#nothing i say or talk about is really interesting to people

[kiyzukiy]

Inevitable fate

Sypnosis: A story as old as time. A girl loving a boy and the boy loving another girl. Nothing to add or show but how you hoped this would be different.

Tags: any lads man x reader, any lads man x MC, reader is not mc, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta read

Author's note: Heya~ I'm fairly new to this and this is also my first post I've done this way. If I'm missing any tags please tell me. Otherwise I hope you enjoy <3

Have you waited to long? 

Some would say yes, could they witness your…rather disgraceful moment right now. There you stood. Out in the dark. Flowers in one hand. In the other his favorite snack and a handwritten note with all your feelings on it. You had hoped to surprise him. His surprise was bigger.

It was almost comically, really. A scene out of a movie. Life imitating art.

Unfortunate for you, this was no such moment. No one would spring out of the corner of the building and scream “prank!” and shove a camera in your face to record it for eternity. Upload it to some social media and get clicks for it or let it become a happy, albeit with embarrassment toned memory. 

You had the strong feeling, the longer you stood there, this was no such scene but reality. 

In silence you stood and watched them. A bit creepy, you would think to yourself if your brain would work right now on the right wavelengths.

It was like sick pleasure. 

Like watching a car wreck. 

Like a nature phenomenon that could kill you, and yet your eyes couldn't move away. 

The sweet scratch on a point you couldn't quite reach. So why did it slowly start to hurt? Did it start to bleed? Should you have left it alone?

Your body was rigid. So even if you wanted to, you couldn't move away. Leave. Like any other person would do. No. You were very focused on the moment that was going on right in front of you. Every sense that you had laser pointed, marked and sharp to the two people in front of you. 

Your friends warned you, didn't they? If you could remember, you would chastise yourself right now. Numerous excuses running around in your head that you gave them. He wasn't like that. It's more than that. He shows genuine interest. He is so sweet. He gave me flowers last week. There has to be something. 

What did your friends say? You couldn't remember. Your mind a jumbling mess. Numbing every thought. Thoughts jumping from one point to the other. Was it a lie? 

But then again what was the lie? You, or him? 

Look away. 

Now he was grasping her waist. Laughter rang in your ears. Was that her? Was that her laughing? With him? And oh how he laughed. Like spring bloom. Like butterflies kissing your cheeks. How the morning sun gently wakes you up with the promise of a new day. Like life. 

He never laughed that way with you. You wonder why. Was she different? More straightforward? More funny? More assertive? More…her? Who was she anyway? You didn't recognize her. No pictures of her in his home, nor on his phone. No story told with this appearance depicted. You could only guess and that guess didn't fill your cold veins with joy. A feeling of doom pooling in your stomach. 

They both seem to know eachother. Awfully comfortable with another too. Laughing, giggling and holding hands together. 

Look away. 

They were moving and simultaneously, you as well. Were you tailing them now? Oh you sick fuck, okay or was this just another thing of watching a car wreck burn. To prolong the moment? Fascinated and in awe that something like that truly happened. Normally you see this only on TV, on the news or just on social media. As if this would be daily life.

They haven't notice you yet so what’s the harm? Maybe this was the way you wanted to go first. You weren't failing them if you just so happen to walk the same way. It's not like they would notice you anyway. It's not like he would notice. To engrossed in the woman beside him that he was still talking with about who knows what. 

Jealousy reared it's ugly head in your heart. He was not like this with you. Not smiling like that, not keeping the conversation going like that. Genuine interest. No. You mistook it as such. Now you saw what his interest looks like. Engagement, excitement and wanting to listen.

A funny thought entered your head, if and when they spot you, you can just go over and do idle chit-chat like “oh hey. I'm just his friend that he was supposed to meet and yes, yes his dick is impressive. I know first hand. What is your experience with that?” 

Yeah. Right. That's what you are going to do. Let’s be real here, you could talk yourself into it but never following through with it because how could you? 

This is what your friends warned you about. 

Look away. 

What were you doing? Exactly? What was your plan? Idly following them to gather more evidence? For what? It's not like you need the evidence for anything as you were nothing to him anyway. 

You had no valid reason to be angry right now. No one said it should be exclusive. Why should you? You were. Just. Friends. Right? Your own words, when you saw his hesitation at your question what you both were. Friends with benefits if someone wants to be specific. 

So why should you take pictures of this moment? You couldn't shove it in his face and demand answers. You couldn't be angry the way you wanted to be. Oh, how you wanted to be angry right now. Raging and screaming. Throwing things at him and watch how he struggled to get a good excuse in. 

But you were only a friend or maybe something else entirely.

Maybe a cheap fuck. Maybe a good distraction. Maybe a stepping stone. Maybe the one to test things out on. Maybe…nothing more than to get the one who got away. 

Was that her? The one he always told you has long since slipped away? The one who assumably forgot about him and moved on? Is that her? With her long, ebony brown hair and expressive eyes? With her fit physique. Perfect nails, even better outfit. Though you wouldn't be surprised if you could dress her up the way you wanted to and she still would look stunning. With that step in her walk like she was excited to meet someone she hasn't seen in a while. Wild hands as she told a story and he listened. Oh? He listened. One more thing you could tick off of your list that he wouldn't do with you. Not in this way. No, not…in this way.

You couldn't deny it. She was beautiful. The longer you looked, watched, observed this was a fact. Well, in your mind you always could give her a nasty personality. Judge her only on her appearance. Could tell yourself that she got around in life because of her looks and not what she accomplished on her own. 

Even though that wouldn't help much. Even though that wouldn't be you. That's not you. You are not like that, but right now you wanted to crash out and not be yourself. Be mean, be vengeful, be hateful. And yet? A sad little smile on your face, you admitted to yourself that she was beautiful. Inside and out. You had a feeling that she was and she looked stunning right next to him. Fitting. Not…like you. 

Just one moment. Let yourself be. Even though it wouldn't help. Only you and your bruised ego over the fact that you went and gave your heart to the wrong man. Again. 

Look away.

Almost, right? Just almost. You haven't done it yet. Not completely. That was soothing, wasn't it? You haven't confessed yet. You wanted to. That was the whole plan of your meet up with him today. The whole sense behind you, now following them, getting flowers and his snack because women could woo men too. That was the plan. What a grand plan that was! 

You…had a plan. A cute picknick underneath the night sky. Watching the stars and professing your love and you both would enter a happy, healthy relationship. The end. 

Reality was but a cruel joke or your saving grace. Lucky you didn't do it. At least that's what you will tell yourself when you get home. In the mirror. Alone. Memories of you and him running on loop behind your eyes and you will ask yourself what you lack. But that was a problem for future you, wasn't it?

Look away! 

Pitter patter. You hear it before you feel it. You scoffed. Right, of course. Now this was rather ridiculous and might you add ironic of life. Why yes of course it would really rain right now. As if this wasn't movie worthy to begin with. Now you would be soaked when you get home as well. 

Well, at least you didn't confessed right? This can be another failed dating attempt you can gossip with your friends about. A small hihi haha story while they ramble on about who they dated last and what happend with that encounter. 

It would be funny. If you wouldn't hurt so much right now. Because this could have been perfect. This could have been your moment. He was the man. Kind, attentive, supportive and understanding. Alright, so what? Maybe you started as friends with benefits but you were friends and the sex was even better. Silly banter and an comfortable vibe between you. What else does a relationship need? 

This could have been it.

Please, look away sweetie.

Now he was touching her cheek. She was turning to him. Beneath a lamp post in the park. No body around. You still far away in the dark. Shivering, flowers soaked and still clutching that stupid snack in your hand. Knuckles turning white. Teeth grinding and jaw clenching. Against your better judgement you were angry. And sad. And disappointed. And so god damn hurt. Jesus, why did it hurt so much? You were nothing. Only the memories weren't nothing. They were real. Real interactions that made you fall in love. That made you giggle and laugh and reminiscence about what could be. What could have been. 

You wish you could hold your heart right now. Clench the shirt above your heart. Symbolic to the pain. The heavy weight on your chest that didn't let you breathe freely.

Would it happen now? That what the singers and poets always proclaim about? The deepest pain, the most lingering scar? Is this the moment where you will hear your heart shatter in the rain? 

They don't seem to be bothered by it. While everyone was flittering and running about to get underneath shelter, these two seem disgustingly happy that it was, in fact, raining. Oh to be sickingly in love so that you would gladly take the cold that would follow after such events. Being stone cold out, but the moment was beautiful. For them. At least. A story they could tell. Oh so romantic. Oh so loving, oh so beautiful. Re-enacted out of a book.

You would just be down with a cold and calling in sick because you just. Couldn't. Look. Away. 

Please, why? Look away, starlight. Come on. 

Ah, there it was. The moment. A movie. The scene. The setting. The light. Romance. Young, undisturbed love. A kiss. 

And you. Sticking out like a sore thumb. A watcher. A silent bystander to their rom-com. A witness to their happy end and ever after. 

They don't notice you. But you notice. You notice your heart plumpeting to the depths of the earth, only to burn in front of the events before you. You feel it break. Pain surges through your veins. To how many pieces can a beating heart shatter? Do you dare to count? Would it be the amount of the shared memories? Would it be the many times you wished to be more? How long would it take to put it back together? Would you ever get closure or would you continue on with the things in mind that you saw today? Could you pretend nothing happened and be quiet by his side? Don't you love yourself more than that?

Princess, look away. 

What were you to him for him to be able to do this with no second thought? Does he feel any guilt right now, any thoughts about you? Does he see you behind his eyes when they close in this intimate moment? 

It didn't seem this way. It more so felt like a punch to the gut to witness just how little you meant to him. Apparently. Evidently. Written and signed by him truly. 

Cutie…look away. 

And you do. With a shaking breath, you look away. One slugging step at the time, you turn away. Tears falling down your face as you look up to the sky and wonder: 

Have you waited too long?

[celestialgallaghers]

Double Dare Ya [18+]

I realize this follows a similar pattern to my last post, but I love the enemies to lovers trope what can I say. The truth or dare trope is also overdone but this is MY fictional story and I make the rules.

Also the title is from the Bikini Kill song, which really has no relevance to the plot but popped into my head when I was trying to think of a name for this.

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Summary: Your friend introduces you to Noel at a club, and you clash with him almost immediately. You want nothing to do with him, but something about your refusal to fall for his charms piques his interest.

Word count: 7.1k

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You were never sure what to expect when Jo invited you out. She was always more outgoing than you, more embedded in the scene, so you’d at least figured it would be a typical night. Loud, chaotic, and full of people who thought themselves far more interesting than they actually were.

What you didn’t expect was Noel Gallagher.

You knew who he was, obviously. Oasis was everywhere. You liked their music well enough, but you never thought you’d come face to face with any of them. Apparently, that was changing tonight.

The club was dimly lit and buzzing with noise when you arrived. Jo spotted some of her friends and immediately dragged you over, squealing as she hugged them. You offered a small wave, recognizing a few faces from previous outings. They weren’t really your crowd. Often fake, too caught up in their own self-importance, and quick to look down their noses at anyone not dressed head to toe in designer.

Jo, at least, was genuine. You’d known her forever, watching as she clawed her way up from nothing to a high class career as an event planner. These people had connections, the kind that could make or break her career. So, as much as you disliked them, you kept your mouth shut.

Sliding into the booth beside her, you already felt out of place. You indulged her with these nights out every so often, but they always ended the same. You’d drink more than intended just to tolerate the company. 

“Noel!” Jo cried suddenly. “This is my best friend.”

You turned just in time to see none other than Noel Gallagher approaching, a leggy blonde in tight clothing clinging to his arm. You weren’t quite sure what to make of him. Instinctively, you were wary of fame. It could go either way. Some celebrities turned out to be just regular people, while others were so self-important they refused to come down from their high horse. Right now, you were inclined to believe Noel fell into the latter category. 

He barely glanced at you, offering a quick nod of acknowledgment before sliding into the seat across from you. “Alright?”

You nodded back, polite but unenthusiastic. You had no real interest in getting to know him. There was an air of arrogant indifference about him that immediately put you off.

Drinks appeared suddenly, and you gladly grabbed one, taking a long sip. This was going to be a long night. 

As the evening dragged on, you found yourself saying less and less. Not because you were shy, but because you couldn’t relate to the conversation. Industry gossip, name-dropping, pointless chatter about who had fallen out with who. It was monotonous.

The blonde Noel was toting around was now perched in his lap, lavishing him with attention. You tried to ignore them, but her incessant (and no doubt fake) giggling cut through any and all conversation, making it impossible. 

Jo and her friends had gone off to dance, and no matter how many times she pouted, you kept turning her down. This left you alone at the booth, spare a few of Noel’s friends at the opposite end and, of course, Noel himself. 

You slid down the booth, making an effort to talk to his friends, but they didn’t really seem interested. Resigning yourself, you leaned back, sipping your drink, half-listening to the conversations around you.

At one point, your gaze flickered toward Noel and the blonde, now fiercely locked in a kiss, if you could even call it that. Her hands roamed over him, and she giggled whenever he squeezed her ass. You knew you shouldn’t be watching really, it felt borderline voyeuristic, but there was something fascinating about the sheer display of hedonism that surrounded the “rock star” ethos. Like he was playing a role simply because he could. Because it was easy. 

Suddenly, as if he was sensing your gaze, his eyes opened and locked onto yours. 

Instinct told you to look away, but you refused to let him intimidate you. Unfortunately, your defiance only seemed to amuse him. His kisses slowed as he lazily caressed the blonde’s breast, clearly testing your reaction.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you drained your drink, rising to get another. When you returned, the blonde was gone. 

“Care to take her place?” The words stopped you in your tracks. You spun to find Noel smirking up at you. He leaned back, spreading his legs expectantly.

You paused, staring at him in disbelief.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” you said dryly, moving to leave. But before you could, he reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

Your gaze dropped to where his hand gripped your arm. His thumb was idly brushing against your skin, as if that alone would entice you. A short, bemused laugh escaped you as you yanked your arm free. 

“You really think you can get any woman to fall at your feet on command?”

“Oh I know I can, love,” he said, tilting his head, regarding you with amusement. “Saw you watching us. I know you're interested.” 

His all-knowing tone and self-satisfied smirk made your blood boil. Despite yourself, warmth crept into your face, but thankfully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t notice. You were starting to wish you hadn’t done that. It had gotten his attention, and now he was running with it. 

You scoffed. “I was only staring because I’ve never seen someone so desperate to prove he’s the archetypical rock star. Do you even know that girl's name?”

He thought for a moment before grinning. “Not the foggiest.”

“My point exactly.” You narrowed your eyes. “You just use women and toss them aside the minute they stop serving a purpose.”

“What can I say?” he said with a shrug, eyes flickering down your body before meeting your gaze again. “Comes with the job title. Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. That’s the package.”

“Yeah, well, you're not as charming as you think, believe it or not,” you shot back, before turning on your heel to find Jo. Dancing was seeming far more appealing than wasting another minute on his arrogance.

Noel watched you go, but you’d made your mark. And he was never one to back down from a challenge. 

Another drink deep, and the atmosphere was starting to suffocate you. You needed fresh air. And a cigarette.

Outside, the night air was sharp against your skin, a welcome contrast to the thick heat of the club. You leaned against the wall, fishing a cigarette from your pack and placing it between your lips. 

You’d just flicked your lighter open when the door swung wide, noise spilling out before it slammed shut again.

“Got one for me?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. Noel. 

Had he followed you out here? Christ, all you’d wanted was a quiet moment alone.

Glancing at him, you sighed. He stood there, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, as if he already knew you’d say yes.

“All that money, and you don’t have your own?”

He just shrugged, a smirk ghosting over his lips.

You wanted to lie, to tell him it was your last one so he’d leave you alone, but for some reason, you didn’t. With another sigh, you extended your pack.

“Got a light?” His smirk deepened.

“Jesus, want me to smoke it for you too?” you muttered.

You flicked the lighter open and held the flame out for him. He leaned in, taking his time, inhaling slowly as his gaze flicked up to yours. The brief glow of the flame caught in his eyes, making them seem even brighter, more piercing.

He took another drag, eyes closing as he relished the rush of nicotine. For a fleeting second, he wasn’t Noel Gallagher, just a man taking a quiet drag of a cigarette. Just existing.

Then he opened his mouth again. 

“I meant what I said earlier, y'know. ‘Bout replacing her. Think you’d look good in my lap.”

Irritation flared in your chest. “Have I not made it abundantly clear that I’m not interested?”

He didn’t even blink. “Nah. You’re just stubborn.”

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You really do think you’re irresistible, don’t you?”

Noel leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to something low and smooth. “I don’t think, love. I know.”

Then, his gaze dipped lower, a slow, deliberate sweep before flicking back up. It was then you realized your nipples had peaked against your top thanks to the chill in the air.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

“Cold?”

You folded your arms across your chest and shot him a glare. “Oh, piss off.”

He laughed, exhaling smoke, eyes glinting with mischief. “I would, but I’m having too much fun.”

“This is fun to you?”

He took another drag from his cigarette, savoring it before slowly releasing the smoke. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, voice low. “Watching you try to pretend you don’t want me? It’s riveting.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You're deluded if you think this”—you gestured between the two of you—“is me pretending. I’m not interested. You're only here because I’m not giving you what you want.”

He leaned in slightly, voice smooth, teasing. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think you're a lot more fun than you let on. Bit of fire under that cool exterior, yeah?”

You met his gaze, a mocking smile tugging at your lips. “Could be. But you’ll never find out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve got a way of getting to know people, love. You wouldn’t believe the things I can figure out.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed, tension thick in the space between you. “Is that so? What, you think you’ve cracked the code already?”

He shrugged, taking another drag, eyes never leaving yours. “I think I’m just getting started.” 

He was staring at you in a way that was making your skin prickle and you’d just about had enough. You flicked your cigarette away, crushing under your heel aggressively. 

“Yeah, well, don’t waste your time,” you spat vehemently. “I wouldn’t touch you in a million years.” 

❦ ❦ ❦

A few months later, you got a call from Jo, her voice practically buzzing through the receiver.

“Hey! So, listen I have a plus one for this festival, and you’re coming with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “What festival?”

“The one Oasis is playing at,” she said brightly.

Your stomach turned. You hadn’t seen Noel since that disastrous night out. The one that had confirmed, without a doubt, that he was exactly the pompous asshole the media made him out to be.

“C’mon, it’ll be amazing! Noel invited us.”

You scoffed. “He invited you. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

Jo groaned. “Why don’t you like him?”

You blinked. Was she serious?

“For starters, he’s an arrogant prick,” you said flatly.

“Oh, come on! If you actually got to know him, you’d see he’s not really like that.”

You let out a short laugh. “And why the hell would I want to do that?”

“Because,” she said, dragging the word out, “I think he likes you.”

You nearly choked. “Likes me? What gave you that idea?”

“He was flirting with you at that club.”

You scoffed again. “Please, that was all an act. He was just lookin’ for a shag.”

“I dunno,” she sing-songed. “He was asking about you after you left.”

You froze for half a second before shaking your head. “You’re delusional. There’s absolutely no way he was being genuine.”

Jo just hummed, like she wasn’t convinced but also wasn’t going to argue. “Okay, whatever you say.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Something told you she wasn’t going to drop this.

“So, are you coming or what?”

You hesitated. You did like Oasis—as a band. It was just one particular member you had an issue with. Or, well, maybe two. You hadn’t met Liam yet, and god knows he’d probably be even worse than Noel.

“Fine,” you sighed.

Jo whooped so loudly you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

“This is going to be amazing!”

You exhaled, telling yourself it would be fine. Fun, even. But as you hung up, a weird feeling settled in your stomach.

❦ ❦ ❦

The festival arrived sooner than you’d expected. You planned to avoid Noel as much as feasibly possible. With thousands of people and dozens of bands, it shouldn’t be difficult. Jo had scored passes, and she practically dragged you through the festival grounds, buzzing with excitement as she led the way to the Oasis tent. They weren’t playing until later, and there were plenty of other artists you actually wanted to see in the meantime.

When you arrived, Noel was already there, leaning against a table, cigarette dangling between his fingers as he spoke to a reporter with an air of bored ease. You lingered at a distance, watching the way he gestured with his hands, flicking his cigarette as he spoke. There was something almost effortless about the way he carried himself. Like he knew the world revolved around him.

The interview wrapped up, and before you could make yourself scarce, his eyes landed on you. Jo had gone to grab drinks, and you cursed the timing. You considered walking away, but that felt too much like surrender.

Noel sauntered over, smirk already in place. “Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“I’m just here with Jo to enjoy the festival,” you said dryly, waving your hand in dismissal. 

His smirk deepened. “Just here to enjoy the festival, eh? You don’t exactly look thrilled to see me.”

You scoffed. “And why would I be?”

Noel chuckled, feigning mock hurt. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe it’s because you’re in my band’s tent. You're welcome, by the way,” he teased. “I knew you'd be back for more.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. It was time to shut this down. “Y’know this is why I can’t stand you, Noel. You're so full of yourself that it’s nauseating. You walk around like you expect everyone to kiss your ass just ‘cause of who you are,” you snapped. “Get over yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst, but it didn’t seem to bother him much.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you could hardly keep your eyes off me the last time we were in the same room and you know it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Really? That’s not what I’ve heard. In fact, I think you might be a little obsessed with me.”

