#people have written dark content for probably hundreds of years

[daydreamsinelysian]

I hope that you people who maliciously attack dark content writers on this app also keep the same energy towards those who write, act in, and produce graphic horror movies and dark content tv shows

[lowkeychenle]

Like We Just Met [ZCL] (M)

Description: Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever.

Genre: Fluff (literally SO MUCH FLUFF we love Chenle in this house go away if you don't) // Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (it's actually sweet this time am I feeling okay), talks about marriage etc etc. Nothing really dark or upsetting in here.

Word Count: 11,292 (y'all I have no idea how this happened...)

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. the rest of the Dreamies)

ISTJ 7Dream Series Masterlist

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests/Tell me what you think of this plz <3

Tag List (open for ISTJ 7Dream Series): @kunvibing

Author's Note: Lowkey? This was so fun because it's from Chenle's POV...or it's supposed to be haha. This is probably my favorite fic I've ever written catch me crying in the corner...also this gif don't mind the real tears in my eyes

Nobody questioned Renjun when he said he’d invited his friend to dance practice. They brought friends in every now and then, so it wasn’t anything new. Chenle was having a bit of an off day. He kept screwing up the choreography (that he’d done seven hundred times probably in the past week alone) and even accidentally elbowed Jaemin.

Renjun’s friend had yet to show up. Chenle was beyond frustrated with the way things were going, so he let everyone know he was taking a break. He grabbed his water bottle and stomped out of the practice room.

He ended up a bit down the hallway, resting his back on the wall with his eyes closed. All he needed was a break. That had to be it.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice asked.

When he looked at you, he recoiled a bit. He’d never seen you before—he’d definitely remember—but something about you felt familiar. Like a warm aura surrounded you and infiltrated him in the best ways.

“You’re Chenle, right?” You tilted your head at him. “I’m Renjun’s friend, (Y/N). I was supposed to watch practice, but I got lost. This building is pretty big.”

“Yeah, I’m Chenle.” He blinks at you a couple more times. “Um, we’re always in the same practice room. I’ll take you over there.”

“Actually, is there a place to get some water? I forgot mine at home.” You scratched the top of your head and scrunched up your nose. “It was really hot outside.”

“It’s on the way.” He gestured down the hall with his head.

You followed him without hesitation. He was acutely aware of every step you took, of how there was only a few feet between the two of you. Even though he had no clue what to say to you, you didn’t mind walking along in silence. It was unlike him to be shy. Next to impossible for him to be starstruck.

“How long have you known Renjun for?” he asked. And why the hell had you not come around sooner?

“Oh.” You took a deep breath and pursed your lips in thought as Chenle stopped to grab you a water bottle from the kitchen. “Four years now? Five? His family knows mine, so when I came back here, his parents told him he had to help me find my way around.”

“Well, today’s pretty laid back,” Chenle explains. “We’ll probably practice for another hour or two and then go home. We’ve been at it all day.”

You hum in response, opening the cap and taking a sip. “Thank you for this. Sorry to keep you from practice.”

“Don’t be. I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” Chenle chuckles, gaze drinking you in when you’re distracted by your water. “And…they can be a little…much at first. But they’re all great people, so you’ll be fine.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m nervous.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully.

He bit back a smile, pressing his lips into a thin line instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Renjun has given me plenty of warnings,” you tell him.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken you to the practice room yet. The two of you stood in the kitchen, but he knew the second you were with everyone else, the conversation was over. He didn’t want to stop talking to you, and that odd feeling of warmth settled into his chest.

“Like what?” Chenle raised his eyebrows.

“He said you’re cranky and mean.” You smiled at him, and he swore he was almost knocked off his feet. There was something about you that drew him in.

Chenle made a mental note to scold Renjun later, but he’s not necessarily wrong…he was cranky until he saw you.

“Well, in that case, what he said about everyone else is probably accurate, too.”

“You don’t look cranky,” you interjected. “You’re not mean either. Mean people don’t get strangers water bottles.”

“I’m mean to Renjun. And Jisung.”

“They’re your friends. You get a pass for your friends.” You slid one of your hands into the back pocket of your jeans, rocking on the balls of your feet as silence befell the room.

“They’re waiting for me,” Chenle says. “We should go.”

You nodded in agreement and followed him. He sulked a bit when the other members were introduced to you. They were all nice—because they always were—but when it came time to get back to practice, he found himself gravitating toward you several times.

Nearly every time he looked at you, you were already looking at him, too. Maybe it wasn’t just him that felt the weird tug. He hoped it wasn’t.

After they wrapped everything up, Chenle sat against the back wall, feeling so heavy as if he could fall asleep right there. He was exhausted.

Jaemin, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were already on their way out the door, leaving Jisung to slump next to Chenle and Renjun to talk with you. Jisung noted how he was watching you, but he didn’t say anything right away. He drank his water and stayed quiet.

You said something to Renjun, who smiled at you and nodded. He headed for the door and waited for you outside. When Chenle realized you were coming over to him, he shot a worried glance over at Jisung.

“Would you look at that?” Jisung cleared his throat. “Time for me to go.”

Before Chenle could even grab him, Jisung was halfway to the door. Once you were in front of him, you sat down and crossed your legs.

“You did really well today.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s the worst I’ve done this comeback season.”

“Then you’re in pretty good shape.” You shrugged, picking at the seam of your jeans. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me earlier.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said. “You’re Renjun’s friend. Of course, I’d help you.”

“Right.” You brushed your hair over your shoulder and prepared to stand up. “I should go—”

“Will you be coming back?” The question shot out of his mouth, sending a blush to his cheeks in response.

“I’m not sure,” you told him. “That’s up to Renjun I guess. It was really cool to see how passionate you guys are.”

“Let me give you my number.” Chenle grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Um, just in case you get lost again. And need help finding the room.” He cringed at himself, hoping he wasn’t going to get rejected.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gave him the tiniest smile, but it made his heart flutter anyway.

He handed it to you with the contact app open. You didn’t even hesitate to type in your name and number. After, you sent yourself a text, and Chenle heard it ring in your back pocket. You gave it back to him, grinned, and left him sitting there in shock.

He couldn’t choose between staring at you as you left and looking down at your contact open on his screen. His stomach twisted with nerves, but the second he saw the smiley face emoji you’d put next to your name, he already knew.

You were going to be someone to him.

Mark drops something in the kitchen, snapping Chenle out of it. He looks at you, and you smile back at him. With you pressed into his side and your legs over his lap, he can’t help but grin right back.

