#i also put my account on private for now and turned off setting for suggesting contacts and stuff like that

[galariangengar]

💭

[intoloopin-archive]

A PRELUDE: THE OTHER NIGHT I CRIED THINKING ABOUT HAVING SEX WITH YOU.

TWs: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. An intrusive thought about committing sexual harassment gets troughfully examined (it's 100% an intrusive thought, Haruki does not act on it at any moment). Very direct references to past sexual abuse of a character. NSFW in general. Panic attack symptoms such as crying, shaking and depersonalization. Invasion of personal space and disruption of sleep (yes. that’s important.). Also some internalized homophobia, but only if you squint. Also, it's sad, very very sad. If any other warnings flew over my head, don't hesitate to tell me.

word account: 1,152 words.

characters: Fukunaga Haruki. Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. Choi Sangwon.

dated from: mid 2022.

author's note: So, I am experimenting with style a lot these days, and this was supposed to be a private writing exercise for me and me only, but I believe it turned into a pretty insightful character study, and that it'll be pretty useful moving forward to have this piece out. It sets the tone of the blog well enough (a problem I had with my old blogs was that the writing and the vibes always felt so disconnected, it was lowkey hilarious), so if similarly themed writing to this is not something you want to see, feel free to block/unfollow/non-interact, no hard feelings at all. Also: english is not my first language! This text in particular was originally written in brazilian portuguese and translated by myself to english.

You're vaguely aware that there are more decent ways of going through 'this sort of thing'. 'This sort of thing', in your book, translates to falling apart, coming undone, having a small death, as most things in your book tend to circle back to as of lately.

If you were locked inside a bathroom with the shower running cold, resting your forehead against the cooler tiles, it would be all fair game, and you could get done with it, freely liberating tension off your shoulder blades without acquiring any new guilt, without being watched.

But there's a living breathing person near your space. They could hear you making noise, see you, take note of you, join you, leave.

All fair game, as well, up until they leave.

You're thinking about crying just as much as you're thinking about sex. You've learned some years back that often enough, one follows the other in Siamese fashion. You've been made fully aware a week ago that they're not as intrinsically connected as you make them out to be.

It doesn't have to always be like this, your brain reminds you through a vivid thought. The thought keeps on going, takes a curve: but it has always been like this, with you, so this is how it'll go.

The situation your mind constructed is as it follows:

You would have your own cock on your right hand, left hand shoved into your mouth, eyes set on the silhouette by your side, separated by five steps and a half and another bed, both your expressions blank, the world quiet, compliant.

Chihoon would look asleep, but he would be awake. And you would know that because you have watched him sleep every night for months, and his shoulders and brows don't tense when he's even lightly napping. It would make you feel nothing. 

Now, he breathes through his open mouth. In your head he stays silent, plays dead, plays you.

When you changed roommates, you chose to stay with the side of the bedroom that used to be Sangwon's. You told Dylan your legs got cold and you didn't like being so close to the vents, and that was all that was, all there would ever be – but in actuality, you have cultivated a morbid curiosity in putting yourself in Sangwon's shoes.

You understand that's not what your therapist had in mind when she suggested you practiced empathy, but that's what you do now: you change thought perspectives as if they were TV channels.

You blink and think that Dylan is now you and you're so many different people you might as well not have a face. (So this is how you saw me, you want to tell them, one by one. You saw me small.)

You blink and you're close to crying, ugly crying, head shoved in your pillow crying.

Sex with you was never good, but sex with you was never about being good, or about getting there, getting someone there. It had always been something taunted sinister by the fact that it was you inside your own body – a dead cat wrapped in gift paper.

You could never make them laugh with their full chest, but you always made them hard, made them wet.

You remember, like one would remember a hazy dream, the feeling of being taken over by love and fear for the very first time, always love&fear, a conjoined act, sweaty palm interlinked with another sweaty palm, bigger than yours.

You had always been the sort of kid that held their breath under the bathtub water until some numbness hit you. No interest in learning how to swim or how to keep your nose high, out of risk of drowning. Not swallowing any medicine to keep the aftermath headache away, having it sit at the crown of your head proudly, like a tiara.

People that have been carved out of precious stone and molded into sculptures, human looking but not human being things like you, were made for drowning underwater. That to you had always been factual.

That kid side of you breathes deep inside you still, hangs inside your chest somewhere you can't reach, unless provoked. He tends to jump front when you let yourself be at mercy of other people, when they hover; that part of you that knows your destiny and the sinking hurt that's integral to it.

Everytime you let a tiger come close to your open cage, you flash your neck so they can pick you up by the nape, like an animal cub, and drag you away to eat you alive in whatever area brings them privacy.

No one has ever asked you where more than once. One time you sucked a man off in a parking lot, saw cars and bikes coming in and off the corner of your eyes, and now you no longer feel like driving.

Your very own conception of privacy is even more cloudy than a dream, stripped bare of any value, rest in the same way your physical exterior has turned into rest. You outgrew this coat. You learned how to live out in the cold and can't let yourself miss feeling safe in the warmth. Can't deal with the hanging thread of the wind blowing this candle out, rain falling over it.

You take a hold of yourself by the arms in a straitjacket shaped hug, nails sinking deeper into the meat of your elbows as you abandon the covers. You feel yourself rising up almost supernaturally, sitting at the edge of the bed, feet glued to the icy ground. You feel yourself walking until the distance between you both is more or less of a single foot.

You can never sleep near someone and not marvel and bitch and get nauseous at how easy it is to choose not to hurt them.

(In the dark, nothing ever happens. You spent half of your life like this: on your knees, snot running down your nose, hidden away from the sun and all it touched. Someone somewhere told you were a night creature once, half-bat, and you still believe them.

A tree that falls where no one can see doesn't make any sound, and you used to find comfort in that, back when you knew what was making you out of breath. Back when you didn't know they'd always be someone watching.)

Hand taunted with sweat, you see yourself wipe it on his hair through astral projection, as if someone else did it. And then you start shaking and getting down, almost as if you were in front of an altar, and you press your non-working nose against his scalp. You don’t move even when you feel him move. You’re a marble structure crumbling down again, ruinning someone’s peace by reaching.

When you plead for forgiveness, your voice is an echo of the one belonging to who had you by the neck first.

[mapledragon]

Pinned post time yippee

Hi, I'm Maple! This blog will show off both my general and mature (nude/suggestive/fetish) furry art, so TURN BACK NOW if you are under 18! I like anthros, reverse anthros (sphinx/manticore) and other assorted creatures.

TO VIEW MY MATURE ART:

You MUST go to Settings>Account>Community Labels then put either "Show" on Sexual Themes (will always show posts) or "Blur" (Will show posts with a warning before you click through). This option is only available to adults. In the future I may also use the Violence label, we will see. MY OC tags: #OC:Vesuvius #OC:Venus #OC:Janus Other tags: #scraps - rough sketches and unfinished work.

You can find me in the following places: 1. Artconomy

2. Furaffinity

3. Weasyl

4 . Cohost If you need to contact me, we can start our conversations via private ask OR note me on FA.

Tip jar

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Seven. Cooties, Discall, and Flirting

warnings: swearing, also I used the word “flirt” so many times it no longer holds meaning so beware word count: 4k 

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: putting it up here this time!!!! i liked this chap so i hope you do too!!!!! if you didn’t see the missing dms from part 3 (which are now actually in part 3), bugsy agreed to a minecraft date with dream in exchange for karl touring her on his smp!! anyway, enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**********

The frosty air bit at Y/n's skin as she hurriedly shut the car door behind her, starting up her car in an attempt to find warmth as quickly as possible. "Why do I live here?" she asked through chattered teeth, causing Naomi to laugh.

"It's not that cold!"

"I don't know how you're okay with this."

"Do you want me to drive? You're so stiff you'll crash,” Naomi offered as she looked at Y/n.

"I'm fine, I just need to warm up for a second," Y/n assured as she rubbed her hands together in front of the heater.

Naomi giggled and took her hands, rubbing them to help heat them up.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Now hurry up, I have a work meeting in like 30 minutes."

"What?" she gasped, quickly putting her gloves back on. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have spent so much time looking at Christmas decorations!"

"I'm just kidding. But Karl will be mad if he has to wait for his food any longer."

"You're seriously the worst." She smacked Naomi's arm and started driving, much less panicked than a few moments prior.

"You love me."

"Whatever. How's your internship going by the way?"

Naomi sighed. "Good. It's really hard to be motivated to go since it's unpaid but it's the last thing I need to graduate so I have to do it."

"But you enjoy it, right? I mean it's what you want to do."

"Yeah, no, I love it. I just wish I was getting paid so I didn't have to work at the grocery store too. I wish I could get paid to play video games like you."

Y/n deflated slightly. She hated when people put it like that, it made her sound like it wasn't a real job but it was challenging in its own way. "I'll teach you how to pvp and you'll be on your way to the top."

"Maybe then I could actually meet George myself instead of waiting around for you to do it."

"Wait!" Y/n gasped. "Did I not... did I not tell you about the other night?"

"Uh... I guess not? What happened?"

Y/n squealed. "Dude! Make a Discord account right now. Get your phone out and make one."

"Why? What is that?"

"It's the thing we all use to voice call during streams and in private and stuff. Come on!" Y/n used her right hand to urge Naomi to grab her phone. "George said you can't have his number but you can have his Discord."

"Wait, really??" Naomi gasped. "Wait, what does that mean!? I can talk to him on it!?"

Y/n laughed. "Yes, yes! You can text or voice call or even video call but I don't suggest that right away. Don't scare him away."

"He really said he'd add me back? Wait, when did you talk to him about me?"

"On Dream's stream. After the movie, I went and talked to them for a few hours."

"Is that why I heard you giggling at four in the morning?"

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. "Okay, well, that was just with Dream. George and Sapnap left the call around one and two."

"Date."

"Sounds to me like someone doesn't want GeorgeNotFound's Discord..."

Y/n saw Naomi cower shyly. "Sorry. Please give it to me."

"I don't know it off the top of my head, silly. So be nice for the rest of the car ride and I'll get it when we get home."

"Is Karl meeting us at our apartment or his?"

"Ours. Can you tell him we're almost there?"

"I don't know if I have the strength to... talk to someone who's such good friends with... my love..." Naomi started with a dramatic sigh, "it just reminds me of the pain I go through daily... without him..."

"If that were true, you couldn't talk to me. I'm also good friends with Mr. Not Found."

Naomi threw her head to glare at Y/n, who just laughed. "Come on, text Karl. Please. His food will get cold."

Y/n watched as Naomi typed away on her phone. Soon, the two pulled up to their apartment complex and headed upstairs. Y/n turned the corner and walked down the hall to see Karl standing at their front door.

"KARL JACOBS! WE HAVE FOOD!"

He looked up quickly from his phone and beamed at them. "My heroes!"

"What are you doing outside, silly?" Y/n asked. "Don't you have a key?"

"Naomi made me give it back after I pulled that prank on you guys last month," he explained as Y/n unlocked the door.

"Well deserved. I still find glitter everywhere."

Y/n set the food on the counter and the other two crowded around. "Thank you, mother, for lunch," Karl joked and kissed her cheek loudly, his love language of physical touch jumping out of him. Y/n grimaced playfully as she wiped her cheek on her shoulder.

"GROSS!!! COOTIES!"

Karl pouted. "I thought we were best fwends, Y/n . Best fwends don't have cooties."

"You do. You're a boy."

Y/n's phone lit up as Karl started going on a joking rant about how Y/n  always is so mean to his affections and he can't help wanting to show his friends he loves them and how she's so mean and, "Y/n you're not even listening to my complaints how are we supposed to be best friends when you're too busy talking to your boyfriend all the time and—"

"Boyfriend?" Y/n looked up quickly, worried he had seen the text from Peter that she just read. He was still trying to convince her to talk to him even after she bluntly told him no and why.

Karl walked over to the couch with his food and sat next to Naomi. "I was just joking... why, is there someone?" he giggled. "Dreeeaam maybe?"

Y/n shook her head, and her lack of defensiveness made Naomi and Karl look at each other. Normally she turned bright red and stumbled over her words when they joked about anyone being her boyfriend, but she was stone cold silent as her phone continued to illuminate her face.

"Y/n... What's up?" Naomi asked. "Is it Peter again?"

"Peter?" Karl's eyebrows raised and his food almost fell out of his mouth. "He's been texting you?"

Y/n sighed, locking her phone and sliding it in her pocket before finally joining her friends on the couch. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not."

"He wants to talk," Y/n mumbled.

"What?" Karl asked genuinely.

"I said he wants to talk."

Karl just stared for a few moments before looking at Naomi, who nodded, then back at Y/n. "You're not going to, right? Right? You've got to be kidding me, Y/n, he's a selfish dick and he's just going to keep hurting you. Why do you keep giving him the benefit of the doubt when he's proven time and time again that he's nothing but a fuc—"

"Karl!" Y/n interrupted. "I'm obviously not going to talk to him."

Karl's face flushed, probably embarrassed that he had assumed the worst and ranted. He sighed, exasperated. "Why don't you just block him already?"

Y/n shrugged. "He's harmless now that I don't let his words get to me."

"I'm just glad you finally decided not to meet up with him," Naomi said.

Y/n  shrugged like it was an obvious choice, but deep down she couldn't help but think about the exact reason she had come to that decision. Besides all the pain he had caused her, how could she consider getting back together with her ex when she finds herself giddy about talking to someone else over Discord? Simple: she couldn't. The possibility of liking Dream briefly crossed her mind, and she knew that in the few weeks she had talked to him, the faceless man she had never met in real life made her feel better about herself than her ex-boyfriend ever did in the two years they dated. She wasn't sure quite what that meant, but she knew it was something.

"Can I have George's Dis...call or whatever it's called now? Please?"

Y/n laughed at the failed attempt at remembering the name of the application and pulled out her phone, directing Naomi on where to add friends and listing off his name and hashtag. Naomi then gave Y/n her name so she could tell George who to add back. "There, now leave me alone about George for the rest of your life."

Naomi giggled giddily before going to her room, eyes glued to her phone for the moment he would add her back.

"I'm sorry for being so bossy when it comes to Peter," Karl muttered.

Y/n shrugged and cuddled into the couch, hugging a pillow to her stomach. "I get that he was awful, but you have to trust me to know what to do."

"I do! I promise I trust you but..." Karl paused to groan, "but he just makes my blood boil. I've never hated anyone in my life but I would love to slice his head off if I ever got the chance."

"Thank you for being protective, but I promise I can handle myself."

Karl looked at her sadly. "Why did you stay with him for so long? Even after he cheated on you and said all those horrible things?"

She shrugged shamefully. "I had no one else."

"You had me and Naomi! Y/n, you've never been alone."

"That's not what I mean, Karl. I love you guys so much but it's not the same as dating someone, you know?"

"I guess..." he sighed. "But wouldn't you rather be alone than with someone who's so possessive you're afraid to tell him about your real job?"

Y/n dropped her shoulders. He had a point. She really shouldn't have stayed with Peter as long as she did. He was scary. "Yeah."

A scream from the other room snapped them out of their serious conversation. "HE ADDED ME BACK!"

Y/n laughed and Karl shook his head. "Poor George. He's about to regret so much," she predicted.

"Noooo... I'm sure he and Naomi will get along great," Karl argued. "They'll be friends at least."

"Maybe. Hey, any updates about cameragirl?"

Karl blushed immediately and Y/n smiled.

"Is that a yes??"

"I... may have... finally spoken to her. Y/n, she's so cute. Like, she's so nice and I want to protect her from everything."

"What did you guys talk about?!" Y/n gasped, sitting up quickly.

"You're going to be so disappointed in me..."

"Did you talk about Sonic the Hedgehog again? Karl, I swear—"

"No! But I only said like two words."

"What two words?"

"Um, I said hi, and then she asked how I was and I said good."

"KARL!"

"I know!" he said as he buried his face in his hoodie sleeves. "I'm the worst! I don't know how to talk to her! She's so cute!!!"

Y/n laughed endearingly and pulled his hands away. "My offer still stands, I'll teach you how to flirt if you want."

"No, I still don't believe that you can actually flirt."

"I totally can, but fine. Ask Naomi to help you if you don't trust me. She'd teach you if you want." Y/n looked down at her phone as it lit up with notifications from Twitter.

As if he knew by the smile on her face who it was, Karl challenged, "Flirt with Dream to prove you can."

"I have nothing to prove to you," Y/n mumbled, standing up. "But he wants to call me so I'm going to my room. You're welcome to stay here or go home since Naomi's still in her room too."

"Mkay," Karl said. "I'll just stay here for now. Thanks again for the food."

"No problem, dude." Y/n disappeared to her room and opened Discord on her computer, waiting for Dream to call her. She answered when he finally did.

"Hi, Dream," she smiled into her headset.

"Hi, Bug. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. I was just explaining to Karl how good I am at flirting because he doesn't believe that I'm good."

"I don't either."

"What?" she laughed. "Why does no one think I can? Have you seen all the thirsty people flirting with me on Twitter? You included."