Something flickered in his expression, just for a second. “Obsessed with you, huh?” he mused. “I was just tryin’ to show you a good time.”

“I can manage that on my own, thanks,” you shot back, finally turning on your heel. You weren’t sure why you’d even humored him that long. You should’ve walked away ages ago.

The day blurred into music, laughter, and the occasional warm buzz of beer. You and Jo wandered the festival grounds, catching different acts and soaking in the atmosphere. As the sun dipped lower and Oasis’s set time approached, Jo insisted on getting as close as possible���to Noel’s side of the stage, of course.

“I don’t get it,” you mused, genuinely perplexed as you stood beside her. “What do people even see in him?”

Jo laughed, taking a sip of her beer. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s insanely talented, handsome, and successful?”

As if on cue, the crowd erupted as Noel took his place on stage, fingers finding the strings of his guitar with practiced ease.

Jo nudged you. “And he’s got that whole swagger, don’t you think?”

You flicked your eyes toward him. “You call it swagger, I call it annoyingly self-absorbed,” you huffed.

Jo chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “You know, it’s okay to admit you find him attractive,” she teased, giving you a knowing glance. “I see through your little act of indifference.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “All I see when I look at him is a self-assured prick.”

“Well, he is a self-assured prick, I’ll give you that. But you can at least admit he’s an attractive self-assured prick,” she challenged, waggling her brows at you.

You shook your head in disbelief and fixed your gaze elsewhere. The only thing you’d admit about Noel was that he was talented. That was all.

And yet, somehow, your gaze kept drifting back to him.

There was something different about the way he played. He looked completely lost in it, mind, body, and soul poured into his guitar. Sweat dripped down his face as he screwed it up in concentration. It seemed to be the only thing he was truly sincere about.

The way his mouth hung open as he played, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, eyes slightly lidded—you supposed you could see why people found him attractive.

Not you, though. Obviously.

At some point, you’d wandered off through the festival grounds alone, the distant thump of music vibrating through the soles of your boots. The warm night air carried the scent of damp grass and spilled beer. Several hours had passed, and you figured it was time to head back before Jo started thinking you’d been kidnapped.

When you finally spotted her, she was already grinning. “We were just about to find a quiet spot for a joint. You’re coming,” she declared, grabbing your wrist before you could protest. And, well, you’d never been one to turn down free weed.

Jo dragged you across the field toward Noel and his usual entourage.

“Oi! Found our little lost lamb, did ya?” Noel called out as you approached.

Jo chuckled, plopping down on the grass beside him, where he was leaning back against a log. “Yeah, had to pry her away from some poor crew member she was boring to death,” she teased, nudging you.

Noel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, she’s a master at boring people, is she?”

You shot him a glare before settling down on the opposite side of Jo.

As the joint made its way around, you felt yourself begin to relax. The music from nearby stages blurred into a distant hum, while the festival lights cast soft glows over your surroundings. You were properly stoned. A lazy smile stayed fixed on your lips as you laughed at whatever ridiculous story was being told. The fact that it was Noel telling it didn’t even bother you. You were too blissed out to care.

Noel, on the other hand, found himself sneaking glances at you. You almost seemed like a different person like this, not as uptight or dismissive. You even met his eyes a few times with a hazy smile instead of a scowl. It was... interesting to say the least.

As the night wore on, the group gradually dwindled until it was just you, Jo, and Noel left. Surprisingly, the Noel sitting here now was different from the one who had tried to lure you in at the club. He wasn’t putting on an act or trying to wind you up, he was just... normal. Cracking jokes, actually making you laugh. You much preferred this version of him, though you weren’t about to let your guard down completely.

Suddenly Jo rose from between you and Noel, dusting off her jeans before moving to sit across from you. There was a mischievous glint in her eye

Noel’s gaze flicked toward her, immediately suspicious. “What’s that look for, eh?” he questioned.

“Oh, nothing,” Jo said innocently, stretching out her legs. “I just figured now was a good time for the two of you to get to know each other. Y’know, so you don’t loathe each other anymore.”

It took a moment for her words to register, the remnants of your high still lingering. You lolled your head toward Noel, trying to gauge his reaction.

Noel raised an eyebrow, amused. “Loathe each other, do we?” His smirk deepened as he held your gaze. “Dunno if I’d go that far.”

Something about his tone made you laugh. You wanted to argue, to tell him just how wrong he was, but the whole situation was too ridiculous.

Your laughter must have been contagious because Noel chuckled too. It was the first time the two of you had laughed together instead of at each other. He leaned back against the log, eyeing you with curiosity. “What’s so funny?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached over and shoved him. Just because. 

Noel toppled over with an exaggerated grunt, landing on his side in the grass. He stared up at you, mock outrage on his face. “Oi! Watch it, you little brute,” he said, a laugh escaping him as he pushed himself upright.

You dissolved into another fit of giggles. At that moment, he was actually entertaining to you.

As Noel brushed stray bits of grass from his clothes, he studied you. There was something about your laugh—genuine, unguarded. It wasn’t something that he heard often and he liked it more than he cared to admit.

“Now, now,” Jo piped up, shaking her head. “Violence isn’t the answer.”

You turned back to her, nearly forgetting she was there. What you didn’t notice was Noel still watching you, his expression unreadable.

“So,” you said, “how exactly do you propose we get to know each other?”

Jo grinned. “How about a game?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Hmm… how about truth or dare,” Jo suggested, her smile all too pleased with itself. 

You chuckled dryly before noticing her face. “Oh you’re actually serious.”

“Dead serious.”

You sighed. “Fine. Whatever.” She would badger you until you gave in if you refused.

Noel smirked at your reluctant agreement. “You sure you’re up for this?” he teased.

As you leaned back against the log, you noticed that he’d shifted slightly closer. Not that you were paying attention.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. “Bring it on, dickhead.”

Noel let out a low chuckle. “Alright. But remember you asked for it.”

Jo clapped her hands together. “Okay, I’ll go first,” she said eagerly, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Truth or dare?” she asked, looking directly at you.

You exhaled, already regretting this. “Truth.”

Jo tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought before smirking. “Alright, truth… how do you really feel about Noel?”

You stared at her for a moment, immediately seeing what she was trying to do. Force some kind of truce between you two. Well, you wouldn’t buy into it.

“You already know how I feel,” you said flatly.

“Yes, but do you find him attractive?” Jo pressed.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “That’s another question and I do believe that it’s my turn now.”

Jo pouted dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Noel, who had been watching the exchange intently, let out a quiet chuckle.

You sighed, turning to face him. “Alright, Noel. Truth or dare?”

Noel met your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge your intentions. 

“Dare” he finally said, tone challenging. 

Jo whooped in approval but quickly stifled it with a hand over her mouth.

You tilted your head, considering. Then an idea struck. “I dare you to let Jo punch you in the arm as hard as she can.”

Jo tsked, clearly displeased. 

Noel, however, barely reacted, save for a scoff. “Is that all?” he said lazily, shifting closer to where Jo sat. “Go on, love. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jo hesitated before throwing a half-hearted punch at his arm.

Noel barely flinched. He turned to you with a smug smirk.

“Oh come on you can do better than that,” you scoffed. “Hit him!”

Jo narrowed her eyes at you, then swung again, this time harder. Noel winced slightly, rubbing his arm.

“Happy now?” he asked, moving back against the log.

“Very,” you said with a satisfied smirk. 

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, still rubbing his arm. “My turn now innit?”

Noel leaned back, glancing at Jo. “Alright, truth or dare?”

Jo grinned. “Dare.”

A slow smirk spread across Noel’s face. “I dare you to leave us alone for ten minutes.”

Your head snapped toward him. Sure, you were slightly more at ease around him now, but that was with the buffer of drugs and Jo. You weren’t sure you wanted to be alone with him again.

“And how is that a good dare?!” you sputtered. 

Noel chuckled. “It’s a perfectly good dare. Right, Jo?”

Jo nodded and stood up. Traitor.

“Mhm, but let me get one last turn first,” she said, looking at you. “Truth or dare?”

You were over this. It felt like you were being toyed with. You ran your fingers through your hair and huffed. “Fine Jo. Dare.”

“I dare you to… kiss Noel. With tongue.” she said before darting away, leaving you stunned. 

Surely she wasn’t serious. 

Kiss him. With tongue. Her words weren’t binding. This was a children's game for christ sake. But something about the thought stirred an unidentifiable feeling in you. 

“I’m sorry but there’s no way I’m doing that” you said, huffing a laugh. 

Absolutely not.

Right?

Noel smirked, but there was something else behind it. Something unreadable. “What, afraid you’ll like it too much?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Afraid I’ll throw up, more like.”

He chuckled, amused at your outrage. “Or maybe,” he mused, tilting his head, “you’re a terrible kisser and you’re trying to get out of it.” 

You sat up, suddenly offended. “I’ll have you know that I’m a great kisser,” you shot back, voice full of indignation. “I’ve had plenty of positive feedback.”

Noel let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how worked up you were. “Is that right?” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “Got any proof of that?”

You faltered for a moment before realizing what he was doing. And worse, you had walked straight into it.

The gears in your brain turned. The thing was, some distant part of you was curious. The tiny, treacherous part that found him alluring.

He did have nice lips. The thought surfaced unbidden, and once it took root, it wouldn’t leave. You tried to shove it away, but curiosity had already won. 

You thought for a moment. If you played this right, you could act like it was all just to prove a point. Nothing more. 

“I’ll show you proof,” you said, voice steady, as you slid closer to him.

“Go on then,” he taunted.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. A flicker of something crossed his face. Anticipation maybe? You could hardly believe what you were about to do, but inched closer despite yourself. 

He was too close now. Or maybe you were. Either way, the air had shifted, something unsaid crackling between you.

Noel’s breath shallowed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you caught yourself tracking the movement before you could stop. You’d never been so close to him before. Now you could see the details. The long lashes, the sharpness of his features, the maddening blue of his eyes. 

He opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt you for taking so long. But before he could get the words out, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his. 

A sharp inhale left his throat, almost a gasp. The sound sent a strange bolt of… something through you.

His lips were warm, softer than you would’ve expected. Your heart rate kicked up, but you reasoned it was just a pavlovian response. You pressed against him, letting the kiss linger a second longer than necessary, just enough to prove your point.

Then your lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot on his mouth and another soft sound, half-surprised, half-wanting, escaped his throat.

You had to stop this. Now. 

You pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. The world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Noel was leaning in, just slightly, like he was chasing the contact.

For the first time since you’d met him, his expression was completely unguarded. He looked vulnerable. Uncertain. Like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened.

It caught you off guard.

You swallowed, forcing composure. “You call that good kissing?” you said, voice steadier than you felt. It was meant to be a taunt, but the usual malice wasn’t there.

Noel let out a bark of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

A flicker of annoyance, mixed with something else, something darker and more dangerous, ran through you.

“Are you calling me a bad kisser?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His smirk was back now, arrogant and lazy, like he hadn’t just been thrown by a simple kiss.

You smiled sweetly. “Fine.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you slid your hand over the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you yanked him toward you.

He barely had time to react before your lips crashed onto his again, this time with intent.

You pressed in close, your body crowding against his. Your lips slotted together again, starting slow, teasing, but quickly deepening. You weren’t holding back, pouring everything into this kiss, testing him, challenging him as your mouths moved together in a heated fury. You weren’t sure if it was about proving a point or something else entirely now.

Then your tongue slipped into his mouth.

The second they touched, electricity sizzled down your spine, hot and consuming.

He reciprocated with a sigh, and damn it, he was good. Really good. It was maddening. 

He tasted like smoke and something sharp and earthy. Pine, maybe, from the trees surrounding you. Either way, you liked it. Couldn’t get enough of it in fact. 

Your teeth found his bottom lip, biting down just enough to make him gasp before letting go, watching the way it recoiled, swollen and slick. 

The low, ragged sound that tore from his throat sent a shockwave through you.

The way he was reacting was shocking to say the very least. He seemed so… needy. Desperate. A strange tug pulled at something deep inside you. This was a side of him you would’ve never guessed existed. And for some reason, it was coming out here, now, with you. You wanted to see just how far you could push him. 

Then, hands were on your waist. 

You nearly jolted, unused to his touch. But instead of pulling away, you leaned in further, tongues colliding again.

Something was happening between you, something messy and volatile, where your hatred was starting to blur into something far more perverse. You wondered, distantly, how often he found himself in this position. Your guess was not often. Why he was allowing it, you weren’t sure, but you’d take as much as he’d give.

You pulled back slightly, dragging his tongue with you before sucking on it, gentle but firm. His fingers dug into your waist in response, his breath stuttering as a quiet, barely restrained curse slipped past his lips.

That sound. That voice. It sent a rush straight to your head.

Noel Gallagher, reduced to this. Because of you.

The realization sent a thrill through you, equal parts amazement and ego. You wanted, no, needed to see him break.

You leaned back slightly, letting your gaze rake over him. His lips were red and bruised, his face flushed, chest rising and falling too fast. His mouth hung open slightly, like he was still chasing the taste of you.

A sight for sore eyes.

You smirked, reaching up to tilt his head slightly, baring his neck to you.

“So you admit it,” you murmured, your voice lower now. “That I’m the better kisser.”

His breath hitched, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Not a chance,” he shot back, though his words lacked their usual bite, undercut by his uneven breathing.

“Wrong answer,” you whispered deviously, lips barely grazing his skin before you slowly slid a knee against his crotch, smirking when you felt the strain there. 

A sharp gasp tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively. He tried to recover, to take control, pushing his tongue into your mouth again, but he was slipping. You could feel it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his grip tightening on your hips.

You placed a slow, deliberate trail of kisses from the corner of his lips, down the sharp edge of his jaw. When you reached the spot just below his ear, you lingered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there before adding just a little more pressure with your knee.

“How about now?” you whispered against his skin.

His breathing was ragged, coming in short, desperate bursts. He was barely holding it together, his control hanging by a thread.

“Still not… convinced…” he managed, voice hoarse, roughened by something between desire and frustration.

Then you dragged your teeth over the shell of his ear, biting down just enough to make him shudder.

That did it. 

A low, guttural moan escaped from deep in his chest, raw and unfiltered. His hands spasmed on your waist. His resistance was crumbling fast, and you knew there was no coming back from this.

“God… damn it,” he gasped.

Your resolve solidified. He was losing this battle, and you both knew it. And victory tasted so sweet.

You moved lower, lips ghosting over his neck before latching onto his pulse point, sucking just enough to make him curse under his breath.

He was unraveling, coming apart at the seams. His body was reacting vehemently to your touch. Every touch, every shift of your knee, every brush of your lips made him react like a man starved of touch.

He was losing himself in this. In you. And you were loving every second of it.

“Please…” he breathed, voice strained, almost desperate. 

His hips bucked slightly against your knee, his body betraying him, making his need painfully obvious. You were right there with him, but at least you were better at hiding it.

You released him and pulled back, tilting your head. “What? What do you need Noel?” Your voice was innocent. 

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and overwhelmed, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. He knew you were taunting him. It frustrated him. Aroused him even more. 

He swallowed hard, voice rough when he finally spoke. “You know damn well what I want.”

You hummed, letting your gaze flick down to the obvious bulge straining against his jeans before slowly dragging your eyes back up to meet his.

“Do I?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t play dumb,” he rasped. “You just want to hear me say it.”

You arched a brow, waiting. You half expected him to push back, to resist the power play you'd boxed him into.

His stare was dark, unreadable. But after a beat, he exhaled sharply and gave in.

“I want you.”

The words sent something sharp and hot through your stomach. Beneath all of your teasing, you could see how vulnerable you’d made him. Stripped of his usual cocky bravado, left raw. It scared you a little. But it also thrilled you. There was a strange pull in your chest, an unfamiliar urge to give him anything he asked for.

You glanced around, scanning the area. It was dark, secluded enough that no one would see. At least you hoped. You vaguely realized that what you were about to do might be pushing it too far. You couldn't explain this away. 

You’d finally given in to him, but the thing was… he wasn’t that smug, cocky asshole from the alleyway. This felt far more real. You didn’t understand his change in demeanor, but you were liking it far too much to care.

When you looked back at him, he was still watching you, pupils blown, lips swollen, expression so unlike himself that you hesitated for a brief moment just to take it in. 

Then, slowly, deliberately, you reached down and palmed him through his jeans.

“How do you want me?”

A quiet whimper escaped him, his lashes fluttering as his head tipped back. He squeezed his eyes shut, visibly struggling to speak.

“Any way… any way you’ll give me,” he gasped.

His voice, needy, breathless, made your head spin. You had ruined him. Reduced him to this.

“Okay Noel,” you murmured, almost sweetly. 

You kissed him again, swallowing the groan that tore from his throat as you pressed him back against the log. Your legs moved to straddle him, smirking at how hard he was beneath you.

His hands grasped your back, your waist, holding you close, like he couldn’t bear to have any space between you.

Your fingers ghosted under his shirt, nails teasing over his skin. He tensed beneath you, a sharp inhale breaking past his lips. You traced the lines of him, teasing your way down to his belt buckle.

The moment your fingers brushed the metal, his hips jerked violently. A choked noise left him, somewhere between a moan and a plea. The sheer desperation in it made you pause, momentarily thrown by how much he was unraveling.

He was barely holding it together. You could feel it in the way he trembled beneath you, in the ragged breaths, in the way his grip on you tightened like a vice.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this responsive to you. And that it was Noel of all people… the thought alone sent heat pooling deep in your gut.

“Jesus” you murmured in near reverence.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours.

“Be gentle with me,” he gasped. “Please.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. It made you want to comply.

You nodded slightly, drunk on the moment. With careful fingers, you freed him from his jeans, wrapping a tentative hand around him. His head snapped back, eyes squeezing shut as a sharp gasp tore from him. His hips lifted instinctively, thrusting into your palm.

“God,” he panted.

Your stomach clenched. His lips were parted, his face flushed, his entire body wound tight beneath you. He was hot and heavy in your hand. Your head spun as he shifted his hips, twitching in your grip. You tightened your hold, stroking him slowly, using his precum to ease the motion.

His response was immediate. His breath hitched, a moan catching in his throat. His fingers dug into you like a lifeline, trying to ground himself. Every sound he made sent a thrill through you, your own breath growing ragged.

“Noel,” you pleaded, voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. You were almost as desperate for him to come as he was. You needed to see him fall apart underneath you. 

He groaned, like hearing his name from your lips alone was enough to push him further. He clung to your shirt, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he panted against your skin.

“More… please… I need more,” he begged, voice wrecked.

You obliged, quickening your pace, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock. His whole body jolted beneath you.

His moans grew more desperate, more broken, his hips stuttering into your touch. He was teetering on the edge, barely hanging on.

“I—I’m…so close…” he choked out. 

You leaned in, placing a well-timed bite at his pulse point. With one final twist of your wrist, he shattered.

His body arched violently, muscles locking up as a strangled moan ripped from his throat. He spilled over your fingers, his breaths coming in sharp, erratic bursts. He trembled beneath you, clinging to you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

You watched, mesmerized, as he came undone.

A final, weak moan left him before he slumped back, chest heaving. It took several moments for any semblance of awareness to return. When his eyes finally fluttered open, they locked onto yours, utterly wrecked.

You sat there, pulse racing, trying to catch your breath as if you were the one who’d just come. This moment, this image, was searing itself into your mind. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to collect yourself.

Then you realized your hand was still wrapped around him. 

You quickly let go, catching sight of his softening cock and your hand coated in him. You averted your eyes, feeling like it was far too intimate a sight. Something hot and embarrassing was starting to climb up your throat.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he rasped, voice hoarse.

Your face burned. The weight of what had just happened was settling over you like a lead blanket. You needed to get out of there. Now.

You quickly wiped your hand on the grass and untangled yourself from him, feeling completely dazed. 

An awkward silence hung between you. You forced yourself to stand, legs shaky, unsure what to do next.

You could still feel the remnants of cum you hadn’t managed to wipe on the grass cooling on your skin. 

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, grasping for words.

"Right, well, I—uh, um," you stammered, turning your head toward the festival grounds. "I suppose I’ll be going then."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but for once in his life, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

You forced your feet to carry you away, not daring to look back. You didn’t want to stay and think about what had just happened. You wandered into the more crowded part of the festival in a daze, barely paying attention to where you were going. 

You glanced down at your hand and felt panic claw at your throat. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to get rid of the evidence. Fast. It felt like everyone knew you were walking around with Noel Gallagher’s spunk on your hand. 

Spotting a water spout, you rushed over, scrubbing at your skin furiously. You flicked the water off, running a shaky hand through your hair. You quickly realized the state you were in and hurriedly smoothed out the wrinkles in your shirt and wiped at your mouth like it could erase everything that had just transpired.

No one could know about this. Ever. 

Just as you were regaining some semblance of composure, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Well, well, well…”

You barely had time to react before Jo appeared in front of you, arms crossed, a smug grin stretching across her face.

She took one long, knowing look at you, eyes gleaming.

“So… whose dick did you just suck?”

