay true to the old ways. Though there are few Jedi left to complain if you stray.

His powerful body could save the galaxy and make you see stars, couldn’t it? It might improve morale, give him a reward for his years of hard work. Your cheeks flush at the runaway thoughts, and you focus to steady your breathing. Then you hear Cal wading out of the water and approaching your spot in the sun.

“Did you hear me?” He asks.

“Oh! No, so sorry, I was lost in, uh, thought.” You say.

Cal gives you a curious smile. “I was asking if you’d like to do forms with me in the water.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Does it have to be in the water?”

You watch as clear streams travel down his clothes and into the earth. His skin is shiny and sleek. You wouldn’t mind getting a drink off of him.

“The water resistance requires focused and precise movements. It’s a great tool for training.”

“But my clothes will get wet.”

“Don’t worry, we can lie in the sun after while they dry. Maybe just take off any layers that might slow the drying process.”

He says and gestures to his shirt lying under a nearby tree. You look between him and the article of clothing, wondering if removing your shirt is a good idea.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me taking off a layer?” You ask.

“Of course! I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I promise, practicing forms in the water is worth the time to dry.” He smiles and offers you his hand.

You accept the outstretched limb and stand with his help. Moisture moves from his hand onto yours, sharing the cool water between your bodies. Reluctantly, you release his hand to grasp the bottom hem of your shirt. You lift the fabric and remove it from your skin.

Now only in a sports bra and trousers, noticing Cal’s eyes on you. He has the good grace to look away and pretend he hadn’t stared. But you saw the look in his green eyes. The hungry way his eyes raked over your exposed flesh. This new information makes you feel bold and you feel ready to test the waters.

“I’m wearing some shorts under my pants. I’d rather not have to wait for them to dry, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll take them off as well.” You glance up into Cal’s eyes as you ask the loaded question.

Cal swallows hard and nods, keeping his eyes trained on your face. He appears to be fighting an internal battle.

“That’s great! It’s fine, I mean. Whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He stumbles over his words.

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and pull the fabric down to your ankles, stepping out of them. Leaving the clothes on the warm rock. You glance at Cal, and he looks anywhere but at you, his pale skin now burning red.

“I’m ready.”

“Right, um, lead the way.” He says.

You give a small smile, but are internally beaming. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to check you out as you walk ahead of him. You pass the nervous man, barely brushing your arm against his as you begin the walk towards the water’s edge. Knowingly, you sway your hips a bit more than normal as you walk, giving the other Jedi a small show.

As you step into the shallow water, you turn to look at Cal. All you see is panic in his eyes as he rushes into the water until waist deep. You take your time moving into the water, allowing your skin to disappear gracefully into the blue lake. Cal watches you move, but occasionally glances down into the water directly below him, then shifting.

“The form you were doing, I struggle with this part.” You say, trying to offer a distraction.

You move through the form before getting to the troublesome part where you aren’t sure how to position your left arm to carry the right arm forward uninterrupted. Cal takes the welcome distraction and focuses on helping you. He tries a few times to talk you through the process before it happens. He approaches you in the water, realizing that you need more help than just verbal instruction.

“Like this,” He says gently while stepping behind you and placing a hand on each arm.

Your skin lights up at the touch, allowing him to guide your movements through the tricky part. You become distracted by his touch and fumble, twisting around to apologize. As you turn to face Cal, your thigh brushes against something firm.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you brought your lightsaber in here. Do I need mine? I left it back with my clothes.” You say, embarrassed that you joined in practice so unprepared.

Cal turns deep red. “That’s not…I, uh, also left my lightsaber with my shirt.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you…are you…um…”

“You’re pretty.” He mumbles.

“You are too.”

He cocks his head and gives a half smile. “You think so?”

You bite your lip and glance down before looking into his crinkled eyes. “It’s honestly distracting.”

“My sentiments exactly.” He lets out a laugh.

His hands are still on your arms, frozen from a forgotten moment. You take a chance and rest your hands on his chest, facing him entirely. Cal repositions his hands, resting on your hips.

“Can I…” He trails off.

You nod, not needing to hear more. Cal wastes no time leaning down to brush his lips against yours. Electricity sparks in your body as he kisses you harder. His hands grip you tighter and pull you flush against his body. The angle proving that it was not a lightsaber you felt earlier.

You kiss him back with equal force, wanting him as much as he wants you. Cal wraps his arms all the way around you and steps back, falling deeper into the water, pulling you in with him. You let out a small squeal as you fall, landing softly on his chest as he partially floats.

“Cal, are you sure?”

He nods once then resumes kissing you deeply, his tongue moving in past your lips. You let out a small moan, encouraging him. He breaks the kiss, looking at you with hooded eyes, his pupils dilated and lustful. Cal moves in to kiss down the side of your neck. You tilt your head, and he fills the new void. His hands move up from your waist to figure out how to remove your bra.

You giggle as he struggles, and he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck in response. The sounds of laughter changing to something more primal and needy. He finally frees your body of the offending fabric and pulls away to watch your breasts spill into the water.

His eyes light up and he leans forward to take one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue at the sensitive bud. You throw your head back as he works, his other hand snaking up to play with the ignored nipple, pinching and twisting to your delight.

“Cal.” Escape your lips.

You feel him smile against your skin at hearing his name while he pleasures you. Trying to return the favor, your hands move down to his waistband and push them down over his hips, freeing his hard length. You wrap your fingers around him and immediately hear a strangled sound from the man suckling at your breast. Slowly pumping him beneath the water, you imagine what it must look like.

Thoughts interrupted by his expert fingers pushing under your elastic shorts and searching between your legs. He brushes your clit as he finds your weeping hole and you let out a groan. Cal draws back away from the wetness and tries to find the small bud that made you cry out. He wants to hear you make more noise.

He finds the spot, and you cry out his name again. Cal settles into position and rubs deliberate circles around the bundle of nerves. You let loose an array of noises and barely audible swears.

Cal keeps his eyes focused on your face, fascinated by the way his fingers are affecting your body. His other hand travels down to free you of your shorts. Once you kick them off, he uses the Force to pull them from the water and send them to the edge of the shore. His trousers following soon after.

You release his cock to pull his soaked shirt up over his body, causing his fingers to leave your body for a moment. His hair is messy and wet, his incredible physique is now on full display. He gives you a boyish smile and you feel weak at the knees.

Cal pulls you close again, and you wrap your legs around him. His tip pressing against your entrance, you look at him and nod and he pushes in a few inches. You both press your foreheads together as you experience this new and wonderful sensation.

“You feel so good. It’s really…good.” He says in a hazy lust.

Cal reaches between your bodies to pull more sounds from your mouth as he successfully finds your clit again. Your moans give him the permission he needs to thrust repeatedly into your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and meet his movements. It doesn’t take long until you are both panting and approaching your edge. Cal’s fingers become more frantic, trying to time your pleasure with his own.

“Cal, please, I’m close.” You say.

“Me too. You’re incredible. I should have offered to help you with your forms sooner.”

“You can help me with my forms daily if it ends like this.”

A coy smile crosses his lips as he pumps forcefully a few more times. You grip his shoulders hard as your orgasm arrives. Your core squeezing and gripping at the Jedi inside you. Cal swears under his breath as his thrusts slow and grow sloppy. You feel his own release as he fills you with his desire.

You both stay in the water, just enjoying being so close to one another. Finally, he slides out and carries you to shore, your legs still wrapped around him. Cal takes you to the large rock and sets you down before sitting next to you.

“I promised you we would dry in the sun.” He offers a shy smile. “Maybe we could keep working on things out here. I’d like to hear those noises again.”

Cal doesn’t stop his work until you are both as dry as you’ll likely be.

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[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 4

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 8.1k

Content: none! there is no content lmaooo nah there is just none that needs to be warned for, I don't think, so enjoy freely!!!!!

A/N: I know, I know, it's taken an age but here we are!! And I'm honestly kind of nervous to see how people react!!!! huge thank you to my betas @blog-name-idk @amethystwritesbts and @here2bbtstrash

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

Chapter Four – Someone Old, Someone New 

The message came in shortly after lunch. 