"Yeah, but you hardly flirt back. You just insult us."

"I can flirt when I want to."

"Prove it."

"...I don't want to."

"Why? Because you can only flirt with your boyfriend?"

"Are you trying to get me to admit I have a secret lover?"

"Yes."

"Well too bad, I don't."

"Interesting... so you," he paused, careful with his words, "so you decided... not to listen to whats-his-face?"

"Mhm," she hummed, not trusting her voice to stay steady. Why was she nervous? She crossed her fingers hoping that he wouldn't ask how or why she came to that conclusion. She didn't have a lie ready to hide the fact that it might have something to do with Dream.

"Then there's no reason you can't flirt with me."

Y/n sighed dramatically but still smiled. "Why did you call me? Just to make fun of my flirting abilities?"

"No, I called because I'm bored."

"Wow, so I'm just a backup when GeorgeNotFound and Sapnap are busy?"

"Actually, I called you before I tried either of them."

"Interesting..." she mocked him and he scoffed.

"Stop changing the subject and flirt with me!!! Give me your best pickup line!! Why won't you?"

"How about because I reserve flirting for people who deserve it?"

"Oh, it's that good, huh? You have to be on a VIP list to be flirted with by you?"

"Yeah," she laughed, completely joking. "It's life-changing."

"How do I get on that list?"

"Why do you want me to flirt with you so bad, you weirdo?"

"Because you said it's life-changing! And because I just don't believe that you're good at flirting."

"Why? What about me screams that I'm an awkward mess?"

"Everything!" he laughed. "Every time I've witnessed anyone flirt with you you just get all embarrassed and change the subject. Or on Twitter when we flirt with you, you almost always just reject us outright. People like that aren't smooth."

"Fine. I'll flirt with you, Dream. Not now but when you least expect it and it'll leave you so speechless that you'll never question me again."

"Good. I'm excited."

She snorted lightly and shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"Oh, hey, you know how I said Sapnap, George, and I wanted to do a big hangout thing with everyone?"

"Yes! Is it happening??"

"Yeah! We still don't know exactly when but George mentioned he thinks New Year's Eve and New Year's Day are stupid holidays so we want to get everyone together in person for that to prove it's a great holiday."

"I mean... I'm kinda with George on this one," Y/n agreed.

"What?! How? It's the start of a New Year! It's an excuse to kiss someone and you start the year with all your friends and loved ones and-"

"It's literally just another day. The only thing that changes is people accidentally put the wrong year when they write dates down for the first month."

Dream laughed. "That's stupid. No. It's a good holiday."

"Whatever. You'll just have to prove to me that it's good."

"I will."

"And the thing you said about having an excuse to kiss someone is stupid. If you wanna kiss someone, just kiss them."

"That easy, huh?"

"Yes."

Dream hummed thoughtfully, a mischievously playful tone to it that made Y/n change the subject slightly to spare her heart from beating too hard.

"So he's coming for New Years'?"

"Okay, yeah, so he doesn't know exactly what date but we're trying to get as many of our friends as we can to come so we have to plan around everyone. Also obviously you and Karl and Naomi are invited."

"Oh, Naomi too? Good, because I think they're talking to each other right now."

"They are," Dream laughed. "George texted me when she added him and he panicked because he doesn't know how to talk to girls."

"What?!" Y/n gasped in offense. "That's his and my thing! Why didn't he text me panicking??"

"He said he was going to text you but since it's your friend he felt awkward."

She grunted. "Fine. I guess that makes sense. Except, I know her better than anyone so I'd be waaay more helpful than you."

"You saying I don't know how to talk to girls?"

"I mean, you've used so many pickup lines on me on Twitter and I'm still not wowed, so yeah, I'd say you aren't as smooth as you'd like to think."

"Bug! What?! I'm totally good at talking to girls," Dream tried to defend, pulling excuses out of his ass. "I just haven't used my best tactics because you're easier to scare away than most. As I said, you can't dish it or take it so I have to use special moves."

"They still haven't worked." The quick beating of her heart and shaking of her hands informed her that that was a lie. Every time he replied to her tweets, the painful grin on her face proved it was a big, fat lie. Maybe she was a little impressed at his "special moves" but she wasn't going to ever admit that to him.

"Whatever, you liar. Anyway, we were thinking of renting a cabin on a lake or something like that for everyone to stay in."

"Oh! Yes, that sounds so fun! I love lake houses so much."

"Good. I'm gonna talk to George and the other brits and see if that's doable. It's gonna happen. I promise. I'm tired of not seeing my friends."

"Wait, how many people are you guys thinking? I'm still nervous about showing people my face..."

"It's a rough list but basically Sapnap, George, Quackity, Karl, Wilbur, Niki, um, Tubbo, Tommy, who else.... I think that's it right now. We'll make sure you know them and are comfortable with them so you don't feel pressured to show strangers who you are."

She nodded to herself. "Okay. I could also just not come if I'm not comfortable with someone—"

"What?!" he asked loudly, genuinely surprised. "Wha— no. We just wouldn't invite them."

"But—"

"I'd way rather have you there than anyone else. Hell, I'd kick George or Sapnap out if you didn't want to show them your face."

"Wait, really?"

"No pressure but I really want you to come and I want to make sure your comfortable."

"What if I don't want to show you my face?"

There was a long pause and Y/n knew he was trying to control his voice so she didn't know he was disappointed or slightly offended. "I mean... I don't know. I guess I... wouldn't go."

Her heart cracked at the sadness in his voice.

"I really don't want you to be pressured into—"

"Dream," she said. "It's okay. I'm probably most comfortable with meeting you over anyone else."

"Really?"

She didn't trust her voice not to sound too sappy and giddy. She didn't trust it a lot when she was around Dream. "Mhm."

"I'm glad," he said happily but softly. "It will be fun. Also, give me your phone number."

"So forward of you, Dream."

"Shut up, I wanna make a group chat."

Y/n laughed and told him her number. "I'm really excited now, Dream! I haven't hung out with people in so long and it sounds like a fun little vacation."

Dream laughed at her excitement. "I just want to hug the shit out of George."

It was Y/n's turn to laugh loudly. "Have you met him in real life yet?"

"No."

"I doubt he'll even let you touch him. He doesn't seem touchy."

"I don't think he is but I don't care. I am very touchy so he won't have a choice but to hug me."

"Ugh, another touchy person. Gross."

"Are you not?"

"Not really. Karl is the touchiest person I have ever met so he's kinda rubbed off on me a little over the years I think, but in general no."

"Oh, yeah, he's already threatened to kiss all of us as soon as we meet," Dream said with a laugh.

"Best to just let it happen. He pouted earlier because I wiped my cheek after he kissed it."

"That doesn't sound like something someone who can flirt would do."

"Because I'm not flirting with Karl!" Y/n groaned but a laugh was behind her words. "What is with you guys?"

"You just can't be on Karl and my level of flirting if we don't see it! Can't be in the gang if you don't show us your skill."

"Just you wait, Dream. You'll see."

"Wait, what about our Minecraft date?"

"What about it?"

"When we do that, you have to flirt with me!"

"No, I don't," she protested with a loud laugh.

"Um, I'm pretty sure it's very rude to not sweet-talk your date. You have to flirt with me then."

Y/n giggled. "Oh yeah? And what if I don't?" She hadn't meant for her voice to come out laced with something suggestive, but if Dream noticed, he thankfully didn't show it.

"Well, we'll just have to keep going on dates until you do."

"Pretty sure forcing someone on dates is illegal, buddy."

Dream laughed. "You agreed to it!!"

"I agreed to the first one," she corrected. "I agreed to one date in exchange for you letting Karl tour me around your server. One."

"Don't worry." Unlike Y/n's, Dream's voice was purposefully laced with something suggestive as he told her, "after our date, it won't take much for you to agree to more."

"Oh whatever," she scoffed, trying to cool her face down with her icy hands. Even they were no match for the heat on her cheeks. "When are we doing this stupid thing anyway?"

"Ah, the smooth talking has begun, I see."

"Dreeeamm..." she whined, growing increasingly tired of the butterflies in her stomach. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous around him? It's not sudden, she told herself.

Dream's cute laugh interrupted her thoughts. "What about tomorrow?"

"I'm streaming Among Us tomorrow."

He groaned. "You never make time for me."

"I cannot stand you," she joked, laughs slipping through her annoyed voice and blowing her cover. "You're the one who said you were too busy to join my lobby. So really you don't make time for me."

"No, no, no," he protested. "I'd make time for one-on-one time with you, just not a game where I hardly get to talk to you."

"Oh my gosh." She rolled her eyes. "How did you turn this around to sound cute again."

"Aw, Bug, you think I'm cute?"

"You ruined it by asking. What are you doing tomorrow anyway?"

"I have to finish a plug-in by tomorrow night so George and I can test it. There's still a lot to fix so it'll probably will take all day."

"Oooh," she cooed. "What's it do?"

"It changes the world every time we take damage," he explained with a hint of pride in his voice.

"What the! That sounds awesome!"

"Thanks," he said shyly, proudness gone now that he was being complimented. "Anyway, George is really busy next week so we have to test it tomorrow night so we can record the next day."

"You probably should finish it then."

"Or you could cancel your stream and we could go on a date."

"Dream!" She laughed. "No! How about next week. Between you editing the video you record, we go on a Minecraft date. How's Thursday?"

"I guess I could fit you into my schedule..."

"I hate you."

His cheeky grin could be heard through his stupid words. "Keep telling yourself that."

PREVIOUS | NEXT

A/N: *sniff* *sniff* yall smell a hater in those twitter screenshots?? hmmm..... 

taglist: OPEN (At the time) (if your blog is in bold, i couldnt tag you, so check your settings so that blogs that dont follow you can tag you!!)  @hydrate-tion​ @loraleiix​ @tinaswagbd​ @charsdummb​ @smileyyuta​ @1ghoste1​ @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge​ @queestionmark​ @carnations-red​ @letsloveimagines​ @the-fictionwriters-hairdo​ @boiled-onionrings​ @a-cryptic​ @fee-btheweeb​ @erwinss​ @just-a-stan​ @axths​ @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad​ @sometimeseverythingsucks​ @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn​ @millavalntyne​ @automaticcomputerpaper​ @nikkineeky​ @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ @sprucekot​ @jabby16​ @mae-musicbitch​ @hungoverhellhound​ @dreamyteam​ @kuroo-icedtea​ @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot​ @fangeekkk​ @haseulreturns​ @queenwastaken​ @peteysgf​ @losingvienna​ @bi-narystars​ @zero-nightshade​ @erinitoburrito @sparklykeylime​ @youhyakuya​ @danny-devitowo​ @clubfairy​ @loser-keiji​ @oi-itsemily​ @alm334​ @katastrophe-kam @wreny24​ ​ @unicornblood4ever @brendalopez99 @spacecluster @justonemoreepisode199 @strawbrinkofdeath @aha-red​ 

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and angst word count: 3.7k WARNINGS: hospital setting, mentions of surgery/operation, blood, violence

a/n: so, this is it guys. the final part of ifliys :( i would like to extend my sincere thank yous to each and everyone who have read, liked, commented and shared this series. this is the very first fanfic i was able to finish/complete because of the support, love and motivation you all gave as i wrote this. don’t worry! there is an epilogue and i will announce what i have in store for them in the near future. in the meantime, this is part ten. thank you very much!

ten: moonlight | masterlist

The Queen is talkative. That’s one of the many quirks she has that you noticed when you were growing up. It’s not the uncomfortable or annoying kind of talkative. You really don’t know how to exactly put it, but she’s talkative in an elegant and easy-going way. One time, she decided to take a walk on a particularly busy street with only one member of the security detail assigned to tail her a few meters behind. She told you the whole story, excitedly. She was casually strolling and asking typical questions like what time is it to some vendors, passersby and the like. She even held a conversation about olive oil that lasted a good twenty minutes until the stranger she was talking to recognized who she was. You can tell that she had a blast as she laughed all through the evening. 

Spending time with her gradually dwindled because of your job paired with your official duties as the Crowned Princess. But when opportunity arises, you make sure to make it worth the wait. Conversations are easy with her because she’s trustworthy and most importantly, she’s your mother. She usually asks you random, yet unexpectedly relevant questions whenever the two of you share a cup of coffee or tea or when you go shopping and even now is no different, as you’re about to choose the right fabric for your wedding dress. 

“Describe the person that brings the best out of you.”

Ah, here we go. Your mother is surely not distracting you but her intent stares as she props her arm against the armrest of the white couch she’s sitting on is definitely pulling you away from the matter at hand. The look on your eyes is telling her really? and she fires back with an expecting one telling you a silent, “well? Come on. Tell me.”

You snort and shake your head, bringing your attention back to the table. You’re not denying your mother an answer because you know who to describe. It’s not that hard to figure out and you know she’s smart enough to know.

Jeon Wonwoo.

“How do you want me to describe? Personality or physical features?” You ask back and humor her as you fiddle with one lace material. 

“Both,” she challenges with a mischievous grin and you’re not one to back down. 

“Well, the person is quite tall and sharp in terms of physical features,” you start, doing your best to describe him implicitly. “Has a way with words, but they are all genuine and honest.”

Unbeknownst to you, your mother’s fond smile confirms your assumption that she is smart and that she knows who you’re talking about. But she presses on, loving how you describe this mysterious person. 

“What about those features then? How do they help you?”

You thought for a moment and when the right words came to mind, you didn’t hesitate to say, “They inspire me to do and be better not only for myself but for everyone else. Mostly it’s their genuineness and honesty that inspires me.”

You and your mother laugh together at your last sentence. 

It’s true though. After witnessing Wonwoo in the light of his Kingdom, something tugged at your heartstrings. You don’t exactly remember when, maybe it was around high school, but you remember adamantly telling your friends that you would want to be with someone that will bring the best out in you. Someone that can fuel your desire to be of service for the greater good. It sounds awfully used too often and you’re sure you’re not the only one who thinks this way, but as you have already said, it’s the truth.

Despite the circumstances, you found that someone. You found Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, Jeongyeon comes in with a knock and announces, “Your Majesty, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Your eyes spring up at the name, distracted once again. And when you see the “tall” and “sharp” Prince, you’re quick to your feet and run towards him. He stumbles a little when you jump at him in a tight hug, arms clinging around his neck. Nonetheless, he smiles and welcomes your enthusiastic embrace with a soft smooch on the side of your head. 

“Wait,” you abruptly pull away. “You’re not supposed to be here, though.”

Wonwoo acts dumb, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean? Her Majesty invited me to be here.”

“Calm down, Y/N,” you hear the culprit say behind your back as she stands up to greet her future son-in-law. “There’s no dress yet. It’s okay for him to be here.”

You subtly roll your eyes. You’re not one to be superficial but if there were a dress already, she’d take her words back. You return your arms back to Wonwoo’s waist and lean your chin against his chest, your lips pulling into a pout. He leans down to meet your lips with a quick peck but your mother was quicker to push you aside and to take her turn in giving him a hug. 

Your jaw drops and your pout is exchanged with a scowl. 

Wonwoo tries his best to hold his laughter but to no avail, fails as he formally greets the Queen. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” 

“Always good to see you, my Prince,” the Queen replies and gently pats his cheek. “And now that you’re here, I can finally take my leave.”

“Leave? We haven’t even picked a fabric yet,” you remind her and stand in between them. 

“Honey, you have been going back and forth since nine in the morning,” she retaliates and walks back to the couch to pick her bag up. “Let’s schedule for another day. Unless you want Wonwoo to leave and we continue.”

Your stance immediately takes a hundred eighty degree turn. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s clear Saturday next week and we’ll take it from there.”

“I thought so.”

With a knowing wink, the Queen takes off.

That memory was from about three weeks ago after your visit and vacation at Wonwoo’s Kingdom. Wedding planning was back and the two of you went your separate ways for the time being to prepare your respective attire and accessories. Wonwoo didn’t know you had that conversation with the Queen not until she told him here at the hospital where you lie unconscious and fighting for your life.

The Royal Hospital was once again swarmed with a plethora of men in black suits because the Crowned Princess of the Kingdom has been shot twice, one on her shoulder and another on her left leg. It was a failed attempt in assassinating the King but Kim Mingyu took the opportunity to target your vulnerability and let his men shoot you instead as if it was his plan b. Kim Mingyu, whom he never desires to meet, is finally in police custody. He didn’t try to elude his impending arrest. In fact, he knew he would get arrested. He just wanted to toy with people until he couldn’t anymore. 

Wonwoo has no words to spare to describe him and seeing his face and hearing his name everywhere and everytime is just making his blood boil. 

The Queen has never left the hospital from the moment she arrived while you were undergoing operation up to being placed in a private room. She was calm when Wonwoo stood up from the bench to respectfully address her. She just nodded her head when he couldn’t say a word without his lips trembling and enveloped him in a warm hug as he cried on her shoulder. 