Shit. 

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

I saw I got some requests, which I didn’t think I’d get so thank you!! I’ll try to get to those as soon as I can. I have some other ideas rattling around my brain at the moment <3

[marauroon]

i heard open requests??? anyway if you can, maybe sirius with a reader who's just the epitome of whimsical? THANK YOUUU take your timeee

── .✦ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬. (𝐬.𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤)

you’re strange, odd, and yet sirius has never once questioned any aspect of your personality. you think it’s love.

sirius black x fem!whimsical!reader | 1.0k | fluff | masterlist.

You are a whirlwind of colour in a world that often feels a little too grey. A splash of paint in a monotone masterpiece, a wandering melody in a room full of silence.

You flit through life like a butterfly caught in a summer breeze—never quite landing, always in motion, always chasing the next moment of wonder.

And for some reason, Sirius Black has decided to follow you.

Which is strange, really; Because Sirius is sharp edges and quick wit, all rebellious fire and effortless cool. He’s the kind of person people write songs about—untamed and unafraid.

You, on the other hand, are… well, let’s be honest. You once spent twenty minutes talking to an owl just to see if it had any interesting gossip.

But here he is.

And, if the smirk tugging at his lips is any indication, he finds you absolutely ridiculous.

“Are you going to keep talking to that plant, or should I come back later?”

You gasp, scandalised, and throw your arms around the large, leafy fern in the corner of the Gryffindor common room. “Don’t be rude, Sirius! Fernanda has been nothing but kind to us,”

James snorts from where he’s lounging on the sofa. “You named the plant Fernanda?”

You nod seriously. “She told me her name herself,”

Sirius crosses his arms, his expression full of exaggerated skepticism. “Oh, did she? And what else did dear Fernanda tell you?”

You lean in conspiratorially, as if sharing a great secret. “She thinks your hair is too long,”

James howls with laughter. Remus, sitting nearby with his nose buried in a book, sighs deeply but doesn’t argue. And Sirius… well. Sirius watches you with something unreadable in his gaze.

You’re used to being laughed at—people don’t always know what to do with someone like you. But Sirius doesn’t laugh at you. He laughs because of you. There’s a difference, and you notice it.

—

Somehow, he becomes a permanent fixture at your side. You drag him into your world of absurdity, and, much to your delight, he doesn’t resist.

There’s the time you convince him to help you build a makeshift raft out of old broomsticks and attempt to sail across the Black Lake. (It sinks within three minutes, but Sirius insists it was a noble effort.)

Or the time you declare, with no context whatsoever, that you’re going to write a heartfelt apology letter to the portrait of the Fat Friar after accidentally bumping into it. (Sirius proofreads it for you and even adds a dramatic postscript: P.S. I shall never forgive myself for this most heinous crime. My soul is forever stained.)

And then there’s the time you find a stray cat on the school grounds and insist it’s an omen of good luck. Sirius, ever the enabler, helps you smuggle it into the Gryffindor dorms. The cat, whom you name Orion in his honour, promptly becomes best friends with him and takes to draping itself across his shoulders like some kind of bizarre fur scarf.

You catch him one evening, sitting by the fire, idly scratching Orion’s ears while absently listening to your latest ramblings about whether or not ghosts ever get bored.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

You grin. “And yet, here you are,”

His eyes meet yours across the flickering light. There’s something soft in them. Something warm. “Yeah,” he says, almost to himself. “Here I am,”

—

You think you might love him.

Not in the way the poets describe, all aching hearts and longing sighs. No, loving Sirius Black feels like running downhill too fast, like the rush of wind through your hair when you’re flying, like the moment right before a laugh escapes.

It feels like freedom. Like joy.

And maybe—you hope—he feels the same.

Because when you drag him out onto the castle grounds in the middle of the night just to dance beneath the stars, he doesn’t roll his eyes or ask why. He just twirls you, laughing, as the moonlight glows silver in his hair.

Because when you hand him a daisy crown you spent far too long making, he doesn’t scoff or throw it away. He wears it, head held high, as if it’s a crown of gold.

Because when you stumble over your words, when your mind runs faster than your mouth and you get lost in your own tangents, he never rushes you. He just listens. Really listens.

And when you fall asleep beside him in the common room after a long day of nonsensical adventures, he drapes his cloak over you without a word.

Maybe love doesn’t always need grand declarations. Maybe, sometimes, it’s found in small moments. In laughter shared over stolen midnight snacks, in whispered conversations under enchanted ceilings, in the simple act of staying.

Sirius Black has always been a runner. But with you, he stays.

And that’s how you know.

[yunholic-jongholic]

Love In a Divorce [Part 1] | C.JH x Reader

SUMMARY | In a strained 10-year marriage, you and your husband decide to get a divorce due to growing tensions. While meeting with your divorce attorney, you unexpectedly develop feelings for him. As the divorce process unfolds, you find yourself in an intimate relationship with the attorney, complicating the situation as you navigate your separation from your ex-husband.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+

CONTENT WARNINGS | Smoking, Drinking, Arguing, Strained Marriage (Nothing really else...)

WORD COUNT | 2.3k

AUTHOR NOTE | This will be 2-4 parts of a story. This is the first chapter! I am not sure how far to keep this going but they are short chapters. This chapter is more introducing the plot/characters/setting/etc. There are no spicy scenes in this chapter but there are still things to be cautious of. Minors, please keep out. Also, my friends in my group chat helped me with this one so shout out to my fellow co-workers on this! - You don't really meet Jongho until the END of the chapter... but I promise next chapter there will be more Jongho moments. ,'3c

•

It was late afternoon, and as you prepared to leave work, a sense of reluctance about going home lingered. With a sigh, you stood up and gathered your belongings.

"I'm heading home—I need to cook dinner tonight since my husband and I haven't had a proper meal together in a while," you explained to your manager before stepping out of the office. You reached your car and drove home, feeling a weight settle in your chest. As you pulled into the driveway, you noticed your husband was already home. The last thing you wanted was to go inside and face him, but lingering outside or sitting in the car forever wasn’t an option.

"Hey, honey. How are you?" you asked, forcing a smile as you walked past him. He barely acknowledged you, too absorbed in the political talk show blaring from the TV.

You call out his name again, trying to get his attention. This time, he spared you a brief glance before shrugging and muttering, "Meh," before turning back to the screen. You rolled your eyes at his indifference, deciding not to push it. Instead, you headed to the kitchen and started preparing dinner, settling on a simple chicken and veggie dish. As you were cooking your husband ended up saying he was going out.

"Are you serious? I'm already cooking us dinner," you snapped, frustration lacing your voice as you shot him an angry glare. "Sorry, I promised my friends I'd be there for them tonight," he replied curtly, grabbing his coat without meeting your eyes.

You watched him walk out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing in the empty room. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you felt your heart sink, a hollow ache settling in your chest. Deep down, you’d always known this relationship wasn’t working, and the desire to leave grew stronger with each passing day. But the harsh reality lingered—you had nowhere else to go.

You sat down to eat alone, the silence around you louder than any words could be. After cleaning up, you went straight to bed, the emptiness of the room matching the hollow ache in your chest. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, you felt the weight of heartbreak pressing down on you—not just from the relationship itself, but from how much you had let it break you.

Just as you were on the verge of sleep, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, its sudden vibration cutting through the quiet. You glanced at the screen. Who could be calling at nearly midnight? Only two people came to mind—your husband or your friend, Yeosang.

"Hey! I was calling to ask if you're still interested in going to celebrate Yunho's birthday tomorrow. I saw your name on the RSVP, but I wanted to check if you’ve got a present for him, or should I pick one up?" Yeosang’s cheerful voice filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the heaviness in your heart.

You sighed deeply, sitting up in bed as you wiped away the tears that had welled up, a lingering reminder of the thoughts swirling in your mind about your broken relationship with your husband. The sound of Yeosang’s voice felt like a small anchor, pulling you back from the tide of your emotions, even if just for a moment.

"Yeah, I got him a present. I might go… If not, I can still drop it off and wish Yunho a happy birthday," you muttered under your breath, your voice shaky as you fought back the tears threatening to spill.

Silence settled on the line, heavy and lingering, until Yeosang finally spoke, his voice soft and careful. "Is it your husband again...?" You barely managed to whisper, "Yes," your heart tightening with the admission.

Yeosang sighed, the sound of him sinking onto his couch faintly echoing through the phone. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with unspoken understanding, like he knew exactly how to hold space for you without needing to fill it with words.

"If you want, I know someone who might be able to help you," Yeosang said gently, the faint sound of a pen scratching against paper in the background. "His name is Choi Jongho. He’s one of my closest friends—we went to college together. He’s a divorce attorney. If you’re ever interested in… you know." His voice trailed off, ending with an awkward cough, as if unsure how to say the words without making it harder for you.

You went silent, staring at the dim glow of your phone screen, the weight of his offer sinking in. Divorce. The idea lingering in the back of your mind like an unwelcome shadow. But now, hearing it spoken out loud, having an actual option, made it feel more real—both terrifying and oddly relieving. You didn’t know how to navigate it, how to start, but maybe… maybe this was the first step.

"A divorce attorney doesn’t sound bad… Can I get his work number?" you asked quietly, the words feeling heavy yet strangely liberating as they left your lips. Yeosang didn’t hesitate. "Yeah, of course. It’s xxx-xxx-xxxxx," he said gently, his tone filled with quiet support.

You reached for a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling down a simple note: "Yeosang’s friend xxx-xxx-xxxx." Staring at the words for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of something—hope, maybe, or the faintest sense of control.

"Thank you, Yeosang," you whispered, your voice softer now, touched with both gratitude and vulnerability. "Anytime," he replied, his voice warm, steady. "You’re not alone in this." He hangs up and you smile feeling loved by your friend's help. You put the note aside underneath your phone, going underneath the covers to fall asleep.

The next morning, you woke up beside your husband, his soft snores filling the quiet room. Letting out a sigh, you quietly got out of bed, gathered your clothes for the day, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. After rinsing off the lingering weight of your thoughts, you got dressed, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead.

Needing space to think, you decided to stop by a coffee shop. The warm, bustling atmosphere felt like the perfect place to make a private call to Yeosang’s friend, the attorney. You grab coffee and sit down inside where there are really no people, just 1 college student doing schoolwork and the baristas making orders and cleaning the shop. You finally sit down and call the number Yeosang gave you with a right away pick up.

"Hello, this is Choi Jongho's office," a young woman’s voice greeted you through the phone. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing, but then took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Yes, hello. I’d like to initiate a divorce," you sighed, the words feeling heavy yet strangely relieving as they left your mouth. There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by the sound of rapid typing. "Of course, I can help you schedule an appointment with Mr. Choi," she replied professionally.

She asked for your name, contact information, and a few basic details, typing quickly as you provided the answers. When she inquired about your availability, you explained the urgency of your situation, and she managed to book you for two consecutive days. After confirming the details, you hung up, staring at your phone for a moment, realizing you’d just taken the first real step toward reclaiming your life.

After leaving the coffee shop, you got into your car and dialed Yeosang’s number, your fingers trembling slightly as you pressed call. When he picked up, you wasted no time.

"I scheduled the appointment with your friend, Choi Jongho," you said, your voice a mix of nerves and quiet determination. Yeosang responded with soft words of encouragement, his voice a comforting presence on the other end. As you continued driving home, you added, "I'll still come to Yunho’s party. I’ll probably be late since I need to do some laundry when I get home, but I should be there this evening!"

Yeosang recommended that you should start seeing people again, and that he would help you out. You were just of silent thinking about it but only felt you should just have time to yourself.

Pulling into the driveway, you ended the call and took a deep breath before heading inside. The familiar scent hit you the moment you opened the door—a sharp, stale reminder that your husband had been smoking in the house again, despite the countless times you’d asked him not to. You glanced toward the living room, where he sat, eyes glued to the TV, completely indifferent to your arrival. The weight of your decision felt even more justified in that moment.

"Hey, I've told you not to smoke in the house, it is unhealthy, and it smells really bad." You sigh angrily going to the room to get the dirty laundry to wash it. You see your husband ignore you and lights another cigarette. "Hey!" You shout this time throwing a dirty sock at him. Your husband gets up and immediately yells at you.

"I don't care; I own this house. You just live under my care because you’re married to me," he barked angrily, throwing a sock back in your direction with careless disdain. You felt a surge of frustration rise in your chest, the weight of his words hitting hard—but this time, you didn’t hold back.

"Oh, so that’s all I am to you? Just married to you, with no say, no value beyond that? I don’t even have a right to this property?" you snapped back, your voice sharp with defiance. The room grew tense, the argument hanging in the air like a storm ready to break. But something inside you felt different—stronger, like you were no longer afraid of the fight because you knew it wouldn’t define you anymore. Your husband was about to blow up but that's when you decided to leave the house. You left and drove straight to Yeosang's house to help him get ready for the party, also just to get away from your husband.

"Hey! Sorry, I decided to come early," you said with a smile as Yeosang opened the door and pulled you into a warm hug. "I hope you’re okay—you look a little stressed," he sighed, concern evident in his voice. You gave a small nod, forcing a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I am, but it’s okay. Starting tomorrow, hopefully, things will start to change," you whispered softly, a hint of hope flickering in your words. Yeosang nodded in agreement, offering you a comforting look before turning to set out the food. You help him set up the party and once people start showing up, you find yourself calming down and finally relaxing with your friends.

Finally, Yunho arrives, and you all celebrate his birthday. You end up meeting Jongho who was at the party since he is technically Yunho and Yeosang's friend.

"Hey Yunho, happy birthday." Jongho smiles and hands Yunho his gift. Yunho smiles back and hugs Jongho which he automatically gets pulled into the hug and just awkwardly stands there. "Okay that's enough affection." Jongho laughs nervously, while Yunho is laughing cheerfully. "Oh! You must meet our best lawyer friend! Jongho!" Yunho chirps at you and pushes Jongho towards you.

"Oh hello." He waves and you wave back greeting yourself. "I am Y/N. I went to college with both of these losers." You tease Yunho and Yeosang. Yunho huffs rolling his eyes. "It's my birthday, you shouldn't be talking about me like that!" He pouts and you smile laughing softly at his response.

"Nice to meet you Y/N." Jongho smiles at you. Yeosang and Yunho leave you both to talk and you basically ask Jongho a few questions being casual.

"So, what made you decide to become a lawyer?" you asked, genuinely curious. There was something about Jongho’s relaxed demeanor that caught your attention—maybe it was the casual way he dressed, which felt different from the typical, buttoned-up image you had of attorneys.

"Well," Jongho began, reaching for a glass from the table and taking a small sip before continuing, "I’ve always been good at giving relationship advice and standing up for my friends. I’ve also had a strong interest in the laws surrounding relationships—offering guidance, helping couples navigate complex issues, and representing them in court. Most of the time, I work with women, helping them get out of toxic relationships with their ex-husbands."

You smiled, genuinely admiring his words and the passion behind them. "That’s really kind of you to do," you said softly, feeling a new level of respect for him and the work he dedicated himself to. You cough out as you finally tell him what has been going on, "I know you aren't working right now and don't expect anything. But I am scheduled to have a meeting with you tomorrow morning, I am too having issues with my husband and been wanting a way out..." You mumble the ending part.

"Oh, that's okay. Well, it was nice meeting you early. I am sorry about your relationship with your husband." He sits up taking another sip of his drink. "It's nothing really." You smile and soon change the conversation asking how he met Yunho and Yeosang. As the day went on it was already nighttime. You decided to head home thanking Yeosang for inviting you over and saying your last happy birthday wishes to Yunho.

You arrive home seeing your husband's car gone again, you sigh and go inside just wanting to go to bed. You finally go to bed and just hope tomorrow will finally change for the better.

•

Sorry, there is really nothing here yet. LMAO I wanted this to be more introducing Y/N, Y/N's Husband, Yunho, Yeosang and Jongho! I promise the next chapter will have more Jongho scenes and maybe some spicy content... MAYBE...

[scarletwinterxx]

breaking the ice - chwe vernon scenario

scrolled through tiktok too much now i'm simping over vernon🫠

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold air inside the ice rink nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You weren’t much of a sports fan, but when your cousin, Chan, practically begged you to come watch his game, you couldn’t say no.

"It's gonna be fun! Just come once, and if you hate it, I won't ask again," he had insisted over the phone.

And that's how you found yourself in the bleachers, watching a group of guys in bulky gear chase a puck across the ice. You weren’t clueless—you knew the basic rules—but you weren’t about to start screaming at referees like some of the other fans. You were here for one reason: Chan.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and honestly more interesting than you expected. You followed your cousin’s movements as he skated past an opponent and passed the puck to a teammate. The crowd roared when the puck was slapped straight into the goal.

You clapped, smiling as Chan pumped his fist in the air. That’s my cousin, you thought proudly.

Then, your eyes drifted to the player who had taken the shot. Number 16. He skated back toward Chan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment before the two joined the rest of the team.

You squinted.

The name on the back of his jersey read "Chwe"

You weren’t sure why, but something about him stood out. He wasn’t showy like some of the other players who thrived on the crowd’s attention. He barely reacted after scoring, just gave a small nod before skating off.

"Who’s number 16?" you asked the girl sitting beside you, who had been squealing nonstop.

She gawked at you. "You don’t know Chwe Vernon?!"

You blinked. "Should I?"

She looked at you like you had just committed a crime. "He's literally one of the best players on the team! And super famous! His family's Korean-American, and he's been playing since he was a kid. How do you not know him?"

You shrugged. "I don’t really follow hockey."

The girl sighed dramatically. "You’re missing out. He’s, like, effortlessly cool and insanely good."

You turned back to the rink, watching as Vernon—Chwe Vernon, apparently—glided across the ice. Effortlessly cool, huh? You weren’t convinced.

After the game, you waited for Chan outside the locker rooms. The hallway was filled with people—some reporters, some fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the players.

When the team finally emerged, Chan spotted you instantly. "Hey!" He grinned, walking over. His hair was damp from the shower, and he still had a towel draped around his neck. "So? Did I impress you?"

"You did great," you said, ruffling his hair, making him groan. "Proud cousin moment."

"Good. I need you to come to more games for good luck."

"Don't push it," you teased.

Before he could respond, someone else walked past you—number 16. Vernon.

Chan called out to him. "Hyung!"

Vernon turned his head slightly, slowing his pace. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were. He had this laid-back, unreadable expression, like nothing ever surprised him.

Chan gestured toward you. "This is my cousin, the one I told you about."

You arched a brow. "You talked about me?"

Chan ignored you. "This is Vernon."

Vernon gave you a short nod. "Hey."

That was it. Just one word. No handshake, no smile.

You crossed your arms. "Wow, you’re a real talker, huh?"

Chan coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

Vernon just blinked. "Not really."

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn't. This guy was something else.

"Well, okay" you said your name, breaking the silence. "Since we’re introducing ourselves and all."

He nodded again. "Cool."

You squinted at him. "Do you always talk in one-word sentences?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question. "Depends."

You exhaled sharply, turning to Chan. "I’m leaving. This guy’s impossible."

Chan laughed. "That’s just how he is."

You gave Vernon one last glance. He wasn’t unfriendly, just... different. Quiet. Detached.

And yet, something about him made you curious.

A few days later, Chan texted you.

Chan: Come to our next game. You: Why? Chan: Because I bet Vernon you wouldn’t come. You: …You bet on me? Chan: Yeah. He said you wouldn’t bother. I said you would. You: What do I get if I show up? Chan: The satisfaction of proving Vernon wrong. You: Tempting. Chan: Also, if I win, Vernon has to buy me dinner. So do it for me.

You sighed, staring at the text. You weren’t the type to back down from a challenge. Contemplating for only a few moments before shooting Chan one last message saying you'd go.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d get a reaction out of Vernon this time.

The next game rolled around quicker than expected. You hadn’t initially planned to attend, but the thought of proving Vernon wrong was too tempting.

So there you were, sitting in the bleachers again, this time with a smirk on your face as you spotted number 16 skating onto the ice.

Chan was the first to notice you. From where he stood, he shot you a triumphant grin, raising his fist in victory. You lifted your hand in a mock salute, acknowledging the win.

Vernon, on the other hand, took a bit longer to spot you. When he did, you could swear there was a brief flicker of surprise in his usually impassive expression. His eyes met yours for a split second before he coolly looked away. No reaction, no acknowledgment—just Vernon being Vernon.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it? Fine.

The game started, and as expected, it was intense. You found yourself getting more invested than last time, especially when Chan assisted in another goal. But what caught your attention the most was Vernon. He was ridiculously fast on the ice, his movements so fluid and effortless that it was almost unfair to the opposing team.

By the time the final buzzer rang, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even you found yourself clapping.

Chan was practically bouncing when he ran over to you after the game. “Ha! Told you! I knew you’d come.”

You smirked. “Enjoy your free dinner.”

Before Chan could respond, Vernon walked up behind him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and he looked as composed as ever despite just finishing a game.

“You actually showed up,” he said, voice neutral.

“I did.” You crossed your arms. “Surprised?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not gonna admit you were wrong?”

He blinked, considering. “Nope.”

Chan burst out laughing. “He’d rather die than say that.”