Mei.97: hey girl! Long time no see!!! I’m going to be in Seoul this week, pleeeeaaasse tell me you’re free for dinner tomorrow?!!? It’s been too long!!! Xxx 

You had to read the message twice to be sure you were reading it right. You hadn’t heard from Mei—an old university friend—since your first ‘breakdown’. You wondered what on earth she could want. But you weren’t in any position to be turning down an outreached hand. 

You: sure! It would be great to see you! 

A few months ago, that would have been a huge lie. Now, it was only a little one. You weren’t looking forward to having to smooth over the details of your breakdown, or your break-up, but you had been close as students and it would be easier with her—she moved back to Busan after graduating, so you could put a little bit of the blame for your losing contact on that, too. You knew you weren’t quite there yet, but you felt like you were healing, you were making progress; you sometimes even felt, on occasion, pretty good about life. And you wanted to share that.  

The first thing you heard upon walking into the bar you had suggested was the loud screech of your name. Then Mei was running over. You had barely even noticed her before she was wrapping her long arms around you in a huge hug. Her hair was as long and silky as it had ever been; she was still wearing the same perfume she always used to wear, and too much of it, as she always had; she looked almost exactly the same, except a little richer, a little chicer, like someone who had truly settled into themselves. She outshone the whole restaurant and looked as if she didn’t notice, as she always used to. The real world didn’t seem to have dimmed any of her at all. You were pleased with yourself that this didn’t make you completely sick with envy. 

“Girl, oh my god, it is so good to see you! You look amazing! I can’t believe it; you’ve barely changed! Love the hair, though,” she announced to basically the whole bar. 

You’d forgotten that she was possibly the only person in the world who was louder and talked more than you did. You’d forgotten how much you liked her. You had no need to be nervous, you realised, because it would never occur to her to judge someone; she just wasn’t that sort of person because she wouldn’t even have the time for it. She was more than just a rolling stone: this rolling stone had an engine and jet fuel. 

“I ordered a bottle of wine because I wasn’t sure if you were still into the same drinks and I figured, wine is a safe option, right? You want some?” she asked but she was already pouring into your glass. “Tell me everything, babe. It has been so long. What is up?” 

You took a deep breath. Where to start? 

* 

You marvelled at how painless the night had been. It was fun. Somehow, despite all the discussion you’d had about your life since university, your life now, it wasn’t painful. Not really. Mei was single, too, and courting every man in Busan before her parents tightened the screws on her to settle down. She was enjoying working for the family business (if a corporation can be called merely a ‘business’). She was earning a salary that made you wince and made her promise dinner was on her. You were doing reasonably well in your career, too, actually. You were earning enough to live in Seoul on your own. Things weren’t perfect, but Mei was such a positive and enthusiastic steam-roller that she made you feel like you were thriving, not wilting. She was exactly what you needed.  

You were just wishing that she didn’t have to leave Seoul, that she could move and stay forever when she took her ice-cream spoon from her mouth and looked sheepishly at her empty bowl. 

“I have a confession to make,” she began. “I had a teeny ulterior motive for asking you to dinner.” 

Your stomach lurched. 

“Oh?” 

“You remember my cousin Sungbin? He came to visit that time at uni?” 

“The one we had to carry back to your room?” 

“You mean the one we had to find someone else to carry back to my room?” 

“Yes!” You laughed. “Yes, I remember! How could I forget?” 

He was a sweet, tall drink of water who accepted every shot and drink foisted on him by his cousin and her friends until he passed out in the bar. You and Mei had dragged him through the streets of Hongdae asking every passerby if they could help you get him home. You didn’t remember who actually helped or much of the rest of the night, but that arduous 100-meter drag was almost as painful as your hangover had been the following day. 

“What about him?” 

“Ok, so my uncle is retiring, right? He’s still going to be on the board but he’s retiring from his actual position so, of course, Sungbin, oldest son, he’s got to step up. He's moving to the big city, girl! Taking up a position at the HQ here. My ulterior motive is me asking you a huge favour.” 

“What’s the favour?” 

“He doesn’t know anyone here, right? Never lived here before. Would you maybe like, take him out for drinks or lunch or something – super casual, no big deal! – just so he’s got a friendly face? Give him some recommendations for stuff, I don’t know, just so he doesn’t feel overwhelmed and on his own?” 

You didn’t really know how to feel about it. Of course, you would. Of course, you would be happy to take Sungbin out, show him around, help him if he needed. You felt flattered that Mei would even ask you, that she thought you would be up to the job. That she thought of you at all, to be honest. Had you not just been thinking that you needed new friends? And now one was landing straight in your lap.  

It all felt a little too good to be true. It was too easy. Things had been too easy recently; this was just too much good, surely? You weren’t used to this. It felt wrong. Made you anxious. And, usually, that anxiety made you make things worse all on your own. But your therapist had told you to stop looking for the bad, to trust the good, appreciate its presence. You could do that. Right? You could do that. 

“Yeah, sure! Of course, I can take him out.” 

Mei dramatically fell to the table in relief and held tight to both your arms. 

“You are an angel! Thank you! Here’s the bad part, though: any chance you can do it tomorrow? I’m leaving in the morning and he’s going to be on his own for the first time since moving-” 

“Oh, he’s already here?” 

“Yeah! That’s why I’m here, girly! I helped him move! Any chance you’re free tomorrow?” 

You didn’t know how to say yes without letting her know that you were the sort of person who had no plans at the weekend but you didn’t want to say no because you were the sort of person who had no plans, and it would be nice to get out of the apartment. You did not look into the fact that she was asking you this last-minute, assuming you would have no plans already. You shrugged. 

“Yeah, I can do drinks or something tomorrow night?” 

“Babe, you are my favourite person in this whole world. I’m going to give you his number; just text him. He doesn’t know anyone here so he literally has nothing better to do and I’ve already told him I’d put you guys in touch.” 

From anyone else, that might have prickled a little; the assumptions might have rubbed you the wrong way, but Mei was relentlessly optimistic, having never had any real hardship in her life (she would admit to this, too), so she had never had any reason to believe that things wouldn’t go the way she expected. Far from wanting to burst her bubble, you wanted to protect her naivety. Because you wished you could have it, too.  

As you walked and subwayed and walked home, you thought about Mei and her life, and your life, and how different things could be. You wondered who you would be if you weren’t so broken, if your head could just have got its shit together—rather, if your head had never gone to shit in the first place. Would you have been like Mei? Would life have found another way to break you? Were things destined or was everyone, including the universe, just making things up as they went along?  

Could you ever be like Mei? Was anyone like her? Did she have secret pain?  

It wasn’t lost on you, the possibility that she wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as she seemed. The shock and surprise of everyone you knew when you ended up in hospital was almost the worst part. If you never heard someone say ‘I had no idea!’ again, it would be too soon. You thought about it a lot, how normal you were (or weren’t). You couldn’t believe that everyone else went through life not thinking the things you thought, that everyone else was somehow just able to get on with things without the sometimes-debilitating urge to sink into the floor forever. 

You shook your head, because you knew you weren’t supposed to be thinking like this. You’d had a really fun time with an old friend and you were going to have a really fun time tomorrow with a new friend. That was all. There was no need to ruin it by overthinking and second-guessing.  

You tapped a finger nervously on the bar as you sat on your stool. You used to come here a lot, or at least semi-frequently, but you hadn’t ventured into this part of the city since you moved out of the apartment you had shared with your ex. He got the apartment, so he got the neighbourhood, too.  

You couldn’t really miss it, not on its own, because your life had changed dramatically after the break-up: you moved somewhere else, lost most of your friends, and stopped going out. This was really the only ‘out’ that you knew. And, crucially, it was close enough to Sungbin to become his neighbourhood, too. So here you were, tapping at the bar, staring at the door, trying not to gulp your drink and be drunk before he even arrived.  

It was bright and hot and humid. It had rained solidly for three days and the water still hung in the air, clung to your skin, even as the sun tried its best to burn it away. You pressed your palm against your cold glass and tried to will yourself cooler without success. You already felt sticky with sweat and you didn’t know if that was entirely down to the weather, or if your nerves were also to blame.  