His hand rests on your thigh, thumb sliding gently back and forth as he presses a kiss to your temple. He’d never get used to this.

After returning from the kitchen, Mark allows the game to resume. His nose scrunches as he glances between you and Chenle. “That’s a weird ass question.”

“Not weird.” Chenle shakes his head. “Critical thinking, Mark, you should try it.”

“Oh, be nice.” You shove his shoulder.

For a while now, Chenle has felt his feelings growing more than he thought possible. He’s already in love with you (thankfully, since you’ve been together almost a year now), but something about you lately has him on a whole other level. Even then, he’s not sure what it is. He decides he’ll ride it out for a while and see where it takes him.

“Why would you ask your girlfriend what year she’d take a time machine back to? Shouldn’t she be like…happiest now?” Mark asks, sipping on whatever mixed drink he’d prepared in Chenle’s kitchen.

“You’d think.” Chenle snorts, leaning back against the couch and throwing his arm around you.

“He asks me questions like this all the time,” you tell Mark. When you steal a glance at your boyfriend, his breath catches in his chest.

What the hell is going on with him lately? He can’t concentrate around you (even more than usual) and every tiny thing you do has his heart hammering against his ribcage. Soon enough, he’s sure you’ll both hear the bones crack.

“Has anyone, by chance, ever told you two that you’re gross?” Mark chuckles to himself and leans back in the recliner. “Some of us are single and lonely, you know.”

“Some of us will never be that again,” Chenle shoots back.

“Oh, you two are the worst.” Your laugh echoes pleasantly in his ears, and he subconsciously leans closer to you.

“I am curious what your answer is, though,” Mark interjects. “Since Chenle’s so sure.”

Chenle takes a sip of his own drink, nearly cringing at the bitter taste dragging down his throat. He’s not much of a drinker—social at best. But he can still appreciate the buzz and the hazy happiness that comes with it. You take his hand that dangles over your shoulder, twirling the friendship ring wrapped around his middle finger. The action is so, so simple, yet it makes his stomach turn.

If he doesn’t figure out what the hell’s going on with him soon, he’s gonna have to separate himself from you.

“Well, you’re right.” You shrug, shuffling closer to Chenle. “This part of my life has definitely been the best. But if I could go back to any time, it would probably be when we met. You only get to meet Zhong Chenle once in your life, dude. I’d do it over and over again if I could. The second I saw him, I knew he would be important to me.”

Chenle thinks back to the moment he first saw you. The way he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you like an actual child or the way he took in every detail of you to store in his mind forever—just in case he never got to speak to you again. He pauses, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he analyzes your answer.

Mark groans. “That doesn’t count! That was last year.”

Grabbing the pillow next to him, Chenle throws it at his friend. “Leave her alone, it was a good answer.”

But when he contemplates that thought, he’s not sure he understands what you mean. His ears burn, the tips of them turning red as he recalls how embarrassingly nervous he was around you all the time. How awkward all of your firsts together were. Everything now is so much better than back then.

Not to mention he’s looked at you the same way since that first night. His feelings for you have grown, sure, but those butterflies he used to get still torment him just about every time he sees you smile.

“Why?” Chenle finally asks.

“You were so cute,” you hum, shifting closer to him. “Everything made you nervous. You almost keeled over in embarrassment when you asked to hold my hand.”

Mark laughs, and Chenle sends a glare his way. No part of that is even anywhere near funny.

“Okay, it's your turn.” Mark gestures at you.

Chenle resists the urge to reach over and touch your face. Usually, he’s so much better about being so clingy in front of his friends and, while he would prefer Mark not seeing this side of him, he couldn’t care less when his gaze is locked with yours.

“Cool.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Both of you. Hypothetical situation. Let’s say you’re drunk. You walk into a room and everyone you’ve ever loved is in there. Like…loved. Who are you going to?”

“Dude.” Mark’s jaw drops. “That’s such a shitty question for me.”

“You’ll live,” Chenle replies. “Just romantic love?”

“All of it. Platonic, romantic, family.” You purse your lips in thought.

Chenle doesn’t have to think about it. Not really. He’d rather get struck by lightning and then hit by a bus right after before admitting that so easily in front of Mark. In this case, it’s always been you. From the second you spoke to him for the first time, he was irrevocably yours. 

“You.” Chenle watches your eyebrows raise.

“Be serious,” you say. “Your parents are included in that.”

“I’m serious. You.” Chenle chuckles.

You give him a pointed look, but that’s when Mark cuts in.

“No, he’s for real. Like…that legitimately happened.” Mark leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs as he rests his head in his palms. “Do you guys not remember?”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him, frowning.

Chenle remembers. Barely, and it’s a bit foggy, but it comes back like a baseball bat upside the head as Mark starts telling the story.

Chenle’s birthday party last year. The night was barely halfway through and he was drunk enough to be stumbling over his feet. He’d heard you were coming, but he had yet to see you. Even when every other feeling was numbed by the tingling sensation the alcohol left behind, his craving to see you was all that remained. 

Mark walked next to him, having a full conversation with himself since Chenle was so fog-brained. As much as he loved Mark, there was only one person he wanted to see. Everyone he knew and loved was here—his parents, the rest of his group, and Jisung had somehow forgotten to uninvite Chenle’s ex.

He only ever dated one person before you, but he wasn’t sure he ever loved her. Regardless, there she was. Even with her standing across the room from him, he kept waiting like a lost puppy.

When you walked in, he swore the whole world stopped around him. Everyone but you was moving in slow motion before they eventually faded into nothing, darkness that was emphasized by the light you were. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped walking.

Chenle couldn’t form a coherent thought while he stared at you, drunken stupor making it so much easier to forget the embarrassment. Mark watched him curiously as Chenle made his way over to you. He refused to waste any more time when he knew you were the one he wanted to talk to.

You had always been more confident around him than he was around you. Your face lit up when you saw him, wrapping your arms around him. He secured you in his grasp, breathing in the scent of your hair and the perfume you wore.

“Happy birthday.” Your voice is muffled a bit by his T-shirt. “Sorry I’m late, took a bit longer to get ready than I thought it would.”

He knew he should’ve let you go. People were starting to notice the way he was clinging to you, and not even being drunk could excuse that behavior. He was about ready to tell everyone except you to leave. Nothing else mattered. If he could spend his birthday with you, it would be the best one yet.

It’d been two months since Renjun had introduced you to the rest of them. Which means, he’s only known of your existence for two months, and you already command so much of his brain matter that he can’t think of anyone but you. Great.