You turned back to Vernon. “Well, I did come. So now you owe Chan dinner. Hope you have deep pockets.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”

You weren’t sure why, but the idea of Vernon being slightly inconvenienced by this bet made you a little too satisfied.

Chan clapped a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Since I’m getting a free meal, you should come too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, you’re the reason I won the bet. Might as well let you enjoy the victory too.”

You glanced at Vernon, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded. “Up to you.”

You weren’t sure if he genuinely didn’t care or if he was just going along with it because Chan said so. Either way, you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You ended up at a small Korean barbecue place not too far from the rink. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled amazing. Vernon, true to his word, paid without complaint, though you noticed he didn’t exactly look thrilled about it. You didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

As the food started cooking, Chan filled the silence with his usual chatter. You had always liked how easygoing he was, able to carry conversations without effort.

“So,” Chan said, turning to Vernon. “What do you think of my cousin?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of question is that?”

Chan grinned mischievously. “I just wanna know. Vernon’s not really a people person, so I’m curious.”

You turned your gaze to Vernon, expecting some deadpan answer like “She’s fine” or “She exists.”

Instead, he looked directly at you and said, “She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering his words. “Most people try too hard. You don’t.”

You blinked. That was… surprisingly insightful.

Chan nodded approvingly. “That’s a compliment, by the way. Vernon doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

You studied Vernon for a moment. He was still as unreadable as ever, but now you were intrigued. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dinner continued with casual conversation, mostly dominated by Chan. Vernon remained quiet but occasionally chimed in with a dry comment that made you laugh more than expected.

By the end of the night, you realized something strange.

You didn’t dislike him.

In fact, you kind of wanted to see what it would take to get a real reaction out of him.

A week later, you got an unexpected text from Chan.

Chan: You’re not gonna believe this. You: What? Chan: Vernon just asked if you were coming to the next game. You: …You’re lying. Chan: I’m dead serious. He just asked me out of nowhere.

You stared at your phone, processing.

Vernon? Asking about you?

Interesting.

You: Tell him to ask me himself. Chan: LMAO you’re evil.

A few minutes later, another text came in.

Unknown Number: Are you coming? - Vernon

You smirked. So he finally cracked.

This was going to be fun.

Sitting at your desk, you stretched your arms, feeling the exhaustion settle into your bones. The clock on your laptop read 11:47 PM, and you still weren’t done with the reports your supervisor had asked for last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You hadn’t expected your internship to be this demanding, but then again, you had never been the type to slack off. If you were going to do something, you were going to do it well.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Vernon: Heard you were busy.

You blinked. Of all people, he was texting you? You smirked, quickly typing back.

You: Look at you, sending full sentences. I’m impressed.

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Vernon: I can type. You: Could’ve fooled me.

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Was it bad that you found this amusing?

You weren’t expecting another text, but then—

Vernon: …You gonna come next time?

Your eyebrows raised slightly. So he did notice you weren’t there.

You debated your response, then decided to push his buttons a little.

You: Why? Did you miss me?

This time, the reply didn’t come immediately. You wondered if you had caught him off guard.

Finally, after a minute—

Vernon: Maybe.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You: …Huh. Didn’t expect that. Vernon: Yeah. Me neither.

That made you pause.

You had been joking before, but now… was he actually admitting something?

You stared at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. No way. This is Vernon. He doesn’t just say things like that.

You decided to test the waters.

You: Careful, Chwe. Almost sounded like you like having me around.

This time, his reply came quicker.

Vernon: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You: Good night, hockey boy. Vernon: Night.

Setting your phone down, you exhaled. That was unexpected.

And oddly… kind of nice.

A few days passed, and you found yourself back to your usual routine—internship, assignments, barely enough time to breathe.

You hadn’t planned on going to the next hockey game either, but then Chan called. "Please," he whined over the phone. "Vernon’s been weird since you didn’t come last time."

You frowned. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know! Just… quiet."

You snorted. "Vernon’s always quiet."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different. Like he’s thinking about something."

That made you pause.

"Are you telling me you think Vernon missed me?" you teased.

Chan groaned. "I’m saying something’s up with him, and I think you should come see for yourself."

You hesitated. You really didn’t have the time, but… now you were curious.

"Fine," you said, "but if I show up and he acts the same, you owe me coffee."

Chan laughed. "Deal."

When you stepped into the ice rink the following evening, the familiar chill made you shiver. You spotted the team warming up, Chan already waving at you from the ice.

Your eyes flickered to Vernon.

He was stretching near the goal, looking as calm and composed as ever. But when he turned his head and spotted you in the stands, something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t dramatic—just a small pause, a barely-there flicker of acknowledgment.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away.

You smirked.

Yeah. He definitely noticed.

As the game started, you found yourself watching him more closely. He was fast, efficient, never wasted movement. But every now and then, when there was a break in play, you swore he glanced in your direction.

By the time the game ended, you were already preparing a sarcastic remark for when you saw him.

Chan met you outside the locker room first. "Told you he was acting weird."

You shrugged. "He looks the same to me."

"Trust me," Chan said, "for Vernon, that was basically a full-blown confession."

Before you could respond, Vernon appeared in the hallway. His damp hair fell over his forehead, his usual quiet presence making him seem effortlessly cool.

"You’re here," he said, stopping in front of you.

You crossed your arms. "You sound surprised."

He met your gaze. "A little."

You tilted your head. "Miss me?"

Vernon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always ask that."

"And you never give me an answer."

He paused, then—

"Maybe."

You blinked. Well that was new. Before you could say anything, he walked past you, heading toward the exit. But as he did, he spoke just loud enough for you to hear

"See you next game."

You stared after him, lips slowly curling into a smile.

Another game day.

The rink buzzed with energy as another game night rolled in. The usual excitement from the crowd filled the air, fans from both teams eager to see their favorites go head-to-head.

Vernon adjusted his helmet as he skated onto the ice, his mind focused—until Chan nudged him.

“Look,” Chan said, nodding toward the stands.

Vernon followed his gaze, and there you were.

His brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t expecting you. Usually, you’d give Chan a heads-up if you were coming.

“Guess she had time after all,” Chan muttered, but there was something in his tone—something suspicious.

Before Vernon could ask, his eyes flickered to the opposing team warming up. That’s when he saw it. You weren’t just watching the game. You were standing near the barrier, laughing. With him.

Lee Seokmin.

Forward for the rival team. Loud, energetic, and way too familiar with you.

Vernon’s grip on his stick tightened slightly as he watched Seokmin grin at you, leaning against the boards like this was some casual meet-up and not a competitive match.

Chan turned to Vernon, eyes wide. “Did I miss something, or do they know each other?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon said flatly, but now he really wanted to.

After warm-ups, the team headed back to the locker room. Vernon kept quiet, but Chan wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, shoving his helmet into his bag. “What is going on? Why is my cousin talking to Seokmin?”

Joshua, another teammate, overheard and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, your cousin? She knows Seokmin?”

“I don’t know!” Chan said, exasperated. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Vernon untied his skates, processing. He wasn’t sure why this bugged him, but it did. You weren’t the type to be friendly just for the sake of it—so if you were joking around with Seokmin, there had to be history there.

And for some reason, that annoyed him.

After the game, which ended in a close win for Vernon’s team, you were waiting outside the locker room.

Chan wasted no time. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

You blinked. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the rink. “Why were you laughing it up with Seokmin before the game?”

You gave him a look. “Because we’re friends?”

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when?”

You sighed, already predicting this reaction. “We used to date. A long time ago. Now we’re just friends.”

Chan’s jaw dropped. Vernon, standing next to him, simply blinked.

“…You dated him?” Chan asked, as if the words didn’t make sense together.

“For, like, five months. It wasn’t that serious.”

Vernon finally spoke. “Why’d you break up?”

You turned to him, surprised he even asked. “We were better off as friends.”

Vernon’s expression didn’t change, but he held your gaze for a beat longer than usual.

Chan, still recovering, groaned. “I feel betrayed.”

You laughed. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Seokmin’s voice interrupted. “Are we talking about me?”

You turned to see Seokmin approaching, still in his team jacket, his ever-present grin in place.

Chan groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

Seokmin laughed, nudging you. “Did you tell them how you used to cheer for my team?”

You smirked. “I left that part out.”

Chan looked like he was about to collapse. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Vernon, still quiet, glanced between you and Seokmin before saying, “So you’re just friends now?”

You nodded. “Yeah”

He doesn't say anything after that but you could tell there was definitely a reason. And you weren’t going to let it go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chan was still staring at you like you had just confessed to some deep, dark secret.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you and Seokmin—”

“Dated?” Seokmin finished helpfully, grinning. “Yeah, man. Keep up.”

Chan dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead. “How did I not know this? How did no one tell me?”

You shrugged. “We broke up before you even joined the team, and it wasn’t that serious. Plus, you were busy with your own stuff.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “I feel like I should have felt it or something. Like a disturbance in the Force.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Vernon was watching the entire conversation with his usual unreadable expression, but something about his posture was different. He was listening.

Seokmin clapped a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just slow.”

Chan smacked his hand away. “I’m not slow, I just—ugh! This is so weird!”

You smirked. “Why? Because you hate the idea of me dating anyone or because it’s Seokmin?”

“…Both.” Chan groaned. “This is, like, finding out your best friend and your worst enemy were secretly besties behind your back.”

Seokmin gasped. “Worst enemy? I thought we were friends!”

“You’re my rival, not my friend,” Chan shot back.

Seokmin patted his shoulder. “Rival is just another word for friend who won’t admit it.”

You stifled a laugh as Chan let out another dramatic groan. But while Chan was too busy overreacting, Vernon was still quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, hockey boy?”

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, he hesitated. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said, “Just surprised. That’s all.”

Seokmin grinned. “Vernon, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Vernon blinked at him. “Why would I be?”

Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

For a fraction of a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something in Vernon’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Something in between?

But, as always, he kept it cool. “Not jealous.”

“Sure,” Seokmin said, clearly not convinced.

You smirked, deciding to push Vernon a little. “I was a great girlfriend.”

Vernon’s eyes flicked to yours again, this time holding your gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice unreadable.

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Seokmin looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Interesting.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

Seokmin grinned. “I think your cousin has a new favorite hockey player.”

Chan groaned for the fourth time. “I hate everything about tonight.”

You just laughed. But the thing was—Seokmin might not have been entirely wrong.

The night air was crisp as you stepped into the parking lot with Chan and Vernon. The game had ended, and while the rivalry on the ice had been intense, the real battle had been you versus Chan’s endless questions about Seokmin.

Vernon had offered to drive both of you home, claiming it was “on the way,” but you were starting to suspect he just wanted to witness the soap opera unfolding in real time.

Chan, still in full interrogation mode, walked beside you. “Okay, but seriously—how did it even start?”

You sighed, exasperated. “I already told you, Chan. We dated, we broke up, we’re friends now. That’s it.”

Chan scoffed. “That’s not it! I need details. Like, who made the first move?”

Seokmin’s grinning face flashed in your mind. “He did.”

Chan gasped dramatically. “Seokmin made the first move?! What did he do, trip over his own skates and land in your lap?”

You laughed. “No, idiot. He was actually really sweet.”

Vernon unlocked the car and got in without a word, letting Chan get it all out of his system before the drive even started.

As soon as you all settled inside, Chan still wasn’t done.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued from the passenger seat, twisting around to face you. “You, my very strong, very independent cousin, voluntarily dated a hockey player?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Chan. I, a normal human being, dated another normal human being. Groundbreaking.”

Chan shook his head, like this was the biggest scandal of the century. “You always said you’d never date an athlete.”

“Right,” you deadpanned. “Which is why I’m never dating a hockey player again.”

Vernon, silent up until now, suddenly coughed beside Chan. Both you and Chan turned to him.

Vernon kept his eyes on the road, shifting gears like nothing happened.

Chan squinted. “You good?”

Vernon nodded, completely unfazed. “Yeah. Just dry air.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Chan threw his hands up. “Okay, now I really need to know what went down.”

You sighed dramatically. “Do you really want to hear about my tragic love story, or do you want Vernon to get us home in one piece?”

Chan hesitated before reluctantly turning back around. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

From the driver’s seat, Vernon finally spoke again—his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “I bet it isn’t.”

Something about the way he said it made you glance at him again. Maybe it was just your imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, Vernon was thinking about how you might not keep that promise after all.

The hum of the engine filled the car as Vernon smoothly maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. You sat in the backseat, arms crossed, while Chan sat in the passenger seat, still digesting your revelation about Seokmin.

"Okay," Chan started again, shifting to look at you, "so you’re telling me you went from hating the idea of dating an athlete to actually dating one?"

You groaned. "Chan—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I just need to understand the timeline. When did this betrayal happen?"

Vernon let out a short breath, which you swore sounded like a laugh, though his face remained unreadable.

"You make it sound like I committed a crime," you said, rolling your eyes. "It was, like, a year and a half ago."

Chan gasped. "A year and a half ago?! That recently? And I’m just finding out now?"

"Look, it wasn’t a big deal," you said. "We went on a few dates, had fun, realized we were better as friends, and that was that."

Vernon, still focused on the road, finally spoke. "You broke up with him?"

You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His voice was as calm as ever, but something about the way he asked made you curious.

"Technically, yeah," you admitted.

Chan groaned again. "Of course you broke up with him. You probably made him think it was his idea, too." Seokmin had been a little blindsided, but you weren’t about to admit that.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you said, smirking.

Chan turned back to Vernon. "See? This is why I tell people not to mess with my cousin. She’s too powerful."

Vernon finally looked at you through the mirror, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured, "I can see that."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Chan, oblivious, continued his rant. "But seriously, what did he do that made you swear off hockey players forever? Did he forget your anniversary? Get too competitive?"

You shrugged. "Nah. I just don’t want to deal with the whole team rivalries, constant traveling, always being second to the sport thing. Hockey players are a lot of work."

Vernon coughed again.

Chan turned to him, frowning. "Dude, do you need water?"

Vernon cleared his throat. "I’m fine."

You smirked. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

Vernon glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Just listening."

"Hmm." You leaned back. "Well, anyway, I learned my lesson. I’m sticking to normal people now."

Chan snorted. "Normal people?"

"Yeah. You know—guys with normal schedules, normal jobs, no risk of getting concussed every other week."

Vernon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel.

Chan laughed. "I give it two months before you go back on that."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," Chan said, smirking, "you like the chaos too much. Admit it, you love being involved in hockey drama. You thrive on it."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me! I am very peaceful."

Vernon finally spoke again, his tone deadpan. "Sure."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you siding with Chan?"

"I mean," Vernon said, shrugging, "you are sitting in a hockey player’s car, after attending a hockey game, while arguing about hockey."

Chan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, he’s got a point."

You huffed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I tolerate the chaos. But that doesn’t mean I’ll date another hockey player."

Vernon didn’t say anything but when you glanced at him through the mirror again, he had the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

The rest of the ride was quieter. Chan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally making dramatic sighs about his “betrayal,” while Vernon drove smoothly through the streets.

At one point, you rested your chin on your hand, watching the buildings blur past. Despite the chaos of the evening, there was something… nice about being in Vernon’s car. He was steady, dependable. Even with Chan’s endless commentary, he never seemed irritated. Just patient.

When Vernon finally pulled up to Chan’s place, your cousin unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed dramatically. "Alright, I guess I’ll forgive you. For now."

You smirked. "Gee, thanks."

Chan opened the door but paused, glancing between you and Vernon. Then, with a knowing smirk, he said, "You two have fun."

Before you could question him, he hopped out and disappeared inside.

You scoffed. "What was that about?"

Vernon hummed. "Not sure."

But he definitely looked like he knew. with Chan gone, the car suddenly felt… quieter.

Vernon shifted slightly, one hand resting on the gear shift. "Where to?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Your place," he said simply. "Where is it?"

"Oh." You gave him the directions, and he nodded, smoothly pulling back onto the road. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. Just… different.

"So," Vernon finally said, glancing at you through the mirror, "never dating a hockey player again?"

You smirked. "That’s the plan."

"Hmm." He didn’t sound convinced.

You tilted your head. "Why? You don’t think I can do it?"

Vernon let out a small breath—almost a chuckle. "I just think… you might change your mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He slowed to a stop at a red light, then turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes.

"Just a feeling," he said simply.

You held his gaze, searching for something—anything—in his expression. But, as always, Vernon was unreadable. Calm. Completely in control.

Yet, for some reason, your heart did a weird little flip.

You scoffed, looking away. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m done with hockey boys."

Vernon tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Mm."

The light turned green, and he pulled forward. And though he didn’t say anything else, the ghost of a smirk lingered on his lips.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors yet. Instead, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel and turned his head slightly toward you.

"You sure about that?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He kept his gaze on you, calm and unreadable. "About being done with hockey players."

You scoffed. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Vernon hummed, like he wasn’t convinced.

Your eyes narrowed. "Why? You think I’m lying?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. "I think people say things they don’t mean all the time."

You frowned. "Well, I do mean it."

Vernon tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then, after a moment, he said, "Wanna bet?"

Your brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back, resting his arm on the car door. "Bet me that you won’t date another hockey player."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "What are we, twelve?"

Vernon just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. What’s at stake?"

His lips curled slightly—barely noticeable, but there. "Winner gets whatever they want."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Like… money?"

Vernon shook his head. "Nope."

"Then what?"

He exhaled through his nose, thinking for a second before saying, "Bragging rights."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," Vernon confirmed.

You squinted at him. "You’re really so confident that I’ll cave and date another hockey player?"

Vernon didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Something about his unwavering confidence made you cross your arms. "Okay, fine. It’s a bet. I will never date another hockey player again."

Vernon nodded. "Cool." Then, finally, he reached over and unlocked the doors.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. What happens if I win?"

His lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you get to rub it in my face."

You smirked. "Oh, I will."

Vernon just shrugged, like he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That irritated you even more.

"Goodnight, hockey boy," you said, reaching for the door handle.

Vernon’s response was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. "Goodnight," he murmured. Then, as you stepped out, he added, "See you around."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Like he already knew how this was going to end.

Like he was just waiting.

The bet was stupid.

You knew it was stupid the second you agreed to it, and yet… it bothered you. Not because you thought you’d lose—because you wouldn’t. There was no way you’d fall for another hockey player.

No, what bothered you was Vernon’s confidence. The way he’d looked at you, calm and collected, like he already knew how this would play out. Like he wasn’t guessing, but rather waiting.

And that? That was infuriating.

So you did the only logical thing.

You ignored it.

For an entire week, you threw yourself into work, into your internship, into anything that would keep you too busy to think about Vernon or his stupid, smug little bet.

And it worked. Kind of.

When you arrived at the rink, you told yourself you were not looking for him.

You weren’t scanning the ice, weren’t checking the players warming up, weren’t—

Oh.

There he was.

Vernon stood near the bench, adjusting his gloves, looking annoyingly good in his gear. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other guys, but he had this effortless kind of presence—calm, confident, and completely unbothered.

Which only made you more bothered.

You turned back to Chan. "I hate you for bringing me here."

Chan grinned. "Love you too, cousin."

A whistle blew, signaling the players to line up, and as Vernon skated past, he glanced toward the stands. His eyes found yours immediately.

And then—he smirked. Like he knew you’d be here.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately turned to Chan. "I take it back. I really hate you."

Chan just laughed. "No, you don’t."

The game started, and you did your best to focus. But it was hard when you were hyper-aware of one player in particular and every time you told yourself you were imagining things, that Vernon wasn’t paying any special attention to you.

He’d prove you wrong.

A glance before a faceoff. A lingering look after a goal. A subtle smirk every time he skated near your side of the rink.

And the worst part?

You knew he was doing it on purpose.

By the time the game ended, you were fully prepared to never attend another one again.

You tried to ignore Vernon.

You really did.

But ignoring Vernon was impossible when he wasn’t ignoring you.

Every game you attended, he’d look for you. Every time he saw you, there was a smirk, a glance, a knowing look that said I’m still winning.

And the worst part?

You caught yourself looking for him too.

It was small things at first—wondering if he’d be at the team hangouts, noticing when he was not at practice, catching yourself staring a second too long during games.

You were slipping.

And you hated it.

You were officially avoiding Vernon.

It wasn’t obvious avoidance. You weren’t hiding behind corners or diving into bushes when you saw him. No, you were subtle.

You stopped showing up to games as often. You made excuses whenever Chan invited you to team hangouts. You even started leaving early when you knew Vernon might be around.

And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because Vernon wasn’t stupid.

And unfortunately for you, he was patient.

He wasn’t mad you were avoiding him. He wasn’t giving up.

He was just waiting. Waiting for you to stop fighting yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself have something good. And somehow that was worse because you could handle anger.

But patience?

Patience made you want to give in.

It happened at a café. You were minding your own business, fully immersed in your laptop, when suddenly a chair scraped against the floor in front of you.

You looked up and there he was.

Vernon.

Sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. "What—"

"You’re avoiding me," he said.

You scoffed. "No, I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "Sure."

You clenched your jaw. "I am."

Vernon took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered. "You were at every game before. Then, suddenly, you’re not. Feels personal."

"It’s not," you lied.

"Right."