You knew you didn’t have to be so nervous. What was the worst that could happen? Taehyung had, very patiently, talked you through it: all possible outcomes, all likely scenarios, best- and worst-case situations; he had reminded you that you were an adult human being who knew how to speak to other people. You did. You did know. But it had been a very long time since you had been in this situation. It wasn’t a date. Obviously, it wasn’t a date, but it was the closest you had got to one for many years; you were meeting a man, in a bar, alone. You didn’t know each other; you were hoping he would like you.  

You took another gulp of your drink and repeated Taehyung’s words back to yourself. You reminded yourself of how good things were, ran through your gratitude list, tried to persuade yourself not to psych yourself out before the date (it was not a date! NOT. A. DATE.) had even begun. 

You had turned from the door, realising how awkward it might be for you to have to stare at each other as he walked towards you and were now just glancing over your shoulder every single time you heard the door open. To stop it being awkward. You had done well to pace yourself and it was as you lifted your glass to your lips for another sip that you heard someone call your name. You turned and came face to face with a man you knew could not be Sungbin. 

“Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly as you continued to drink. “I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Mei’s cousin, Sungbin.” 

You gasped as you drank and it all came out in a choke and a splutter and you were blushing and fumbling to put your glass down, find a napkin, rewind time by ten seconds. The napkin came from his hand and you took your time drying your face and hands to try to will your blushes away. You were so embarrassed you could barely look at him.  

And there was so much of him to look at. This was not tiny, tall drink of water Sungbin from your university days. He was huge. He must have grown at least six inches taller, not to mention wider. His biceps were the size of thighs and his thighs were almost bursting out of his skinny jeans. You didn’t know where to look. 

“You can’t be Sungbin!” you cried. “You’ve got to be the guy that ate him!” 

He laughed and tugged at his hair a little self-consciously. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ve grown a bit.” 

“A bit!  You’re... You’re a hulk!”  

You were off your stool and gripping his bicep before he’d even finished the sentence—your fingertips didn’t even come close to touching. You were gawking, gaping, ogling this poor man without an attempt to hide it. You gestured broadly to his entire body with your other hand and only when you looked back up did you notice the blush on his face, the awkward way he averted his gaze. You stood back and gasped again, this time without choking. 

“I’m so sorry,” you told him. “Oh my god, that was so rude of me. I’m so sorry! What a dickhead! This is a terrible first impression for me to be making!” 

“Technically, not a first impression; we have met before.” He chuckled awkwardly. “And I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory then; I was, uh, a little worse for wear, I think.” 

“A little?! We were worse for wear; you were... the worst for wear! I’m amazed you survived.” 

“The joys of youth. Not sure I’d survive doing it now, just in case you had any ideas.” 

“Mei and I could barely get you home then, there is no way on God’s green earth I’d be able to carry you home by myself now! I wouldn’t risk it.” 

“So, we’re agreed then: both getting home in one piece?” 

You lifted your glass. 

“I’ll drink to that!”  

*  

You moved from one bar to the next, almost retracing steps you used to take in what felt like your former life. Sungbin paid great attention to where you were going and what else was around, cataloguing his new area, making notes for his new life. Your nerves were long gone, as were his, and you were enjoying a night out with a relative stranger as if you were a real person who did things like this: a real person who made new friends, who went out at the weekend, who had a proper life again. You had to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really happening, that this was all really going well. Your problems felt miles away, lightyears. You wondered if this is what it felt like to be normal. Whole. Fixed. You made a mental note to tell your therapist. 

You were on a roof terrace, carpeted with fake grass, decorated with fake flowers. Everything was clean and bright and the sun was still high in the summer sky. It was still a little too warm and a little too sticky, your glasses sweating as well as your bodies, but the lightest of breezes lifted the ends of your hair every now and then, and you couldn’t have imagined a more comfortable feeling than the soft rush of wind across your hot skin. You took seats under a white, wooden pergola where the sunlight was dappled through the fronds twisted along the frame.  

This heat usually enervated you, made you lethargic and sloth-like. That night, though, sitting under fake foliage, you felt solar-powered. There was a summer spring in your step. You felt, dare you believe it, like you were glowing. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. A brand new thing. A better thing. Being here, an old place, with Sungbin, a new friend, could have felt awkward, uncomfortable, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole—you had expected it to—but no. You felt bigger and brighter, not smaller and duller. You were conscious of the possibility of your old life encroaching on your new one, the possibility of running into someone you used to know, but you decided to push those thoughts away. Compartmentalise them. Ignore them. You didn’t need them.  

Sungbin was talking about his ex. It was an awkward break-up; they’d not been together long enough for her to move to Seoul with him, or for him to even ask her to, but it had been long enough that it felt significant, felt like throwing something away when they ended things. But he was young and he wasn’t worried. You didn’t say it out loud but you thought to yourself that a man like him surely would never have to worry: looking like he did, having the position he had, being a sweet, polite kind of guy; women would be queueing up for even a chance with him.  

“I don’t really miss her that much, because there’s so much going on here that I haven’t really even had the time to. That, if nothing else, tells me it was the right decision for us.” 

The words reached your ears but didn’t go in. You could feel your heart pounding hard in your chest and sweat begin to prick in your palms. Your eyes had flicked over the crowd in front of you, people walking in and out, to and from the bar, looking for tables, looking for friends. They had skimmed over the faces of strangers until they hit upon someone familiar. The face had immediately disappeared back into the crowd, but you were sure it was him. It had to be. Why else would your whole body have gone into panic mode? Why else would your legs be like jelly? Why else would your fingers feel numb? A quiet ringing grew louder in your ears and you kept looking for him again, waiting for that dark head above a white shirt to break through the crowd again. You had to be sure it was him. 

“Are you ok?” 

You wanted to stand. You had to stand and get a better view. You wished it weren’t so busy. Why did it have to be a Saturday night? Why were all these people out?  

“Are you ok?” 

A touch on your arm drew you back and your head span to Sungbin. He looked confused, concerned. 

“I think I saw my ex,” you told him, your voice hoarse.  

“Ah. A bad break-up?” 

Your eyes had already gone back to the crowd, scanning and searching.  

FUCK. 

It was him. It really was him. It had to be. It couldn’t be.  

“Yeah, no, I don’t know,” you answered vaguely. 

You were still staring at him and then his eyes flicked to yours and you flinched so hard you almost knocked over your glass. You turned away, turned back; he looked as surprised as you were. He looked unsure. He looked like he was walking over to you. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you said under your breath, looking at the table, trying to work out how on earth you were going to handle this. You wondered, if you thought hard enough, if you would be able to make yourself disappear. You wondered if you could just run: leg it out of the bar as fast as you could and not look back. You felt dizzy. You felt sick. You felt... drunk. Too drunk. Of all the places and all the times you might have imagined seeing him again, this wasn’t one. This would probably be the very last place you’d have chosen to run into him.  

Sungbin’s hand was back on your arm, less tentative now. He scooted his chair closer to yours. His hand slid down your wrist and he tangled his fingers in yours. You could only look at him; you didn’t have the mental capacity to even form the question in your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” came his reply. “I got you.”  

Then he winked.  

“Hi.” 

You looked up and there he was. San. Just as he always had been. Maybe his hair was a little shorter, you could kid yourself there was an extra line or two on his face. But it was him, no denying. 

“Hi,” you squeaked back. 

You were trying to think of all the things you wanted to say to him, trying to think of all the things you could say to him, that would be appropriate to say to him here, in this bar, whilst holding the hand of another man. 

“Hi, I’m Sungbin.”  

He was confident. He stuck out his free hand and gave San a generous smile. 

“Oh, uh, San.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” San turned his face back to you. “How have you been?” 

You looked at Sungbin for help: this relative stranger, this potential new friend pretending to be your new boyfriend in front of your old boyfriend, this man who seemed to have much better control of this situation than you did. You could barely think at all. It was a desperate ringing, alarm bells, sirens wailing, a maelstrom of panic. Sungbin smiled at you. You had no idea how long you looked at him before answering, had no sense of time anymore. 