He finally (reluctantly) let you go and led you over to the rest of the group. Nobody said anything when he made Mark scoot over so you could sit next to him. Nobody questioned it. His parents would ask him about it later, but until then, there was no reason for him to worry. After all, his crush on you was the most obvious thing in the world, so it was only a matter of time before you found out about it.

By the end of the night, he hadn’t spent enough time with you. People were starting to shuffle out, but you stayed, chatting with Renjun until only four remained. Chenle’s parents had gone to bed long ago. You were almost caught up to him on drinks, your laughs longer and your movements slower.

Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have been as brave as to walk up to you and ask you to stay the night. He didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, either. He just didn’t want you to leave yet.

“Chenle,” Renjun scolds, swatting his shoulder. “You can’t ask something like that so casually.”

“You want me to stay here? With you?” Your voice was higher than normal. Chenle accredited it to the alcohol raging in your system.

“I like when you’re here.” Chenle nodded. “You make everything calm.”

Renjun scrunched up his face, slamming his forehead into his palm. “(Y/N), you should probably go home—”

“No, it’s okay.” You brushed him off. “I’m okay with staying.”

Oh, he was in love with you. There was no other explanation for the way his heart skipped a beat when those words came out of your mouth.

Chenle doesn’t remember the rest of that night, but he does recall waking up next to you in the morning and freaking out. Alcohol made him brave, but it didn’t save him from the red-hot embarrassment of the next day.

“I didn’t even realize…” you trailed off, a small smile forming on your face. “You picked me.”

“I’ll always pick you,” Chenle responds easily, like second nature.

Mark decides it’s time for him to leave, but Chenle’s mind is still reeling with memories. With all of the firsts you said you wished you could relive. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure out what the fuck this feeling is. As the two of you climb into bed, he’s so distracted, he can’t fall asleep, even with you curled into his chest.

“(Y/N),” Chenle groaned when he saw you in the practice room mirror. “You gotta stop showing up here if you don’t want me to fall in love with you.”

It was a joke. Sort of.

“Right, and let you forget to eat? I think not.” You fought back every time, unphased by the way he so casually admitted he’s starting to fall for you.

At least, that was his idea of admitting it.

You walked over with the bags in your hand, sitting down on the practice room floor next to him. 

“I haven’t even been here that long,” Chenle defended himself. “I would’ve eaten after I left.”

You unloaded the contents, opening boxes. “I can go if that’s what you want.”

“Not what I said.” For some reason, he felt a sudden burst of courage. He’s known you for four months at this point, and something about today felt…right. “I was serious, you know.”

“About what?” You grabbed the drinks from the carrier.

“You.”

“What?” You recoiled, looking at him in confusion.

He contemplated telling you to forget it. That it didn’t matter, and thank you for the food instead. If you didn’t feel the same way for him, he’d be devastated. And then you’d leave him for good and take all the food with you. He was starving.

“If you keep doing nice things for me, I’m gonna fall for you.” As if he hasn’t already.

You paused, but Chenle didn’t miss the blush on your face. Clearing your throat, you looked away from him and took a deep breath. His fists clenched as he awaited your rejection, but the longer the silence stretched, the more he felt you might want him to.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it,” you finally said and brushed your hair behind your ears. Reaching forward for the food again, you gave Chenle a shocked look when he grabbed your wrist.

“You’re right. I’m not going to fall for you. I already did.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as his words settled in the air around both of you. With his heart racing, he released your wrist and intertwined your fingers instead.

“I really, really like you.”

“You should really eat your food before it gets cold.” You pulled your hand from his and pushed the box closer to him.

He stared blankly at the wall, noting the sudden chill on his skin that you left behind. A sinking feeling encapsulated his chest, and he knew he ruined everything. You looked like you were ready to run.

“Forget I said anything,” he told you. “I’m sorry if that was weird.”

“Eat,” you commanded again. “I’m not talking about this with you until I know you’ve eaten. If you don’t, we’ll go off on a tangent and you’ll be starving all night.”

“Does that mean you—”

“Yes, Chenle.” You interrupted him. “Yes, I really, really like you too, which is why I want to make sure you eat.”

At that moment, Chenle realized that if he walked outside and randomly dropped dead, he’d be okay with it now that he’s gotten that confession out of you. There wasn’t a damn thing that could top that. Everything else in life would be subpar to today, so there was no point in trying.

You and Chenle ate in silence. He kept stealing glances at you, catching you doing the same to him. If all he had to do in order to get you to talk about your feelings with him was eat, he’d do it, albeit probably a bit too fast for his own good.

Chenle runs his fingers through his hair, his thumb tracing gentle shapes against the bare skin of your arm. These memories have no business popping up in the middle of the night. He has practice tomorrow. He’ll be so off his game, the other members will want to kill him.

Usually, he has no problem falling asleep, especially with you right beside him. Over the past year, you’ve probably spent more nights with him than you have at your own place. He teases you for it all the time, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Closing his eyes, he listens to the soft sounds of your breathing and allows himself to feel the way your body slots with his so easily. Everything about you is perfect. About the two of you together. He would toss and turn, but no way is he going to disturb you. Even if he can’t sleep, he’d never screw up your schedule on purpose.

“It’s so pretty.” You were in awe, staring at the sunset from Chenle’s backyard. He’d set up a picnic date for the two of you, and afterward, you were watching the sun fade below the treeline while lying on top of a red blanket.

His fingers were intertwined with yours, something that had become so normal for you. Two weeks since his confession, and it was the second date he planned. He wondered, obsessed over, even, what your thought process was on all of this. Were you happy? Did he make you happy?

He wanted to kiss you when he confessed to you. And while he came close to it on your first date, he decided against it. It had to be perfect. Nothing was good enough for you in his mind, especially when all he wanted was to make sure you knew just how he felt about you.

How was he supposed to tell you that?

He’d already said he fell for you, but that didn’t begin to cover it. Not really. You made him want to put in effort, made him crave your happiness like it was the very oxygen he breathed. At the same time, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t want to kiss you. Hell, he’d already dreamed of it, for fuck’s sake, so that definitely wasn’t the issue.

Lost in thought, he’s only snapped out of it by the way you rolled over, lying on your stomach so you can get a good look at his face. You rested your head on your right palm, your left finding his bicep.

“You’re so perfect,” he hummed, twirling your hair with his fingers. “Could look at you forever.”

“Some people might have an issue with that.” You laughed.

“We’re the only ones that matter,” he responded.

Your smile slowly faded, a look of longing replacing it as your gaze softened.