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. "Is this why you sat here? To call me out?"

"Partly," Vernon admitted.

"And the other part?"

He tilted his head. "I missed you."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

Vernon shrugged. "It was more fun when you were around."

You stared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Nope."

"Vernon."

"Hm?"

"You’re being weird."

He smirked. "Or maybe you just don’t know how to deal with me being serious."

Your stomach flipped. Okay. This was dangerous territory. He was right and your brain can't process the situation, you're so used to his one word remarks and nonchalance. But this feels like something your heart isn't prepared for.

You forced a laugh. "Nice try, but I’m not falling for it."

Vernon leaned back, watching you closely. "You sure?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes."

"Okay," he said easily.

After a while he did leave you alone, even though he wanted to stay and banter with you some more because these days it seems that his main source of entertainment is to get under your skin. Coach called for a meeting. After a quick goodbye you find yourself alone again.

Later that day though, Chan came to your apartment. The moment you saw Chan, you regretted telling him anything.

Because instead of sympathy, he just grinned.

"You’re doomed."

You glared at him. "I am not."

"Vernon likes you."

You crossed your arms. "He does not."

"Okay, and you like him."

"Chan."

"You’re in denial."

You groaned. "Can you be normal for once?"

Chan ignored you. "You realize Vernon is going to win, right?"

"He isn’t."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You threw a pillow at him.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were at another game (against your better judgment), sitting next to Chan, when the unthinkable happened... Vernon scored.

And you.... you cheered. Loudly. Enthusiastically.

And worst of all?

Vernon heard.

He turned immediately, locking eyes with you from across the rink.

Vernon, still looking at you, winked.

You were still recovering from what happened during the game. The team had won, meaning the energy in the rink was electric. Fans cheered, players celebrated, and you?

You were debating leaving immediately before Vernon found you. But before you could execute your escape Chan grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You’re not running away."

You scowled. "I’m not running. I just have things to do."

"Like avoiding Vernon?"

"Exactly."

Chan shook his head, dragging you toward the locker rooms. "Nope. You’re gonna face your feelings like an adult."

"I am an adult. And my adult decision is denial."

"That’s not how it works."

"It’s worked for me so far."

Chan ignored you, you hear the pushing open of the locker room door before Chan screams "Hey, Vernon! Your biggest fan is here."

You smacked Chan’s arm. "I hate you."

"Hey."

Vernon.

Standing right there, fresh out of the shower, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from the game and he's looking directly at you.

Chan grinned. "I’ll leave you two alone."

You turned sharply. "You traitor—"

But he was already gone. You were going to kill him. You thought but first you had to deal with Vernon.

"Good game."

Vernon smirked. "I could tell. You were very excited when I scored."

You rolled your eyes. "It was an automatic reaction."

"Right."

"It’s called sportsmanship."

"Uh-huh."

You exhaled sharply. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"A little," he admitted.

You crossed your arms. "If you’re expecting me to confess I like you, it’s not happening."

Vernon hummed. "You just did, though."

Your jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You said, ‘if you’re expecting me to confess I like you,’ which implies there’s something to confess."

You blinked. "I hate you."

Vernon grinned. "No, you don’t."

You clenched your fists. "This is a nightmare."

Vernon tilted his head. "So… when are you taking me on a date?"

You nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You lost the bet, right?"

"I did not lose the bet!"

You were completely and utterly screwed.

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him because, a few days later, he showed up outside the building where you were doing your internship. You nearly dropped your bag when you spotted him standing near the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, marching up to him.

Vernon looked amused. "Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

"You."

You stared at him. "Why?"

Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets, looking far too casual. "Because you’re avoiding me."

"I am not avoiding you."

"You are."

You groaned. "Why do you do this?"

Vernon tilted his head. "Because it’s fun."

"For who?"

He smirked. "Me." You were going to lose your mind. You were seriously debating throwing your very heavy tote bag at him and his smug face.

Vernon glanced past you into the building. "So, this is where you spend all your time now?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "Because I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "So busy you don’t have time for a date?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Vernon shrugged. "A date. With me."

You blinked at him. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

You stared. "You do remember the bet, right?"

"Yep."

"And that I refuse to date another hockey player?"

Vernon nodded. "Still waiting on that to work out for you."

You exhaled sharply. "I’m not dating you."

"Yet," Vernon added.

"Ever."

"We’ll see."

"STOP SAYING THAT" you all but scream at him, the way he's looking at you right now is making you want to pull all your hair out.

Vernon smirked, taking a step closer. "Admit it. You like me."

You scowled. "I will never admit that."

Vernon hummed. "Okay."

Too calm.

Too smug.

You knew he didn’t believe you and somehow, that was infinitely worse. You had spent days trying to push down the realization that you might actually—God forbid—like Vernon. And somehow, in those same days, he got worse.

Not in an annoying way.

No.

Vernon had started being… sweet. Not the obvious kind. Not the cheesy, over-the-top, grand gestures kind. But Vernon’s kind.

Small things.

Subtle things.

Things that made you notice how well he knew you. Like how he always made sure you had a seat at the games, whether you said you were coming or not. Or how he started bringing you coffee without asking, without a word just sliding it in front of you at the rink like it was normal.

Or how, when you stayed late at your internship, your phone would buzz with a single text:

Vernon: Don’t walk home alone. I’ll pick you up.

(And when you argued, he’d just show up anyway.)

It was infuriating.

Because it was working.

And somehow, you were losing the bet in real time.

It happened after a late game.

You weren’t supposed to go. You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t go and yet you find yourself sitting at the bleachers again waiting for the game to finish.

You blamed Chan. (And also yourself.)

You stayed after, waiting for Chan, when suddenly a hoodie dropped over your head. You startled, pulling it off. "What the—"

You turned and Vernon was there. He looked at you, completely unaffected. "It’s cold."

You blinked. "I—what—"

"Just wear it."

You hesitated, staring down at it.

It was his hoodie.

Still warm. Still smelling like him.

And for some reason you put it on. You didn't put up a fight, didn't say another snarky remark. You just put it on. Vernon nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall next to you.

Neither of you spoke. For the first time, it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t banter.

It was just—quiet.

"You know," Vernon said suddenly, "I like you."

Your breath caught.

You turned to him. "What?"

Vernon exhaled, tilting his head to look at you. "I like you."

Just like that. No hesitation. No we’ll see. No denial.

Just the truth.

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes now. You put your hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, toying with your fingers as you look at anywhere but him.

"You’re just saying that because you want to win."

Vernon shook his head. "I already won."

You stared at him. "You did not—"

"You’re wearing my hoodie."

You opened your mouth then closed it.

Because damn it—he was right.

And the worst part? For the first time you didn’t want to fight it.

After that, it's like everything was normal again. For Vernon, not for you. You had not recovered from Vernon’s confession. Mostly because he didn’t bring it up again. No teasing. No rubbing it in.

He just—let it sit which somehow made it worse because now, you were the one thinking about it.

About him.

About how easy it would be to just… give in.

And then one night, after another late shift, you walked outside and found him waiting leaning against his car. Hands in his pockets.

Like it was normal.

You sighed. "Vernon—"

"I know," he said. "You didn’t ask me to come."

You stared at him. "Then why did you?"

Vernon shrugged. "Because I knew you’d be tired."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed. "You really like me, huh?" you say, voice barely a whisper but he heard you. He heard you loud and clear.

"Yeah."

You like Vernon.

You like Vernon not just in a haha, he’s annoying but funny way. Not just in a he’s hot but I’d never admit it way but in a real, terrifying, no-going-back way and the realization hit you so hard that you had to physically sit down.

Chan, ever the menace, noticed immediately. "Oh no. It happened, didn’t it?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Chan cackled. "I knew it."

"You are not allowed to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? I’m telling everyone."

You shot him a glare. "Chan—" "Kidding. Relax. Your secret’s safe."

You exhaled. "Good."

Chan smirked. "But, uh… you might want to tell Vernon soon."

You blinked. "Why?" Chan pointed behind you.

And when you turned Vernon was standing there and he's looking right at you.

You froze. Vernon didn’t.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. "So."

Meanwhile Chan slowly walks backwards to escape the scene and leaving you to your devices.

You swallowed. "So?"

"You like me." he smirks. The man had the audacity to smirk and it sends something right through you. Either you want to run away from or run away with, you're not so sure.

You let out a sharp breath. "Don’t start."

Vernon hummed. "You do, though."

You ran a hand through your hair. "Vernon—"

"It’s okay," he said. "I already knew."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?" you look at him wide eyed

Vernon shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to admit it."

You stared at him. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "And you like me anyway."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "This is the worst day of my life."

Vernon chuckled. "Is it?"

You hesitated because no it wasn’t.

It was actually… kind of nice.

Finally letting yourself feel it.

Finally stopping the fight.

Finally looking at him and knowing he had been waiting for you all along.

You sighed. "Fine." Vernon raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

You crossed your arms. "Fine. I like you. Happy now?"

Vernon just smiled.

"Yeah."

And then he walks closer to you, only a step away. Close enough you can smell his shower gel and fabric softener but far enough to give you space if you needed it.

Then he laced his fingers through yours. He did it like it was normal. Like he had been waiting to do it this whole time.

You stared down at your hand in his. Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

And suddenly you felt stupid.

Because what now? what, he got what he wanted? You admitted it. You said it. He won. Was he going to smirk, say told you so, and just… walk away?

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms. "What now?"

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean?"

You scowled. "What now? You’re happy? You win?"

Vernon tilted his head, confused. "Win what?"

You huffed. "The bet. The whole stupid game you’ve been playing. Congratulations. You made me fall for you. Now you can go back to your cool, mysterious, hockey star life and leave me alone."

Vernon frowned. "What?"

You threw your hands up. "I mean, that’s how this goes, right? You chase me, I resist, I finally give in, and then boom—you’re over it."

You scoffed. "See? Silence. I knew it. I knew—"

"I’m not leaving."

You froze.

Vernon’s gaze was steady, unreadable, but there was something serious in his tone.

You swallowed. "What?"

"I’m not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. Where do you think I'm going?" he asks, confused

You hesitated. "Why not?"

Vernon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I like you. Like, actually like you. This wasn’t just some game for me."

"It wasn’t?" you mumble

"No."

You shifted on your feet. "Are you sure?"

Vernon laughed a quiet, breathy sound, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking. Then he reached out—gently, carefully—and hooked his pinky around yours. And somehow, that tiny, stupid action made your chest feel like it was about to explode.

Vernon looked at you. "I’m sure."

And just like that—

You didn’t know how to fight him anymore.

After that night, Vernon didn’t change.

He didn’t start being overly sweet. He didn’t suddenly turn into a rom-com boyfriend who sent you flowers and love notes.

No.

He was just him.

Still showing up.

Still waiting outside your internship, still tossing his jacket over your shoulders, still holding your hand in that quiet, casual way that made you wonder how you had gone this long without it.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

You were finally starting to trust it. To trust him because he wasn’t going anywhere and for once you didn’t want him to. The moment you realized you weren’t fighting this anymore—weren’t fighting him—a strange kind of calm settled over you.

Vernon was still holding your hand. Still standing close. Still watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to catch up.

It should have been a big moment. A grand, cinematic, fireworks-in-the-background kind of thing.

But instead—

"OH MY GOD."

You and Vernon both jumped, heads snapping up just in time to see Chan standing there, eyes wide, mouth open.

Your idiot cousin pointed an accusing finger at your intertwined hands.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

You blinked. "What is what?"

"THAT!" Chan gestured wildly. "You! Him! HANDS!"

Vernon blinked at him, unfazed. "Yeah, we have hands."

"OH MY GOD."

You groaned, trying to yank your hand away out of pure instinct only for Vernon to tighten his grip. Subtle. Calm. Like he was telling you, No. Don’t let go just because he’s here.

You hesitated. Then…

You didn’t let go.

Chan screamed.

"I need a moment," Chan announced, dramatically collapsing onto a bench like he had just received life-altering news.

You rolled your eyes. "Chan, it’s not that serious."

"NOT THAT SERIOUS?" Chan clutched his chest. "You—you and Vernon—I mean—when—HOW?"

Vernon just stuffed his free hand in his pocket, watching Chan with his usual unreadable expression. "You good?"

"No," Chan wheezed.

You sighed. "You’re being dramatic."

Chan sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Oh? I’m being dramatic? Says the girl who SWORE she would NEVER date another hockey player?"

Your face burned. "I—okay, yeah, I might’ve said that, but—"

"SO WHAT IS THIS THEN?" Chan gestured wildly at you and Vernon.

You opened your mouth—then closed it because what was this?

Vernon didn’t let you think for long. "We’re dating," he said simply.

You choked. "Vernon!"

Chan’s jaw dropped. "YOU ARE?!"

Vernon turned to you, unfazed. "We’re not?"

You floundered. "I mean—I—are we?"

Vernon shrugged. "You like me. I like you. We hold hands now. Feels like dating."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because… that was it? That easy?

Chan looked between the two of you, unimpressed. "This is the weirdest way I’ve ever seen two people start dating."

You groaned. "I hate both of you."

Vernon smirked. "You like me, though."

You scowled. "Don’t push it."

Chan stood up, rubbing his temples. "I need time to process this."

You crossed your arms. "It’s not that deep."

Chan snorted. "Not that deep? Please. The entire team is gonna freak when they find out."

Your stomach dropped.

"The team?"

"Oh yeah," Chan smirked. "Good luck keeping this quiet."

Vernon didn’t seem fazed at all. But you?

You were doomed.

Chan had seen a lot of things in his life.

He had seen Vernon score impossible goals in the last seconds of a game. He had seen you single-handedly shut down an entire group of guys trying to hit on you at a party. He had seen Seungkwan lose his mind when they ran out of his favorite snacks at the dorms.

But this?

This was a new level of shocking.

He had come over to your place after practice, expecting a normal night of hanging out. Maybe some bickering, maybe some teasing—nothing out of the ordinary.

What he did not expect was to walk into the kitchen and see Vernon standing behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone.

And even more shocking?

You were letting him.

You. The queen of personal space. The same person who once smacked Chan for putting his feet on your couch.

But now?

You were just standing there, completely unbothered, letting Vernon be all up in your space like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Chan froze. "WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

You barely glanced up. "Hey, Chan."

"No." He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What is this?"

Vernon blinked lazily. "A kitchen."

"VERNON."

"What?" Vernon was so calm it was infuriating.

Chan sputtered. "You’re—you’re literally all over her, and she’s letting you?"

Vernon hummed. "Yeah."

"YEAH?"

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at Chan. "Why are you acting like this is a crime?"

"Because YOU used to YELL at me for even TOUCHING YOUR SHOULDER!"

You shrugged. "You’re not Vernon."

"EXACTLY!"

Chan ran a hand down his face, groaning dramatically. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I need a second."

Vernon just looked at him, completely unfazed.

"You’re acting like I’m holding her hostage," Vernon said, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I need—I need to sit down."

You rolled your eyes. "Drama queen."

"No, YOU DON’T GET IT," Chan huffed. "I spent YEARS watching you destroy men for breathing near you, and NOW YOU’RE JUST LETTING VERNON CUDDLE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?"

Vernon smirked. "Would you rather I kiss your cousin in the kitchen?"

Chan stared at him, deadpan. "I will throw you in a snowbank."

Vernon just shrugged, unbothered, and looped his arm around your waist again. And when you didn’t move away—didn’t fight it, didn’t act like it was a big deal—Chan lost his mind.

"I CAN’T BE HERE."

And with that, your cousin stormed out of the kitchen.

You laughed, shaking your head. "He’ll be fine."

Vernon just smirked, squeezing your waist slightly before pulling away.

"Yeah," he said. "But this is fun."

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

The first time Vernon kissed you, it wasn’t in some dramatic, romantic moment. It wasn’t after a big fight or some emotional confession.

It was a regular night. The two of you had just finished getting dinner, and he had walked you to your door like he always did.

No pressure. No expectations. Just… Vernon being Vernon.

And as you turned to say goodnight, he just looked at you for a second—head tilted, hands in his pockets, gaze steady as ever.

Then, so casually it almost felt like an afterthought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

No rush. No hesitation. Just… easy.

And instead of pulling away, instead of overthinking it you kissed him back.

Because, for once in your life you weren’t scared. You weren’t running. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And Vernon?

He had been waiting for you to figure that out all along.

The apartment was quiet.

Dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, the kind that made everything feel warm and safe. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, within the walls of your shared space, it was just you and Vernon.

And Vernon was clingy.

Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Not in the way some people whined for attention or made a big show of it.

No—Vernon’s clinginess was quiet, subtle, and completely inescapable.

Like now.

You had barely shifted an inch when his arm—already wrapped snugly around your waist—tightened.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, raspy from sleep.

You sighed. "I wasn’t going anywhere."

"Good."

His hold on you relaxed slightly, but he didn’t let go. He never did. Vernon wasn’t the type to smother you with affection in public, but in private?

He was relentless.

He had to feel you. Had to know you were there. Had to keep you close, even in sleep which explained why your legs were tangled together, his arm was curled around your stomach, and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You shivered and, of course, Vernon noticed. He let out a quiet hum, nuzzling even closer.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Without a word, he pulled the blanket higher, tucked it around you both, and pressed himself closer.

"Better?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Vernon sighed, his lips barely grazing your shoulder. Silence settled between you. The comfortable kind. The kind where you didn’t need to say anything because just being there was enough.

But then you felt it. The way his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. Soft. Thoughtless. Completely natural.

It was so Vernon.

Always the same quiet gestures. Always the same small ways of showing affection. You reached down, lacing your fingers through his.

Vernon stilled for a second, then—without a word—he intertwined them properly, squeezing once before relaxing again.

And for a while, that was it.

Just the sound of your breathing. Just the warmth of him against you. Just the steady, slow rhythm of two people who fit together perfectly.

But then Vernon spoke.

"…You’re my favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slightly, catching the sleepy, almost shy expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow. "Favorite what?"

"Just…" His voice was a little hoarse, a little soft, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. "My favorite everything."

Your breath caught.

Vernon never said things like this. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he didn’t need to.

He showed it instead.

Through the way he waited for you after your internship, even if it meant sitting outside for an hour. Through the way he always pulled you closer in his sleep, like he was scared you’d disappear. Through the way he remembered the smallest things, like how you hated sleeping with socks on or how you always curled up a certain way when you were tired.

He didn’t have to say it.

But he did anyway.

Because you needed to hear it.

You swallowed, heart too full, too warm, too much.

"You’re such a sap," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just a little.

Vernon smirked, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You like it."

You huffed. "Maybe."

He chuckled. Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head forward, pressed a lazy kiss against your jaw, and mumbled—

"Go to sleep."

And just like that—

You did.

[wormsin]

being a little gay and gender certainly is not applicable to everyone, but it's worth a try for some, because questioning gender and sexuality is a good shortcut to be able to navigate this stuff. ymmv.

I am making assumptions because I have to. kind of the nature of posting on topics with people who I haven't talked with before and probably have different experiences from.

"none of the above works" my guy, take it from someone who is good at starting relationships: being an upstanding member of your community is a fantastic way to find a partner. this is the advice I am trying to give, although I may not have worded it clearly. there are so many women who are out there who want a guy who is caring and on top of his shit. like the bar is so low for some women, it's not hard to clear it.

there are plenty of feminist women who are out there and want a man who looks and acts nothing like what Pop Media peddles as the ideal man. you have to change the way you are looking for these women and the context in which you are trying to find a partner. less dating apps, more befriending all sorts of people through hobbies and volunteer work. figure out what you have to offer to the world, offer it, people will take notice.

I'm not saying this isn't a challenge, because a lot of people, not just women, *do* want to be pursued while retaining the ability to decline. especially women, because of all the mistreatment, harassment, and abuse they get over their lives from men. of course women are defensive and picky. and plenty of them uphold our sex oppression system in small ways by maintaining unreasonable expectations of men. it's also really hard to *be* clear about your interest for some women, because people will fucking use you and hate you for it.

"none of the above works" I'm telling you to become a more well rounded and decent person. that's how I get all the babes. it's really actually a winning strategy.

I looked at this thread

and it's another signal from the world of something like "sociosexual realism". Which is like, feminism or whatever told us that men and women were equally agentic, but unfortunately it was lying, and actually it's men's responsibility to be seductive, and if they fail at that then TFR goes down and the Amish win.

It's not just the thread, a lot of relationships and dates make me feel this way.

I'm stuck believing this unpleasant belief. What am I missing? Is the world not like that?