“Yeah, fine,” you said, eventually tearing your gaze from Sungbin to stare into San and the sun behind him. Sungbin gave your hand a squeeze. “Good, actually. You?” 

“Yeah, same old same old, you know how things are. Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Oh, that’s my fault.” Sungbin stepping in to save you again. “I live in the area so I’m always dragging her over this way.”  

You stammered for a second, trying to take in San’s surprise and Sungbin’s sweet, encouraging smile. 

“Y-yeah, he does,” you confirmed. “I don’t- I don’t mind, though, really.” 

“Mm, you always liked this bar. I remember.”  

“Yeah.” 

You noticed the way San’s eyes flicked to your hands, clasped together on the table, not just once but again and again. You wished you could peer inside his head, know what he was thinking.  

You were hardly thinking at all. Your brain was trying so hard to be quick that it had overloaded itself, stalled, got stuck. You couldn’t get over the fact of him, there, in front of you. It had been months. Seasons had changed since you saw him last. You had changed. Could he see that? Did you want him to? Did you want him to miss you? Did you want him to be bothered by Sungbin—gentle giant, Sungbin, holding your hand so casually, talking about you as if you really were together? You tried not to imagine what San was doing there, who he was with. You didn’t know if you would care. You wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was dating. He was a catch, you knew that.  

There were too many things happening at once, too many things to process. You felt like you were spinning out of control. What if San knew Sungbin wasn’t your boyfriend? What if he knew this was all pretend? What if he asked more about it? What if everything unravelled before your very eyes and the ground didn’t show mercy and swallow you whole? 

“Are you still living around here?” San asked you. “I would’ve expected to see you around more.” 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m over the river. I just-…"  

You couldn’t commit yourself to the lie, had to let yourself trail off just looking at Sungbin, desperate for a sign you were doing ok, you were playing this the right way. He grinned at you. 

“Like I said, my fault.”  

He shrugged with a light chuckle and San faintly followed suit, mouth moving but no sound actually coming out. 

“Right, well,” he began in the tell-tale way that said he was backing out of this conversation. “I’d better get back to my table. It was uh, nice meeting you, Sungbin. Good to see you, too-” his eyes rested on you, needled into you like he was searching for something specific in your face. “I’m glad you’re doing well.” 

“Yeah, me too. I mean, me for you, you know what I mean.” 

A genuine smile. And a nod. Then he was retreating back into the sea of people, disappearing and leaving no trace. No trace but the hammering of your heart. No trace but the sweat pooling in your palms and sticking your dress to your back. No trace but the sudden exhaustion of the relief you felt being out of his presence. Sungbin squeezed your hand again. 

“Bad break-up?” 

You rested your forehead on the fingers of your free hand and shook your head. 

“It was for me. It was the right decision but yeah, it was bad for me. I haven’t... I haven’t seen him since I moved the last of my shit out from our apartment – what used to be our apartment.” 

Sungbin nodded knowingly and placed his hand on top of yours just for a second. Then he let you go completely. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I realise I didn’t really give you a chance to disagree; I’m sorry about that. I-” 

You shook your head and waved your hand.  

“It’s absolutely fine,” you reassured him. “It was good, actually.”  

You were deeply grateful for his quick-thinking, presumptuous though it may have been. You wanted to splash your face with cold water, give yourself a shock, try to bring yourself back into the room. You didn’t want to look like you were still completely hung up on your ex; you didn’t want to look like a mess; you just needed a second to take a breath. 

“That was... not expected,” you went on, more for your benefit than for his. “I have thought so many times about what I would say and what I would do if I saw him again but I guess I never really believed it would happen and then suddenly, he was fucking right in front of me and I just felt like dying!” 

Sungbin laughed, as you knew he would, because it was a joke. It was a joke. But you didn’t not feel like dying for at least a second there.  

“When did you break up?” 

“Oh, months ago now. Kind of feels like I should be over it, I guess. I mean, I am, really. I just-...” 

“You were caught off-guard. I get it; it’s rough seeing them again.”  

It was rough. And you believed that he did get it. And he smiled at you so sincerely that you could have cried. It surprised you, that people could be nice to you; that people could like you, even; that people could see you and still smile at you. You looked at each other a little longer, Sungbin’s quiet calm radiating through you, your heartrate slowing and your spinning head coming to a stop. 

“Thank you,” you said as you picked up your glass to take a sip to cover awkwardness that only you felt. “That was quick thinking and um, yeah, I think it helped. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Sungbin shrugged.  

“You’re doing me a big favour tonight; it was the least I could do. Happy to be your fake boyfriend whenever you need!”  

He laughed and then you laughed and it felt good. You drained the last of your drink and Sungbin suggested you go somewhere else for your next one. You agreed. You didn’t look for San on your way out, just kept your eyes on Sungbin’s back as he led you, your hand in his (just in case), back through the bar and out onto the street. 

* 

“You don’t have to literally walk me to my door,” Sungbin said as you stepped into the lift with him. “I maintain that it should be me walking you home.” 

You shrugged. 

“That argument might hold water if you had even half a clue of how to get to my apartment. But you don’t. Besides, I was taking you out tonight; it only follows that I walk you back, too. Why break tradition?” 

Sungbin bit back a grin. 

“How long before I live that down?” 

“Oh, at least five more years.” 

“Well, if you’re going to make me suffer that, don’t you think we should do this correctly? Now, how did it go again?” 

He moved behind you and draped himself over your shoulders, slowly leaning his weight onto you. You cried out and could do nothing but collapse underneath him. 

“NO! I couldn’t carry you then; now you’re just trying to kill me!” 

You knelt on the floor of the lift with your hands outstretched above you, as if they would in any way hold him off. He straightened and pulled you up by them. 

“Fine,” he conceded as he stepped out at his floor. “But next time, you’re going to have to let me walk you home. Deal?” 

You shrugged. You nodded. You didn’t take that as a promise.  

“About your ex,” Sungbin started, standing in front of his door. 

“Yeah?” 

“Where exactly are you at with that?” 

That had you on the backfoot. You didn’t know how to answer the question for yourself, let alone for him. Your first thought was that you probably would have to ask your therapist; did she think you were over it? Would she think you had closure? You blinked and opened your mouth as if somehow an answer would fall out of it without your having to compile it first.  

“I just mean,” he continued, “are you dating? Would it be alright if I asked you out?” 

“Oh, uh, I-”  

Would it be alright? Wouldn’t it be? You had told yourself you were off dating. You weren’t ready for it; you had been emphatic when you’d said as much to Yoongi only a few weeks ago. Was that still true? You had spent so much time that day reminding yourself that this wasn’t a date, but... what if it had been? San aside, it had gone well, hadn’t it? You had had fun; Sungbin seemed like he had, too. He was the one who pretended to be your boyfriend first. Maybe... Maybe it would be ok? Maybe you were ready? There was only one way to really find out.  

“Yeah, I guess that would be fine.” 

He smiled. 

“Good. I’ll do that then.”  

He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles; everything inside you fluttered. Then he winked and dropped your hand to enter his door code. 

“Text me when you get home safe, yeah?”  

You nodded, mute. He smiled at you again. 

“It was really nice to see you again.” And when he said your name, it sounded new.  

You didn’t leave immediately. Couldn’t. You stood outside his apartment, in shock, processing, looking at his closed front door, to the left, to the right, looking for an answer to what just happened. Sungbin did not just ask you out. But he did say he would. He was going to ask you out.  

And you had already kind of said yes.  

To a date. 

You fumbled in your bag for your phone and had it to your ear before you realised you absolutely had to leave, lest Sungbin hear you speaking. You scuttled back down the hallway and into the lift while Taehyung’s phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. You hung up and tried again. And then again. And then you sent him a text. 

You: TEDDY!!! PICK UPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

You tried calling for a fourth time and for a fourth time, you heard the automated voice of his voicemail service.  