She told him that the two of you haven’t spoken since your father’s arrest and it has been unbearably painful and challenging. She acknowledges how terrible and neglecting she has been as a mother when she knows how absolutely difficult this is for you. It’s even more heartbreaking because you never once complained. Instead you respected her silence and distance. She regrets her absence and seeing you lying on a bed, looking so cold and fragile is making her world completely fall apart.

“Wonwoo, I’m so sorry that this happened,” the Queen solemnly says and holds his hand tightly. “The Kingdom promises that everyone involved will be held accountable.”

Wonwoo nods. “I understand, Your Majesty. Our Kingdom will do so as well.”

“I also want you to know that Y/N never wanted to end the engagement,” she adds. “She was just afraid that someone like her doesn’t deserve to receive your love.”

Wonwoo didn’t know that you looked up to him. If anyone should be admired, it should be you because you were ready to drop everything just to uphold justice. It’s been three days after the operation and you still haven’t opened your eyes. The operation was successful. No artery nor major organs were damaged, but you did lose a lot of blood. Just like the Queen, Wonwoo has been by your side, patiently waiting. Right now despite your stable condition, he still feels like dying. 

The love of his life almost died before his eyes. 

Wonwoo rests his head on the small space beside your arm, similar to the first time he took care of you a few months back. He gazes at your peaceful face, silently begging for you to wake up. He wants to kiss, hear and hug you again. He wants to be with you again. 

“Wonwoo.”

He sits up straight at the sound of his name and finds the Queen sadly smiling at him.

“How about you go back to your apartment for today?” She suggests, taking the seat on your other side. “Take a long shower and have some shut eye? Hmmm?”

Wonwoo bites his bottom lip, hesitant to leave and not have his eyes on you. He badly wants to stay and be here when you finally wake up. But the Queen is right. You’re safe now so he has nothing to worry about anymore. 

Slowly, he stands up from the chair he’s been sitting on for who knows how long. He clasps his one hand around yours while the other sweeps the hair that’s covering your forehead and lands a gentle kiss there. You’re starting to warm up and that’s a relief. 

He talks to you every single day, hoping you’d hear his voice. For now, he’ll keep it to himself.

I love you.

Later in the evening, you find your mother quietly dozing off, her head swaying from left to right and vice versa as she remains upright on the couch placed near the wall. You blink your eyes and adapt to the sudden brightness greeting your senses. You try to move your head and take in your surroundings and after a few minutes of contemplating, you recognize where you’re at and remember everything. 

Dad.

Your violent gasp immediately roused your mother from her sleep and seeing you struggling to sit made her jolt up and hurry beside you. 

“Darling,” she calls and holds your thrashing arms down, worried that you’d worsen your wounds. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Dad,” you voice out against the dryness of your throat. “Mom, where’s dad?”

“He’s okay too.” You can see the tears welling up on her eyes as she caresses your hair and gently pulls you in a hug. “He’s safe.”

Together, you shed the tears of anguish that you have been holding back for so long.

The King couldn’t be here because the court didn’t allow his appeal to accompany nor visit you even just for a day. He couldn’t even carry his daughter’s body to the ambulance because he was handcuffed and heavily guarded. He couldn’t even protect his daughter from the harmful consequences of his mistakes. Your mother told you that he desperately wants to be by your side and you do know that. You’re way past his inability to be here and that’s none of your concern anymore. As long as he is safe, you’re more than content. 

The trial has been rescheduled for next week and your father has to be detained until then. You’ll try to visit him again once you’re discharged and together with that, you’d also find the strength to accompany him at his trial. 

Your mother was firm on staying and insisting that she’s fine when you tried to urge her to go home, but you can clearly tell how tired she is from the lack of sleep so you didn’t let her win. It’s already late in the night when she finally gave in. Your mother kisses your cheek one last time after the doctor assessed your condition. Jeongyeon would stick around for the evening in her stead. Poor girl cried so much the moment she saw you widely awake.

Once it’s only the two of you left, Jeongyeon helped you sit on a wheelchair and wheeled you next to the window before she left to grab some extra bottled water. You can’t stand properly yet because of the wound on your leg so a wheelchair is necessary if you want to be mobile. You’re starting to feel the back pain after lying down for so long, you need to move. The doctor was a bit apprehensive about allowing you to leave your bed, but gave in when you promised to stay inside the room. 

The moon, shining in all its glory, up in the dark sky looked so enticing, you had to take a closer look. The three days went by so fast and running through all that ensued leaves a sickening sensation down to your stomach. You shake your head, not wanting to relive the frightening memories.

Your attention goes back to the moon and one person comes to mind. 

It makes you selfishly wonder if he ever visited once or asked and worried about you as you bring your hand up to your neck. When you don’t feel the lifebuoy pendant, your heart skips a beat. You then looked down to your hand, your engagement ring is also not on your finger. You frown, growing upset. They could have removed it, but it should be back to you by now. You looked around the room, hoping to find your precious gems within reach. Just in time before you could wheel yourself around to search for them, you hear the door open.

“Hey Jeongyeon, have you seen my necklace and ring?” You ask to the void as you tilt your head back to the moon.

When you don’t hear any answer other than the sound of heavy breathing, you remove your gaze from the window to see who came in if it’s not your assistant. To your surprise it’s no other than,

“Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo didn’t keep count of the exact times, but he knows how long and how much he begged just to hear your voice call his name once again. He didn’t even have the chance to change from his sweatpants and sleeveless shirt when he received the call from Soonyoung (whom Jeongyeon told to). Honestly? He didn’t bother at all because he just wanted to be right here at this moment. 

To be with you. 

He takes slow steps as he calms his breathing. Meanwhile, you remained seated and let him come to you. You’d run to him just like you did back then, but your leg wouldn’t appreciate that. 

It felt like forever for Wonwoo to get to you. But when he finally drops on the floor and lightly rests his head on your lap, there’s no reason for him to complain anymore. 

Your tears fall again for the nth time tonight. You caress his wet locks, probably from the mixture of his shower and sweat. He cries too because you can feel it seeping against the pants you’re wearing. He wraps his arms around your lap, careful from crashing his weight. You, on the other hand, bend your head down to kiss the crown of his head.

Both of your hearts are shouting, finally. 

The beautiful moonlight shines on the two of you as you both silently settle down there for a moment, not giving a care in the world because this is just what you’ve been yearning for and you’re not allowing anyone nor anything to steal this away ever again.

Your long face doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo and he knows why you’re pulling it against him. But no, he is not falling for it. Instead he ignores your silent plea and continues tucking you back on the bed. You glance up at him and try to win him again with your attempt at puppy dog eyes and when he doesn’t, you give up.

“You know that this bed is too small to fit two bodies, Y/N,” he states the obvious and drags a chair to sit on. “I know you’re smart enough to see that.”

You huff and pull the covers closer to your chin. If it wasn’t for the wound on your shoulder, you’d turn your back against him. 

Wonwoo just rolls his eyes at your antics and holds your hand under the warm blanket. 

After your short reunion, Wonwoo decided to get you back to your bed because it was nearing one o’clock in the morning. You haven’t brought up what happened and it’s alright because you still have another chance to do so. Hopefully.

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo,” you whisper under your breath but his ears can hear your words. 

He nods and kisses the back of your hand. “I know, baby. It’s not your fault.”

Baby.

You never use pet names or terms of endearment and hearing him say it for the first time almost made you faint. It’s an exaggeration but you’re weak at the moment and anything that flusters your heart can potentially weaken your whole body. 

Wonwoo then brings something out from his pockets and your eyes brighten at the sight of the necklace he gave you. He chuckles when he sees your excited expression and stands up. His fingers tenderly graze the skin of your neck when he puts it back to where it rightfully belongs. 

“I thought I lost it,” you say, holding the pendant between your fingers.

He sits back down and what he mutters next makes you feel a twinge of guilt. 

“I thought I lost you.”

You sigh and coax him to you, grasping the hand enclosed to yours. “Come here.” 

This time you let him take the small space on your bed. You sit up as well so that you can reach his height. He helps you and once you’re comfortably situated, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest. 

Wonwoo smiles at your affection and lets his hand smooth against your hair. You have always been brave when it comes to touching him and he’ll never forget how you kissed him on the lips first. He’s so glad and relieved you’re finally awake. He doesn’t think he can go on for another day without you. And now that you’re holding each other like this, he wishes for this night to never end. 

“I’ll probably not inherit the throne,” you say against his shirt. “I don’t think your family would want you to marry an abolished monarch.”

Wonwoo’s hand drops and he breathes out a disappointed sigh. He is not having this conversation with you right now. Why must you ruin the moment? 

When you don’t feel his hand against you anymore, you look up and steal a kiss under his chin. However, that doesn’t suffice because he’s still upset and it’s evident on the frown adorning his handsome face.

“But I realized I love you, so if it means I have to beg all the way to their Majesties for your hand then—”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you continue and shuts you up with a searing kiss. He softly squeezes your cheeks with one of his hands, almost as if commanding you to pucker your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise but when he put his other hand at the side of your neck, you surrendered. 

It’s no secret that you and Wonwoo kiss. Oftentimes they’re just quick brushes, but sometimes they get a little bit more intense, deeper. You won’t get into detail though, because that’s a story to tell for some other time. 

For now, you eagerly meet Wonwoo’s passion as he lays you back down on the bed, of course with caution. He doesn’t fully drop his weight on top of you, one arm carrying his upper body while the other gingerly cupping one side of your face. 

His chest is firm and his shoulder broad as you grip your hands on them and continue kissing him. You should be asleep by now because you are still recovering. But Wonwoo is a doctor himself, right? So if he took the initiative to kiss you until sunrise, then it must be alright. 

Okay, maybe it’s wrong to mock his profession like that. But, you’re just grateful to kiss him like this again. Because the last time you shared one, tears were streaming down your face and you two were on the verge of breaking up. 

“I should really put you to sleep now,” Wonwoo whispers against your lips, breathless. 

You hold your laughter, still basking in his taste. When you open your eyes, Wonwoo is already hoisting himself back up. Your lips draw into a pout again and the cause of it just rolls his eyes.

“I promise there will be more, but for now rest, okay?” He pinches your cheek lightly and sits back on the chair. 

“You can take the couch,” you tell him.

“Sleep, Y/N.”

You no longer defy and close your eyes. 

You remember the first time he commanded you those words and looking back, they are all fond memories of your then developing relationship. There were many questions when you and Wonwoo got along so well and so fast. There were many doubts and insecurities. The two of you shared those in silence, which could have endangered your hearts. However, even though your relationship was shaken and tested, the two of you persevered. 

For you, Wonwoo persevered and words and actions are not enough to thank him. You couldn’t have overcome this without his support and patience. So from now on, against all odds, you’ll do exactly the same.

[elfwreck]

Honestly the only things I’d change about AO3 would just be a better block feature —- good for filtering out authors who write fics with a million tags you don’t care about but end up cluttering the search screen—-as well as good for “this author has fetishistic/demeaning writing qualities I find untasteful if not offensive” as well as a flagging(?)/“user recommended tags” feature that could be turned on or off by the reader. Tags should ultimately be the decision of the writer—-sometimes some things deserve to be kept private/as twists, sometimes the author favors the aesthetics of a shorter (but accurate) tag list—-but readers should still be allowed to determine if they want to risk reading something where they don’t know “if the dog dies”.

That way it would also be harder for trolls to spam LGBT/POC content because readers would always have the original tags to fall back on as well as the ability to turn off user suggested tags from their view. Most people favor fanfiction about characters and fandoms they know well so a “anti white” or “groomer” tag suggestion on something like a M “Our flag means death” or G “Steven universe” fanfiction looks fake from a million miles away , but a “car crash tw” suggestion would obviously be a more useful or “real” suggestion since “car crash tw” is easily something an author could overlook including and isn’t a tag that too many people would try to avoid (many might find it useful in helping them avoid their triggers but it’s also not going to yank an author or their fic so it would be a weird/bad way to try and troll someone with)

Also maybe an account-wide tag block? So you don’t have to fill out the “tags to exclude” for triggering content every single time.

They're working on better block & mute features. There are some workarounds right now with custom site skins:

Right now, if users want to suggest tags, they can make bookmarks, and they can make a collection to put those bookmarks in. Unfortunately, collections are clunky and bookmark features are limited - they'd need to promote the collection offsite. But they could go through their fandom of choice, bookmark everything and attach the appropriate tags to the bookmarks if they're not in the original.

There is never going to be a "suggest these tags to the author/other readers" feature more direct than that, because there is no way that doesn't turn into a mud-slinging toxic wankfest. People who are worried about "does the dog die?" will need to ask friends to check the works in advance, or talk with the author if they have a public presence somewhere. (Some authors won't answer anyway.)

The problems are not people adding "racist fic" or "groomer Rose Quartz" to fanfics. (I mean, those are potential problems, but those are not the real problem.) The real problem is: Someone decides X author is a Bad Person, and tags all of their works with pedophile, nazi, child abuser, rapist, illiterate grade-school dropout, ugly and fat, only sluts read this, and a swarm of other slurs based on whatever's trendy to hate this year.

The first thing to consider with any new potential feature is: How could someone with absolutely no goodwill use this to try to hurt people?

And what measures would need to be taken to mitigate that?

Right now, someone could add all of that to bookmarks. But bookmarks don't show up on a toggle-switch next to the work's author-made tags. You have to look for them. If they got really bad, the Abuse Team might force the bookmarks to be set to Private (I have no idea if they can do that); they don't have to remove them or argue about the accuracy of the tags in order to keep them from harassing the author or other readers.

A whole new category of tags, visible at the top of the work, would be a new special nightmare.

...But they're working on better block features, and mute features, and I'm hoping there'll someday be "save my search settings" so I don't have to keep excluding A/B/O fics every time I go looking for a new pairing.

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Part Two

____

Part Three

I did my best to take Scott's words to heart. It was eye-opening and, while it didn't change my concerns about how Grayson would be affected, it helped me soften my guard a little bit when it came to Chris.

We were both in over our heads, stuck with feelings that we didn't know what to do with and insecurities that left us unable to fight for what we wanted. I had doubts and I had questions, but if what Scott had divulged was true then I did have some sympathy for Chris because I knew exactly how he'd been feeling for the last few years.

So, I decided to talk to him. To hash it out, lay it all on the table and see what he had to say. I wasn't entirely sure I would change my mind about the situation, but I wanted to give him a chance to explain his thoughts and feelings unlike how I'd shut the conversation down after Christmas.

But I didn't count on how chaotic it was to be trapped in a house, all day every day, with a child who was almost three. Even with three adults, there were days when it felt like we were the ones who were outnumbered as we took turns trying to keep him constantly entertained and stimulated. To our credit, it was working and we were managing to keep Grayson from being bored, anxious to go out to a park or noticing that things were all that different, but it meant that I had no time or energy to deal with heavy conversations. Things were fine between Chris and I, we were getting along well enough with no more noteworthy disagreements, but there hadn't been a good time for any kind of heart-to-heart.

Things only got more complicated about a week and a half into our lockdown when Chris had to start doing interviews. He had a new show, Defending Jacob, coming out in a few weeks and he had to start the promo for it.

Most people who were working from home these days with small children running around had way more difficult situations to balance than we did, but we knew it would be tricky to keep Grayson from getting curious and barging into an interview. He'd proven to be quite sneaky when he wanted to be and Chris was anxious about the whole thing. He wasn't a big fan of interviews at the best of times so doing it over Zoom made him even more nervous. He spent the whole morning fretting about it being awkward, concerned that he wouldn't be able to relax and act natural, and it seemed like he was channelling his anxiety into his worries about Grayson. He very much liked to be in control of what the world saw of Gray and having him crash an interview wasn't what he wanted. I completely agreed and assured him several times that I wouldn't let that happen, but I could tell he was still stressed about it as he dragged himself off to get ready.

For the first hour or so that Chris was working, things went well. We read a story and played with some Lego, activities that wouldn't get Grayson too excited and noisy, but when Scott suggested that he curl up on the couch and watch Finding Nemo with him, we ran into a problem.

"Okay!" Grayson cheered, jumping up from where we'd been playing on the floor. "Be right back!"

He took off down the hall and I leapt into action, calling his name and stopping him just as he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Where are you going, buddy?"

"To get my bear!"

Grayson's room was upstairs, next to Chris' office. He knew where Chris was so I knew there was a good chance he would stop by to say hello on his way past the door.

"Why don't you go get settled on the couch with Uncle Scott and I'll get your bear so you don't miss any of the movie?" I suggested. "Is he in your room?"

"No," he shook his head. "He's in Daddy's office."

I held back a groan, knowing that Gray would not be happy if I explained that he couldn't have his bear for the movie because we weren't allowed in Daddy's office right now. But I also knew that now he'd decided that he wanted to watch a movie, it wasn't likely that he would settle doing anything else either.

"Well, Daddy's very busy in his office right now," I explained. "But I'll go upstairs and see if I can sneak in and get him, okay?"

Grayson agreed to that suggestion and ran off back towards the living room as I glanced at the clock on the wall quickly and hoped that Chris was between interviews. I knew he wouldn't be done for the day just yet, but he had a few lined up so there was a chance that he wasn't currently on a call.