God, he wanted to kiss you. He needed to.

All thoughts of the perfect moment have fled from his brain. Any moment would be perfect as long as it’s you.

He sat up and you leaned forward, and before he knew it, his nose brushed yours. Your eyes fluttered shut in preparation. The heat of the sun sank into his skin. Your perfume wafted from you, intertwining with the air and suffocating him in the best ways. If he could pick one scent to smell for the rest of his life, it would be yours.

Was it normal to have these thoughts so early?

Why was he thinking of that right now? Literally the worst possible time.

“Can I?” he whispered, scared to ruin everything.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your mouth, he kissed you. Everything about you was soft, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised to find your lips the same way. His hands shook as he touched your waist.

He was already in big trouble. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to stop there. His heart thudded so loud, he was halfway sure you could hear it, too. It felt like sparks flew between you two, absolute electricity coursing through every single one of his veins, heating up his bloodstream and making the thought of pulling away from you the absolute worst case scenario.

You moved away first, gasping for breath. Chenle craved tugging you back to him. His body reacted to you in ways it had never reacted to anyone else. He didn’t want to take it too far, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stop, either.

He couldn’t describe the way you felt. The way you tasted. Everything about you was so heart-achingly perfect, he wanted to experience you all the time. He wanted to rewind time so he could kiss you again for the first time, and he’d do it over and over and over again.

Something about first kisses set him on fire. He was absolutely sure he’d kiss you more. In fact, he was seconds away from it. But the adrenaline coming from the very first brush of your lips on his wasn’t something he’d ever be able to recreate.

“Again.” You leaned in once more.

He met you in the middle eagerly, hand finding the back of your head before he turned you so you were lying on your back. Half of his weight pressed against you, but he did his best to keep himself lifted up so you weren’t uncomfortable.

Unforgettable heat swarmed him, the sun caressing his skin as your fingers gently traced down the back of his neck. Goosebumps formed, but he could hardly pay attention to them. The entire world was gone, and you were everything, the only person remaining in a sea of nothingness. He wanted you. Needed you.

This was technically your second kiss, but in his mind, it was still the first since they happened almost at the same time. He hadn’t stopped to take a breath in much too long, but he’d rather suffocate than separate from you.

He stopped when your breath hitched, completely lost in the sound. When he wasn’t focusing on your mouth anymore, he realized why—his hand had somehow found its way to your upper thigh. His face burned as he removed it.

“I didn’t…” he trailed off, scanning over your face for any hint of what you were feeling. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

You chuckled at him, pushing his shoulder. “You wish that excuse would work on me.”

The sky faded into a beautiful lilac color, the kind that only appeared when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Clouds drifted effortlessly, stars beginning to shine.

“Should we go inside?” Chenle asked. “It’ll get cold without the sun.”

Whenever he looked at you, he knew you were different. He couldn’t place how, but nobody else had ever made him feel the way you do. Like his heart was going to burst out of his chest while simultaneously stopping and also skipping every other beat. He didn’t even know how he was alive anymore.

In the last two weeks since his confession, the boys had told him how much happier he was. How he was striving with more effort lately and trying his best at any given moment of the day. You were his motivation. You made him want to be the absolute best he could be, and even as new as the relationship was, he’d already known you for months—he was nervous about you deciding you wanted something else. Someone who wasn’t him.

The moment before replayed in his head, and he heard that breath hitch on repeat while he awaited your answer. He did his best to stop thinking about it, but nothing worked. All he wanted to do was kiss you again, over and over and over until the literal end of time.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Let’s go inside.”

His cheeks redden just thinking of that memory. The first time he ever kissed you, and he royally fucked up because his hand didn’t know how to stay put. At this point, it’s clear he’s not going to be able to fall asleep. He hates the idea of leaving you in bed alone, but he’s only going to disturb you if he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sliding away from you carefully, he quietly gets up and heads into the kitchen. He runs his fingers through his hair. His hands down his face. He must be sentimental today, because he can’t stop thinking about you for the life of him. Every memory from the last year pokes at his head, and he has no clue how to handle it.

Patting his cheeks, he heads over to the fridge to grab a water bottle. Photos of the two of you are framed up on the wall. There’s one picture in particular he always says is his favorite, but he refuses to tell you why.

The two of you were sitting on the floor, and you had the cutest glare on your face. He sees the adoration gleaming in your gaze even though you look about ready to strangle him. In your defense, you probably were. He lets out a tiny laugh, tracing over the frame. 

There’s even one with Chenle between you and Jisung, and a group picture with you and the boys. Chenle loves his friends dearly, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms says a lot about both your relationship with them and his potential future with you. Everyone in his life loves you. You’re the one they call when Chenle’s upset or if he’s off his game, and no matter when or where this is happening, you show up to make him feel better.

He could be having the worst day of his entire existence, and a simple ‘I love you’ passing from your lips has him forgetting everything shitty about the world. Looking back at the pictures, he’s drawn back into memory.

He heard the birds outside his window before he saw the gleaming sun. His eyes fluttered open while he groaned quietly at the sudden change of brightness. Your body was like a fireball, your skin searing hot against his, but it did little to bother him. His groan turned into a sigh of content, and he wrapped his arms around you tighter. Fingertips trailing down your bare spine, he kissed your forehead.

Three months together, and every night spent with you made him fall deeper in love. He’d never known peace as he did at that moment. No interruptions, just the two of you basking in each other’s embrace.

He could’ve stayed like that forever—he wanted to, but glancing at the clock, he realized how close it was to noon. Jaemin would be there soon, and the last thing Chenle needed was him in his house when you were naked in his bed.

He reluctantly got up, dressing himself before grabbing some clothes for you. You have a drawer, multiple, actually, but he picked his own T-shirt for you to wear. When he made it over to you, you were stirring.

“You got up.” You pouted at him, staring at him through half-closed eyes. “And you have clothes on.”

Chenle laughed. “Sorry, love. Jaemin will be here soon.”

“It’s that late?” you asked.

Chenle nodded, setting the clothes down next to you. He kissed you softly, gently, a kiss so barely there it left you leaning forward to try to continue it. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb along your skin.

You didn’t need help getting dressed, but he did it anyway. He loved the way you looked in his T-shirts, and even though it’s long enough to cover you, no way he’d risk it. Once you were finished, the two of you got ready for the day. You brushed your teeth together, he watched you brush your hair, and by the time you’re done, Jaemin was walking in the front door.

The three of you sat on the floor around Chenle’s coffee table, playing a game. He can’t remember what the game was anymore, only that you were terrible at it and that he loved winning.