You threw your phone back into your bag, defeated, but jittery with nerves and adrenaline. You could barely remember how this felt. In fact, with San you had seen it coming. You had engineered it. You had been flirting for weeks; you practically demanded he ask you out. Then he did. This had come out of the blue. Blindsided you. For the second time that evening. You were so shocked by Sungbin’s question that you had, momentarily, forgotten about running into San.  

What a fucking night. One that you had almost no idea how or where to start processing. Everything was-… you threw your hands in the air, by yourself, in the lift, shaking your head, completely bewildered. Taehyung was your go-to person for this. He was your sounding board. You picked up your phone to call him just one more time.  

* 

Your phone rang as you were changing into your pyjamas and you picked it up with your vest only half pulled down over your chest. 

“Teddy! Finally!” 

“Are you dying?” 

“No.” 

“Are you hurt or injured or maimed in any way?” 

“No.” 

“Then stop calling!” 

“Hey! I need to talk to you!” 

“Well, it’s going to have to wait, princess; I’m busy.” 

“Not even for five minutes?” 

“No.” 

“But I saw San!” 

There was a pause as Taehyung digested the information. 

“Are you ok?” he asked simply. 

“Yeah.” 

“Then it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow.” 

You heard a rustling in the background, another voice. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, turning your voice down to a loud stage whisper. “Are you with someone?” 

“... Yes.” 

“OH MY GOD! Oh my god, please tell me it’s the barista. Is it the barista? It is, right?!” 

“... Yes.” 

You squealed and fell onto your sofa to kick your feet in the air. 

“WE HAVE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT!” you screamed down the phone. 

“Yes, but tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, fine, tomorrow. Oh my god. I am SO excited, Teddybear.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll talk to you later. I’m going now.” 

“Bye, Teddy!” 

“Good night, babe; love you.” 

“Love you!” 

It was entirely possible that you weren’t going to be able to sleep at all now.  

You squealed as you opened your door and let Taehyung into your apartment. He handed over an ice-cold, sweating cup of coffee and flopped onto your sofa.  

“Tell me literally everything,” you demanded. 

He merely shrugged. 

“Don’t be fucking coy, you piece of shit! I want to know everything! It’s THE BARISTA.” 

The barista worked at a coffee shop not far from Taehyung’s apartment. The barista was a fine, delicate-boned, ethereal beauty, probably the prettiest person you had ever seen in real life. Even Taehyung—unflappable, cool, calm and collected Taehyung—had been flustered the first time the barista had flashed him his pearly whites. And, last night, something had finally happened between them.  

“There’s really not that much to tell,” Taehyung countered. “I asked him out and he said yes.” 

You hit him hard with a cushion. 

“I said I want to know everything! And you can’t just say it like it was that simple; you’ve been daydreaming about that guy for months!” 

“Firstly, I was sussing out his situation. I understand tact and diplomacy and how to not say every stupid thing that’s in my head at any given moment-” 

“Uncalled for, but go on.” 

“-So I had to bide my time.-” 

“Also, you’re a massive chicken and he made you go knock-kneed and goo-goo-eyed.” 

“-Do you want me to tell you what happened? Or would you prefer to just make up your own version?” 

You cackled. 

“You know I’d love to make up my own story, but no, sorry, I’ll stop interrup-” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, babygir-” 

“Ok, now who’s interrupting?!” 

“I’m the one trying to tell you a story!” 

“Ok! Ok! Fine, spin your yarn and give me the entire confection, please.” 

* 

“I’m seeing him again tonight. Truth be told, I’d be with him right now if someone hadn’t already laid claim to my time.” 

“Teddy!”  

You felt bad for tearing him away from his One True Love, you did. But he’d already seen his success with the barista (Hyunjin to those in the know) and could go running right back to him as soon as he was done here. All you had was a too-warm apartment to stew in until whatever hour or day Sungbin would choose to actually, officially do the asking.  

“Come on, then,” Taehyung said, with a shrug, and nudged you with his foot. “How the fuck did you see San again?” 

Shit, that too.  

“Right, well, you know I was out with Sungbin last night—and, by the way, do NOT let me forget to show you his instagram. Oh my god. There are no words. And there’s also something else I need to tell you about him after this. But, yes, San, ok.” 

It felt like trying to describe a blur. You still didn’t know how you felt about it. The whole night felt surreal to you now, like a dream. It was frustrating to have met him but not really met him, to have seen him and not been able to talk. Everything that you had been working through—trying to work through—felt bundled up inside you and you wanted him to know. You didn’t need him to think you were dating again, you didn’t need to ‘win’; you needed him to know that you understood. That maybe there would always be some kind of thing between you—history, old intimacies like ink stains in your skin—but it didn’t mean that that past would hold you back forever. You wanted him to see that you understood that. 

But you came to those conclusions this morning, after a deep sleep, after another man had made implicit promises to ask you out. And, once he’d actually asked you, would anything you had to say to San matter anymore? Did it really matter now?  

“I don’t know how I feel about it because... I had this blind panic, y’know? But I don’t know why I panicked because San is a good person and I understand why he broke up with me and I don’t blame him for that and there really shouldn’t have been any reason for it to be awkward, right?” 

“I mean, another man pretending to be your boyfriend might make it a little awkward.” 

“Maybe... But that’s not Sungbin’s fault; he was trying to help. I thought I’d be cool seeing him again, because I’ve thought so much about things I want to say to him or would say if I could, but when he was actually in front of me, it was like I couldn’t think at all. I don’t know what that means.” 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. You were surprised.” 

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I be over him? Should he have that effect on me even now?” 

“I don’t think ‘should’ is a helpful word here, sugarplum. There is no should or shouldn’t about feelings; isn’t that therapy 101?” 

“I just don’t know... I guess I thought that seeing him again would make everything crystal clear, written in stone. Sure. But... Well—ok, the other thing is that Sungbin kind of asked me out.” 

“On a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What did you say?” 

“Well, he asked me if it would be alright if he asked me out. And I said yes. So he said he would. But he hasn’t actually asked me yet.” 

“And you want to know if you should go out with him or not?” 

“I guess?”  

You shrugged. You wanted to go out with Sungbin. You knew you wanted to because you could picture his smiling face and bulging biceps and you saw clearly, outside of the moment, how quickly and easily he stepped in to support you, no questions asked and no favours owed. He wanted to date you. You knew you wanted to date him. But- 

“I don’t want it to be a mistake,” you said.  

“That’s natural. No one likes making mistakes.” 

“No, I mean, I don’t want it to be a mistake for Sungbin.” 

“Why would it be?” 

You looked at him, trying to say, without saying, what you meant. Because it had been for San—you had been. He was better off without you and maybe Sungbin would be, too. He was young and rich and free; he had just moved to the biggest city in the country; he had the world at his feet. Were you really going to let him limit himself, stop himself at your door?  

Taehyung looked cross for a moment, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn, then he took a sip of his coffee (mostly iced water at this point) and, when he turned back to you, his gaze was softer.  

“Baby,” he cooed and he held his arms out to you. Despite the heat in your poorly air-conditioned apartment, you climbed into his lap and let him stroke your hair. “There’s only one way to know for sure if something’s a mistake and that’s to do it. Sungbin clearly wants to. If you also want to, then you’re just going to have to dive in. The water’s great.” 

You nodded and let him hold you, so grateful to him and all his tact and diplomacy and gentleness. He wasn’t always—or often—gentle with you, because usually that’s not what you needed and he knew it. Just like he knew that today, that was what you needed. 

“I do have one question, though,” he said and his hesitance made your stomach drop. 

“Ok.” 

“Where does Yoongi fit in with all of this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t know; I thought you guys were-” 

“-Friends! Just friends! Have I not said it a million times?! We’re just friends! We’ve always just been friends!” 

“But you did have sex-” 

“ONE TIME!” 

You pushed away from him to better display your indignation and displeasure. Taehyung had a bee in his bonnet about Yoongi—had done since you’d first mentioned him—even though he didn’t know the guy, didn’t know anything. 

“Ok, ok!” He held his hands up in defeat. “I just sort of figured you guys were heading in that direction.” 