[buddiekinard]

i do think it’s interesting when people are talking about Eddie’s arc and specifically 8x06 confessions, how the dancing was taken and interpreted by some people in fandom as ‘eddie did a dance and it fixed him’.

i don’t know what show we’re watching, but i didn’t even consider for a moment that after the dancing eddie was ‘fixed’ and i certainly don’t even think that was father brian’s intent in suggesting that eddie let himself have one moment of joy and fun in his life. i think the next episodes really drove home that having lil moment of fun wasn’t magically going to take away all of eddie’s problems. the problems are still there - chris is still gone; he still needs to fix his mistakes and make things right with his son.

no, the point wasn’t do a silly little dance and you will be Okay. the point was do a silly little dance because spending every moment of every day of your life punishing yourself and never letting yourself relax or enjoy life isn’t helping yourself and it isn’t helping the people in your life. the point was denying yourself every little moment of joy you may come upon - whether it be dancing in your underwear in your living room or drinking a juice instead of a water or just not blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong - it does nothing for anyone. it doesn’t make anything better. it just makes the sinking feeling worse. it makes the hopelessness settle in and you’ll never do anything to actually make the change and fix things because you’re just going sit in self blame and self punishment 24/7 and continue the cycle of misery.

eddie diaz has always been this silly, whimsical, friendly guy who loves basketball and teases in friends and loves movies and dressing up in matching costumes with his boy bestie and he’s mr popular because he’s charming and fun and sarcastic and YES he’s a fucking dork. he kind of makes dumb jokes sometimes, and he’s goofy, and he’s exactly the kind of person who think recreating a tom cruise movie in his living room is a fun way to spend an evening.

it’s just been dormant and hiding because he’s denying himself those moments of fun. because he was challenged to do something for himself and stop punishing himself for all the things he’s fucked up over his life. because he could. because just because. for no reason. because everyone deserves a moment of silly fun, even if the next day they’re going to wake up and go back to normal. even if it’s just a fleeting moment.

and that was the fucking point. not to say see now you’re cured and everything is better.

but to say even if everything isn’t better, even if you haven’t fixed all of the hurt you caused yourself and others, you deserve this. you deserve joy. you don’t always have to deny yourself. you can’t punish yourself forever if you want to fix things or move on.

anyway. just thinking at 2:30 am i guess.

[dive-through-time]

Time is a hypocritical construct (Righteously, it wipes out all of us)

TW: Uhhh... mentioned character death and mentions of blood. CXS might be having a panic attack towards the end, I'm not sure-

(Song title from KAT - "Mastermind")

Interesting for: @star-tb @theparadoxunlocked

Out of all the tasks Cheng Xiaoshi had to do around the studio, cleaning had to be his least favorite.

Dusting off the shelves, wiping down the counter, cleaning the picture frames on the walls... it took ages and was oh so boring. Even the steady flow of music through his headphones didn't make it any more fun.

He hummed along anyway, tapping his foot to the music, and moved back a bit to look over the wall. Satisfied, he took a step back to look over the pictures. He dusted his hands off, happy to find that they were spotless again, and clapped his hands together.

The one thing he didn't take into consideration were three things.

One, he was looking at the pictures.

Two, clapping activated his ability.

Three, these were the new pictures he'd developed today. He'd never taken a dive into these.

So when he blinked, he found himself holding a familiar camera while in a body that was not his own.

Most dives were similar to Cheng Xiaoshi, because possessing people always felt... off. Like the body he was in wasn't his own. Which, honestly, was the truth.

So when he found himself in the sunroom, camera trained out the window at the sunset, it immediately clicked for him just who he was possessing.

Somehow, he'd never possessed Lu Guang before. It was jarring. In more than one way.

He glanced at the time and date and frowned softly. Cheng Xiaoshi recognized it. Nothing special happened, besides Lu Guang taking some photos for their website.

He tried to ignore the memories poking at the back of his mind, not wanting to invade his best friend's privacy. He wasn't some love-sick school boy!

Actually, scratch that.

Maybe he was a little love-sick... but he was good at hiding it! Or at least he hopes.

"'m sorry..."

Oh, that was his own voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. "No no no, I don't want his memories. I don't" he whispered to himself, fully convinced.

Usually, he was glad about getting some memories. It made it easier to fall into his role, to become whoever he was portraying and follow Lu Guang's script.

Dives without Lu Guang had happened... maybe thrice before. Two of those recently, with one of them being a dive into quite literally the present by looking at an active security camera recording.

The one during the fight in the darkroom didn't count. Those were just brief leaps.

He wanted to clap out, but his own voice, weak and trembling and saying words that he can't remember ever saying, left him rooted to the spot. Golden eyes staring at the counter in silent horror.

"To keep me alive- you mean the death node, don't you?"

"That is exactly why you shouldn't have talked to other you. And you're not supposed to know about what happens to you in other timelines"

"It doesn't matter if you know about it or not. It'd be better if you didn't…"

That was it. The last straw. With a shaky breath he gave up on trying to fight back the memories wanting to flood into his own mind.

Ususlly he didn't concentrate too hard on the snippets of memories. Even old people's memories weren't very overpowering. That way, he tended to process most memories via dreams.

Instead he was processing the memories now, and couldn't help but feel sick.

The memories were... a mess. He remembered snippets of Bridon. Of the photo shoot, of Lu Guang talking to Vein.

"Your friend seems to be in some trouble" Vein lowered his phone, tone light, gesturing towards the building he himself had gone into that day, "I'll go lend a hand and will be back soon"

He started walking, stepping down the stairs. Lu Guang wasn't moving. Wasn't speaking until Vein was already half-way down the stairs.

"Do you really think I'd believe that?"

The quietness of Lu Guang's voice startled him, despite how normal it was for him to be quiet. It was still loud enough for Vein to hear, who let out a huff of a laugh and turned back, offering a smile that was more amused than confused.

"What? You think you can stop me?" he asked, as if both of them knew something that Cheng Xiaoshi hadn't known. As if Lu Guang knew that Vein was planning something other than 'lending a hand'.

He still vividly remembered the confusion he'd felt when Vein barged in and shot him with a tranquilizer. Lu Guang had known? But why...

"Do you know the butterfly effect?" Lu Guang asked, "In a dynamic system, any subtle changes in the initial conditions may lead to a different outcome"

Cheng Xioashi knew. It was among the first things Lu Guang had explained to him, a frequent lecture. Still, he felt dread rising in his chest as he watched the memory play out.

"I've been thinking, how to change a destined ending completely"

No. No no no. He couldn't believe that. Couldn't believe Lu Guang... what was it he always said? Past and future, let them be? Why would he say something like that, when he always told him not to change the past?

"If there is an additional point before this... An unchangeable point. What will happen? No need to fear the deviation. Just let it happen more completely"

He felt sick. All this time... ever since Bridon... and Lu Guang had never told him any of this? That he was trying to change destiny? But why? For who?

"Looks like I made a mistake" Vein spoke in the memory, pointing to his own head. "You're the one who should be going for psychological counseling. Are you out of your mind?"

"I know I can't stop you" Lu Guang smiled. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see his expression, stuck in a memory, stuck as a silent presence seeing through eyes not his own. "But... I can make you stay a bit longer"

Stay longer...? Wait, but that meant...

Vein stared at him, silent, and smiled when Lu Guang told him that he could go in now. "Once this is over, how about we grab some hotpot together? I'd like to hear what the original outcome was"

"I hope we won't meet again"

Lu Guang had known. He'd known that Vein would have a heart attack. So why did he...?

He remembered just a couple days ago, the memories flowing more and more naturally. The day Lu Guang had a nightmare. He zeroed in on that memory, shaken by the previous memories of the things that had left his (or rather Lu Guang's) mouth.

But... it was different. It was wrong. That wasn't how- oh.

Oh no.

Tears burned in his eyes, throat closing up. Memory after memory... he looked at the world from Lu Guang's eyes and all he wanted to do was scream. Scream and cry and clap out so he could shake Lu Guang by the shoulders.

None of that ever happened! It made no sense! He never got into a fight in an alley, not recently, never kissed Lu Guang, never-

Running. The memory feels off. There's fear. Enough that even in the presence, just "remembering" it makes him feel weak in the knees.

Then there's himself. Bleeding out on the ground, by the river. Dying. A desperate attempt to call an ambulance. Panicked reassurances, blood, so much blood-

"There won't be a next time..! I got this, you'll survive, you'll survive, everything will be fine here- I promise, I just-"

"H-Hey, Guangguang... it's okay... I trust you"

No.

"Stop saying that! I don't want to do this again I want to stay here with you..."

No. Please no.

"Please, hang in there, you will stay alive, please.."

"Don't... Don't want that either... sorry, 'm gonna... try harder..."

Please don't let this be true.

"Don't... don't cry. We'll be fine... right...?"

"Just a few more minutes, you are strong enough...please.."

"... hey... Lu? I'm... I'm scared"

"... I'm here with you... it's- gonna be okay.."

"... promise?"

He clasped a hand over his mouth, shaking. He felt sick.

"I promise... I'm gonna save you this time..."

"Don't.... don't forget to tell me that you love me... when... when I wake up. Gonna... gonna be sad otherwise..."

A tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. The camera almost dropped from his hands. He set it down hastily so he wouldn't break it, at least a small part of him remembering that he should avoid causing damage.

He didn't want to think about this. He didn't. He should clap out, leave before he messed up the timeline. Have a breakdown over this in his own body, in his actual time.

He glanced to the clock and froze, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes and taking a shuddering breath.

Cheng Xiaoshi was about to clap when the door opened.

"I'm baaack!" his own voice called out, cheerful and upbeat. Shit.

His heart... no, Lu Guang's heart did something funny there, seeing the bright smile he, in all honesty, only ever gave Lu Guang.

For a second, Cheng Xiaoshi feared he'd kneel over and have a heart attack. How did Lu Guang manage to stay composed like this, with his heart doing sommersaults and... oh.

"Next... next time tell me your feelings immediately... please. Don't... don't wanna wait again..."

He swallowed, hard. Mouth suddenly painfully dry. His head spun.

Oh.

This was a lot to take in at once. It was too much to take in at once. Never could he have imagined that Lu Guang... He dropped his hands beneath the table (offering a brief "Hello" to himself in hopes of not causing any concern, praying that his voice was steady) and clapped them together.

He stumbled, the second he was back in his own body. Breath short and ragged, eyes burning. His chest hurt. Something wet rolled down his cheek.

Cheng Xiaoshi heard a door open, heard a familiar voice call his name, distantly, and in a moment of panic hurried into the darkroom, sliding the door shut and locking it.

He choked back a sob, not wanting Lu Guang to know where he is, not wanting to face him right now. He slid down the door and to the ground.

The world becoming a muddled mess of the red lighting of the darkroom, a distant voice that he usually loved and memories that weren't his own but would never leave him again.

Distantly, he couldn't help but think that so many things made sense now.

[bestworstcase]

Genuine question, but where did you pick up "the Brother cult is a common religion in modern day Remnant" from? At least, I'm pretty sure you've said this before on here; my memory is pretty bad lol.

I'm just curious since I've been rewatching RWBY lately, and i remembered that, and I thought it was interesting bc I never once saw or picked up on anything that would suggest that in canon (unless it's like, a headcanon on your part, in which case feel free to ignore me, I'm not here to needlessly criticize a fun headcanon if that's the case loll, i have my own fantasy religion headcanons bc I'm unhinged abt worldbuilding).

If you don't mind, I want to explain my reasoning/thoughts on why I don't think the Brothers are worshipped on modern Remnant (feel free to pick them apart):

-> Qrow says that "not many people are super religious these days". Mind you, I don't take much stock at all in what characters say, especially not in RWBY (i frequently side-eye characters who speak on the Oz merge who aren't Ozpin himself, Light, or Jinn), but i feel like this would be an odd thing to say if it wasn't true. This is supported by The Shallow Sea fading into just a 'fanciful creation myth', as well as none of the main or even side characters being religious (though it could be bc it's just not important) nor discussing religion. Churches don't seem to be common (aside from the one in v4), and imagery of what seem to be altars are scattered and infrequent. Religion is also never brought up when discussing the kingdoms' governments either. So, so far, Qrows line holds true.

-> When Qrow talks about the Brothers, RNJR never really shows that they recognize the story, or at least that they don't put weight on it, unlike finding out the Maidens are real. They're just like "...okay so why is that important", unlike how I imagine religious people would react to finding out their God(s) are real. Plus, Qrow has to explain it to them; if it was a well known religious story, I'm sure the writers would have written it more like "So, you know [insert religion name]? Yeah, according to Ozpin, that story is real. In case you aren't familiar, let me explain it for you... [insert convenient lore dump for the audience]". Plus, the way Qrow phrases it gives me the impression that it's an obscure story. Weaker point, though, I'll admit.

-> In any of the times that we see what *might* be evidence of religion (i.e. the candles/altar in the White Fang in v4, the church in Ruby's v4 short), there's no religious iconography depicting the Brothers (at least, nothing that I've caught). In general, there doesn't seem to be any dragon imagery in modern Remnant (again, nothing that I've caught yet).

-> It's depicted as a fairytale. When Ozpin asks for Pyrrha's favorite fairytales, the first thing she says is The Tale of the Two Brothers. It's also in his fairytale book, something i feel would've been a controversial (if extremely funny) decision if it was a popular religious story (like if you put Jesus' crucifixion in a book including rapunzel and Cinderella).

-> Also, there's no common sayings including the Brothers (like how fics like to have the characters say "Oh Brothers" and other variations).

-> And, in general, Oz's inner circle really wasn't at all concerned with the Gods or really even the Divine Mandate. All they knew was that the Gods created Remnant, humanity, the Grimm, and the Relics and promptly abandoned Remnant, and that "If someone were to collect all four [Relics], they'd be able to change the world." And that that's "exactly what the enemy wants." So they only know the absolute basics of the Mandate, and the way it's worded implies (to me, anyways) that Oz worded it in such a way that cautioned against collecting the Relics (which is very interesting to me. This also tracks with how he depicts the Mandate in TTOTTB). So in general not even the inner circle feels like Brother/Light followers to me, just Oz followers (in general i imagine the events of the infinite man made him learn that bringing up judgement day is a Bad Thing, considering before bringing it up the Circle flourished, but after spreading the message, it was immediately destroyed. Instant karma. Poor dude). Though this starts leaning into the territory of my theory that Oz actually gave up on his mission (which like, could be wrong, but I'm holding onto it until I'm proven wrong), and I'm sure you don't wanna hear that one lol.

In general it seems to me like there isn't a Brothers-centric religion so far, even though Remnant still has organized religion (albeit uncommon). But I'm honestly not sure if I missed anything? I'm sure as hell not the type to comb through every background to see if I did lol.

Sorry for the long ass ask. Take your time answering, and have fun picking apart my reasoning. Please be nice abt it tho 👉👈 I just want to know your thoughts and if i missed anything that proves it's a modern day religion :)

-🌙

okay. first, at the risk of being condescending: religious people believe that their gods are real. you know that, right? religion is not a big game of play pretend. people who practice religion do so because they believe in it.

yes, religious people can and do experience doubt. but a religious person whose doubting and questioning leads them to conclude their god(s) aren't real don't continue to practice the religion they don't believe in. i mean, they might make an outward performance of doing so if it's unsafe for them to leave and they're likely to keep cultural practices and even moral frameworks--see: ex-christians who are exactly as dogmatic and puritanical about whatever new belief system they've adopted--but people who don't believe in gods don't practice religion. 

this:

They're just like "...okay so why is that important", unlike how I imagine religious people would react to finding out their God(s) are real.

is a fallacy you're making because (i presume) you aren't religious and have never been so; i suspect you just don't have any frame of reference and consequently you're projecting your own skepticism onto the hypothetical religious people in your imagination. to be clear, i don't mean this as a personal attack on you--this is a very normal thing for people to do when we're trying to conceptualize experiences that are profoundly different from our own.

my background though is evangelical christian. i was raised in a staunchly religious household attending church 2-3 times a week; i attended a christian school until transferring to public school in fifth grade; i've been to bible camps and conferences where they teach you how to evangelize to nonbelievers and that kind of thing. i'm not talking fundie cult here, to be clear--this was a relatively-by-evangelical-standards socially liberal and theologically mainstream nondenominational protestant church--but christianity was the central organizing structure of my life until i left home. i'm agnostic and fundamentally disagree with the moral framework of christianity but i know a lot of very devout christians and i'm very familiar with the religious praxis. 

(including what genuine, good faith evangelical proselytization looks like--not door-to-door like what e.g. mormons do, or street corner chick tract fundie cult behavior, which is what non-christians typically think of as evangelism. but that stuff is a tactic high-control religious groups use to strengthen identification with the in-group through rejection and alienation by the out-group--evangelical churches that aren't culty don't do that, and in fact the idea that door-to-door and street corner preaching is an isolation tactic used by predatory religious groups is something that was first explained to me in sunday school by the people who taught me how to evangelize. put a pin in this for now.)

so: i'm not imagining hypothetical religious people when i say this, i'm imagining a few hundred specific religious people whom i personally know and how they would react in an equivalent situation. 

what qrow does in 'a much needed talk' is he sit the kids down, goes "not many people are super religious these days… there's a lot of (false) gods people have made up throughout history, but y'know, these two are real. here's the truth…" and then tells them a simplified version of the two brothers creation myth. 

he doesn't do anything to prove that these two gods, in particular, are real. he gives zero evidence. he doesn't even demonstrate that magic is real. this isn't "finding out" that the gods are real, this is uncle qrow doing a little impromptu sunday school lesson like that's an explanation for why some lunatic attacked us earlier. this is like if some rando tried to grab you on the street and pull you into an unmarked van and i saved you and me and the van guy clearly had some sort of history because he knew my full name so you asked me "WHO WAS THAT GUY. WHAT THE FUCK" and i said okay sit down, the first thing you need to know is that in the beginning, god created the heavens and the earth…

regardless of your personal religious beliefs or lack thereof, you would probably go "…what. does this have to do. with the van guy who ATTACKED ME" because that's like, truly a bizarre non-sequitur. but it's not like God Himself is descending from the heavens in a flaming whirlwind to demonstrate his existence. it's just me telling you he's real. 

if you're a christian, in this scenario, that is not in any way a revelation to you. that's akin to, like, "the king of england is real." BIG IF TRUE?--you know this. you already know this. if you are a christian then you believe that the christian god exists and is the one true god. in this hypothetical scenario i'm telling you things you already know and believe foundationally to be true. a devout christian would probably respond more in the vein of "amen! god is good!" but one whose practice is casual--the christmas-and-easter christians--and secular christians would absolutely be "okay and…?" in an equivalent situation to 'a much needed talk.' 

hell, come to that, i'd be asking what this has to do with the crazy guy who tried to kidnap me if i were in that situation. who cares that my dead headmaster was a true believer or whatever i want to know about the guy with the knife! you feel me?

the type of person whom i can imagine making a big deal out of qrow's little creation myth are:

reddit atheist types who cry and scream and shit bricks if they have to talk to somebody who believes in a god; you know. the kind of person categorically incapable of talking about religion in any capacity without at least one sneering "sky daddy"?

someone with no previous exposure to this religious tradition or anything remotely like it. imagine if i were to sit you down and earnestly tell you that the only Real Gods were, like, the hero twins who descended into the underworld to challenge the lords of death to a ballgame. you'd probably be like "HUH??" because hunahpú and xbalanqué are not a cultural reference point you're familiar with in the way that you're familiar with the crucifixion of jesus christ.

like, all religions are fucking weird. the christian gospels are not remotely less weird than the popol vuh, or whatever. you're just familiar with the essentials of the gospel story--even if you're not and have never been christian--because christianity is culturally dominant in the west. and the familiarity makes it normal. unremarkable.

invisible, in a way. 

this is something the writers of rwby really get. if something is normal and ordinary in the world of remnant, the characters don't pay attention to it, even if it's bizarre to the audience. to use a non-religious example, civilians don't know what aura is! it's not common knowledge! we know that because jaune's never heard of it, civilians in vale are shocked and confused when penny stops a truck with her bare hands, and oscar (who has dealt with "occasional grimm" before) has no aura training and doesn't know what a semblance is. but to the rest of the characters, aura is a completely mundane aspect of their day to day lives and they're a little taken aback by characters like jaune and oscar who don't know about it. 

with that in mind, i want to really underscore something about the things qrow tells RNJR in 'a much needed talk' and the way the kids react. 

because. first, qrow gives them the same intro level rundown on the maidens that pyrrha got in v3--offscreen because that's shit the audience has already heard and don't need to be rehashed. the kids are like, "that's a lot to take in," and jaune in particular is like "this is all very sketchy, what the fuck is actually going on." 

THEN, apropos nothing, qrow drops "not many people are super religious but These Two gods are actually real btw" and an abbreviated creation story, with NO proof and NO apparent connection to the maniacal cultist who ranted and raved about his body and soul belonging to his goddess-queen who sent him to "retrieve" ruby for her. and none of the kids express the slightest bit of skepticism about this super out of left field sunday school story, no one is like "what the fuck" or "are you drunk"--ren just goes "okay but how. is that relevant." 

whereupon qrow finally tells them about the relics hidden under the schools and salem wanting them and that BAD THINGS will happen if she gets them. and then, jaune the skeptic goes: "alright, so let's say we believe all this--there really is this crazy evil being behind these attacks, not just some thugs trying to become powerful. why doesn't the world know?"