As soon as I pressed my ear to the door of Chris' office, my hopes were dashed. I could hear the sound of laughter echoing through from his laptop so I knew he was in the middle of something, but just as I was about to walk away I heard something that caught my attention.

"You have a son of your own, don't you?" The interviewer asked and I cringed, knowing that it wasn't something Chris liked to discuss. His character in the show was a father though so I wasn't surprised it had come up, it gave them a segue that they hadn't really had before. "How is that going with this lockdown?"

Ever the professional, Chris didn't even hesitate before he answered even though I knew he would be annoyed by the line of questioning.

"Oh, it's great! He's staying with me until all this is over so it's great that we get to spend so much time together," he told the interviewer. "I'm lucky enough to be in a situation where I can just take a few months off until things cool down without too much worry so we've just been relaxing, building blanket forts, watching movies and getting in some bonding time that I miss out on when I'm busy. It's had some challenges, but it's been really nice."

I knew I shouldn't be listening, it was rude to eavesdrop even if the conversation would shortly be broadcast to the whole world, but again, the interviewer's next question had me too intrigued to walk away. Despite all the talking points that he could have chosen from Chris' answer, he zeroed in on one thing.

"He's staying with you for the entire lockdown? Is there a rekindled romance we don't know about?" He asked. "Or is his mother no longer in the picture?"

My jaw dropped. I didn't know who Chris was talking with today, but it wasn't like his team to set him up for any interviews where he would be asked questions like that and most interviewers were too polite to fish for the kind of gossip you'd find in a trashy magazine.

"Oh, I'm not gonna get into all that." Chris' tone was much more clipped than it had been moments before - he was clearly not impressed by the question either. "It's not anyone's business really, is it? But I will say that she is definitely in the picture and one of the best moms that I know. She's staying here with us too."

My heart melted a bit at his compliment even though I knew the words he added at the end meant that we were in for a whole new gossip storm.

It suddenly felt like I really was overstepping by standing at the door listening to this conversation without his knowledge so I headed back downstairs. As I got back into the living room, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a message to Chris:

It would appear that you have a stowaway. I know you're busy, but please return Mr. Bear at your earliest convenience.

I put my phone away as I explained the situation to Grayson, but luckily, he was too interested in the movie to pay much attention to what I'd said. By the time Chris came down with the bear, it was like he'd forgotten that he ever cared about it in the first place.

Most of my attention was on Chris at that point though. The way he scurried into the room, avoiding looking in my direction at all. He looked ashamed and withdrawn and I couldn't hold back a sigh when he left the room quickly as I knew that he was beating himself up over the conversation that he didn't even know I'd heard.

-

Chris was sullen for the rest of the day. He perked up around Grayson, but whenever Gray was distracted there was a scowl or a frown firmly planted on his face. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how without confessing that I'd overheard his interview. Given his mood and the ease with which we fell into disagreements these days, that seemed like it would cause more issues than it would help.

The news broke at about eleven that night and I knew because I was suddenly inundated with texts from friends and with follower requests on my private social media accounts. I pulled up the video and watched the interview, feeling another wave of empathy when I saw the annoyance written all over Chris' face as he answered the questions. He'd found a subtle way to shut the interview down almost immediately after the incident and I was proud of him for handling it so diplomatically.

I added it to the list of things that I needed to talk to Chris about whenever I got the chance as I pulled myself away from my laptop and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. However, when I got into the hallway, I noticed a light coming up from downstairs. As far as I knew, everyone had gone to bed almost an hour ago, but I had a good idea whose thoughts would be keeping them awake so I headed down to investigate.

My suspicions were confirmed as I walked into the living room and saw Chris on the couch, his phone in his hand and his brow furrowed.

"Uh oh," I started, making his eyes snap up towards me. "Are you doomscrolling?"

The angry look on his face softened slightly as he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Doomscrolling?"

"Yeah," I shrugged with a smile. "That's what the kids call it these days when you spend too long scrolling through the news or Twitter, just soaking in all the bad shit in the world."

Chris chuckled as I moved into the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch that he was on, tucking my feet underneath me.

"I didn't know you were so down with the kids these days."

"I'm getting old, Chris. I'm almost thirty-two, I have to stay cool somehow." I shot him a wink. "But anyway, what are you reading that's making you look so grumpy?"

Chris sighed and locked his phone, putting it on the end table next to the couch.

"I said something in an interview today," he admitted. "Something that I shouldn't have said."

I watched him for a moment, waiting for him to look at me and elaborate, but when he didn't, I spoke up.

"I hope you're not about to tell me that you regret saying what a good mom I am or I'll be really disappointed..."

That comment brought Chris' gaze back to me, his shock evident on his face until it faded into a grimace.

"You heard what I said?"

"I watched the video," I admitted. "I had a flurry of Instagram activity that tipped me off."

"You didn't read the comments, did you?"

There was worry written all over Chris' face when I shrugged.

"Of course I did. Can't have my self-esteem getting too high, can we?" I was teasing, but his look of gloom only deepened. "Chris, it doesn't matter. I'm no supermodel, they're not saying anything I don't already know."

"See, this is what bothers me," Chris snapped. "My so-called 'fans' are out there spewing all this crap about you and you're acting like it's all true, so who cares? Well, I care because it's bullshit and you don't deserve it!"

"I didn't mean it like that," I assured him, keeping my voice quiet in an attempt to cool the situation.

We'd been here many times over the years and I knew how enraged the comments made Chris. He saw right through me, he knew that I took some of the things that had been said to heart, but who wouldn't? It's hard not to take it personally when someone points out your biggest insecurities, the things that you hope no one else notices, the things that you tell yourself can't possibly be true or as bad as you think in your head. It's impossible not to let it get to you a little bit, but I was well practiced at dealing with it and had grown a thicker skin.

At least, when it came to the comments about my appearance. The comments about how I'm not good enough and how Chris could do better always struck a cord, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

"No?" Chris huffed. "What did you mean then?"

"That I know I'm an easy target because I'm not stick thin with a boob job," I answered, wanting to diffuse the situation before Chris got too upset. "They're cruel and mean, but they're just jealous because they think their dream boyfriend is taken now."

"Well, anyone who claims to be a real fan of mine wouldn't talk like that about someone I care about," he grumbled. "I shouldn't have answered, I should have just ignored the question."

"Actually, I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you set the record straight rather than have everyone think I've abandoned my child. I would probably get even more hate for that."

"He shouldn't have even asked about it," Chris continued. "It was so out of line. Why can't people just mind their own business?"

"Because everyone adores you and has a burning desire to know everything about you," I teased, stretching my feet out to nudge his leg gently. His lips twitched briefly into a smile, but it faded as fast as it appeared. "Even my friends were all messaging me, asking if it was true like gossiping teenage girls. Everyone wants the Chris Evans scoop."

That comment earned me a chuckle and I relaxed slightly, hoping that he was starting to calm down.

"I'm sure your friends were more interested in the gossip about your life, not because of me."

"I dunno," I shrugged. "They always liked you."

Chris smiled, but a sigh slipped from his lips as he draped his arm over my feet where they rested on the couch next to him. We sat quietly for a moment as I continued watching him, wishing there was something I could say to ease the worry in his mind, but his next words left me a little bit speechless.

"I do get it, you know?" He said, his eyes still fixed firmly on the ground in front of him. "I get why you wouldn't want to be with me. I get that it's a lot to deal with."

My heart sank at his admission and I scrambled to figure out what to say.

It wasn't ideal - discussing our relationship, while he was already feeling quite murderous - but he'd brought it up and it was hard to say when we'd get another chance. Once again, I found myself fighting the urge to bolt for the door, but I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, hoping that this would be a civil conversation.

"Chris, it's not that," I insisted, my voice soft in what I hoped would be a soothing tone. "Maybe they didn't do anything to ease my concerns, but the bullies on the internet aren't what scared me away."

"No?" His eyes flicked up to meet mine. "Then what did?"

He sounded so defeated and I bit my lip to keep my emotions from bubbling up. The truth was that I didn't know where to start. There was too much floating around my head, too many questions and too many explanations that made less sense now that I knew what I knew after speaking with Scott. I was scared, but it was a very justified fear that could only be made sense of by answering his question with another question.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in love with me?"

Chris raised an eyebrow, but shrugged off the question.

"You didn't seem like you wanted to hear it, Whitney. I told you that I was all in after Christmas and you shut me down pretty fast," he pointed out. "I didn't think blurting out a confession of love would do much to change that."

Had that been what I was referring to, it would have been a fair argument. However, I was referring to long before our latest incident so I shook my head.

"I talked to Scott," I confessed as a slight look of betrayal slid onto Chris’ face. "Don't be mad, he'd had a few drinks and was feeling sentimental. He told me that you were in love with me long before Grayson was even in the picture, but you never told me."

"I slept with you, didn't I?" He questioned, a defensiveness creeping into his tone. "Doesn't that make someone's feelings pretty fuckin' clear?"

"Hardly," I scoffed. "People sleep with people they're not in love with all the time and it becomes even less clear when they meet up afterwards to have a discussion about their relationship and that someone makes no mention of being in love."

"Was it really a discussion? Or did I show up at your apartment just to hear you lay out the ground rules?"

I faltered slightly as I thought back, but after a moment of reflection, I nodded.

"It was a discussion."

"I believe the first words out of your mouth were 'I think we both know that we're better off as friends'," he informed me. "Doesn't leave much room for debate."

"I was scared." That confession came out less confidently, but I found my voice again quickly. "And I assumed that's what you wanted too because you never pushed back."

He cocked his head to the side, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"You weren't the only one who was scared."

"I was the only one who was pregnant," I retorted, my tone growing harsher as my frustrations started to rise. "I was the only one who was trying to make a massive life decision while hormonal and growing another human being inside of them."

"That's fair," Chris nodded, his voice much calmer than I expected after my burst of annoyance. "But I wasn't about to pour my heart out and tell you how I felt when you kept talking about what a mistake we'd made as if you'd never regretted anything more in your life."

"Getting pregnant was a mistake," I clarified. "I love Grayson and I wouldn't change it for anything, but we can't say it wasn't a mistake at the time given our situation."

"A situation that you didn't want to change."

"Only because you never told me how you felt," I shot back. "I didn't want you to commit to something out of a sense of obligation. I didn't want you to put up with me for a few years until you dumped me for someone more in your league who you actually cared about."

There was a look of surprise on Chris' face at that revelation as it became more and more obvious to both of us that we hadn't been as good at communicating as we may have thought. It seemed we'd both been so convinced that we knew exactly how the other person felt that we hadn't bothered to actually ask them.

"But I did care about you," he assured me. "And you never told me how you felt either."

"I slept with you, didn't I?"

There was a smirk on my face as I threw his words back at him despite the anxiety that was bubbling inside me.

"A wise woman just informed me that sleeping with someone doesn't necessarily mean anything," he teased, a soft smile on his face. "But I think it's safe to say that we were both cowards."

"Again, in my defence, I was pregnant," I reminded him. "I was trying to make a logical decision while my brain was muddled with hormones."

"But you could have told me after," he pointed out. "We lived together for year after he was born, Whitney, and you never even dropped a hint."

"Oh, please," I snorted out a harsh laugh. "Do you remember what that year was like? We had a newborn baby who never slept for more than ten minutes at a time and you were flying in and out for the first six months, filming one of the Avengers movies. I was delirious, exhausted and emotionally wrecked. I wasn't in the right head space to give much thought to our relationship."

"So, if I had made a move back then? Would it have made a difference?" He asked. "Because it didn't seem to matter much a few months ago."

This was the real issue at hand.

It was all well and good to talk about the past and how we'd managed to come this far so oblivious to each other's feelings, but the real discussion was where we were at now. And the truth was, that I didn't know.

I opened my mouth to answer, but shut it as my words escaped me. I shifted nervously, shrugging under his stare until a sigh fell from my lips.

"I'm not sure anymore," I admitted. "If you'd told me how you felt back then, if you fought for us to be together then I might've been swayed."

"But now?"

"Now, I think we made the right decision for Grayson."

Chris was still staring me down, his eyes locked on mine as if he was looking into my soul. It was an intensity that was hard to endure and I was relieved when he spoke again, despite how his words made my heart ache.

"But what about the right decision for us?"

"That's not what's important," I insisted. "I've seen so many of my friends struggle through their parents' bitter divorces, I don't want that for Gray. I don't want us to lose our ability to work as a team and put him first."

"Yeah, you mentioned that several times," Chris huffed. "But I don't see why you're so fuckin' convinced that we'd end up hating each other."

His frustration and impatience was shining through and I felt my panic rising again. Chris had made his stance clear and I knew I needed to make a decision soon or my lack of decision would decide for me, but I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The thought of not being with Chris made my heart ache especially now that I knew the extent of his feelings, but the thought of being with him and the consequences that could come from that set every anxious nerve in my body on edge.

I found myself scrambling for something to say that was non-committal, but would placate the situation. I floundered until, fortunately, a tiny voice from the doorway saved me.

"Daddy said a bad word..."

I leapt off the couch, desperate for any excuse to get away and Chris raised his eyebrow at my swift reaction. I ignored him as I looked at Grayson, who was rubbing his eyes with one hand and clutching his bear in the other. He looked so small, standing there in his little flannel pajamas and I smiled at the sight.

"That is a bad word," I agreed. "Daddy shouldn't have said it. But what are you doing up?"

"I had a bad dream."

His voice was small as he was still half asleep and Chris stood, following me over as I walked towards him.

"I'm sorry to hear that, buddy," he said, lifting him up in his arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Grayson shook his head. "It was scary."

"Awe, I'm sorry, sweetheart," I frowned as I rubbed his back, my heart melting at how small he looked in Chris' arms. "Do you want me to tuck you back in or Daddy?"

He rested his head on Chris' chest and pulled his bear so close that his answer got muffled by the stuffed animal's fur.

"I want to sleep in Daddy's bed..."

I looked up at Chris, letting him decide if that was okay, but he was already nodding his head.

"Sure, we can do that," he assured him. "But don't hog all the blankets this time, okay?"

Grayson giggled and I smiled as they headed to the door.

"Goodnight, boys," I called to them before they disappeared. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight." Chris paused to answer me and flashed me a look that made me feel like a schoolgirl being scolded by the principal. "This conversation isn't over."

It felt like a foreboding warning and it left me so flustered that all I could do was nod before he turned and continued on his way to his bedroom.

He was right.

Our conversation couldn't end there unless we wanted another four years of miscommunication and mutual longing, but I didn't know what to do. I wasn't trying to be difficult, but both options seemed destined to lead to heartache. Of course, I had no evidence to prove that we wouldn't live happily ever after, but he was Chris Evans. He was the man that women all over America, all over the world, would kill to be with. And I was just me. Once I fell off whatever pedestal he'd put me on in his mind and he realized how ordinary and unremarkable I was, it wouldn't last.

And I couldn't spend the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

With a sigh, I headed to the stairs. My head was a mess despite my hopes that talking to Chris would bring me some clarity. It seemed I was starting a pattern of coming away from late night conversations with more questions than answers, but I was beginning to think that might be due to the fact that I would never be told what I wanted to hear. No one could make this decision for me and no one could make it a fool proof choice.

There was always a risk when it came to love. I just had to decide if that risk was worth it and start being honest with myself about why I was so scared. Were my intentions really as noble as I wanted everyone to believe? Or was I using Grayson as a shield to protect my own heart from pain as much as his?

-

Part Four

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

[btsandvmin]

Answering asks in regards to my recent post about shipping

Ok, so I got a few asks which I think are all responses to my recent post How much do we really know?

I got a few others but these are the ones I am choosing to reply to.

If you follow me and have done so for a while you probably understood my post already, and thus most of these replies might not be that interesting to my general readers. This for the most part just a reply to explain the points I felt got completely misunderstood by these particular anons. But I also go through some others that asks as well. Those will be at the bottom of the post if you want to skip the explenations.

Here goes. So the first ask I got was this:

Anonymous asked:

You mentioned in a post that during the billboard Vlive V suggested that him and Jimin “sleep together casually.” But the very next day Jimin said in a press conference that he was with JK all night and cried with him over the #1 spot. Do you think you ignore things JM says or does to fit your Vmin narrative? There just seems to be a big confirmation bias. A lot of your evidence seems to come from V’s songs but that’s entirely your analysis based off your perception of their relationship. (Not that I don’t agree with you on some of it.) How do you step back and look at things unbiasedly or rationally?

First of all, yes I did mention this but I didn't say that Jimin and Taehyung slept together that particular time/day. I am not 100% sure the post you read was the "How much do we really know?" but if it was, I said this:

"....or that Vmin seem to casually sleep together in private (if we take Tae’s words for it in the Billboard vlive)..."

Meanwhile in that vlive this is what Taehyung said.