“Why?” 

“You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I do. Because we’re friends. I like you a lot, too, and we’re not going to shack up.” 

“Yes, love, but I’m gay and you are not a man.” 

You pushed him. 

“You know what I mean!” 

“I take your point. If you want to date Sungbin and feel good about it, then you have my blessing-” 

“I don’t need your blessing, Teddy; I can do what I like!” 

He fixed his eyes on you and simply waited you out. 

“Ok, fine!” you cried, exasperated, after probably not more than five seconds. “Thank you, yes, I did want your approval.” 

“And you have it, my sweet. As long as you’re happy and not being a complete idiot, I’m on board.” 

“I mean... Thanks, I guess?” 

"Don’t mention it.” 

“Babe!” you cried as soon as Yoongi step foot inside the classroom the following Thursday. You beckoned him closer, telling him to hurry, and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was within reach. “I have so much to tell you.” 

He looked surprised, blinked, and then shrugged with a slight nod of his head. You didn’t pause for thought as you unloaded both your bags and your gossip onto the counter. You were sieving flour as you told him about your dinner with Mei; beating eggs into the mixture when you told him about drinks with Sungbin; and watching Yoongi almost drop the entire thing as he placed it in the oven when you mentioned San. 

“What was that like?” he asked with genuine, but guarded, curiosity.  

“A blur. Kind of a panicked mess but also fine. I sort of want a do-over but mostly for my pride, y’know? It was bumping into an ex, not actually meeting up with them so I think that made it better. But also worse because I had no time to prepare but there was also no opportunity to get into the difficult stuff which meant we didn’t have to get into it.” 

“Do you still want to do that? Talk to him?” 

“There’s a lot I want to say to him, but they are things I want to say more than things I think he would need or want to hear. If we met, it would be for my benefit and I don’t know if he deserves to be pulled in for that. Do you know what I mean?” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded.  

“And that was before Sungbin asked me out, too, so maybe I would be saying something different if that hadn’t happened.” 

“He asked you out?” 

Yoongi was turning towards his counter, looking at his sugar in his pan, turning on the hob, his head inclined just slightly towards you to indicate that he was listening. He needlessly pushed a hand through his hair which, far from tucking it behind his ear, made it fall in front of his face. You were, likewise, distracted by your sugar syrup and altogether too excited to take note of much else. 

“Yes!” you cried in answer. “So, on the Saturday he asked if he could and, obviously, I said yes. Then it took him until Wednesday to actually do the damn thing, but yes, he asked me out and I said yes and we’re going out tomorrow for our first actual date.” 

“Wow.” 

“I know, right? I had no idea it was coming—the bit where he asked if he could ask me out, I mean. We ran into my ex at drinks! And he asked me out?! And I was... I was discombobulated, you might say; I stood at his door for five minutes just in shock at what had happened. I was in disbelief. Especially because I wasn’t expecting it! At all. I mean, I was just doing Mei a favour! I didn’t think anything of it and now I can’t stop thinking about it! Or, well, him. I had forgotten how exciting this part is? It’s terrifying, yeah, completely horrifying, really, but I also just feel like I’m alive, y’know?” 

You paused briefly, glancing at the oven timer and stirring your syrup.  

“I just...” you started and then stopped, staring off into space to let the thought coalesce in your brain. “It’s so crazy that you can think one thing and then someone comes into your life and, suddenly, everything is so different. All it takes is one person to—ok, this is dramatic but you know me now so you’re going to have to let me be—change your whole life. A chance encounter? And suddenly I’m not the world’s loneliest, bitterest, most miserable single person alive? Suddenly, I have something to be excited about? To look forward to? I’m getting ahead of myself, I know I am, but I’m allowing it. I’m allowed to indulge in this because it’s been so long. I’ve been miserable for ages now. And I’m finally not. Don’t get me wrong when I say this, because therapy works, or at least it helps, it really does, but man, having a crush on someone is fucking electric, right? Years of counselling and it turns out nothing makes you feel the joy of being alive like when you really fucking like someone.” 

Yoongi hummed. 

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

[12connect]

a quick drabble!!

Hi guysss, this is my first little drabble that i will be posting so i hope yall like it! Just remember this is all fiction and pure imagination. Let me know if i should write the whole story. Have fun!!!!

You just finished high school and you're now packing for college when suddenly your mom entered the room. "Y/N, Y/N!!!!!! Guess who's back from Korea to study at the same college as you?" You looked at her dumbfounded not knowing who she meant. "How could you not know? JUNGWON IS COMING BACK!!'' (Jungwon was your childhood best friend until he moved to Korea 4 years ago.) ''Oh, that's so exciting....uhm I should continue packing now. Bye mom.'' "You didn't know....Anyways, bye sweetie!!" With that your mom left the room, off to making dinner.

You grew up with Jungwon as your neighbour. HE was sweet, kind, adorable and your best friend for 10 years. He moved away with his parents to Korea when we were both 12 years old. We stayed in touch for a few months after that but one day he just stopped texting, so i did too. When i heard the news about Jungwon coming back to study at the same college i was going to study at i was scared. Growing up Jungwon was always the sporty, handsome, popular guy and i was...well, me. I hope he will still remember me when i see him in college. But the real question is. How could Jungwon not tell me he was coming back after 4 years?! Why did he just shut me off after 10 long years of being friends. Are we still friends? Are we just strangers to each other now? What are we?

I was so lost in thoughts that i didn't notice my mom standing in my room, again. "Hello, Y/N?? Are you okay? Earth to Y/N??" "Sorry mom i was just thinking bout something. What's up?" "I forgot to mention that Jungwon, his parents and his sister were coming for dinner today. Isn't that exciting, you'll be the first one to see him back in America! So, go get ready and help me with the food please, mwah. Bye honey!" Once again she left your room and left you being stressed out. HE'S COMING OVER FOR DINNER, TONIGHT. WHAT DO I DO?!?!?!?!? You stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower while still thinking about what could possibly happen tonight.

I hope you guys liked reading this little bit. Tell me if i should write the whole thing. If so there will be smut included and some other stuff. I hope to write new chapters every week or twice a week or maybe even more, who knows. Also tell me what i could improve for this story. I have some great things in mind so i hope yall will like it as much as i do!

*remember this is fully fictional and none of the things mentioned are real just imagination*

Bye bye loves ❤️

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer - June 2019

Interview with Paul, Schneider, Flake and Richard

How did you motivate yourselves to record an album again after the long absence from the studio?

Richard: It wasn't that easy. If we want to go into the studio or write an album, it can't be done within a few weeks. That's why we always think very carefully about whether we really have the strength and stamina to do it. At the end of the day, you never know where we'll end up. It's always an adventure with us! In 2015, the idea of making a new album came up for the first time. I really didn't feel like doing it at the time because I thought it would involve a lot of controversy. But then we pulled ourselves together and said: Let's try to take all the pressure off. We are free from any contracts, our own masters. So let's just have a look. We start rehearsing and then when we have three or four songs that are okay, we put them out. And if we are not satisfied, we let it be completely.

Schneider: I understand the fans who might be annoyed after the long wait. But we need the time to be really good. That is always our aim: to get the maximum out of every note. Sometimes it's just a few percentage points that we improve within weeks, but they make the difference. But it's not easy: I wasn't always sure whether this record would actually exist. We have now spent three years in the rehearsal room and in the studio. The nice thing about it: In no other phase of the band's history have we understood each other as well as we do now, didn't yell at each other at work and thus survived musical crises.

Paul: But honestly, if I had known beforehand what kind of process this was going to be, phew my god. (Laughs) There really is a lot of blood, sweat and tears, anger and stress in this album.

You have decided to go new ways for the recordings. How did that happen?