THAT'S the part he finds outrageous and difficult to believe. not that the two brothers are real, but that SALEM exists. salem. these kids literally JUST got attacked by a lunatic cultist who kept babbling about MY GODDESS HER GRACE THE QUEEN and directly stated that he is cinder's associate and referred to the white fang and torchwick as pawns, but the thing that makes them go "wait but this is crazy and makes no sense" is qrow explaining that there's a malevolent entity called salem who orchestrated the attack on beacon and sent that guy to capture ruby. like, objectively, from a purely logical standpoint, that's the least unbelievable thing that qrow tells them. 

but people aren't rational agents. and one thing this scene does very effectively is establish the relative normality of each major chunk of information through the way the kids react:

maidens? "there are four special people who can do magic without dust? and when they die that power passes on to someone new? that's. well that's a lot to process but. sure."

brothers? "and this is relevant how?"

salem? "that's crazy how could someone like that possibly exist without everybody knowing about it? why should we believe any of this!?"

salem is so fucking far out of their previous understanding of how the world works that they all kind of have a kneejerk "that! can't be real!" response even though tyrian shouted from the literal rooftops that he's working for a 'goddess' who was behind the attack on beacon.

but the maidens? they have a frame of reference for magic--magic is what anyone can do with dust, and ruby…petrified a massive grimm with her eyes somehow a few months ago, so like, it's not THAT unbelievable to accept that an old story about four maidens who can do magic without dust is true, apparently. 

whereas the stuff about brothers… nothing. not one of these kids so much as blinks even though. again, from a purely logical standpoint, the creation of remnant by the brothers is the most fantastical part of qrow's explanation. but the kids don't react that way, because it's normal to them. ergo they're either casual practitioners of brother-worship or brother-worship has cultural hegemony in vale and mistral, where RNJR grew up.

now! it's actually a simple matter of text whether the second possibility is true or not and this is the part of the answer where i have to just say: you're factually incorrect actually. 

-> In any of the times that we see what *might* be evidence of religion (i.e. the candles/altar in the White Fang in v4, the church in Ruby's v4 short), there's no religious iconography depicting the Brothers (at least, nothing that I've caught). In general, there doesn't seem to be any dragon imagery in modern Remnant (again, nothing that I've caught yet).

there is a big statue of the dragon brothers smack in the middle of the train station in mistral. one gold, one dark. very unmistakably a depiction of Those Two. this is in v6 so if you're only up to v4 on your rewatch you can't uh, be expected to remember. (<- i am just unhinged enough about fictional religion i can tell you off the top of my head that yang and ruby swear by God in v1 but the ship captain in v4 swears "by the gods" and i think that church in ruby's character short implies maiden-worship on the basis of the statue of the cloaked young woman in front, details of this kind just stick in my memory for nerd reasons.)

[as an aside why would… the white fang… have an altar to mankind's gods… like. there are no faunus in 'the two brothers' and the culturally dominant religion among faunus is worship of the god of animals, as ozpin notes in his commentaries on 'shallow sea' & 'judgment.' the trappings of religion that we see in the white fang's private spaces are… obviously… god of animals-worship. this feels half a step shy of saying "well the altar in salem's war room doesn't have any draconic iconography, so therefore brother-worship isn't a thing." brother-worship is explicitly not the only religion in existence!]

-> Also, there's no common sayings including the Brothers (like how fics like to have the characters say "Oh Brothers" and other variations).

in v7, 'pomp and circumstance' specifically, ironwood says "brothers know you deserve it" in reference to RWBYJNR receiving their huntsman licenses. and a quick round up from the novels:

after the fall: "thank the brothers you found us," said by a bit character.

before the dawn: "thank the brothers," said by octavia; "by the brothers," said by finn asturias when he learns what his kids are planning

roman holiday: "thank the brothers," said once by neo's mother and once by a bit character. 

there are also general exclamations of "my gods" or "by the gods" and general references to "the gods" both in rwby proper and ancillary materials, with "gods" being in far more frequent use than the singular "God"--gods, plural, doesn't necessarily mean the brothers every time, because qrow does make a point of noting that remnant's people, collectively, worship "dozens" of gods. but it is pretty evident that the dominant religion across the four human kingdoms has more than one god, and the coincidence of that with, taking the novels into consideration, characters from literally every kingdom except mistral which has a honking big statue of the brothers in its train station swear by the brothers… yeah the dominant religion globally is brother-worship. probably not in menagerie. but in the four human kingdoms, yeah. 

-> It's depicted as a fairytale. When Ozpin asks for Pyrrha's favorite fairytales, the first thing she says is The Tale of the Two Brothers. It's also in his fairytale book, something i feel would've been a controversial (if extremely funny) decision if it was a popular religious story (like if you put Jesus' crucifixion in a book including rapunzel and Cinderella).

…and the second is 'the shallow sea,' which is also a religious myth. 'the story of the seasons' is alsowhat we'd call a myth, not a fairytale. 'the girl in the tower' is the only story pyrrha names in that scene that is actually a fairytale per se. in general the delineation we make between "fairytale" and "myth" in the real world, as discrete genres of folklore, doesn't seem to exist in remnant--legends and fairytales scattered in time, and all that. the conceit of rwby is about engaging with fairytale-as-myth, so this is a very intentional blurring; like, this is a narrative where maiden-in-tower IS the creation story, fundamentally. rapunzel is orpheus is prometheus and that's how the world was made.

and that's the kind of thing that we as the audience have to just accept as a fact of the fictional reality, because… like… gestures at 'the shallow sea.' 

ozpin included THAT one in his book of fairytales, too, and in his commentary he explicitly describes it as part of a closed(!) oral tradition whose inclusion he deliberated for fear of being disrespectful. he devotes more than half of his commentary to justifying the choice to include it, and the rest to describing the myth's cultural context to his (presumed human) readers. he asks forgiveness for "overstepping himself." 

and it is very obvious, in the way ozpin talks about 'the shallow sea' in particular and the book generally in his forward and afterward, that his concern is not "it is grotesquely horribly disrespectful to place this profoundly meaningful and important creation myth (of a culture that is not my own) in a collection of frivolous fairytales" but rather "this book is meant to be a collection of profoundly meaningful tales drawn from all of remnant's cultures and i believe this one is too important not to include, but i am also acutely aware that it is a closed tradition to which i do not belong." the latter is still out of pocket, but the simple fact is that a character who so obviously knows that publishing a story from a closed tradition without permission is Not Okay and so obviously feels immensely conflicted and guilty about doing so isn't a character who would blithely denigrate a myth like this by publishing it in a book of trivial fairytales. and a character who would denigrate the myth that way wouldn't agonize over whether it was important enough to be worth violating the closed tradition. 

and then you consider that, out of the twelve stories ozpin put in this book, three are explicitly religious creation myths ('the shallow sea,' 'the judgment of faunus,' and 'the two brothers'), two others are myths describing the origin of natural phenomena ('the story of the seasons' and 'the gift of the moon'), and one is a mythical culture hero ('the infinite man')… so fully half the stories in this book aren't actually fairytales. they're myths. 

so the inclusion of 'the two brothers' is less cinderella-and-christ than it is "here is an eclectic collection of folklore from around the world" in terms of what would be equivalent in the real world; and… like, 'the shallow sea,' 'judgment of faunus,' and 'the two brothers,' the plain text of these stories is clearly and unambiguously religious in nature, and ozpin explicitly discusses them as such. 

his commentary on 'the two brothers,' in particular: "there are many versions of our creation story […] but certain elements are always consistent: they arrived from a realm outside of our own and together created the universe from nothing. and then they left us on our own." and "whether or not you believe in the brothers, or in this story in particular […] like the twin gods, we are intricately connected to each other" and, um:

Even if the gods aren’t real, even if they don’t return to judge us for our deeds, we should act each day as though they are arriving tomorrow. In the end, we will be the arbiters of our fates. We will either create a beautiful, peaceful world and live in harmony together or destroy ourselves and our planet, and the gods will judge what we have chosen.

remember how i said i'm intimately familiar with, specifically, evangelical christianity and what actual evangelism entails? not the deliberately off-putting door-to-door shit but proselytization for the purpose of bringing new people into a church that isn't a predatory high-control group?

the way ozpin talks about the brothers here, and the way qrow talks about them in 'a much needed talk,' is christian evangelism 101.

"not many people are super religious, these days." you know who says this type of thing? like, fucking constantly? evangelical christians. never mind that christianity is the majority religion in the US by a significant margin (66%!)--evangelical christians inhabit a constructed alternate reality wherein they're an embattled minority shining candlelight into a sea of darkness. (many of them accomplish this by deciding that most other christians aren't real christians; the classic protestant move of course being "catholics aren't christian" but your average evangelical takes a dim view of like. any denomination that isn't their denomination and when i tell you the nondenominationals are the worst offenders in this regard... lmao. anyways)

"not many people are super religious [christian] nowadays. people believe in all kinds of different gods and creeds, but there is only one true God"--this is literally just how evangelicals talk. both to each other and to non-believers they're hoping to interest in the church, although the tone depends on who's listening. internal discussions of this nature are strategic in nature--how do we reach people and speak to them effectively in these godless times? what is the right balance between presenting ourselves and our faith honestly while still creating a welcoming and accessible space for people who don't know jesus? how do we share what we believe with people who just don't care? and so forth--whereas the framing with nonbelievers is that it's innate in human nature to crave purpose and meaning and that everyone seeks fulfillment but few ever manage to find it because none of us are born knowing where to look, etc. 

meanwhile in his commentary ozpin is doing a fantasy repackaging of the pascal's wager tactic, which like. i have sat through literal educational films on the rhetorical use of pascal's wager in effective evangelism. "well, if i believe in god and i'm wrong, i'll have lived a good, moral life and lost nothing; if you don't believe in god and you're wrong, hell" is one of THEEEE evangelist talking points. ideally, one used to open a conversation with friends and/or people who have indicated interest in talking about your faith in some way, especially if they ask "what if you're wrong?" because then the idea is to demonstrate that you're not rigidly dogmatic in your faith but instead you've given serious thought to the possibility that you might be wrong, and thus show that you understand and empathize with the nonbeliever's skepticism so as to build a genuine rapport. (whether it *works* that way in practice is highly dependent on like. charisma and actual meaningful ability to click with non-christians, which a lot of devout evangelicals… just can't even when they really earnestly do try, but ozpin as a character does have the charisma and the knack for connecting with people that can make this approach effective at getting irreligious people to give "hey, come to this church thing with me?" a shot.)

i cannot emphasize enough that after the obvious one of "directly openly stated religious beliefs," the reason ozpin and qrow specifically read to me as highly religious characters is because they talk exactly like evangelicals in secular company. they talk about and share their beliefs about the brothers the way i was taught in church to talk about christianity. 

you don't go banging on people's doors or harassing them in the streets. nobody fucking likes that and it makes people not want to go to church. you don't go around with a stick up your butt about the non-christian people in your life not being christian. what you do is treat people with kindness and respect and draw firm boundaries for yourself to keep yourself safe (<- unironically growing up in an evangelical christian household is a huge part of the reason i am SO comfortable just fucking saying no to things i don't want to do and i think this is the one thing that evangelicals really have on a LOCK) while being open and honest and unapologetic about your own faith. you save the bitchy judgmental gossip and fire and brimstone garbage and like, talking about the eschaton for when it's just true believers. 

evangelical christianity is an eschatological religion, by the way. in case you didn't know that. evangelicals believe that we are living in or on the cusp of the end times and the political action of evangelical christians in the united states is motivated in large part by a desire to enact the prophesied conditions that will herald the second coming of christ. for example a lot of evangelicals like trump because they think he's a divine implement of the great tribulation. evangelicals are obsessed with and actively trying to enact the apocalypse. and rwby is straight up the only fictional story i've ever encountered that understands how an eschatological cult operates because you can NOT advertise that shit. it FREAKS PEOPLE OUT. you keep the "i want the world to be riven by unprecedented catastrophe and suffering so i can be taken up to heaven in the rapture while the wrath of almighty god crushes what remains as grapes in a winepress" between yourself and the other doomsday cultists. 

it's not like. SECRET. it's in the bible. but very few non-christians bother to actually read the bible and the ones who do are just not going to have the cultural context to know how very deadly serious evangelicals in particular are about the book of revelation or how much of a core pillar the eschatology is to evangelicalism; meanwhile american evangelicals are knowingly deliberately voting for the apocalypse. similarly,

“We must take back our gifts,” the God of Darkness said. “Reclaim our power and wipe this experiment from existence.”

“I disagree,” the God of Light said. “And we promised to share in the fate of our joint creation.” He gave a mighty yawn. “Let us rest, and when the time comes, we will see what Humanity has become in our absence. At that point, we will judge them. If they are worthy, we will take their forms and walk among them as equals. If not, we will take back our gifts and start over elsewhere. What do you say?”

“Who will decide whether they are worthy?” the God of Darkness said.

“Humanity will make it plain. If they come together in unity and find a way to destroy the evil in the world and within themselves, then they are worthy. If not … we will let them burn,” the God of Light said.

“So shall it be.” The two brothers agreed. But even in rest, they needed some distance from each other. Each dragon transformed himself into a new continent at one end of their world.

And there the dragons still sleep, until the day that the gods will waken, rise, and judge.

ozma's mandate is not a secret. the apocalyptic final judgment is clearly and emphatically spelled out in the myth of the two brothers, which he included in an anthology of tales intended for the general public and annotated to the effect of "i believe this one is true and even if you don't you should act like you do. btw. because it's true" YEAH MAN WE GET IT. 

(he also asserts apropos nothing in his commentary on 'the gift of the moon'--a myth that does not mention the brothers at all--that the sun is a "celestial gift from the all-powerful god of light," so either 'the gift of the moon' is brother-cult doctrine or ozpin is pointing at a myth from another tradition and making it about his god.)

the main difference between ozpin and your average evangelical is that ozpin fears the end times because he doesn't believe anyone will be spared. but his behavior is the same. his way of presenting his religiosity in a way that minimizes and obfuscates the eschatological intention at the core is the same, if not more intense because the material reality of his situation, as the accursed chosen one literally commanded by God Himself to immanentize the eschaton, is a lot more terrifying and desperate. 'the infinite man' is quite literally a veiled autobiographical story about how he figured out that he CAN'T… go around just… TELLING EVERYBODY… that he's MAKING READY FOR THE FINAL JUDGMENT.... because people don't fucking like that and will kill him and put his cult to the sword about it.

that emphatically does not mean that he doesn't still believe in it; it means that he has, in the same way that evangelical christians in real life have, figured out how to code-switch. there's the public face for mixed company where you're friendly and humble and make a concerted effort to live by the virtues of your faith while being open and unapologetic about your religious identity while maintaining a posture of respectful invitation toward everyone else and engaging in meaningful ways with people you personally know to gently encourage them to explore your faith…

…and there's the private face for when it's just you and your fellow true believers and you're talking in intricate detail about how current world events line up with this or that prophesy about the end times. ozpin in public is the mixed-company evangelical to a T. and ozpin in private with people who have been informed of the whole situation re: maidens, relics, salem is like "i am the divinely-ordained champion of the gods and we must stop her from getting her hands on the relics that My Schools were built as fortresses to defend."

in 'the lost fable' these kids literally hear the god of light say with his whole chest that mankind will be found irredeemable and destroyed if they are "unchanged," and they do not even blink. 3.75 volumes spanning months later, they STILL haven't really registered that the god of light holds the view that not a single person alive on the planet RIGHT NOW TODAY deserves to live. why?

because they knew that part already. not the precise detail of ozma being the one who's meant to decide when the world is fit for divine judgment and actively invite the brothers back, but the final judgment and the need for humans to be United when the day of judgment comes lest they be burned to ashes? They Knew That. it is invisible to them except inasmuch as salem embodies, to them, the danger that mankind will be condemned, because it's normal. regardless of their personal religious beliefs or degree of religiosity, they're all familiar with this story to the point that hearing God Himself promise to exterminate everybody didn't even mildly startle them. they knew. 

like. fundamentally. the story as-written and the way the characters present in the lost fable do not react whatsoever to the divine ultimatum does not make sense unless every single one of them already knew the story about the dragon-brothers who created the world and then departed and will return to judge humanity's worth, to either reward them with completion or wipe them from existence. and because the kids seem to fall in the zone of irreligious to casually religious the simplest and most likely explanation is that there is a global hegemony of brother-worship, akin to christianity in the west. 

taps the sign. and this sign too.

like. in one sense it's a question of your frame of reference and specifically whether you know what deeply religious people are like and how an eschatological religion actually functions in the real world or if your mental model for what this looks like is drawn from, like, pop culture fundamentalist caricatures. i can tell you that the way qrow segues into and tells the brothers creation myth is something i can imagine almost verbatim coming out of the mouths of elders in my parents' church and that ozpin's commentary on the same myth is a point-for-point translation of christian evangelism into his fictional religion. i can tell you that your presupposition that a religious person "finding out" the god(s) they believe in really do exist would feel any kind of surprise or revelation about it is baldly incorrect in a way that leads me to believe you have zero real personal experience with religion or religious people. i can tell you that your presupposition that the secular democratic institutions of government in the kingdoms means there can't be a religious cultural hegemony of brother-worship (or any other religion) is, again, just factually not correct.

but in another and, in many ways, more important sense: rwby is a story about a religious conflict. there are two gods who destroyed the last world and a promised day of judgment that will be ushered in by four divine relics, each guarded by fortresses that act as the central hub for each plot arc, and the overarching narrative conflict is about a power struggle between two people--the immortal agent of rebellion against the gods and the divinely-appointed chosen one tasked with preparing for the final judgment--fighting for control of these relics. that's the plot. 

why are you reading scenes where the characters intricately involved in this power struggle talk about religious matters like the existence of gods and divine relics and divinely-ordained tasks as evidence that these characters… aren't religious? why are you reading actual myths that are textually presented as religious stories as… not a religion? why are you looking at a character commanded by God Himself to unite mankind, who in the present day speaks incessantly of the importance of unity and existential threat of division, who annotates the aforementioned explicitly religious myth with an exhortation to act each day as if the gods will return to judge you tomorrow, and concluding that he… is not religious and does not fundamentally believe in any of it?

what do you think a religion is?

and in this story, of all stories--when the central narrative conflict is overtly a war over divine relics left behind by the gods for the sole purpose of bringing about the final day of divine judgment--why in the world is it your baseline assumption that religion is not something that matters very much within the world of the story? why do you take qrow saying "not many people are super religious these days" completely at face value to mean "most people are agnostic/atheist and religion has no cultural relevance whatsoever" even though the next thing out of his mouth is "but these two gods are REAL" and even though, a single volume prior, his colleague said "what we're telling you goes against hundreds of years of human history, religion" and insinuate that consequently the truth would cause uproar and panic to justify keeping the maidens a secret?

i think that ozpin and his inner circle are religious because they speak and act like it and the core purpose of their "brotherhood" (as they call it) is to safeguard the divine relics while they publish religious myths about their gods and talk about how those gods are real and nothing is more important than keeping the divine relics safe. if it acts and looks and quacks like a duck and repeatedly turns to the audience to say that it believes in ducks, i believe it's a duck. i am not going to say "well it complained one time that there aren't a lot of ducks left in the world, so i think it's actually a chicken." that's nonsense. 

[suratan-zir]

an extremely long and personal rant, you're not gonna gain anything by reading it, and if you do decide to read it in its entirety - I'm so sorry

I just need to vent, and this blog is the only place for me to do so. I can't tell the whole story, it's very long, messy, and personal. But long story short: there's a man who's been an unshakable influence on me for almost two decades. He shaped my life and molded me into the person I am today, one way or another. Oh, and he just so happens to be a covert narcissist - not like in those stupid dramatic tiktoks, but in a very real and infuriating way.

We said goodbye. We've been in no contact for over three years since I left the occupied territories. Since Savita's death, I haven't been doing all that well. I've been spiraling, quite frankly. Eventually, when everything else failed to help, I messaged him. Following a series of mostly dry and noncommittal replies, which always ended with "Write me more, I'll be waiting!" from him but contained no questions, no real engagement, no reactions to what I was saying at all - I said, "either drop this BS and start really communicating with me, or tell me straight to go fuck myself, but nothing in between, please."

So, finally, he tells me, "Look, I reach out first, I take the initiative. Let's talk about movies. What would you recommend for me to watch?" and recommends a movie himself. It's just a normal friendly conversation, right? No, the fuck it isn't. With people like this, everything is about control and power, about the opportunity to put you in your place.