"I told him to sleep next to me" followed by "...as he's too lazy to come to my place" it makes it sound like they normally would have gone to either place to sleep together, but both were too lazy to do so this time. Thus they didn't sleep together this instance, but the way Tae talks makes it sound like they casually ask each other to sleep together at times and like it almost was a given that one of them go to the other.

Worth noting is also that the way Taehyung says it (though there is always room for error since I don't speak Korean) it seems he was asking Jimin to come over first, and he wasn't even aware of the Billboard result. He also asked Jimin to do this on JK's birthday, so clrealy it didn't seem like a big deal at least from Tae's side to ask Jimin to come over to him on this particular day.

What I said in my post applies even if they didn't do it that day. Because it doesn't matter if Jimin went in the end or not, Tae still "casually" asked Jimin to come to his place to sleep.

You can look at the whole vlive (1st in BILLBOARD! Gather ARMY!) from September 1st 2020 and get your own understanding, it's not that long and it's full of cute moments.

But if we get into Ji/kook a little bit, the way I understood the situation from what they said is that of course yes, Jimin did tell JK about it. He said as much and of course I will believe him when he says it.

I never said that Jimin didn't say this, so I don't understand how my post would in any way imply that I ignore what Jimin says or does to fit a Vmin narrative. I didn't even mention Jimin, because it wasn't what I was talking about. Jimin's situation didn't matter in that context, just that Tae asked Jimin to come sleep with him.

Sadly I can't include all pictures because there is a photo limit, but Jimin also says he wasn't prepared for the news, and he was talking with Taehyung, and then he started to cry as he got the news. To me it seems he might have told Tae first (and that they already were on the phone when Jimin got the news?), and that JK likely wasn’t with Jimin when he got the news himself, but that he told JK at a later point.

But aren't you ignoring how they told the story a bit as well if you see this as a pure ji/kook moment?

The thing is that to me, no matter what ji/kook did that night doesn't even matter for what Tae said. It still indicates Vmin sleep together casually in their private time even if they didn't end up doing it that particular day. And if Tae could say that and ask that on the night leading into JK's birthday then how does that make Ji/kook seem like likely lovers even if they were together? Of course it doesn't mean that Vmin automatically becomes real, but I never said that either. Maybe the two ships cancel each other out, but in the end the fact that Taehyung said this, said it like it was normal, and suggested it the night before JK's birthday says something to me.

It's fine if Ji/kookers love the fact that JM told JK, I don't blame them, but they in turn need to take Tae's words into account as well. The whole point of my original post was to say I don't understand how shippers can feel confident in their ship being real, and this is a perfect example of why focusing in on one thing and ignoring or not noticing another makes these beliefs based on too little information.

You also seemed to ignore the rest of the post (if that was indeed what you were reading) where I state that I do have a bias and where ALL shippers use narratives that fit their ship to tell a certain story.

You also mention me ignoring moments and having confirmation bias, and sure I can't truly get rid of that, but again... I didn't ignore Ji/kook. I never said those things didn't happen. If anything I keep saying all ships have moments and shippers focus on them so much they don't see others have similar moments. Likewise I won't deny ji/kook moments when they clearly exist, that was a big part of the post, if you actually read it and didn't just get stuck on the small details. But it's good you are curious about and know confirmation bias. I have brought it up as a problem many times as well, and I will surely talk about it more in the future too.

Then, moving on to your point about "evidence" I would once again like to say (like in the post) that there is no such thing as proof or evidence for ANY ship. Just moments that shippers put together with their interpretations into a narrative. So you saying "A lot of your evidence seems to come from V’s songs but that’s entirely your analysis based off your perception of their relationship. (Not that I don’t agree with you on some of it.)" is why I felt you somehow misunderstood my whole post.

Of course it’s all my analysis based on my perception of their relationship. That’s the WHOLE POINT about how all shipping analyses work. Not just mine, but all.

Also, yes Taehyung's songs is a big part of why Vmin is suspicious, but it's far from the only reasons I have to question them. I simply used Tae's actions as an example in my post because they are quite many and out there. Many facts tied together, but of course what they mean is always a guess. Which I also stated clearly. I literally brought up a lot of examples of Vmin and said they make a lot of sense, but that doesn't mean we can be sure or "know" Vmin is real.

So, yes, I do feel you misunderstood me on several points, and it seemed you didn't read properly at all but rather got stuck on the details and then used Ji/kook moments to "refute" me even though it in my opinion wasn't relevant to the post at all. Which is why I in turn posted this reply:

It didn’t take long for someone to misunderstand my posts and get caught up on the details and examples instead of the general message. While they were at it they decide to throw in a good “accusation” of something I legit have said I am many times and no one can avoid. Good to know some people just don’t want to understand. 😗👍

Not only you but less interesting/good asks as well might have made me feel a bit annoyed, so I replied like this, I suppose I misunderstood your intentions too.

You also asked "How do you step back and look at things unbiasedly or rationally?" and my personal belief is that I can't. I am biased towards Vmin, and I do try to see things from many ways and to get content in its full context. But simply by consuming and remembering more about Vmin than other dynamics I will still remain biased. I don't think any shipper can truly remain neutral.

Then I got a a second ask (Edit; I now know this is by another person than the first ask).

This isn’t me trying to misunderstand you, I’m just genuinely curious how you ship vmin while also questioning Tae’s honesty (your BB night comment) and thus also Jimin’s, and also hand over the best tools to anti-vminnie who can use your words as proof that “well even vminnie don’t believe vmin so why should we?” And if all ships are basically equal, why ship at all, or why ship vmin? They have the most conclusive things and yet the more we get the more you question and doubt them.Why?

And suddenly there came a whole new additional set of problems.

I suggest reading my post Shipping vs Believing because if you knew my stance you would understand that I think there is a huge difference between shipping and believing and that you can ship whatever you like and it doesn't have to be tied to reality at all.

In general this ask makes you sound like a delusional and defensive believer, so I perhaps suggest reading my post Can shipping turn into conspiracy theories? as well. This additional ask is why I replied with this second short post:

You say I question the honesty of Tae or Jimin's words, but hopefully you understand this is not at all true since I explained what I actually meant in my original post. Tae asking Jimin to sleep with him is just as true as Jimin telling JK about the win. These two things don't contradict each other and I trust both of the statments to be real.

Also, how am I "handing over tools" to anti-vminies? These things are all out there, and I wasn't even talking about anything negative? Just because I have a more healthy approach than "Vmin is obviously real" that doesn't mean my words should be interpreted as "shipping Vmiin is pointless". However, you did get it right that I don't believe in Vmin, but you seem to have the wrong idea of why I have that stance to begin with. Which again, was part of the message in the original post which you here continue to not understand in other ways.

Me not talking as if Vmin is 100% real doesn't mean I hand out tools to antis. Personally I think that's a weird interpretation of my text, but I can't do anything but try to explain my view on shipping, which I feel that I have many times.

I also don't personally think all ships are equal, but I do think many ships have similar moments and that those moments either get ignored or hyper focused on in a way that makes shipping analysis less trustworhty and always biased and not based purely on facts and the full context. Basically yes, a lot of ships seem to cancel each other out, but that shouldn't stop anyone from shipping. BUT it should make people careful about calling moments "proof" and be sure their narrative is the only possible truth.

I also don't think it's fair to say "They have the most conclusive things and yet the more we get the more you question and doubt them.Why?". I've always tried to keep a distance between shipping and analysis and while we do get more and more for Vmin it's not that I start doubting them more... It's just that I remain open to other things despite more things happening that fits in a Vmin narrative.

I honestly can't tell if you have read a lot of my posts before or not, but it doesn't seem like it, and thus it feels even more unfair for you to lay this judgement on me as well.

Then I got a third ask (edit: which was a second one from the first anon):

Anonymous asked:

I think I’m the anon you responded to. I did read more of your posts where you question things a bit. It’s nice to see you still have a healthy view point on things. I wasn’t really disagreeing with your posts, just wondering if you felt everything was being considered when coming to conclusions. Have a good one !

All this drama, and for what? :P But have a good one too I guess. Thanks for taking the time to read more and trying to understand my point of view.

I also got this ask from another person, and I hope you might understand what I meant after reading my reply to the first anon.

Hi I am sorry I am confused. Can you tell me why specifically you think Vmin alluded to sleeping together during the Billboard Vlive? Didn't Tae say he was talking to Jimin on the phone and told him to come over? Then at the press conference Jimin said "I was with Jungkook" and they were sitting stroking their phones. I am not a shipper or an anti shipper or anything like that. I just would love to see the receipts on this if you have them?

Again, I didn't mean Vmin slept together that day. But the fact that he asked and it seemed like a very normal (even perhaps expected) thing that one of them would go to the other, I can still express it as Tae alluding to Vmin sleeping together at least sometimes during their private time.

Now onto another anon, with a very different take. :)

Anonymous asked:

Spot on. Shipping is one thing but how can some people "believe" in a ship, I'll never understand. People need to realize that even with all the content we get (from concerts to DVDs to Run to BV to interviews), we only see them for maybe like 2-3 days (total) out of 365 days. Like? They visit a country for 7 days and we only get 10 hours of content from it. Do we have any idea what any of them is doing right at this moment? "Supporting" a ship is stupid even if you're right at the end.

Thank you anon. I don't fully agree that we get as little as 2-3 days total out of a year, but we definitely don't see the majority of their lives. And while you are a bit crude, I agree... Even if a ship is real, supporting and believing and being convinced of only one ship is at least in my opinion not the right way to go about it. Which is why I say let's speculate but also support them all whatever the truth might turn out to be.

There we go... It ended up being a lot of drama made out of nothing else than a small misunderstanding. Anyways, I hope I made myself clear. Thanks for the asks, sorry for the somewhat annoyed attitude and I hope you understood what I tried to say.

Thanks for reading. If any of you had the patience to do so all the way through I salute you. <3

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

*

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

[meltingheartsandcores]

I’m tired, I should be studying, instead I wrote this little ficlet that should probably be the prologue to an actual fic that I might get around to writing (fingers crossed).

We have Immortals, modern sects, and porn. Not entirely sure how else to explain it except none of those are explicit, lol.

Hope you enjoy the product of my mildly sleep deprieved brain!

Being invited to have tea with Zewu-Jun was a high honor, despite the immortal seemingly trying to downplay it as much as he possibly could. However, Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what he’s done to earn the honor. It’s been a long time since either Twin Jade was the Sect Leader, Nie Mingjue has spoken with the current Sect Leader Lan Tengfei infrequently over the years when their sect business intermingled or there was a conference, but he wasn’t particularly close to the Lan Sect. And the Twin Jades enjoy their privacy. Enough so that there’s not a single photograph of either of them out there.

So it was very startingly to get the invitation.

Zewu-Jun treating him like an equal and friend is equally startling.

Somehow, not the most startling thing to happen on the trip. No, that would be the portrait of Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang’s husband. He thinks. Nie Mingjue isn’t actually sure if they’re married or just act like it. Although, knowing them, that’s how they want everyone to think.

Still, the clearly very old portrait of Wei Wuxian was a little disturbing. Especially with the name below being Wei Wuxian’s, correct characters and all. Even more so after Zewu-Jun noticed him staring at it and decides to give him some utterly terrible information.

“My brother’s husband, from his first life.” Oh. It was that Wei Wuxian. Yiling Lazou Wei Wuxian.

How is this getting worse?

“Oh?” Because screaming was undignified and not something to be done in front of immortals. Later. In his car. And then he’s calling Nie Huaisang to yell at him because of course his brother just had to shake up with the immortals husband. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a massive coincidence. (Nie Mingjue’s luck is never good enough for coincidences.)

“Yes, after the resurrection his core was never strong enough to cultivate immortality. When Wangji realized it, he tried to stop his own cultivation, but it was too late. Wuxian lasted nearly two hundred years, and not a day goes by that Wangji doesn’t miss him.” Oh, Zewu-Jun was sad. Nothing Nie Mingjue can say will make him not sad. In fact, he’s pretty sure anything close to the truth of what Wei Wuxian is doing now will just upset him. “The juniors find it, romantic, that he’s decided to wait for Wuxian to be reincarnated.”

Well. It does sound romantic.

But Zewu-Jun’s face, he’s irritated and upset, so clearly he doesn’t agree with the juniors. It sounds romantic, but the reality, “He must be very lonely.” Nie Mingjue guesses.

Zewu-Jun nods, “We have each other, but we were the only ones from our generation to cultivate immortality. There are many people we miss, and as time seperates us further from the present, it’s harder to connect with the new disciples.” Zewu-Jun admits. Nie Mingjue nods, he’s never considered that. How isolating it must be to have lived so long. The Nie clan, doesn’t really get immortals. Honestly, they’re lucky if they hit a hundred. Most top out at eighty due to their cultivation style.

“How would he know, that he’s been reincarnated? I mean, I think Huaisang’s said some things about faces getting reused due to limited genetics and the growing population.” Actually Wei Wuxian said that. Something to that effect at least. Nie Huaisang was better with people and manipulating situations. He does really well running the business side of the Nie Sect. Even if he refuses to accept any credit.

Zewu-Jun smiles a little sadly, “Well, I suppose we’ll know when we see him. Pictures work well enough, as we’re learning. We’ve found a few people who we knew in our first lives reincarnated.”

Nie Mingjue nods, he should tell Zewu-Jun. He really should. Maybe it’s just a look alike. Unlikely. Nie Mingjue’s never that lucky. Nie Mingjue’s started to pull his phone out of his pocket before remembering his manners and asking while holding it in front of himself, “Uh, do you mind if I?” Zewu-Jun furrows his brow but gestures for him to continue. Nie Mingjue nods and opens his phone, scrolling through the pictures Nie Huaisang had sent him. Not for the first time, he really wished Nie Huaisang wouldn’t send so many half-naked or fully-naked pictures of Wei Wuxian to him. Thankfully, it was not all Nie Huaisang sent to him, so he did come across a picture of a fully dressed Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang was also there, but they weren’t doing anything. Nie Huaisang had snapped it while they were out walking and Nie Mingjue had wanted to know where the fuck Nie Huaisang had gone at one am. “Just, uh, he seemed familiar.” Nie Mingjue explains, turning the phone around to show Zewu-Jun.

Zewu-Jun blinks then reaches out, hesitating a moment before taking Nie Mingjue’s phone. “That. Is definitely Wei Wuxian.” Zewu-Jun states, and then he starts touching the screen, which makes Nie Mingjue very nervous and uncomfortable. Because Nie Huaisang sends him very questionable pictures. Nie Mingjue is happy his brother is comfortable with his body, he just wishes he wouldn’t text him explicit pictures of his maybe-boyfriend that sometimes also have him naked in them. Nie Huaisang has always like pushing Nie Mingjue’s boundaries, and honestly, Nie Mingjue would rather he be pushing this one than certain other ones. Still. It makes him nervous when Zewu-Jun taps his phone and his eyes blow wide.

Yeah. That’s not good.

Zewu-Jun blinks and regains his composure, handing the phone back, “May I ask how you know him?”

“...How honest do you want me to be?” Nie Mingjue asks, shutting off his phone and pocketing it without looking at whatever Zewu-Jun saw. He’d like to be able to keep looking Zewu-Jun in the eye for this conversation.

Zewu-Jun raises an eyebrow, almost admonishingly, “As honest as possible. You don’t seem to type to beat around the bush.”

He wasn’t. He just really didn’t want to tell Zewu-Jun what Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian get up to.

“He works with my brother.” Nie Mingjue states vaguely, earning another raised eyebrow from Zewu-Jun.

“Is he a cultivator?”

“Used to be. He had a big falling out with the Jiang a few years back and kind of stopped.” Nie Mingjue shrugs, “He doesn’t talk about it.” All he knew about it was rumour. And the Lans don’t do rumours.

“Ah. So what work does he do with Huaisang?”

...Did he tell Zewu-Jun his brothers name? Nie Huaisang is almost as unknown to the world as the Twin Jades. Purposefully so. The Nie have always been rather private with their members, but when Nie Huaisang was old enough to have an opinion on a public presence and vehemently deny having one, nothing about him was released to the public. Not even other cultivation sects as Nie Huaisang wasn’t a practicing cultivator. He trained. As he was supposed to. But he didn’t do any night hunts. He had no connection to Nie Mingjue on the business end of the Sect either.

So, what?

“How do you know his name?” Nie Mingjue asks, making Zewu-Jun blink in plain confusion. “Huaisang’s name isn’t known to anyone outside the Nie sect. Not in connection to me.” Nie Mingjue states, now a little angry. Did someone tell Zewu-Jun? Who? How? Why would he even care about Huaisang?

“He’s in your phone.” Zewu-Jun states simply.

And that’d be a fine answer.

If Nie Huaisang was ‘Huaisang’ in his phone.

But he wasn’t.

He was Reuben. Courtesy of Wei Wuxian. (Wei Wuxian was ‘Stitch’, no Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the names and he didn’t really want to. He’s mostly worried it’s a weird sex thing and he prefers to be as ignorant as possible in that aspect.)

“I thought Lan’s don’t lie.” Although, Zewu-Jun wasn’t, technically, lying.