Jaemin teased both of you the whole time, ruffling Chenle’s hair on multiple occasions. As much as he’d love to deny it, Chenle enjoyed that Jaemin liked the two of you together. It was almost like an affirmation, even if he didn’t need one.

Being the professional picture-snapper he was, Jaemin took the picture now hanging up on Chenle’s wall. You, with your arms crossed over your chest and a big pout on your face, and Chenle, smiling widely at you with such adoration in his eyes it should’ve been impossible.

“Lele?” Your soft voice breaks him away from his memory. He turns to you quickly, heart instantly halting in his chest when he sees his shirt on you.

“What are you doing up?” he asks.

“I was gonna ask you that.” You rub your eyes, feet shuffling on the floor as you walk over to him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies and takes you in his arms with ease. “Didn’t want to bug you, sunshine.”

You don’t respond. All you do is bury your head in his chest and breathe him in. He runs his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head. With all the lights off, the only illumination is the full moon outside as it casts shadows on the ground. The faint blue makes you that much more ethereal to him.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mm,” you hum in response. “This is nice.”

Chenle smiles. “Yeah, it is. Always is.”

After a bit of silence and rocking you gently, an idea sparks. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding the playlist he made specifically for when he thinks about you, and sets it on the counter. You stare at him in tired confusion, but when one of his arms wraps around your waist, you catch on.

“What are you doing?” Humor is laced in your voice, but the sweet look on your face tells him his actions are making you happy. That’s his goal, constantly. All he wants is to make you happy.

“Checking something off the bucket list,” he replies, slowly turning you to the soft beat.

“Something’s missing,” you say as he twirls you.

He steals a glance at the way his shirt rides up your legs, showing just a peek of your panties beneath it.

“What?” he asks, pulling you back to him.

“Sing to me.” You place your hand on his chest.

His heart betrays him at that moment. It rages, and he knows you can feel it. Chenle sings in front of thousands of people all the time, but something about you is different. Something about you right now is different.

“What’s going on up in there?” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’ve been all weird today.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. “Everything. From the moment we met up until this…it keeps repeating over and over again.”

“Welcome to my world,” you replied, grasping his shoulders. You massage them gently as you sway along with the music.

The confession from you makes him smile. At least he’s not the only one doing constant circles in his head. He calms a bit, and when a new song plays, he sings to you. Your body immediately relaxes into his, as if every stress you’ve ever had has left you without hesitation.

Chenle loves to sing. He does it all the time, and he only wants to keep getting better. To have someone like you as his partner, someone who supports him endlessly and genuinely loves his voice…it’s unparalleled.

He’s not sure how long the two of you are like this, or how long he’s singing for, but song after song, all he knows is that you’re smiling. You’re looking at him with unmatched adoration in your eyes, pure love. Nobody else has ever looked at him in this way, and he doesn’t want them to.

He wants to stay here with you and watch you love him in ways he’s never been loved before.

He stops. His singing fades out, and he furrows his eyebrows as he finally, finally realizes what’s been happening to him. You tilt your head, able to ask him questions without saying anything. His chest feels like it’s going to burst.

You’re it. 

You’re everything, and he’s going to marry you.

He’s going to spend the rest of his life striving to make sure you love him as much as you do right now, if not more.

It seems like you feel it, too. Your face softens and you reach up to trace along his cheekbone. He leans into your touch, chasing the warmth like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I know.” You grin so wide, Chenle almost thinks it’ll split your face in two.

“Good.” He brushes your hair behind your ear. “I hope I’m doing a good job in showing you that every day.”

You pause, hands trailing down from his cheeks to his shoulders. “I have never once doubted that you love me, Lele. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“I promise you I’ve never felt better,” he replies. “Just checking in with you.”

“You do so much more than you realize. No matter how busy you are, you text me to tell me you love me or that you’re thinking about me. You practice non-stop with the boys but you still make an effort with me when you could easily use that as an excuse. There is not one thing I could ask for that you don’t already do.” You press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll never doubt you.”

“Sometimes I worry,” he admits. “You make me…want to be better. In every way possible. In my career, in my life, with you. And if I’m not being better every day, then I don’t deserve you.”

“Chenle.” You give him a pointed look. “When I think back to the first day we met, I remember how…how you acted from the first time you spoke to me. At the time, I really thought I was crazy, but I knew you’d be someone to me. You didn’t even know me, but you were so kind. And now that we’re here like this, you haven’t changed. There’s no getting better. You’re already the best.”

“How do you do that?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead.

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what to say.”

“That’s my special talent,” you tell him.

“We should get back to bed,” Chenle says, sleep weighing on him. “Meeting the boys tomorrow.”

He grabs his phone from the counter, his heart full and warm as he leads you back to his bedroom. This time, as he’s lying with you pressed to his chest, he’s able to fall into his dreamland.

Despite his lack of sleep, Chenle is full of energy the next day. He wakes up and makes you coffee just the way you like before sitting on the edge of the bed by your sleeping form. When he sets the cup on the nightstand, you stir, turning over to face him.

“You’re gonna be late,” you mumble, even though you have no idea what time it is.

Chenle chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? You can stay here if you want. Wanted to tell you I love you before I left.”

“Love you, too,” you say with a tired smile, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I’ll grab dinner for us on my way back.”

Walking away from you feels like someone’s trying to rip his heart out of his chest. You’re an extension of him at this point, and after his sudden realization last night, all he wants to do is spend the day curled up with you.

Luckily for him, his day passes by pretty quickly. He got a lot done today, and he was proud of that. You’d be proud of him, too. He’s itching to get home and tell you everything that happened. Staying true to his word, he picks up your favorite takeout.

He’s going to be honest with you about what was going on with him yesterday. It’s the right thing to do—and in a perfect world, you’ll feel the same way he does. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he admitted his feelings for you. Even though that side of him feels worlds away now, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

But the restaurant isn’t the only stop he makes.

He’s shaking by the time he gets back. Is a year really enough time? It is for him, but what if you think he’s insane?

When he arrives, he’s not expecting what you’ve done at all. The main lights are off, but a dim golden glow from the strips along the wall and the candles illuminate the room enough. He sets the bag down on the table, completely forgetting about the food as he searches for you.

“(Y/N)?”

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be,” you tell him, walking out of his bedroom while still putting in an earring.

His throat dries. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words could ever justify the way you look right now. You put on a dress, one of his favorites, and he’s in jeans and a T-shirt.

You kiss his cheek. “I figured you deserve something nice to come home to.”