Richard: We just wanted to try something new. And also in the way we produce — first we went to France with Tom Talget and Olsen Involtini instead of Jacob Hellner and Stefan Glaumann as before. Change is always a fragile thing: On the one hand, you don't want to change what you're successful with. On the other hand, you have the desire to develop as a musician. We then decided to leave our comfort zone. That didn't go smoothly either, at first we didn't really get along with Tom and Olsen. And Jacob Hellner has been a father figure in a way; someone who properly directs a production. Olsen doesn't do that and Tom doesn't do that. For me it felt like: Nobody knows where we should go anymore... Here you realize again: Astrologically speaking, Rammstein is fire, water and earth at the same time. What we lack is air, i.e. lightness. We tried to get air in. Olsen Involtini is such an aerial person.

Schneider: He managed to lead us through the difficult development phases of the album. We often have deadlocks: three of us are for one solution, three for the other. Then we just didn't continue, one idea fell by the wayside. That's where Olsen came in — he was in charge as producer, and you can feel that in the songs. Through him we came to new inspirations that we would not have found on our own.

Paul: This development was very important for us. We didn't want to make another album without challenges. We were about doing it differently just to do it differently. With Jacob it was like with a teacher on a school trip. The longer we were on the road, the more respect for each other dwindled. I love trying something where you don't know at the beginning what it will be like at the end. So it was a good idea for Richard to involve Olsen. When we have someone we accept—and that's not always easy for us—then it feels good to hear an informed opinion. With the six of us, everything is always very uncoordinated.

Did these new paths also encourage your creativity?

Schneider: On this album, I played my instrument very slowly in order to get involved in a way that served the respective song. It wasn't important to me to show what I can do — I only play what's really required on the album.

Richard, did you feel that ideas you brought up were more readily accepted by others?

Richard: Nah, I felt like my ideas were being viewed extremely critically. Of course, that's also because I've tried to push certain things through in the past. That sticks. Because I work a lot, there is sometimes hardly any space for the others. In addition, I have to make a sound. This time I worked with Till on some ideas and then brought finished demos to our meetings. But they were also picked apart, of course.

Is Till your first point of contact within the band?

Richard: It depends. He's hard to get hold of at times, then the others come into play first.

So in your case primarily Paul?

Richard: It used to be that Paul and I thought completely differently. Simply because we are different types. This time we often agreed. There was a change between me and Paul, which I find incredibly refreshing and also very productive. I don't even know how it happened that there wasn't any competition in the songwriting phase this time... Maybe because I thought: «Hey, if this is a good idea, it will eventually catch on. And if not, I'll take them to another project. » That worked for the most part, and it gave me a certain balance.

Paul: We had quite a long time off, after the break we got closer again. With an undertaking as intensive as Rammstein, you have to take a break from time to time, otherwise you'll eventually become stupid in the head. Richard and I first had to learn, in a creative sense, to be in one room again — Schneider helped us a lot with that.

But aren't you really good when you can rub each other?

Richard: Yes, that's true for me. But that meant that no one could stand me anymore. Lots of loneliness. I've learned. Whenever I thought it wouldn't work anymore, now I really have to say something, I consciously withdrew.

Have you ever thought about not continuing?

Richard: Of course! 100 times! Played through in any form... I'm definitely only doing Rammstein because I really want to. And I can still take the time to do other projects. They are and were very important to me. I probably wouldn't have survived without it. I recently asked myself the question: "What else should happen in my life?" I am a person who loves challenges. And, yes, Rammstein isn't everything in my life. It shouldn't be everything.

How do the others think about it?

Flake: I noticed that I can do something at Rammstein that I couldn't do in another world, I would never quit there. It's not even important to me that I play. I could just drive around with the troops, that would be enough for me. For me, that's the most beautiful thing in the world, especially this walking feeling. I was lucky that it's a band and not a gangster gang. But I would have found it just as good from the heart.

Schneider: We always have those moments, especially before the production periods, when we ask each other what is important for each individual and what the future should bring for all of us. While we haven't actually talked about an ending yet, we recognize that Rammstein is a finite story, even if there's no plan for it yet.

Paul: As long as we feel that the ship is still sailing and that the port has not yet been reached, we will continue. Should we enter a port, I would not be sad. I'm very fortunate to have a life alongside Rammstein. My personal goals with the band have been achieved for a long time anyway: I wanted to play at the Huxley in Berlin once and get on the plane with my guitar case. (laughs)

After that you made a tick. It would be much more difficult not to repeat oneself, especially in terms of content. Was it difficult to work out the themes of the eleven songs?

Schneider: The topics only emerge towards the end: With us, the musical ideas always come first, then Till gets the tapes. He had some incredibly creative periods on this production where he would rush to write everything we came up with. That was a great pleasure for us — I personally didn't expect it in this form, after all these years.

Were you worried about failing with the album?

Richard: If you work on an album for three or four years, you logically lose the relation. You don't know anymore if it's good or bad. But because we said at the beginning: « We'll just do something and if it doesn't work, we'll throw it away », no such concern arose. It was important that we didn't put ourselves under any pressure.

The success, especially that of the first single 'Deutschland' plus video, proves you right. Do you think the song stands out?

Paul: Anyway, there were really long discussions about the song. We thought hard about how to make a song about Germany that isn't embarrassing. Especially with this song, every point, every word was fought for until everyone was satisfied.

Schneider: The song inspired everyone in the band. In the beginning there were two different versions, but thanks to Olsen we were able to collectively choose one. For me, the song is about the ambivalent emotional relationship to this country. People of my generation can understand that. First there were two countries, suddenly one was gone. There were also times when I couldn't get the word 'Germany' off my lips. There was the FRG and the GDR, not Germany. I'm getting better at it now. It's a topic that's been on our minds for ages. German lyrics with heavy music — that's what we stand for. And now we managed to make a song about Germany, it's a big step for the band. The video is also very special to me: a reminder not to forget what used to be — but in a Rammstein way. A wall full of emotional historical events that come together in one clip. Like a teaser for a monumental film that you want to see afterwards.

Aren't you afraid that the song might be misinterpreted? 

Schneider: For me, the song is an attempt to describe the state our generation is in. We live in a time in which many dare to express opinions that are no longer only propagated at the regulars' table.

Won't it feel weird when 80,000 fans on the stadium tour are chanting ‘Deutschland’ at the same time?

Paul: Our goal is for people who are as uptight as we are to shout out ‘Deutschland’ without feeling bad. It's very important that you can shout out ‘Deutschland’ once a year, at least at the Rammstein concert. You can go back to work the next day and feel ashamed. (laughs)

Flake: Playing in the stadium is actually something for opera. I've never seen a cool young band in the stadium, that's more for the half-dead, Rolling Stones or AC/DC. I would also never go to the stadium to see a band, it's not nice for either the performer or the spectator. That reminds me of the East with its cultural program. You see something, but you can't relate to it at all.

Will we hear explanatory announcements on the upcoming tour before you play the new songs, or will it stay with short and concise greetings?

Flake: I always scold Till when he’s too nice. (Laughs) I don't want to play in a band that's begging for applause either. I find that disgusting, I have to break up. I also think bowing at the end is stupid. The fans will clap if they want to, so I don't have to bow extra.

How does the new album compare to the earlier works?

Richard: I'm a big Mutter fan. This is 'our' album for me, that's why we play almost all the songs live. The new tracks also have this potential: I think that they are accepted live faster than the older albums because they are catchy. In hindsight, LIFAD wasn't our strongest album. I think the new album is much more interesting and musical, less controlled. Now we're kind of breaking out — at least that's how I feel about it. I'm often asked about the difference between the last album and the current one. I then answer: To me, the new album sounds like Rammstein in 3D. It has depth that we haven't had before.

And, still fancy another Rammstein album?

Schneider: You never know what the emotional set-up will be like in the next few years. We have learned not to limit ourselves too much on this topic. The desire is definitely there, but if not everyone wants it, then it may well mean the end.

Richard: There are five more songs that have already been written and mixed. Material is not so the problem. But another album? It's set in the stars.

[spectralquartzafterdark]

For any ship,

Describe their love languages and how they show affection to one another, comfort, and dote.

Ship: Ratchet and Rosie Universe: Transformers Prime TW: General NSFW Themes Info: After the awful time we've had this week I wanna reward our RosiexRatchet anon and @saberstars. Hugs and Hearts from us.