But he doesn’t deny it. “Could we sit?” Zewu-Jun suggests, gesturing to the table that had been set up for them. Nie Mingjue nods and sits opposite to Zewu-Jun, pouring them some tea. “I apologize for the deception, however I’ve never actually done this before.” He better not be suggesting what Nie Mingjue thinks he’s suggesting. “In the recent past, when we’ve discovered our reincarnated friends, we’ve more or less left them alone.” Oh. Good. He’s not being propositioned.

Wait.

What?

Nie Mingjue blinks, now thoroughly caught off guard, “Um. What.”

Zewu-Jun smiles gently, understandingly, “Due to certain aspects of your previous life, I felt the need to check in on you, make sure you were doing well. I, well, I assumed your family was the same. Hence, why I know Huaisang’s name despite you keeping him rather off the grid.”

“He’s not off the grid. He just has no public connection to me.” Nie Huaisang was almost constantly online. Especially with his ‘job’.

“Ah. So, what work does he and Wei Wuxian do?” Zewu-Jun asks before taking a drink of his tea.

Nie Mingjue considers what he knows about the Lan, and then realizes he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Luckily for him (or unluckily most of the time), he can just show Zewu-Jun on his phone. “Um, you might want to put that down.” Nie Mingjue suggests, pulling out his phone and turning it on, quickly going to the app Nie Huaisang downloaded on his phone that he never goes on, and opens it up to Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian’s account. Sliding it across the table as Zewu-Jun dubiously puts down his teacup.

Zewu-Jun blinks, then sighs, “I can’t say, I’m particularly surprised with Wei Wuxian’s career choice.”

“...Seriously.”

“You did not hear them. I’m aware of the publics perception of us, particularly Wangji, but trust me. He’s not nearly as prudish as people seem to think.” Zewu-Jun states, sliding the phone back with a rueful smile and a familiar look.

Nie Mingjue exits out of the app before shutting off and pocketing his phone. He knew that look. The look of an elder brother who really didn’t need to know so much about their younger brother’s sex life. He knew that look well. “Right. Speaking of Hanguang-Jun, how would he react?”

Zewu-Jun purses his lips. “I can’t say he’ll be particularly favourable. Wangji’s always been quite, possessive.”

“Wei Wuxian is persuasive. I’m kind of curious as to who would falter first.” Nie Mingjue snorts, picking up his own cup of tea. It was good tea.

Zewu-Jun’s eyebrows were furrowed, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Wuxian’s not going give up his livelyhood. He enjoys it. Even if he falls back in love with Hanguang-Jun, I’m not sure he’ll quit it.” Nie Mingjue states, shaking his head. It was an understatement. Wei Wuxian loves his job. As he so often gushes. Nie Mingjue’s honestly just happy Wei Wuxian doesn’t give him details.

Zewu-Jun slowly nods, understanding dawning, “You think Wei-gongzi will convince Wangji to do porn.” Zewu-Jun winces, “I, hate that I cannot say it’s out of the realm of possibilities.”

Nie Mingjue snorts and then smirks, “Ah, Zewu-Jun, how about a friendly bet?”

Zewu-Jun’s brows pinch slightly, eye narrowing, before he smirks, “Only if you call me Lan Xichen.”

Ohhhkay. Zewu-Jun had said to at the beginning of their meeting, but Nie Mingjue had honestly kind of ignored it. Immortals are a big deal. But then again. He was about to gamble with one. “Ok, Lan Xichen, why don’t we make a bet in favour of our, brothers.” Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what else to refer to them as. If Nie Huaisang was married, then technically Wei Wuxian would be his brother. If they’re not, he might as well be at this point either way.

“Are Huaisang and Wuxian married?” Lan Xichen cuts in, confused.

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe. Not important.” Nie Mingjue shakes his head, “If Hanguang-Jun manages to convince Wei Wuxian to quit his work, you win, and if Wei Wuxian manages to convince Hanguang-Jun to do porn, I win.”

Lan Xichen nods, smiling with interest, “And what are we betting?”

Nie Mingjue smirks, this was going to be fun.

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Part 1

Summary: Life hasn't been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2358

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a double bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: None really, language, escort serives, angst? I think that’s it for this chapter!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don't offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Adjusting your too short skirt, you look across the crowded street from your hiding place among the crowd of people standing on the side of the road waiting for their cab, or Uber to pick them up from whatever they had just left, or take them to wherever they intend to go. 

Heavy thunder rolled over head, and you looked up at the ominous black rolling clouds that from your street view made the skyscrapers look shorter than they really were.

Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears that it drowned out all the sounds of the hustle and bustle that was New York City on an average Friday night. Even though, in reality no one noticed you, you looked no different than about six other girls standing within a four foot proximity of you, you felt like every eye was on you. Like they were judging you, and knew just what you were doing, and just who you were waiting for.

Even though you weren’t meeting this man for sex, you felt like you were no better than the whores that line the streets of Brooklyn late at night, like cattle lined up for a sale barn to go to the highest bidder. 

Claire had suggested that you join the Sugar Daddy App in order to make a few extra bucks after losing your job as a junior accountant at JP Morgan. You hadn’t been there all that long, and when they changed management, your new female boss seemed threatened by all the females in the office, especially those like yourself, those that were young, those that had potential; so therefore you got the first axe. 

You didn’t really like the idea, but you were really left with no choice. Even though New York was a big city, it didn’t make jobs exactly easy to come by, and you need money before next Friday, or you would be living under one of the many bridges. 

It hadn’t taken long for Dean to respond to your add on the app as a paid escort, and the fact that you weren’t offering sex didn’t seem to bother him when he’d direct messaged you. He said he just needed you to attend a business party with him, a promotion for his brother, and if you did well, he might hire you permanently. 

Claire seemed to think that you had hit the jackpot, and told you to jump on the opportunity, but the amount of lucid information that he’d given you as far as what to wear, and that you were to just be on his arm to “look pretty”, you couldn’t help but feel you were dealing with the mob. 

You knew that was a silly notion.There was only one mob left in New York that had enough power behind them to even be threatening. Everyone else was nothing but grunts under them, and there was no way in Hell a Winchester would be using a Sugar Daddy App in order to find someone to take to a business party with him. 

Claire said not to worry about it, and that you were looking into things to much, that you had watched to many Scarface movies, and this was probably just a businessman who was in his forties, overweight, and lived in one of those box cublicial apartments on Manhattan with too much money, and not enough social life to bring someone to the event. 

You had your doubts.

The way he worded things, so secretive, so proper, it had you scratching your head from the moment you agreed to this job as to whether or not this was a good idea, or if you were going to be the next featured picture on the back of a milk carton as New York’s latest missing person. 

Just as you were about to say fuck it, and turn around and head back to your apartment, a sleek, black SUV pulled up to the curb and stopped. Looking around you notice that everyone that was standing next to you just a few moments ago had all but vanished, either getting into their own means of transportation, or giving up all together and deciding to hoof it. 

The window directly in front of you rolled down just enough for the baritone voice to filter out of the dark interior of the car. 

“Y/N?” he asked, and you stepped forward cautiously. If you weren’t regretting this before, you were now. 

“Yes?” you said, stopping just short of the curb. 

The driver’s side door opened, and the short driver made his way out of the car, and around the back passenger door that was facing the road. He opened  it for you to climb in as another round of thunder rolled, and thick raindrops started to pelt down all around you.

This was it, there was no going back now. 

Swallowing the little voice that was screaming how bad of an idea this was, you climb into the back of the car and the driver shuts your door before making his way around to regain his seat at the helm of the car. 

“Well, I must say you are attractive enough, but you look terrified sweetheart.” the same deep baritone voice said across the dark back seat next to you as the diver pulled out onto the street. 

Straightening up in your seat, you adjust yourself and try to look less like a scared child, and more like the paid escort you were for the night.

“Well, I’m sorry Dean, but as I told you earlier, the fact that you were so secretive concerning the details of our evening made me a little uneasy. Most clients tell you where they’re going to take you, and what you are going to be doing for the evening.”

Dean chuckled next to you, and adjusted his tie.Even though it was dark in the car, the street lights let you make out his strong jawline, and handsome profile enough to know this was not some overweight businessman. He was much more than that. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m hiring you to escort me to my brother’s dinner party in celebration of his promotion in my father’s company.Judging by your slack jaw, you’ve heard my last name before, and you see why it wasn’t exactly a great idea for me to put my last name, nore the details of our arrangement in a direct message on some crude app.”

You set there in total dumb founded shock. 

Of all the people you thought were going to be picking you up tonight, Dean Winchester was not one of them. You had feared that this was a mafia pick up, but this was much worse. 

Dean wasn’t only Mafia,  he was son of the oldest, most lucrative gang in New York City’s history, his father, John, made Al Capone look like a little boy dressed in a suit. His family were ruthless, and virtually untouchable, protected by money, and  God only knows what else you couldn’t even begin to imagine. They didn’t hide what they were because they didn’t have to, and you were  more fucked than you thought you’d ever be. 

“My brother Sammy’s promotion details are not important. The only thing you need to know is that for the evening you are my girl, and you will do as I say. Talk as little as possible, and like I said, just look pretty. That won't be that hard for you. Stick close to me, but I promise you, this is continental ground, and no one can harm you in any way. So just relax and enjoy the party.”

Dean was completely unfazed by the fact that you still seemed to be in complete shock, like this was the reaction he was expecting from you. He knew that this was your first job? Why the hell did he hire you for something this big? If you weren’t already having a panic attack, you were pretty sure you were going to by the time you got to where you were going. 

“Dean, I...Look I don’t...I don’t know if this is such a good idea.What if they don’t buy that I’m your girlfriend, and furthermore why do YOU, of all people, need help getting a girlfriend?” you asked. Dean threw his head back against the seat of the car, his deep booming laugh echoing through the entire car. 

“Sweetheart, relax.You're perfect. I didn’t want someone with experience. Escorts in my line of work are, well, a commonly used expense, and I didn’t want someone that is recognizable to anyone that is going to be at this party tonight. I wanted this to be believable. As far as why I need you? Well that’s easy. I’m 40 years old, and unmarried, but I’m also my father’s successor to the company.The only problem is, the high table seems to think that I should have a wife by now, and I don’t, so you are here to keep my father and my elders off my back.” Dean said shortly as the car came to a stop in front of The Roosevelt Hotel.

Dean reached into a folder that was sitting on the seats between  you, pulling out a stack of papers that were stapled together, and handing them to you. You took them with what you knew had to be the most bewildered look on your face that anyone had ever had, but Dean seemed to be unfazed as the dome lights were switched on inside the car, and Dean handed you a pen. 

His large, freckle dusted hands, made everything they touched seem so small, and you wondered how many people those hands had killed before you buried it deep down inside of you, not letting the thought manifest. 

This man was dangerous, but you needed the money.

“This is a NDA.It says that you can not disclose your employment with me, nor anything else you will witness here tonight as long as you live. It’s virtually a gag order. It’s for your protection, not mine.” 

You nodded your head and swallowed hard, not daring to ask what the hell would happen to you if you broke said agreement, and signed the papers, knowing you had no choice. 

Looking up at the astonishing greens eyes staring back at you, you fought against the deep blush that pooled through your cheeks. Dean was handsome, and there was no denying that. 

“Okay, so, I know you said no sex, which quite honestly is a shame,” he said, looking you over in the small space, his perfect white teething pulling at his lower lip, making you blush even deeper than you already where, “but in order to make this convincing, there’s going to have to look like there is some degree of intamicy between us. In other words, I will hold your hand, touch you, tastefully of course, we're not animals, and I may even kiss you if need be, is that okay?” 

The thought of those pink, plump lips on yours made a shiver go all the way down your spine, and you had to look down for a moment to compose yourself. 

“Yes sir, that’s fine.” 

Dean chuckled as he opened his car door, getting out to open yours, his large, warm hand going to your lower back as he pulled you in close to him once you stepped out of the car. 

“Call me Dean, Baby Girl,” leaning down so that only you could hear him, his warm breath fanned over the skin of your neck, and goose bumps raised all over your skin, “or you can call me Daddy, I’m okay with that too.” 

You blushed furiously and covered your face with your hand, a deep embarrassment at the way your body seemed to be responding to this man standing next to you on the curb of the crowded street.  Another booming laugh escaped Dean as he pulled you into a hug. People were apparently watching that you were unaware of , because the act seemed to have already started. 

“I’m only teasing you sweetheart.I love to see you blush.Remember, impress me tonight, and this job is yours permanently, and I promise you, I will pay you so well, that you will never want for anything ever again.”

That was a promise you could get behind, so you straightened your skirt and took him in for the first time in the light of the foyer as you  walked together, your arm over his own in a formal manner suitable to the occasion. 

You hadn’t really looked at him until now, and man, he was a sight. 

Danger reeled off of him.From the ridiculous expensive, black, custom fitted Brioni suit, and crisp white Ralph Lauren shirt, to his only God knows how expensive black shoes. 

He was lethal, and he had no problem not hiding it. 

His piercing green eyes held an air of mischief that excited you in a way you’d never experienced before. Not a hair out of place, except for the almost auburn stubble that matched his perfectly placed hair sprinkled across his chiseled jaw, and a smirk that could melt the panties off of every woman in the room. 

He carried a presence about him that commanded attention, and you could tell by the faces of the people that were watching the two of you as you both checked in to the black tie event the hotel was hosting for the Winchester family, that he was the man that everyone loved to hate. 

This was the craziest thing you had ever done in your life, and it would probably one way or another end badly, you knew that, but his was the most alive you had felt in your life, and you were determined you were going to enjoy the moment on Dean’s arm, and worry about the rest later. 

Besides, what was life without a little adventure, and it was high time you had yours.

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

Tag List: @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​

Series Tag List: 

@royal-sunflower​

@roonyxx​

@nihilismworld​

@prettysourabbie​

@rosalynshields​

@flamencodiva​

@woodworthti666​

@stilltoomuchafangirl​

@theoneandonlymelol​

@deanandnegansbitch

@lunaticgurly​

@bxbyizzy

@deangirl93​

@ellewritesfix05​

@moron225​

[pillow-anime-talk]

thigh high socks.

synopsis: You decide to surprise your boyfriend with your new style of clothing.

# tags: scenarios; studies!au; current relationships; fluff; funny and spicy romance; boys are simps for your thicc thighs/legs; sfw i swear

includes: female reader ft. tooru oikawa, atsumu miya, wakatoshi ushijima, tetsurou kuroo & koutarou bokuto {hq!!}

— TOORU

Since you started browsing a Pinterest main page, you also started buying some new clothes who was similar to those in the pictures. There were many more skirts, shoes, shirts, sweaters and high socks in your wardrobe right now. Even now you have been waiting for the next five packages from AliExpress! Anyway, you’ve just been in the process of dressing up in new clothes to take some photos and just look at your mirror image.

Of course you didn’t look bad. The black skirt, white sweater and black socks looked great on your body and above all on your thicc thighs. Finally, you put on light-heeled shoes and you could go on taking photos, which after an hour you began to browse and rate. You’ve decided to add the two prettiest on your Instagram account with the ‘New style!’ description. This update has brought you many positive comments and lots of hearts, which made you very happy. You felt really appreciated and loved by friends who also added many comments on your new photos.

Anyway, you waited for Oikawa’s reaction; not gonna lie, your boyfriend’s opinion was the most important for you.

Buuuut, the minutes went by and the boy didn’t comment on your update, which was super strange because he had notifications on for your account updates. After a few more minutes you decided not to worry about it and change into more comfortable clothes.

However, you barely touched the high sock and heard a low protest saying to not do it. You turned toward the door and almost jumped when you saw Tooru closing your room door.

“Your mother let me in.” He threw with a smile, walking towards you. “I hope you didn't think I wouldn't comment this beautiful outfit. I just preferred to do it personally.” He added with a confident voice, hugging his chin to your shoulder. “The only thing I’m a bit angry about is that you didn’t send me these pictures privately, but we’ll make up it soon, right, bunny?”

— ATSUMU

You were a thermophilic type of person, so even a light breeze could cause unpleasant chills all over your body. No wonder then that even though the sun was shining, you decided to wear long socks that would protect you from the likely wind in the afternoon. You didn’t even pay attention to how well the high tights socks matched your legs or your university uniform. You just got in you small car and drove to the university. You came on a lunch break that day because your lessons started quite late.

You weren’t hungry, you had your breakfast before, but you went to the canteen only to see Atsumu and friends who, as always, sat at a table next to the big, clean window. You entered the canteen, making quite a fuss. Or rather, your legs have made a sensation, especially among boys. Atsumu choked on drinking milk, seeing your slightly new style of dressing, by the way.

Without paying much attention to the people or their comments, you moved closer towards your boyfriend and your mutual friends.

“Hi, Atsu. Hey, you spit. What a big baby.” You laughed, reaching for a handkerchief from your own bag to wipe his wet lips.

Then you wanted to take a seat next to him, but the boy pulled you on his knees, efficiently covering your thighs with his big hands. Thanks to this you noticed tens of jealous women and hungry male eyes whose turned towards you.