Here I present to you our "normal" texting:

me: I watch mostly horrors. We have this tradition of watching a horror movie on the weekends, even though they never scare me. There's been a very recent one starring Hugh Grant - it's not so much a horror as it is a thriller, IMO. But I really enjoyed it. To understand some things better, you may need to know a little about the Mormon sect. But it's not necessary. (Now, dear reader, if you haven’t found anything offensive in my message, you didn’t look close enough, I guess.)

him: I am amazed by your arrogance - "you should know at least a little about the Mormon sect."

me: Why are you being like this? I only told you this because I myself didn’t know anything about the Mormons before the movie, except that it’s a cult in the US. I knew nothing about their rituals, beliefs, etc. This wasn’t directed at you. This wasn’t arrogance. I don’t even know if you watch horrors, but it was the first movie that came to mind because it was the best out of the recently watched.

him: This is such nonsense. Horror is for fear - that is, for teenagers. If there’s no need, then there will be no particular fear - why watch… to awaken old memories when this film still evoked the necessary emotions? As if there are no genres except horror and comedy. Noir, for example. Biopic. Historical. Melodramas. Art house, etc. Why limit yourself… aaaah, it’s to proudly say "I only watch horrors, but they don’t scare me."

me: No, not for that reason. This is my favorite genre because it's the easiest for me to watch and because we have this tradition—to watch horror movies on weekends. You (not only you, but also the film industry as a whole) have a very limited view of this genre. You don't watch it just to be scared. Just like any other movie, you watch it because it’s interesting. Because it evokes some emotions, it doesn’t necessarily have to be fear. Not all horror movies are jump scares and girls climbing out of TVs. I perceive them more as movies that should keep you in suspense, not as something that scares you. People have different tastes, what can you do?

him: A film that keeps you in suspense… I wonder why (fear, of course) comedies don't keep you in suspense, huh? And what else is there in horror? The realization of a child's need for a specific experience of fear. And this is not about tastes (taste is a personal preference). This is objective. And it's easier to watch because there is almost no plot.

me: Wow, you’ve only been watching bad horror movies in your life, then. You're not being objective at all now. You can't consider an entire genre, which is very broad, so narrowly. Heretic is formally classified as horror, but it's not about "fulfilling a child's need for a specific experience of fear." We're talking about different things. Often, horror elements are used as metaphors - not directly as horror. Not to make you afraid, but to make you think about something, to convey an idea in an unconventional way. Don't be so biased. No plot? You have to watch Hereditary or The Empty Man several times to notice everything you missed the first time because there are so many details, and the plot is so twisted.

him: A twisted plot does not speak of the quality of the film, but only of the quality of the mess in the director's head. The best films usually have a clear plot.

me: You could also say that comedies are for children because they like to laugh, and biographical films are for the elderly because they're interested in the past. You can basically say this about anything: Why watch comedies? Just to laugh? Why watch melodramas? Just to compensate for the lack of romance in your life? Why watch dramas? Just to feel sad? Etc. Only scientific and educational documentaries would remain because they have an "objective" benefit. Not everything is so one-sided, and a film has to be very bad to evoke only one emotion in you. Good films aren't arranged like that, and genres often overlap. As I said, many different films are formally classified in this category. The Lighthouse is also considered a horror film, but its goal isn't to scare you. There are psychological horror films, atmospheric ones, dramas, etc. If you follow this logic, then any strong emotion is a "childish need." Adults also cry during dramas and get anxious during thrillers. A movie is good if you don't regret watching it.

Him: Oversimplified, common man's view of genres - don't confuse like/dislike with good/bad.

me: Well, I’m a "commoner." That's my opinion. Who's to talk about arrogance… How does a simple conversation about cinema turn into an argument? Why do you have such a need to prove that I'm wrong about what I like instead of just sticking with your own? It’s strange. You can't prove that all films classified as this genre are bad. Simply because it's objectively impossible - they're too different. The genre is broad and often mixed with others. Maybe you're just sad that you don't watch films with anyone on Saturdays, with disgusting dry pizza and wine? When this is all over, we'll watch a good (good!) horror movie together, and you'll tell me all about how much you didn't like it :)

him: "You should know first…" is arrogance. And to claim that comedy is for the elderly is philistine segregation. I'm not saying that they're all bad. I'm saying that the plot is overly twisted because of the mess in their heads and to hide a weak script.

Me: What? I didn't claim that comedy is for the elderly. It was a deliberately absurd statement that directly mirrored yours. Of course I don't think so - it's stupid. That was the point. -----------------------------------------------------------------

If your head hurts and you're losing your sanity, I'm sorry. Imagine how mine felt. And it wasn't enough for me - oh no. We had a phone call later. Despite my desperate attempts to stop this idiotic argument, he was persistent. I watched the movie he recommended (didn't like it, but oh well), but he said he's not going to watch mine. Okay. Then he starts complaining that I didn't watch his suggested movie dubbed in russian. I explain that I don't watch anything dubbed—movies, TV shows, nothing. Haven't for over ten years now. You know what? He says that I'm MISSING A LOT by watching the ORIGINALS. That I can't possibly get everything there is to get when the movie isn't dubbed. I say that most of the things I watch are in English, and I understand everything. And if not, I watch them with English subs. "And what’s the original? Do you speak Ancient Greek? Do you know how little original English has in it?" WTF Still, he insists - you can't possibly get everything. I say that there are often puns and other untranslatable things, so by dubbing it, you have to write a brand new joke because the translation wouldn't work. Like, for example, "We're werewolves, not swearwolves" in What We Do in the Shadows. It was my favorite joke there, which would've been ruined by dubbing. "To understand puns," he says, "you have to know the language really well." Implying that I can't possibly know English that well.

Then he jumps back on the horror-hating train. I'm trying to explain that I don't actually watch movies that often. "Like, even this classic movie by Tarantino that everyone has seen, Pulp Fiction, my husband only recently talked me into watching it," - I add. "Pulp Fiction? But what's the movie title?" he asks. No, it is the movie title. "No, it's a genre. What's the title?" It is the title. I apologize, I say I'm sorry but I don't know what it's called in the russian adaptation. I describe the plot. "Ah, Криминальное Чтиво," he says. "Yes, that one," - I confirm. "There, Kate, there is your arrogance again."

My arrogance because I genuinely didn't know what it's called in russian. MY arrogance. I'm to blame if he didn't know something. I was supposed to predict he wouldn't know it and not embarrass him by mentioning such things. He has an English teacher diploma, among other things, by the way. The person trying to prove to me the stupidity of watching movies in the original language.

If you read this far - sorry. It's not about movies, languages, or anything else specific. It's nearly any conversation with him. That's how it's always been. The kind of person who would accuse you of everything they themselves possess and display. The kind of person you can't win an argument with because it's not about what you say. It's not about trying to hear each other. It's about power. About showing you that you're less than him. If I make a good argument, it'll be ignored or twisted. If I slip somewhere, I'll be ridiculed mercilessly. If I dare to complain about it, I'll be called overdramatic, overanalyzing, instigating. The only way is to stop playing his game. But I can't stop. I'm stuck in a fucking loop of thinking, "This time I'll be smarter, calmer, more mature, and everything will be different."

[frillydolle]

Hi hihi hi Hai =3 so this isn't an x reader request but I wanted to send in something similar to a request from I think a few days ago!! It's like the Arthur and teenage girl reader but instead she's an edgy and street smart street kid that might be a child outlaw herself already, always offering to help on dangerous missions or robberies and Always getting it done but she's always really nice and like a regular kid around Arthur so when they're both out intimidating O'driscolls or smth their father-daughter dynamic is like that one audio from south park that's like "And i will watch the crimson blood LEAK from ur neck >=[" "Dude that little kid is a hardcore goth" "Hardcore goth"

arthur morgan x teen female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ arthur is in his late thirties , reader is in her teen years , o'driscolls take an interest in u.

“soo arthur, i heard—”

“ye ain't goin'. yer stayin' here.”

“uhh! fine...”

okay first, he'd usually let u go but this one was more dangerous. although, when u did get to go with them, u would help proper or u use the “lost little girl” facade as bait before arthur or someone else steps in in case something goes wrong.

arthur especially didn't want anything to go sour when ur with them.

u knew what u were doing, of course. u have been out on the streets for as long as u could remember, and u did learn a trick—or two. when u were out with the gang, arthur would keep a keen eye— or he'd get john to, just to make sure that u didn't do anything stupid or get hurt.. badly. sometimes, u lack awareness and head straight for danger. okay, well, after practically convincing begging arthur to have u go with him and the gang... he finally agreed, and u were super duper happy!

“ye ain't leavin' my sight, 'kay?”

“yees, i know, arthur. 'm gonna be fine, won't stray far.”

only today, it wasn't that easy. u remained by his side, but all good things come to an end, right? u and arthur were returning back to valentine, took a trip to a general store, and then the gunsmith, just for a few pieces. only to be disturb by the only and only irish-american gang that roamed the states; o'driscolls. bastards, they all were. u didn't know much about them but u did know enough that they were sick and messed up folks.

“well, well, well.. if it ain't morgan 'nd... who's this pretty little lady with ya?—” one of the o'driscolls says to u with a smirk as he looks u up and down, which makes a shiver go up ur spine.

“shut up—” u blurt out with an eyeroll before arthur gave u a subtle look. a look of keep it cool. and u did ur best to listen, but there have been times when ur mouth git the better of u.

“ain't none yer business, fools.” arthur added, the gruffness in his tone showing clear as day. many folk were intimidating by arthur. who wouldn't be? he was rough 'n' tough looking, and his height only just increased the fear. the o'driscolls? they just adored taunting and hassling other people. arthur hitches up on his horse and u follow suit or tried to before u were grabbed by the wrist by one of them gross men, which caught arthurs attention quickly—

“let go of me, you bastard!” u say, struggling to get ur grip out of his. pulling, pushing, yanking and nothing worked while arthur was getting off his horse.

“she's got quite the mouth on ya, hm? it'll be kind if someone shut it up, save ya the trouble.” one says as the three other men laugh at his words. u only got a month on u from the life u lived prior to falling in with the gang. there was no way u would let anyone talk to u like that.

“wished it save me the trouble of talkin' to ya.” u reply sharply which caused arthur to shoot a look at u, a look of a smirk that he knew u had quite the mouth. which coukd get u trouble but not when arthur's with u.

“now leaves us alone or skin ya 'nd serve ya for dinner.” u added before placing ur hand by ur gun, arthur added his own threat as he grabbed ur arm, taking u away from the situation. following suit. 󠀠󠀠“careful not to shoot up a whole town, kid.” arthur replies as he caught up to u.

“sorry, they just— goddamn bastards...”

“agreed, yer fine. lets jus' get home."

[fridgrave2-0]

so far I wanna share my opinion about the game since I played it for 30 hours or so. starting with cons bc there's much less of them than pros

cons:

lockpicking. I was speedrunning all the locks in the first game with any skill level, and as much as it feels "unrealistic", it's still a matter of understanding the mechanics. many players got issues with it while others did great, so it was kinda fair. now the lockpicking is so hard with those shaking hands that opening a plot related hard lock took me AN HOUR and dozen reloads since all my lockpicks were breaking like they were made of paper — and I couldn't leave to work on the skill bc of the quest

horses. they are just slow and awful to control. in kcd1 I could ride from sasau to ratay with pebbles stopping once to let her rest, but now I need to stop every minute to go from the village to trosky castle. annoying af

this game makes me so stressed for the characters that I probably have grey hair by now (not a con actually, it's fun after finishing the quest, but during these i cry like a bitch)

changing block from q to right mouse button. i played kcd1 before the sequel a lot, and many other people probably did that as well, so the need to relearn that complicated combat system is annoying. also I'm fucking tired of pressing x to mount the horse like it was in kcd1 and opening it's stat window. even after 30h of the game I still get confused by it

it depends on the person, but I don't like the interface AT ALL. its just too bright in some places and dull in others so I literally can't see the text sometimes. it just lost the cool drawn vibe and many details are in 3d now (henry poses are fun tho)

the speeck checks feel to high, but I can admit it may be my skill issue

and now the pros!!:

quests!! the first game was really interesting as it is, but kcd2 has insane writing and I just miss how the time passes. the main story (the only thing I play for now bc I speedrun hansry romance) is so intense that I feel any death will be permanent like irl. the plot twists are fun, characters make me love them or hate their guts with nothing in between (spoiler I killed everyone for semine family bc I loved these to grandpas and turned out I was right about it yay!! and so was when the chamberlain asshole died, I cheered so hard). some moments made me go "hey I know [character-name] will be later, they can't die here... can they???😟😟)

kuttenberg. it's just gorgeous, nothing else to say. haven't seen much of it yet, but it's amazing and my wish to visit czech got even stronger

hans. the best thing for me in this game by far. I would give up anything and enjoy just talking to him for 200 hours, keeping him safe and sound. all the scenes with him make me either feel happy af or literally sobbing from stress because that idiot gets in dangerous situations way too much for my sanity (also third option is being angry like hell at him in the beginning of the game bc he acts like the biggest asshole, but I love him anyway). every reunion with him feels like home and I make henry tear bohemia apart just to save hans from everything (just as it should be). and the option to legit romance him feels like the most right thing to do because he loves henry, henry loves him, and that's it

spoiler!! the option to defenestrate istvan. the most czech way to kill someone, and it's one of the main villains! I was very satisfied

radzig is hot af

literally everything else what I didn't mention. this game is fucking amazing and in most of things are a huge upgrade

HANSRY IS CANON BABY

feel free to share your opinion unless it's bigotry ⚔️💖

[proshippers-against-censorship]

TW for dark fantasies in a childs mind lol

Hello, minor proshipper here (17). Wanted to share a bit of my experience with fandom spaces and the whole and shipping discourse, that way i want to give antis (though i know most of them are not open to other people's experiences) some views of what i did go through.

I never had parental restriction over internet, i used my mom's cellphone and my brother's computer when i could. Given to that, i discovered what "sex" was to a eager age, before i was 9 years old. Of course i didn't understand fully about the implications of that, in fact i used to do "adult" things to myself in the living (rubbing against furniture) or in my room. I had some stuff i liked to see in drawings already, and it wasn't even explicit stuff. I discovered what vore was because i saw a MLP drawing, i didn't understand it but was like "well, i like to see some weird drawings too".

At age 9 i was gifted a tablet, i had my own gmail and had internet access without any kind of supervision. I watched YouTube and played some games, nothing out of normal considering a lot of my generaion grew up with games such as DDLC, hello neighbor, fnaf and etc. My favorite games were Misao and Mad father, i liked these kinds of games although there weren't many gameplays that I liked of them. I understand the story of the games, they were dark (SPOILERS! misao is about a teacher that rapes students and killed misao, i think he's kind of a necro too.) i knew what the villains did was wrong, because my mom always warned me about strangers, specially when they offered things like driving me home. But i felt attracted to the teacher of Misao regardless, he had a a sad backstory and i liked his personality, his way of making others think he is pure-hearted too. He is an interesting characters. I also had a crush on other morally dark characters, such as Freaky Fred from that show of the scared dog (i loved that show, some people say fred makes references to pedophiles i guess it could be), asgore from undertale, cedric from sofia the first (these two are silly but did bad things so 🤷‍♂️)

I could differentiate that the Misao teacher would be a criminal in real life, that i wouldn't be attracted to him in real life but disgusted and wished his execution, but he doesn't exist so that's not the case. I was in the undertale and gravity falls fandom too, and in that time it was common to see frans, billdip and even pinecest content. I didn't really cared, never liked those ships because they weren't for me. But i did like a lot of other darkships, mainly (Harry potter jumpscare) snarry, i discovered thanks to Wattpad and started reading A LOT of fanfics of them (i had a crush on snape too btw LOL, still have), if someone asked i would have the excuse of "oh no i just like it when harry's an adult and on aus!!!" BIG ASS LIE!!!!! someone cut off my tongue for being such a blunt liar, I LOVED THE FACT THAT IT WAS TEACHER X STUDENT lmao, i liked harry being like 14 minimum tho.

I also had a best friend (who now I don't talk to) that liked kuroshitsuji (i think he was a proshipper in denial she had SUS anime likes), i (person who pretended not to read any weird ship to please others) saw the anime (she obligated me to watch it lmao) AND IT WAS SO OBVIOUSLY SH0TA CONTENT!!!! i was like... side eye in a neutral way. You're telling me you're an anti (I didn't knew the word anti back then but whatever) while your favorite animes are KUROSHITSUJI and MISS KOBAYASHI DRAGON MAID???? plus danganronpa. Like sure i believe you (she denied to ship sebaciel but uhm sure i believe you girl whatever you say). I didn't even liked kuroshitsuji but from time to time i saw sebaciel content because they're cute.

btw i never stopped reaading ships of dark/problematic ships, even when i was a anti (poser lol).

Later at 13 or 14 y/o i changed school and FELL MAD IN LOVE like realllyyyyy bad i was insane for a teacher, since he was the only one kind to me and that respected my pronouns and gender (im a trans male). I WAS DELUSIONAL, AND I DON'T MEAN IT LIKE IN A ABLEIST WAY, literally wanted him to groom me and take me to his home and yk dumb stuff. So what i did not to go insane? Since the psychologists in the school sucked ass they were transphobic and blamed me for a lot of stuff. WRITE/READ FANFICTION AND DRAW MYSELF! express myself in art. i didn't tell no one about my crush until i was out of there. Obviously i wrote, drew and read about teacher x student, grooming, fluff and smut because tbh i might be hypersexual. That kept me sane.

"PROSHIPPING" as antis call it (actually refering to darkships) kept me sane, saved my life since i literally wanted to kms in that moment. Later a had a online boyfriend that was UGGHH so toxic (younger than me for 1 year) and was an anti so bad and i had to pretend to be one too while reading freaky fanfics. I broke up with him because he treated me poorly and a headmate of mine blocked him from everywhere.

I had other friend that i told that i shipped snarry and kaeluc being so frickin nervous and tey literally didn't cared (they didn't know about the characters but i told them), that's when i realised maybe i shouldn't be friends with antis. I currently have like 2-3 active friends i talk to, one i think it's not into shipping drama but dislikes ships such as billdip and says stuff like "i ship billford for the complex relationship I don't support toxic ships!!" and then says they're her fathers be so fr make it make sense... while the other despises dottore (genshin character that experimented on several children blablaba hes bad but he's my little meow meow) and darkships while shipping kazuscara that is like toxic and age gap and ??? THAT SAME FRIEND LIKES TO WATCH... HEAR THIS!!! real gore, like people killing themselves and is on shtwt too??? 😭

seriously I don't get antis that are in these communities. anyways that's my story live laugh love shipcest age gap noncon monsterfuckers cannibalism and other problematic ships MUEHEHE!!! ship and let ship, differentiate fiction from reality, make these siblings kiss, don't harass anyone, PLEASE DON'T CENSORSHIP OTHERS EXPERIENCES AND FICTION!!!!!! i love art ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹💘💘💘 yes even the problematic one 🎉🎉 don't let fandom cops get you!!! have fun, don't hurt people, hug your kitty or doggy and feed them well 😚😚

.

[happyplapy]

ATTENTION!!

I genuinely thought about making a YT channel where i talk about my Alterhumanity and general non and alterhuman experiences (: I've noticed that like half of the videos on there are by younger folks who mainly do quads or gear unboxing (Nothing wrong with that!! I just wanna share videos that focus more on general alterhumanity and is for an audience that is more on the mature side)

Let me know if you're interested! I will make a channel anyway but it would obviously be nice to know if people are interested

Also, i would like to know what themes considering non and alterhumanity you would like to see me talk about or what type of videos you'd like to see in general

I will obviously mainly talk about my own experiences but i really need some suggestions and different perspectives (:

The only things i will not talk about are "graphic" NSFW themes in the sense of, no talking about sex lives or anything like that

(I wouldn't really understand why folks would want me to talk about personal stuff like that in the first place, but it's the internet, i wouldn't be surprised) Despite wanting to make content for an older audience, i also want my channel to be safe also for the younger folks who wanna learn and listen!

I hope you understand that <3

I believe i said everything i wanted to say :D have a wonderful day!

[under-a-shady-ash-tree]

MAG 37 Burnt Offering

This is funny to me I’m sorry

Usually Jon’s interactions with other people are funny to me actually

Jon don’t say “useless” to Martin’s face he’ll assume you’re talking about him 😭

(And. I’m pretty sure you are honestly)

(Well that’s not entirely true I think he’s mostly irritated that no one has any answers for him but still)

“Luckily he phrased it as advice rather than an instruction” Jon I swear to god

I love you you loophole-finding bastard

If there aren’t fey!Jon AUs I will be deeply disappointed but FOR NOW what the hell man just destroy the cursed(??) table

Also yes thank you Martin he DOES need to get some sleep

My general amazement (and amusement, mayhaps) at the voice acting is back

Jon I love you

IM TELLING YOU AS SOON AS HE SAYS “statement begins” SOMETHING FUCKING POSSESSES HIM AND HE I S THE ONE GIVING THE STATEMENT UNTIL HE SAYS “statement ends”

Ooohh

Yeah I got nothing this one’s interesting and I’m deeply intrigued and also feel really bad for the guy

“He didn’t, in the end. Lose Ethan, that is.”

Thank you for clarifying and also I. I love you

“I have no idea what this means. I have no idea what any of this means. I’m very tired.”

Go to sleep 😭

But also yeah your mental health has been declining recently hasn’t it

Okay yes I’m posting the TMA notes I have so far. Not technically live-blogging, but I will be updating this thread when I have more

Notes will be sparse and there are several episodes I don’t have any for but. Here ye are

There may be… a lot of direct quotes from the show with minimal commentary. If there’s a whole chunk of dialogue from the podcast with no added notes it’s because I liked it and maybe couldn’t properly formulate my thoughts on it at the time

Or just liked it enough to save it somewhere but didn’t really have thoughts

Anyway!! I’ll be reblogging with a new post for each different episode I have notes for

MAG 4 Pageturner

“Jurgen Leitner has done the world enough harm and we must pursue all available avenues to ensure that he does no more.” -MAG 4 Pageturner

What do you mean by that Jonathan (that is his name right)

[finalhaunts]

Man.