I never really thought I'd be breaking on this, but here we are! They wanna call her a Mary Sue? Fine. She can have all the husbands! Check it out below the cut.

Rosie – Physical Touch (Receiving) and Words of Affirmation (Giving)

Rosie is someone who loves physical touch. Her body is in immense pain constantly due to her Lupus. So, being touched by gentle hands is something that is soothing for her. It gives her body a chance to register something other than pain. Especially, when Ratchet is a giant heater in his own right. It's comforting on her poor body.

With her hair being as long and as thick as it is she enjoys with others brush and braid it. Something that usually only smaller bots or humans can do. Though she still appreciates it when Ratchet strokes her hair.

Sex - it's abundantly clear that it's something she shares with very few people. Not because she feels as if it's disgusting or dirty, but because for her it's a show of immense trust. Humans don't have sparks in the same way bots do and Ratchet has come to learn that for her - this is her equivalent of Spark Bonding.

When trying to show affections however her words tend to be her strong suit even when she's not able to find all the right words. She's not afraid to tell people how much she cares. Even with a grumpy old man like Ratchet. Hell she's made Megatron stumble from her kindness.

She reminds Ratchet that he doesn't need to walk on busted energon soaked joints to be worthy of love and that his life was never meant to be a punishment. Something she has to repeat often in numerous ways to him.

She's also one of the few who can bring him down from a manic episodes. Optimus can't even talk sense into him when he's like that, but she can bring him to the present every time.

Rosie takes joy in reminding him his work doesn't go unnoticed in the slightest. Even in the berthroom ;)

Ratchet – Quality Time (Receiving) and Acts of Service (Giving)

Ratchet loves just having her in the room with him. Even if all she's doing is catching a nap or organizing some tools. It's the quiet moments that ground him and remind that his new life on Earth is real. And that he will be okay no matter what happens while he is here on this planet.

Most days her being there is enough. Of course some days this need overlaps with a much deeper need. Cybertronians still crave physical affection and he's found interesting ways to fulfill his needs when they interface.

It's the aftermath he loves. Her small frame just sprawled out on his chassis. Soft skin pressing against slowly cooling metal as she sleeps. He's able to bask in the quiet moment and just be. No pressure to perform - he gets to just exist with her in that moment. It's not something that happens often, but when it does he basks in it.

To make his feelings known however - he likes to perform acts of service. Sometimes it comes in small things like reminding her to eat, reminding her to take her medication or helping her calm down after a particularly rough day. If he was smaller he would do far more. But, even when mass displaced he still isn't small enough to do what he wants.

He's dabbled in Dexcom Technology wanting to make a monitor that was more permanent. Though he tried to hide his secret project, Rosie is smart and caught on. He didn't like the thought that she had to reinsert such a device so often. He knew how fragile humans could be and didn't like seeing her in pain after each change out. It's unfortunately he couldn't quite figure it out. However it did help improve energon level detection so it wasn't a total loss.

This love language is one that works best with her need for physical touch, because he is more than happy to serve her.

[erendur]

Crack Silm Relationships I'd like to read about (IV)

7. Celebrimbor and Cirdan

In line with my agenda of “I don’t want Celebrimbor to be betrayed by one he considered a friend, tortured, brutally murdered and to have his body desecrated”, I’d like Celebrimbor to reconnect with his Teleri roots instead. He can go to Eregion long enough to be friends with the Dwarves of Moria, and make the gates, because that is cool and I like it. But then, he feels the call of the sea (I hc his mother as Telerin, given his Teleri “Telpe” name).

So he moves West, and meets Cirdan. I love Cirdan a lot, and the passage in the Silm when he arrives too late to be taken to Valinor the second time around and just stands on the shore cry that he’ll go by his own means anyway until the Valar intervene and prevent him from drowning to death in his not-yet-up-to-par boat always breaks my heart. 

So I suggest they just fall in love. Telpe reconnects with his Telerin heritage, and learns how to make boats. He suggests a few improvements based on his own technical knowledge. In fact, both he and Cirdan combine their talents and come up with the ocean cruise-liner.

Cirdan trusts Telpe to keep things running enough that he eventually becomes a Charon-like figure, taking the Elves that want to sail West himself in his Valinor-bound ocean cruise liner (the Valinor Express, departing every Saturday at 10pm sharp), before sailing back to Celebrimbor. Cirdan finally gets to see Valinor, weekly, albeit only from the shore (there is a magical agreement with the Valar that says he is allowed to sail there and back once a week as long as he doesn’t set foot on shore).

They are a likely bet for being the guys who finally manage to stumble on Maglor to take him to Valinor on the final voyage of the Valinor express.

8. Galadriel and Celegorm

Would it be bad ? Of course it would :D

This one is not about making things better, but worse. I like Galadriel and Celeborn a lot, they seem like a great, solid couple. Galadriel prior to the exile sounds like a proud, haughty lady (she wants to govern her own realm and is very dismissive of Fëanor), but once she has moved to Doriath and has settled down there, she seems much more chill since we don’t really hear about her for an entire age. Maybe it’s the crossing of the Helcaraxë that did it, or maybe Celeborn is just that super chill guy and supportive guy that made her see things differently (I just love Celeborn).

Celegorm, obviously, would be the exact opposite. I think they would be terrible for each other, and that they would be even worse together vs the rest of Beleriand. Apparently, Princess Margaret’s husband used to hide nasty notes all around the house and in books for her to find, for instance one entitled “Twenty Four Reasons Why I Hate You”. I could see Celegorm and Galadriel do that. I could see them going the way of the 1989 film “The War of the Roses”. I think they would be equally matched in spite.

I think they would originally get together because they are both super hot, and bond over both having snootty attitudes and sharp tongues. They would be Tirion’s Mean Girls, but as a couple. They would be so pretty (Prom King and Queen) that they would be invited everywhere, but people would be super afraid of them because they would be so mean, especially after a few drinks. Could they make Morgoth cry at a party ? You bet they could. 

Once they get to Middle-Earth, they would of course get a kingdom together, and frankly it’s anybody’s guess what would happen from there. Would they run the place to the ground ? Be so insufferable and toxic that no one would ever get near, even the Orcs ? Turn into it a giant black hole of ever-increasing negativity until even Morgoth decides to relocate further East ?

I don’t know, but I would sure love to watch it.

9. Fingon and Eowyn 

Nonsensical, all right, but I just want Finno to be saved by someone. I have nothing against Faramir, but Eowyn a) kicks ass ; b) has a thing for guys with a Kind-and-Heroic vibe. She would love Fingon. Everybody loves Fingon. He does magical, stupid heroic rescue missions (ok, just the one, but it was an outstanding one). He fights dragons with arrows (ok, just the one, and it was a small one, but he was great). He takes over the High Kingship of the Noldor shitjob after his dad dies, and tries to do his best. He dies a horrible death, abandoned by all. So I just want Witch-King Slayer Eowyn to time-jump/ fly to his rescue and take him away. I want him to never have to be High King of the Noldor again. They could fly to Valinor together and get a Heroic Feat exemption for Eowyn to stay there with him. Surely no one could look at Fingon’s cute face with his little golden-braided hair and tell him no. If Lúthien can sing, I bet Fingon does the best Puss-in-Boots eyes in the whole of Arda.

And I know lots of you would disagree with me and think that Maedhros should do the epic rescuing, but look, at this stage I think that Mae is the toxic ex that Fingon should really move on from. Post-death and reembodiement, sure, they can be back together. At the Nirnaeth point of the story, they had been close in Aman before the lies of Morgoth came between their families (so they spent several years thinking the other actively plotted with his side of the family to supplant the other’s side of the family - not great), then there was the Kinslaying, the boats, the crossing of the Ice. Sure, the magical rescue was great, but we don’t get the impression that they were super close after that, and Mae wasn’t in a great place anyway. Plus he’s completely beaten and defeated at the Nirnaeth, and can’t realistically save Fingon (I’m aware I’m having him saved by a time-traveling Eowyn with no know superpowers against Balrogs instead).

Silm crack relationships I

Silm crack relationships II

Silm crack relationships III