“Disgusting.” You muttered under your breath, leaning against the boy’s chest.

“They are jealous, don’t mind them. You look fabulous.” He answered with conviction, handing you a piece of chicken from his dinner.

Funny fact: your outfit caused such a great stir at the female part of the university that those who were in love with your boyfriend specially dressed high socks for the next day to get his attention. Of course your boyfriend had it in his ass and totally ignored all of them.

— WAKATOSHI

You've never been to your boyfriend's volleyball match before, because of your own schoolwork or the job in candy shop. But one day, when you had free time, you decided to support your man in a duel against another school. You went straight from school to the stadium without saying anything to Wakatoshi, naturally. You wanted to surprise him *pouty emoji*.

You saw your boyfriend when he had interview. At first Ushijima didn’t notice you, but when the interview was over, you came closer to him and patted him on the back...

“O-Oh, Y/N.” He murmured in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He asked in a serious tone, and you just laughed in the answer.

“I came to support you, Toshi.” You happily added.

“I understand. Thank you.” He answered and although it might seem cold, but you knew that Wakatoshi was very happy ‘cause you’re with him now.

Shortly after thanking, the captain noticed your today’s outfit, which was a burgundy dress and high gray socks.

“Is this also part of your support?” He asked quietly, discreetly pointing to your new clothes.

“If you only want, babe.” You laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll go to take a seat in the audience. We can go eat something after the match if you don’t have plans with your team.” You suggested and Toshi agreed to it. However, before you said ‘See you soon’ to him, the brown-haired boy took off his team hoodie and covered your bare shoulders. You thanked him quietly and then waved hand at him, moving away.

You quickly got your seat at the nearest grandstand, and shortly afterwards the match started. At that time Shiratorizawa Academy had by far the best doping! And all thanks to you!

— TETSUROU

Unfortunately, your train was late, which made you late too for Kenma’s birthday party. Luckily, Kuroo kept sending you text messages with informations that gifts hadn’t been given to his friend yet, so he tell you to don’t have to rush and you should be careful while on your way to the club.

Fortunately, after almost an hour, you safely crossed the threshold of the club with a big present in your hands and greeted Hinata standing next to the door. With your eyes you sought your boyfriend and moved towards him.

“Tetsu, hello! Kenma, happy birthday, I love you, man.” You greeted with a loud voice, attracting the attention of a black-haired man and a birthday boy. They both smiled at you, and Kuroo also gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Good that you are already, Y/N.” Kenma said with soft smile. You just chuckled and asked where’s the place to put the present. Eighteen-year-old pointed to one of wooden tables, so you went there. And when did you go there Tetsurou notice your today’s party outfit, which consisted of shiny long socks, shorts, a black short-sleeved shirt with a cut-out on the chest, leather jacket and high heels.

Without paying much attention to Kozume, Kuroo moved toward you to wrap his hand around your waist to show that you are here with him. After all, it wasn’t hard to notice the male glances that primarily landed on your sweet thighs and socks.

“Y/N... Did you put those socks with a specific intention or...?” He asked quietly into your ear and you shook your head.

“I thought it was too cold for the dress, but also too warm for the jeans...” You answered truthfully, laughing under your breath.

“Hmm. I understand. Dress them more often then. You looks amazing, my pretty girl.”

“I also have other, much cuter socks at home.” You started even more quietly, winking at him. “But those are only for your insight.” Tetsurou licked his lips at your words, then gave you another kiss, but this time straight on the lips.

— KOUTAROU

Recently, you started to like Korean pop, and delved into the local fashion of many idols, which often appeared in skirts and shorts. Your slightly boring and dark style of clothing was nothing compared to colorful, sweet and lovely girlish creations, which additionally decorated with trifles, berets, socks up to thighs or shoes with bows.

You knew that Bokuto loves you regardless of your outfit, but... you had a vision in your head of how much he would enjoyed your much softer look or hairstyle. You decided to spend some money on new clothes, and then you set up a date with your boyfriend, which he gladly agreed to.

You two met at the entrance to the maritime museum, which Koutarou really wanted to go. Of course, the poor boy was waiting for you there ahead of time because he was so happy ‘cause of your date! So, when he noticed you, he started running towards you, almost tripping over his own legs, when he saw you in an unusual, super cute dress and white, delicate thighs socks.

“Kou!” You squeaked when the boy took you in his arms and spun you around. “Koutarou!”

You quickly moved your hand to your ass to protect your panties from being seen by others people. Bokuto probably went crazy and he didn’t think about anything but only you because of how beautiful you looked in his eyes. He probably fell in love with you for the hundredth time, lmao, we love this puppy man.

And then it was even worse (or better; I don’t know how to describe it) because your boyfriend instead of watching the fish in the aquarium during your date only took pictures of your figure!

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

A Special Announcement: Introducing Monthly Subscriber Perks [BIG POST!]

Hey there Sketchy Friends, Followers, and Fans!

As you may know, I was recently agonizing over what perks I could offer to anyone who wanted to support me on a monthly basis via Ko-fi. There were a lot of suggestions from everyone, ranging from special commission slots to mystery-box sticker packs to be mailed out every month, and while some of these have been filed in the 'Maybe in the future' pile, I wanted to focus on ideas that

1 -- I KNEW I could execute on; stayed within skills I already had, and wouldn't need to do a lot of extra research for. 2 -- Wouldn't make excessive extra demands on my time; I'm already running myself pretty hard week to week between my online presence and being a homebody in meat space-- I can't put 100% into the community and still have energy leftover to make meals/take care of myself/look after my home. It just doesn't work that way. 3 -- Wouldn't have me making promises I couldn't keep; while this is kinda point 1 again, it's worth stressing. I didn't want to promise anything I couldn't deliver on and lose the trust of the community. It's just bad form.

With all of this in mind. I have come to a decision.

Starting in April, I will be recording all Sketchy Saturday sketches so it is possible to turn them into time lapse/speed paint videos.

Monthly subscribers will get 1 [ONE] sketch of their choice turned into a Time Lapse video per month, WITH A PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM ME IN THE OPENING.

If you'd like to know more about how this works on the nuts-and-bolts level, please keep reading! This cut is here to save people's dash from my long news posts XD

ANY amount at or above 1$ USD per month qualifies for this perk.

The personal message can be from me to you, or a specific dedication you'd like me to make to someone you know. I can also put it at the end of the video, if you'd prefer.

Monthly subs can request ANY sketch to be made into a video, not just ones they specifically requested.

Donators can get extra requests per 10$ they pledge per month-- so if you're donating 1$ USD a month, you're entitled to 1 video request per month. If you're donating 11$, you're entitled to 2, 21$ a month, entitled to 3, ect.

I will be keeping track of these requests-- both earned and used, via yet another one of my spreadsheets which will be publicly viewable, tracked with whatever screen name you're using on Ko-Fi.

If I start my monthly subscription to you NOW, will I earn a request for this month?

YES! I just haven't recorded any of the sketches so far this month, so you won't be able to use them till April.

Do unused video requests roll over?

Yes, but only month-to-month. You can collect video request credits all year long, but at 12:01 AM on January 1st, US Pacific Time, everything resets to zero. I'll be sending out messages on December 20th to remind people of remaining request credits they have, so monthly subscribers don't get screwed on their perks.

This includes if you support me for a few months, but then cancel your subscription-- you KEEP your earned video requests until you USE them, or the NEW YEAR rolls over.

Will you be mentioning the person who requested the video on that video?

Yes, in the video title, calling them the 'Sponsor' of the video, unless that person otherwise specifies that they'd like not to be named.

Can I request ANYTHING in the personal message?

Yes, so long as it is not in any way hateful or harmful. If you wanna use my platform to be an asshole, I don't want your money.

Should a message be deemed to be hateful or harmful after it has already been published, I may take the video down and re-upload it without the dedication. I take all responsibility for the messages uploaded onto my platform, and will apologize for any harm caused-- irregardless of its source. Video request credits may be given back to the requester on a case-by-case basis, after an investigation on how knowledgeable they were about the message being harmful. If it was an accident, the credit will be given back to be used again. If the harm was purposeful, the requester will be blocked and all their request credits considered invalid.

Where will the videos be posted?

YouTube! I already have an account all set up. The account has zero intent on being part of the Partners Program or seeking monetization-- it's simply a display space.

Will these videos be public?

YES! Your monthly donations and requests will be building up a whole new catalog of content for the whole community to enjoy!

Can the video I requested be made private?

Only until a specific date-- like you wanted to surprise a friend on their birthday, or [heaven help me] your dedication has a marriage proposal or baby announcement in it and you'd like the release of the video to be part of the event. I will not make a video permanently private and only provide links to the requester-- I will not fence content away from the community for money, I have an ethical issue with that.

Can I request the video have specific music?

Only if it's not going to set off the copyright bot on Youtube. Otherwise, I have a MASSIVE library of music that I can use from when I used to make time-lapse videos all the time, all sourced from the website OCremix.org -- they're remixes of video game music, kinda like Fanfiction.net but ONLY for games and SPECIFICALLY for transformative works of music. Tracks from that site don't trip the copyright bots, and I always link back to the original OCRemix video so peeps who like the track can check out the person who made it.

If you send me a track to use, you need to provide me with a download. Not a link to a youtube video for me to rip from. An actual, already downloaded and tested MP3, or the link to the page from which to download said MP3, legally.

No. Pirated. Music.

THAT SAID!! If you MADE a track, and want me to use it, I am 9000% down. Hell yes. Just nothing longer than 4 minutes-- short time lapse videos don't do well with long tracks.

I have a question that wasn't addressed here!??

Well, my friend, that's what the ask box is for :3 Hit me up, and I'll do my best to clarify whatever you'd like to know.

[asimpforarmin]

Not so Safe? 💛

Content: Armin Arlert x Reader, Modern AU, two dorks being awkward

Summary: You and Armin go to the beach during quarantine as a way to get away from the stressors of life, keeping safe during it.

WC: 2,123

Genre: fluff?? maybe i guess. Wholesome stuff.

Warnings: None

A/n: This is my first fic on this account and also the first one I’ve written in a long time, so this might be bad, idk. Btw check out this playlist: https://youtu.be/1_2lm4tS9N4 It’s really nice and I listened to it while working on this. Ok bye-

You were bored, just slouching in bed late at night waiting for something to happen. Since quarantine hit, you really haven’t been able to see your friends, well not without a screen. You’ve been keeping up with your closest friends, Connie, Sasha, and Armin, and playing Minecraft with them when you don’t have (or don’t do) your schoolwork. You’ve been missing actually hanging out with them though.

So you decided to group message them about it, see if they wanted to go do something, taking safety precautions of course. Turns out Sasha’s mom wouldn’t let her go anywhere because she was worried for her, and Connie was staying with family out of state. But Armin could come.

You moved to private messages to talk to Armin about it, so you don’t spam the group chat or make Sasha and Connie jealous.

“Hey, are you free on Friday?” you asked.

You quickly saw him typing back to you, “Sorry, no, but I can do something on Wednesday or Thursday.”

You sat up a bit, “Alright, either one works for me.” You had that equivalent of awkward silence between texts where neither of you know what to say. “Which one do you prefer?”

He responds after a moment of thinking. “Wednesday’s fine. What do you wanna do?”

You thought it over for a moment, not actually expecting to get this far. “I know that ice cream shop down the road’s open. We could get some ice cream and head down to the beach for a while and just screw around if you want.”

“Sure. Which ice cream shop again?” He questioned. Armin lived not too far from you and had been over a couple times.

“That one we pass when you come over. Taking a right from my house it’s on that corner, a few shops down from the gas station.”

“Oh that one! Ok.” He responded.

“Did you get your bike fixed?” You asked. You all had bikes and would go places on them before the whole virus thing happened. Thing is, Connie crashed into Armin after hitting a pothole and totaled his front spokes.

“Yeah, it’s all ready to go. Do you have a cooler?”

“I know there’s one somewhere in the garage that I can find and clean out.”

“Alright, I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Definitely.”