“You’re my something nice.” He wraps his arm around your waist. “Should I change?”

“We’re not going anywhere.” You shake your head. “Just relax and enjoy your gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Oh, I can get on board with that.” He allows you to lead him back to the table.

Once he’s taking the food out of the bag, he keeps stealing glances at you. You put in all this effort for him, and he knows how much work it must’ve been to hang up all these lights. The golden glow looks ethereal against your skin.

“Before we eat, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He clears his throat to stop it from collapsing in on itself, but it doesn’t work.

“What’s up?” You set your elbow on the table and rest your head on your palm. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect, actually.” He takes a deep breath, reaching to grab your free hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bite back a laugh.

“You can’t make fun of me for what I’m about to tell you.” He gives you the most serious look he can muster, and you nod.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you reassure him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I…I want to love you forever.” He gulps. “And when I think of everything we’ve gone through and been through together, I seriously can’t imagine ever trying to have anyone else fill this spot you hold in my life.”

You perk up a bit, gaze staring into his. God, he loves how interested you are in what he has to say. How you’re listening to him so intently. His thumb rubs over your knuckles as he tries to think of the words he wants to use.

“I want to marry you. Call me crazy if you want, tell me you hate the idea, that’s fine, but I had to tell you. We obviously can’t get married now, or probably any time soon because of my contract, but I want you to know that it’s what I want. It’s what’s going to happen if you want it, too.”

You clear your throat and cover your mouth with your hand, eyes welling. Chenle’s heart aches seeing this reaction, knowing you feel as strongly as he does. He reaches into his pocket and puts a small box on the table in front of you.

“It’s not the real thing. Not yet. But I want you to know how serious I am, because if I was able to marry you, I would’ve done it yesterday.” He opens it, revealing a simple band in it. “Subtle enough where people won’t ask questions, but we’ll know.”

“Chenle, are you being serious right now?” You sniffle. “This is a very cruel prank.”

“The guys and I sat down together today to write a song. I think you’ll love it, so when we record it I’m sneaking you a copy. Anyway, we were there for twenty minutes, and words were just flowing out of me. I wrote about you. About how you make me feel, and I think anyone who knows about us will understand that when they listen to the song.”

He pauses to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I want you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life proving to you why I deserve that. Let me put this ring on you, and this can be the start.”

You quickly wipe your face as you nod. He takes your left hand, grabs the ring out of the box, and slips it on your middle finger.

“One day, this will be real.” Chenle catches another one of your tears. “I love you. There is not one thing in this world that could change that.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he watches your reaction. He wants to touch you and kiss you after pouring his thoughts out to you, but he needs to make sure you’re feeling the same way. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you.

His palms are sweaty and he can barely sit still. You groan, giving one last aggressive swipe below your eyes before you launch up from your chair and end up in his lap. You bury your head in his neck, squeezing him tighter than you should. He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, softly chuckling at your outburst.

“You better not change your mind.” Cupping both of his cheeks, you try your best to look angry. “If you do, I’m marrying you anyway.”

His own vision blurs at the sight of you. You love him as much as he loves you, and you want to be with him forever.

You want to be with him forever.

The emotions rioting inside him surprise even him, and he blinks quickly to try and suppress the tears. It’s no use, because as soon as you notice, you start crying again. He groans and drops his head back on the chair, squeezing you closer to him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Chenle says.

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth finds yours, both of you falling into each other’s rhythm. Saltiness from your tears lingers on your lips. He weaves his fingers through your hair, but no matter what he does, you’re just not close enough.

Pulling away from you, he rests his forehead on yours. “You should eat, sunshine.”

“You expect me to be able to eat after all of that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“You’ll be sad if it gets cold,” he reminds you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be sad again,” you whisper.

All thoughts escape him. Nothing else exists except for you, wrapped around him like a damn koala bear. He rests his hand on your thigh and lets your words sink deep into him.

Moments like these are hard to explain, he thinks. He’s only like this around you, so lost in his connection with you that he’s got nothing else on his mind. Anything and everything you say to him is tattooed in the darkest ink on his soul, until he’s covered in everything he wants to be for you.

“Promise me you’ll always look at me like that.” You break the silence, running your fingers through his hair and smiling.

“I promise.” He nods, barely realizing how he’s leaning forward.

Your eyes flutter shut as he inches closer. He kisses you softly, almost as if he fears he’ll break you. His fingers splay out across the small of your back and he traces shapes into the soft fabric of your dress. You’re overwhelming. His love for you is, too. So much so, he feels as if he’s going to burst out of his skin. He’s going to wake up and everything will have been a dream, because there’s no way he’d ever done anything in his life to deserve someone like you.

You hum into his mouth, rolling your hips once. His breathing stutters as his first instinct is to lift toward you. At first, he wants to stay like this, you clinging onto him like you’d be lost without him, but when you grind down a second time, he feels a twitch in his pants.

It’s been over a week since the last time he’s been inside you thanks to his schedules. And now you’re on top of him, wearing his favorite dress of yours, and kissing him like you’ll never be able to feel him again after tonight.

He’s tired, but he’s never too tired for you. Brushing your hair away, he leans down to kiss your neck, licking the expanse of your soft skin. Your pulse thunders beneath his tongue, and he has to fight the urge to bite down.

Touching you like this is different when he knows he’ll never lose you. You’re his forever.

His lips press against the sensitive spot below your ear, and the short moan escaping you just about sends him up the wall. When he pulls away to get a good look at you, your eyes are dark, lips already swollen from the way he kissed you.

He tries to catch his breath while he silently asks you if this is what you want. You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Standing, he lifts you up until your legs are secure around his waist, and he grabs your ass with one hand and the back of your head with the other.

Mouths attached, he doesn’t separate from you until he’s setting you down on his bed. He barely has time to appreciate the candles you lit in here, too, the soft scent of vanilla flooding his senses. You already try to push his T-shirt up, anything to feel his skin on yours. He obliges, pulling it over his head before returning to kissing you like his life depended on it. When your hands find the button on his jeans, he grabs your wrist.

“Patience, baby.” Chenle runs his fingers up and down your thigh. “We have the rest of our lives. Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Just like that, you’re putty in his hands. He smirks at the realization. Sneaking his touch up your leg, the hem of the dress moves to accommodate him. He stops when he feels the lace of your panties.

“Did you dress up for me twice, sunshine?” he hums.

“Always,” you say, shamelessly staring at his lips. “Do you love me, Chenle?”

His whole body vibrated from those words. They made him feel at a frequency he hadn’t quite reached yet, and all he wanted to do was rip that damn dress off.

“More than anything.”

He can’t really say it’s ‘like second nature’ anymore. There’s nothing second about it. This is you. Anything to do with you is first nature, no matter what it is. His world revolves around you, everything he does is based on what you want, and he wouldn’t change that in any way.

“Show me,” you whisper, so intoxicating he almost crumbles to his knees right in front of you.

How embarrassing that all it takes is two words to have him give in to you. He’s straining against his pants now, his cock aching to be free and buried inside you.

“Don’t worry. I will.” He kisses you again, soft and sweet like his hand isn’t so, so close to your dripping, eager core. Heat radiates from you, and all he wants is to be consumed by it.

He drags your panties down your legs, nails gently scratching your skin on the way down. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you try to regain your breath, but he loves the way you’re so desperate for him. The way you want him just as much as he wants you.

He doesn’t want to be patient anymore. Every cell in his body is urging him to connect with yours, but he wants to take care of you. That side of him always wins, otherwise both of you would probably be done already.

His finger dances along your entrance. He inhales sharply as your wetness coats his skin. You move your hips toward him, practically begging him for stimulation. He teasingly nudges your clit, pleasantly surprised by the way your body jolts.

Mouth brushing yours, he takes the second of distraction to slide two fingers inside you. As your lips part to release a moan, he mirrors the action, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly, slowly thrusts his hand.

Your walls squeeze so hard, he curses. He could fuck you a thousand times, and you’d still be as tight as you are right now. His heart goes straight into overdrive, but all the blood in his body is shooting down to his cock. He’s painfully hard, rocking back and forth gently.

He kisses you, lips working against yours in a perfect harmony. Your sounds are his favorite. He loves knowing it’s him making you feel this way, that he has the power to make your knees weak and your pussy throb.

He lets out a moan when he scissors his fingers, trying his best to prepare you. God, you’re so warm and wet and tight, he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to last long tonight. His pace quickens, sounds of your slickness filling the room.

You call out his name, back arching as you grasp desperately at his shoulders. He leans in and kisses your cheek, making sure to press his palm into your clit every time he’s knuckle deep. 

“You’re perfect, baby,” he whispers with his lips against your ear, voice rough. “I love you so much. So fucking much.”

You tense, pussy clamping down hard on his fingers as your hips buck. He swears he can see the pleasure running up your spine in the way you arch and shake. Your nails dig into his shoulders, but he’s not in the right mind to care. Your mouth opens, sounds pouring out as you finish. He loves you all the time, but one of his favorite looks on you is when he watches you orgasm—your face so overcome with pleasure he caused…he would never get enough of it.

He keeps moving until he’s sure you’ve come down from your high. When he brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices off, you watch longingly, the dark look in your gaze enough to have his cock twitching in his pants.

You slide off the bed, forcing him to take a couple steps back. He’s not sure what you’re going to do at first. Your struggle to reach your zipper, and as much as he wants to bend you over with the dress still on, he wants to be gentle with you tonight. He doesn’t get to make love to you often, and that’s all he’s going to do tonight.

Instead of watching you attempt to reach it, he turns you around and pulls you to him until your back is against his chest. His hand is splayed out across your stomach, holding you so you feel how hard he is.

“I’m going crazy,” you mutter, dropping your head back. “I need you so bad.”

He moves your hair out of his way, kissing the base of your neck quickly before he unzips you. Moving slowly on purpose, he lets his finger drag along your spine on the way down. You shiver, pushing yourself back into him.

“I’m gonna make love to you.” He finally lets himself bite down on your shoulder as he nudges the straps down. “For the rest of our lives. Nobody but me.”

“Nobody but you,” you respond, allowing the dress to pool at your feet.

He turns you around, hands immediately finding your ass and squeezing it. Within seconds, he has your bra unclasped and across the room. “So beautiful.”

When your hands find his jeans, he doesn’t stop you this time. You push them down his legs, desperate to have him inside you. Once his jeans are off, you palm him through his boxers, and he needs you so badly, that simple touch almost finishes him off. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He takes off the remaining fabric separating you two before leading you over to the bed. You lie in the middle, and he climbs on top of you. He kisses you passionately, tongue already dancing with yours, both of you more than ready. His cock is so hard, he’s only half convinced he won’t cum as soon as he’s in.

He nudges your clit with his leaking tip, moving down to your entrance to apply just enough pressure before pulling away. You whine, desperate for more.

“Chenle, please.”

His head dips down as he continues teasing you, wrapping his lips around your nipple. You whimper, running your fingers through his hair. Having you so desperate for him makes him want to give you everything you’re asking for, but something makes him wait.

“Please,” you cry out, lifting your hips up. “Need you.”

He’s ready to fall apart from you words alone. Pulling away from your chest, he reaches down to line himself up with you. He watches you closely as he pushes his throbbing cock into your quivering pussy. Your eyes roll back as you arch into him.

Your walls swallow him, velvet clamping down on him. He clenches his jaw as he bottoms out and fists the sheets next to your head.

“So perfect,” he whispers, kissing your jawline.

One of his favorite things about you is how unafraid you are to look at him. Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, and you try your best not to close them, but even like this, you never look away.

He’s fully inside you, his cock seated within your fluttering walls. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, so he gently rocks his hips to help you adjust. He kisses you everywhere he can reach.

“You always take me so well,” he praises you, nipping the base of your neck.

He’ll never get over how perfectly he fits between your legs, like this space was made for him.

“Move,” you tell him, smacking his shoulder.

He lets out a soft chuckle, but lowers his mouth to yours as he starts a steady pace. You squeeze him so tight, it’s like your body doesn’t want to let him out of you. He pulls out until his tip is barely inside, and then pushes back in just as slowly. It wreaks havoc on your body, your wetness squelching every time he moves.

He wants you to feel all of him. Feel the entirety of his cock rubbing your walls with every thrust.

Somehow, it’s hotter this way. A thin sheen of sweat covers his skin as he takes his time with you. Sure, he gets sweaty when he fucks you, but nothing compares to the close intimacy of love making—his chest brushing against yours with every thrust, long, sweet moans filling the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“You sing so pretty,” Chenle mutters, tonguing the sensitive spot below your ear. “You like the way I feel?”

Before he can even process what you’re doing, you wrap your legs around his waist and roll until you’re on top of him. He’s flat on his back, eyes flitting along your body like he hasn’t had a real chance to see it yet.

Candle light illuminates your skin, and the sight makes his cock twitch. He runs his hands along your sides, squeezing your hips.