You were excited to see at least one of your close friends during the pandemic. You set your alarm for tomorrow, which was Monday. You only had to wait until Wednesday to see him.

~~~~~

Wednesday rolled around soon enough and you had just finished the last of today’s schoolwork. You packed up a backpack with some extra snacks, water, and some bandages in case either of you fall.

You texted Armin “Hey, where do you wanna meet?”

“I can just meet you at the ice cream place if you want.”

“You sure? That's kinda far from where you are.”

“I’ll be fine, it's not terribly far.”

“Alright, well I’ll see you there.”

“Cya,” he signed off.

You put your phone in your backpack, before dusting off that old cooler, filling it with ice, and putting it in your bike basket. You set out for the shop feeling good. You haven’t been outside in a while, and feeling the wind against your skin felt perfect.

You went down the road a ways, pulling up into the shop’s parking lot. You pulled your bike over and leaned it against the curb with the kickstand, and waited for Armin.

About 10 minutes later, the blond comes into view, pulling into the lot, spotting you, and heading over. You look up at him, pulling your mask up as he does the same. He wipes his brow as he’s hauling his bike over. “Hey, how are you?” he asks, looking down and putting his kickstand to the curb.

Your smile, “Good, how about you?” In all honesty you were great now that he’s here. You haven’t seen him in person for around 11 months and you’ve missed him.

He looked back up at you and you could tell he was smiling even under his mask.

“I’m fine, happy to be outside,” he sighed.

“Hey, your hair’s a little longer,” you pointed out.

He blushed a tiny bit, “I’ve only gotten it cut once during this and now since everything’s reopening, my mother’s scared to take me to get it cut again. The only reason she let me come on this trip was because it’s contactless.”

“I see, well either way it looks cute,” you reassured him.

He let out a small laugh, “Thanks.”

“Anyways,” you say, going up to the front of the building, “what flavor do you want?” You put some gloves on before reaching for your wallet.

“I’ll just have the cookie dough.” Armin pulls out his phone to pay that way.

“Hey, I can pay for both of us if you want,” you say, looking over at Armin.

“It’s fine, I have my own money,” he politely declines.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my pleasure,” you say, taking money out of your wallet, enough for the two of you. “What size do you want?”

He puts his phone back into his pocket, looking up at the size chart. “I’ll just have a medium.” You nod and go up to tell the person at the counter your orders. A few minutes later, your orders are in the window. You hand the cashier the money, then take off your gloves and grab your ice creams. You put the bowls in Tupperware and then in the cooler.

“You ready to go?” You ask Armin. He nods, clicking his helmet back into place and getting on his bike. You get back on your bike too and the both of you head out.

It’s another 10 minutes before you get to the beach. It isn’t the best weather for this kind of visit. It’s overcast and a little bit foggy, but it’s still a nice place to hang out.

The both of you lock your bikes up and take your ice cream out of the cooler. You hand Armin his dessert and open your own.

“Wish the weather was better,” you commented, looking up at the grey sky.

“Well if the sky’s not clear, that means less people will come,” Armin points out, looking over at you. You nod and look around for a spot to sit down. “We could go over there,” Armin suggests. He’s pointing at a couple boulders decently spaced apart up on the hill away form everything.

“Ok,” you say. You both start going over. There’s no one else at the beach besides a few random people chilling at the shoreline. Armin hops up on the boulder to the right and you get on the left one.

“Thanks for paying for this,” Armin sheepishly says, taking a bite.

“It’s no problem, I’m happy to,” you say. God, you wish you could hug him. Quarantine’s been horrible to your social interaction, plus you may have an inkling of attraction to him. Even to just hold his hand would be ethereal. But you can’t. You need to stay safe, and you don’t know if he feels the same about you.

“So, um, how’s your week been so far?” He inquires.

“It’s been okay. Hating school as usual, but besides that I’ve had a good time keeping up with you all,” you say.

He takes another bite before speaking, “If you want, I could help you out with your work if you’re having trouble.” This wasn’t the first time he offered, but you felt like too much for agreeing last time.

“I’ll think about it, I’m managing alright for now though. How about you? How’s quarantine been treating you?” You ask him.

“I’ve been able to keep up with things for the most part, but it does get tiring. It’s good to finally get out of the house again.” You nod and both of you just sit there for a moment, eating and looking out at the ocean. You couldn’t see that far out because of the fog, but what you could see was nice.

The waves slowly crashed against the sand and rocks while you heard gulls above you. You cherished this moment, as simple as it is. Even if your feelings were unmatched, he was still your best friend. You get butterflies whenever he’s around. He makes you happy and anxious in the best ways possible.

Armin looks up before taking out his phone. “Looks like it’s supposed to rain in a bit.”

“That’s a bummer, I wish we could stay out here longer,” you say.

“We can always come back. I’m still free tomorrow.” You perked up at his suggestion.

“Same, we can do that,” you quickly reply. He nods his head in agreement.

“Same time?”

“Sure.” You both went back to eating for a moment. “We should  do this more. This is fun.”

“I do quite like this. It’s relaxing to take a break every now and then,” he says.

The two of you keep talking, about home, friends, hobbies, school, etc, when you felt a raindrop on your cheek. You look over at Armin, who looks up at the rain.

“Guess it’s time to go,” he says, slightly frowning. You stand up, getting the trash from your ice cream and start walking over to the trash can. It’s under one of those buildings that look like metal car awnings, but with benches and the board that shows the directory and rules of the beach. Armin follows suit.

“We really should have checked the weather,” you say, disposing of your trash, “I don’t feel comfortable with either of us biking in the rain on the road like this.”

Armin throws his trash away, “We’ll be okay, it’s not a whole lot,” he says. “Besides, you can call someone if you don’t feel comfortable.”

You sit down on a bench, looking on your phone. “Looks like it’s not supposed to stay for too long. We could just stay here for a while if you’re okay with it.” He sits down next to you and nods. He looks between you two and sees the small gap.

“Sorry,” he says as he moves further away.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say. You want to tell him how you feel, you really do, but if he doesn’t feel the same, you’re afraid things won’t go back to normal.

You start to say his name at the same time he speaks, which causes you to both chuckle. “You go first,” he says.

“Go ahead, I’ve already forgotten what I was saying.”

“That quickly?” he smiles.

“Apparently.”

“Well I- I don’t know how to put this properly, but…”

“But what?”

“I want to do this more often, and I know you already said that but I really miss hanging out with you.” He looks over at you, waiting for your reaction.

“I miss you too,” you say. You felt your cheeks darken as your face warmed up. You look over at him, he was just the same as you. That gave you the confidence you needed. “I really like you, Armin.”

He looks up at you suddenly, “You mean like, more than friends?” he asks you nervously.

“Yeah. More than friends. I have for a while but I just haven’t said anything.” You look away until he says something, not wanting to face him as he’s making up his mind, but he answers almost immediately.

“I do too! I- I mean I just didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.” You felt your breath hitch in your throat, wanting to say something, but you just didn’t have the right words.

“Well, um, we should definitely do this more often then,” you finally say, giving him a smile.

“Do you uh, want to hold hands?” he asks shyly.

“Should we?”

“It’ll be fine as long as we wash our hands when we get home.” You nodded and stuck out your hand. He took it as he moved a bit closer to you.

You two just sat there for a moment, taking everything in. The rain, each other, the sounds coming from the road. Even though it seemed so new, it felt good. It felt right. Armin started speaking again, talking about how he’s been thinking of this moment for a long time. You smiled and continued the conversation for a decent half hour, still clasping hands.

You finally heard the rain let up and the sun began to shine through the clouds.

“You want to go down to the shore for a bit now?” You asked him.

“Of course,” he said. You got up, taking him by the hand down the hill.

[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 2

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  1746

Rating:  E

Warnings: None

Synopsis:  A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 2

 “Clint and I just had sex!”   You hadn’t meant to blurt the words out like that and they had almost definitely signed your death warrant, but they’d burst out of you out of your control.  Things had gotten out of control, but in that good way, where your adrenaline had been up and with the alcohol and the way your powers worked, when he’d suggested you both go to the public restroom, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted to do more than that.

Now that you could see that Natasha and Clint were in a relationship, the guilt about being the one Clint had cheated with had made you spill immediately.  Even if it did mean the Black Widow would gut you like a fish.

Natasha Romanoff looked back at you with her head tilted to the side.  “Oh, dorogáya,” she soothed, before turning her attention back to the controls of the jet and taking flight again hovering up away from the bar she’d picked you up from before shooting off away from the city.  She took a moment to smack Clint on the back of the head in between flicking different switches.

“Ow, Nat,” he complained, rubbing the back of his head.  “What was that for?”

“You can’t do that,” she scolded. “You need to tell them what your deal is before you seduce them.”

“Seduce them? Me?”  Clint argued.  “Who am I seducing?  Shit just happened.”

“You know what I mean, durak.  You can’t just sleep with people and not tell them you’ve got a girlfriend,” Natasha snarked.  She tilted her head back and raised her voice so you could hear her better over the jet engines.  “Clint and I are in an open relationship.  I’m sorry he didn’t tell you that first.  He’s an idiot.  But you didn’t cheat on anyone.  I just hope he didn’t lead you on.”

“No,” you assured her.  “I knew it was casual.  But … I wouldn’t have… if you two…”

“It’s fine,” she assured you.  “I promise.  Have as much sex with Clint as you like.  I don't care.”

“Gee, thanks, Nat,” Clint snarked.

“Well you won’t be getting any from me if you’re gonna be an idiot,” Natasha said.  “Might as well see who else is offering.”

“Nat…” Clint whined.

You relaxed back in your jump seat while they argued in that loving way people who were completely comfortable with each other do, glad that for once your libido and need for complete honesty hadn’t gotten you in trouble.  The last thing in the world you wanted was to piss off any of the avengers because you weren’t thinking with your brain.

“It's gonna be a bit of a flight, so just relax and get some sleep if you can,” Natasha called back to you.

You already knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep.  You were running on pure adrenaline now and the jump seat was far from cozy.  You did close your eyes and listen to the engine as Natasha guided the jet back to New York.  Things were about to change for you, you knew that.  Even if the Avengers deemed your powers to be useless to them, things weren’t going to be the same now.  You couldn’t go through life after seeing the end of the world come so close and pretend like you weren’t gifted with something special.  You had to find some way to use it.

By the time the Quinjet touched down at the Avengers Compound you had been up for well over a full day and you were exhausted.  It was that level of exhaustion that went right to the bone.  Each turn of your head caused your vision to go blurry as your brain tried to catch up with what it was processing.  Each time you spoke you found it difficult to modulate your voice.  You were also hyper-aware that you probably smelled terrible too.  You’d been wearing the same clothes since you got up the day before and since you’d put them on you’d been running around the city and you’d had sex in a public restroom at a bar. The thought of any of the Avengers meeting you like this was quite frankly, mortifying.

You followed Natasha and Clint off the jet and they were greeted by Captain America and a tall, brunette woman wearing a grey pencil skirt and a black turtleneck. The exhaustion you felt made it really hard to process the fact that Captain Steve Rogers was less than a yard away from you.  Especially given your current state.  He was always going to remember that when he met you, you were the human embodiment of the living dead.  Smell and all.

“Welcome home,” Steve said.  “This must be the healer.”

“That’s right,” Clint said.

You introduced yourself to Steve and offered him your hand.

“Welcome to the facility.  This is Hill,” he said, indicating to the woman with him.

“Alright, you two go get some rest. We’ll debrief after you’ve slept,” Hill said, scratching something down onto the Stark Pad she was holding.

“See you then!  Totally gonna go and sleep right away, nothing else!”  Clint said, saluting.  Natasha stifled a laugh and the two of them headed off down the corridor.

Hill turned to you and continued tapping away on her tablet.  “You’ll have very limited access to the facility until you’ve been cleared by security.  I’m guessing you might need sleep?  A shower?”

“That would be fantastic,” you agreed.

“Follow me,” she said.  The two of you began to walk in the same direction as Clint and Natasha at a brisk pace.  “The compound is run by an artificial intelligence.  Her name is FRIDAY and she'll let you into the parts of the facility you are allowed in and keep you out of what you're not,” Hill explained as you walked.  “I appreciate that you have come here voluntarily to assist us, but we are still a private military installation, so security is important.  For now, you will be primarily restricted to your room, however, if you need any medical care I can take you to the medbay.”

“No.  I never need that,” you said.

“Oh, right,” Hill said, shaking her head.  “So used to the script.”

“Carry on,” you said with a soft laugh.

“I'm also giving you access to the smaller pool and gym,” Hill continued.  “It's the one used by the administration staff and generally fairly quiet.  Ask FRIDAY.  We would prefer that you go straight to the security clearance and debrief, but we understand after an event like you just experienced you may need to let out some stress.  For this reason, you can have access to any onsite psychiatric services.  We have many therapists on staff.  At some point you will need to speak to one but if you feel you need one sooner than later that can be arranged.”

“Oh… I'm… I think I can wait until after security clearance,” you said.

“If that changes just let FRIDAY know,” Hill replied.  The two of you rounded a corner and then she opened a door that led outside.  It was bright out and there were teams of people in sweats running in formation.

She led you down a path to a large white building with huge windows and an A on the side.  “That building is the main hub, that's where you'll go when you're ready to speak to us.  For now, we're just going to housing,” she continued as you made your way through the facility.  “Barton said you helped him in the field.”

“Yeah, he fell off a building,” you answered.  “I used my powers to heal him so he could get back.”

“That certainly sounds like Clint,” Hill said.  You thought she might have stifled a laugh, but you couldn’t be sure.  “You're okay with us running some tests?”

“Yes, of course,” you answered. “I wouldn't have come…”

“Great,” she said, cutting you off.  “Ideally the run down when you're ready will go, security clearance, debrief and interview, then we’ll run some tests.  But it's up to you how much you can handle.  It's a big adjustment coming here.  It can get a bit much for some people.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know if I'm feeling overwhelmed,” you said as a set of glass doors opened for you, letting you into the accommodation building.  “Getting close to that now.”

“Right, sorry, you must be tired,” Hill said.  “We’re nearly there.”

Your room was on the first floor and Hill opened the door to let you in.  It reminded you of a cheap hotel.  There was a full-sized bed, with gray linens, that offset the grey of the walls.  The walls were unadorned and the only other furniture in the room was a side table, desk, and dresser.

“The bathroom is in here,” Hill said, opening the bathroom door. “There are towels and toiletries.  We're not a hotel though so if there's anything missing or you need anything, and I do mean anything, let FRIDAY know.  She’ll place an order.  Inside the dresser is a Stark Pad.  You can use it to find out what the kitchen is making and have it sent up.  Make sure you eat.  You can also browse the internet.  Please do not post on social media about where you are until your security check.  We’ll know so don't think you can get it by us.  You haven't signed an NDA yet but you will and what you post about will be taken into account when we're deciding if we’ll actually recruit you.  When you're ready to have the security run let FRIDAY know and someone will come and collect you.  If you want to back out, we understand, just let her know that too and we’ll take you home.  Any questions?”

Your head was reeling from the amount of information just dropped on you along with your complete exhaustion.  “Uhh…” You said blinking slowly.

“Right, well if any come up…”

“Ask FRIDAY,” you finished.  “Got it.”

She smiled and closed the tablet.  “I'll leave you to it.  You’ll be fine, kid,” Hill said.  “Just get sleep, eat, and you’ll be part of the team in no time.”

“Thank you,” you said.  “I’ll do that.”

“I'll be seeing you,” she said and left you alone.  You peeled yourself out of the clothes you were wearing, collapsed onto the bed, and were asleep almost immediately.

// NEXT

[bisluthq]

Kaylor Reunited?

Possibly due to all of the mess, as well as the existing issues we’ve discussed, Joshlie take a break again and Kaylor appears to reunite. We know this because Josh’s presence suddenly halts on Karlie’s socials, they don’t get seen together, and a fan account later mentions a Joshlie “reunion” which suggests this was discussed at the time. Kaylor cement their reunion with a trip to Nashville, which seems loud and out of character given the back and forth. This is also when Tay decides to pick up a beard, because she probably thinks they’re on for good and plans to write love songs for her luvah.

1 February 2015 - Karlie posts a pic of Taylor’s cat from Nashville - they seem to have travelled there together. This is the first time they’ve travelled together without Josh since the Big Sur trip in March 2014 - so it does seem fairly important.

2 February 2015 - Kaylor and Lily A watch the Superbowl in Nashville. Karlie posts a pic of the three of them together. 

13 February 2015 - Kaylor Kover Vogue. Karlie also posts about it on her Instagram, as does Ivanka. We could use Ivanka’s pic as evidence for Joshlie but I tend to think she’s a bit clueless when it comes to the complex dynamics involved and - importantly - she was also featured so it may have been her mostly punting herself. 

How do fashion fans and insiders respond? They’re pleased to see a model on the cover. They debate the legitimacy of the friendship. And some point out the uncanny similarities to a shoot with Poppy Delevingne and Alexa Chung. You’ve probably never heard of that other photo shoot but it did, indeed, come out months before and feature two real life besties on a “road trip”. Miranda Priestley is outchea calling the Kaylor spread: 

Let’s take a moment to consider two things about the setting of the Kaylor spread.  Firstly, as previously discussed, this shoot was a recycled idea already seen in a previous spread with Poppy Delevingne and Alexa Chung.  It’s sort of sad but in a way very telling that Kaylor didn’t have an original and romantic idea for their spread.  But secondly, the Kaylor shoot is just a rehash of the 2014 Big Sur trip (one of the few times it seems that Kaylor is exclusive and together and Josh isn’t in the picture.)  It’s possible they chose to recycle this setting precisely because it’s one of the few times that Kaylor was in a (more) simple romantic relationship and not in the throes of Joshlie and/or their complicated PR friendship/romantic entanglement/real friendship.

On that same day, Enty alleges that someone asked Karlie about Taylor at a party and Karlie supposedly had a very angry reaction to being questioned about Taylor. If Enty is right, that would support the idea that they really do seem to be together at this point in time - as in Karlie is protective over her private relationship with Taylor at this point in time (but of course always take Enty with a grain of salt)... And Karlie might not want to get outed. Because yeah, while most of the response is covered (kovered?) above, some fashion people are also saying they seem gay. They’re supportive (the fashion industry usually is) but given Karlie is - as we’ll show - still not over Josh this is kind of the last thing she’d need. 

14 February 2015 - Karlie posts a picture from the Vogue Kover and wishes Taylor a ‘happy Galentines day’.

15 February 2015 - Karlie does a super weird throwback to that Insta post Kevin posted way back when. This is an objectively weird way to wish someone Happy Valentine’s Day, a whole day after Valentine’s Day,and seems like she’s trying to quell the gay rumors that emerged from the kover. And let me tell you these rumors got loud. After the cover dropped, it’s all gossip and fashion blogs discussed. Well, that and if they were fake friends or not (as I’ve said above). Spoiler, I personally think both sides were right because I think they were initially a PR-geared friendship that not only turned real and genuine but also became romantic. 

16 February 2015 - Taylor cameos on SNL’s 40th anniversary. Karlie does a shout out for it. Karlie also promotes Vogue on GMA. Meanwhile, Dianna watches a ‘smug’ Karlie walk in NYFW. 

17 February 2015 - Kaylor attend an Oscar De La Renta show and Tay makes a weird comment saying “my publicist would get mad at me” if she explained why she was there. This is the clearest sign that Kaylor was back on. Also, this, along with the Riptide/Love Story compilation I discussed earlier suggests Taylor was more invested and reckless in this relationship, contrary to fandom lore. Given Karlie had pretty intense feelings for Josh, this is no surprise. It’s also supported by this recent deuxmoi blind - where supposedly the rumors bothered Taylor much less than they bothered Karlie. Again, we can’t go off of blinds alone, but given all we have seen from the timeline, that comment fits into a broader pattern.

18 February 2015 - Karlie posts a pic with Derek and Taylor from the front row at the Oscar De La Renta show.  Karlie also posts a pic of Taylor on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon talking about the Vogue cover (this is joint promo, so is hardly a surprise). Karlie also does her own promotion, talking to CBS about Taylor and Koding with Klossy.

20 February 2015 - Karlie promotes Vogue again and again. They’re pushing this out hard and absolutely NOT putting distance between each other as traditionally claimed in fandom during the post Kissgate period. There was no distance. They were loud.

24 February 2015 - Taylor attends Karlie’s Fund Fair and Karlie cops a feel. The Fund Fair - which Karlie is a co-host of - is circus themed (irrelevant but an interesting Dianna parallel for those of you invested in Swiftgron). This is the event that hardcore Kaylors say is where they apparently responded to seeing one another as though they had not seen each other in months, however they’d seen each other, publicly, the previous week so that idea is entirely inaccurate (as is the idea that Kaylor went underground due to Kissgate). There’s also an image of Kaylor potentially arguing from that night so it’s not that they were necessarily in a great place. This is supposedly where Taylor meets Calvin for the first time. Note the public meeting parallel… This often happens when Taylor is about to get loud and noisy with someone. This tells me she’s feeling serious about Karlie, if she’s looking to onboard a beard.

25 February 2015 - Kaylor attend the Brit Awards and the afterparty together. Gossip magazines claim she was seen flirting with Calvin here. This is the last time Kaylor is seen together publicly until June. NOW is when they go underground, because now they have something to hide. This is almost three months after Kissgate. 

26 February 2015 - Karlie posts about the Brits. She also posts a pic with Derek, Tay and Kim Kardashian which she captions “Two KKs a Tay and Bae”. It’s notable that she distinguished Tay from Bae even in a silly joking caption.

CONCLUSION: Kaylor is on in a real and romantic way. Karlie is supposedly snapping at someone at a party who asked her about Taylor. Taylor is saying weird stuff about her publicist when discussing why she’s at the same events as Karlie and Taylor is looking for a beard. Kaylor going underground here suggests that things are getting real, and, as Taylor had done with her previous relationship with Dianna, Taylor is going to try to hide it to keep it real.