Chenle likes being in control. He likes guiding you in a way that has you both in shambles by the end, and he truly underestimated how beautiful you’d look on top of him. You lift up, teasing him as slow as he was moving with you, but between the sight and the feeling, he feels an all too-familiar tingling sensation at the base of his length.

It’s too soon for him, so he decides to tug you down, holding you there while his eyes close and his head thuds against the mattress. He doesn’t need to say a word to you.

“Chenle.” You stroke a hand down his chest. “It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back for me.”

“Just…need a second.” He gulps.

When he finally catches his breath, he sits up, chest pressing against yours.

“This was supposed to be about you,” he says, moving back slightly to fit his hand between the two of you. “Showing you my love and everything.”

He finds your clit with his thumb, staring at you intently as your wetness makes it easy for him to rub circles. His other hand still firmly grips your waist, which only allows you to squirm instead of bouncing on him like you crave to do.

“I need to move,” you whimper, grinding down. “Please.”

He nods, loosening his grip on you. You brace yourself on his shoulders, finally taking his cock the way you want it. His nails dig into your thigh while he continues his work on your bud, and it only spurs you on. You move faster, no doubt trying to chase your orgasm.

His moans get louder, matching yours. If his hands weren’t so occupied, he’d want to squeeze your ass or tweak your nipples. Anything to bring you higher. He changes the patterns his thumb rubs, and it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your body.

You curse, dropping your head on his shoulder as you nod. “Don’t stop, Lele.”

With both of you hanging so close to the edge, he waits until you’re sitting back down on his cock to buck his hips up. He doesn’t want to finish first, but he’s so close, all the warning signs of his impending high are getting far too real.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, releasing your thigh to grab your ass.

Your walls clamp down on him hard, a long, pleasured sound escaping you as you grind down on him. Back arching, your head falls back. Your orgasm hits both you and Chenle like a freight train, and within seconds, everything inside him explodes, and he’s spilling his cum deep inside you while telling you over and over again that he loves you.

You crumple into his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, whispering praises to you between head kisses.

“I’m gonna lay you down, sunshine,” he says.

You nod, and he turns you so he can put your back on the mattress. He carefully pulls out of you, putting his boxers back on before going into the bathroom to grab you a towel. This is one of his favorite ways to see you. Your eyes are closed, hands on your cheeks. You look like he’s fucked all the energy out of you, and he loves that he has the capability to do that.

He cleans you up, then grabs a clean pair of panties for you and one of his T-shirts.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“What is it?” You wrap your arms around him.

“You pick whatever movie you want, and I’ll go warm up your dinner?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You fake a gasp. “Are you saying you’re going to feed me in bed?”

“After all of that, I’d agree to just about anything you want.” He chuckles when you shove his shoulder. Grabbing your hand, he twirls the band on your finger. “Wait here for me?”

When he walks out of the room, he stops at the doorway to watch you excitedly lunge for the remote. It doesn’t take long for him to warm up the food, turn off the lights, and blow out the candles in the kitchen.

The rest of the night is spent with the two of you sitting against the headboard, laughing along to your favorite movie while eating your favorite takeout. So many thoughts have come and gone from Chenle’s brain in the past couple days alone, but he’s more than happy he gets to sit here with you every night for the rest of his life.

He’s lost in your laugh and the way you smile at him and how you make his heart race with the simplest things. None of the other members knew about the ring he bought you, but he’ll tell them soon.

After the food is gone, Chenle cleans it up. There’s still half a movie left, so when he gets back, he pulls the comforter back so you can cuddle up to him for the remainder. Even though the candles have long since been put out, vanilla still clouds the air.

“Love you,” Chenle whispers, kissing your temple.

“Love you, too.” You sigh in content, resting your head on his chest.

He knows that means you’re only seconds from sleep, and he rubs your arm soothingly. The movie continues to play, but neither of you are paying attention anymore—you’re asleep, and Chenle’s thinking about what kind of wedding dress you’ll wear.

[princeescaluswords]

I can't get this post out of my head.

There's a reason that every time I see someone argue "well, the answer is to curate your own experiences!" I have to shake my head, because they are always, always, always missing the point.

There's a writer that I stumbled across over a year ago who tends to write what others might call dark fiction but I call exploitative fiction. In this writing, they make it a point to have Peter and Stiles (sometimes with other accomplices) murder Scott McCall and/or Alan Deaton. Sometimes there is humiliation or degradation involved. I've never seen any story where the victims are capable of defending themselves, let alone a serious threat. This writer has written this particular scenario dozens and dozens of times within a very narrow range of scenarios. It's obvious that the point of these stories isn't exploring dark themes. It's obviously revenge porn generated because a television show did not make the white male serial killer the main character.

I can say this because the victims of these stories are always Scott McCall and Alan Deaton, though recently they've expanded to include Melissa McCall, because of the way they treated the Hale Pack, by which they mean Peter Hale. It's revenge for denying Peter his legacy, rejecting his philosophy of killing your enemies, or refusing to submit. Though strangely, I've never encountered any stories where Peter and Stiles murder Derek for stealing the alpha power from Peter, they never humiliate the Sheriff or Parrish before slaughtering them for objecting to Peter's murder spree, and they never degrade Isaac before killing him for abandoning the Hale Pack.

Of course, these stories are never tagged appropriately; I didn't seek them out. I finally had to get in the habit of excluding that particular author specifically when searching for Teen Wolf fanfiction, because they come out with a story once a week. Their works are very popular; I won't include the name here, but I will share it in DMs if you want. The worst part is the subject isn't really unique; hundreds of other writers do the same thing of punishing characters for not bowing to white men. What's unique about this author is their volume and their attitude: they have a habit of putting a note a the end of their stories: "I write for stress relief, so I won't take criticism." Oh, is that why you write racist, pornographic violence?

The answer from many well-meaning people is "curate your own experiences!" In other words, let this writer and their followers have their own little corner of the internet and concentrate on avoiding them, which is possible, though it is easier said than done. But this admonition strikes me as galling in its tone deafness every time.

Why do I think this? Let's perform a thought experiment:

You walk into an auditorium to talk about something you love with 100 strangers you don't know and who don't know you. One person stands up and says "My life is filled with stress, so in order to cope, I repeatedly imagine black and brown people being murdered." You would probably try to move your chair a little further away from them, wouldn't you? But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that 92 other people start clapping for them. They appreciate having this content available. You become upset, because you find this behavior repulsive. (Everyone should find it repulsive). When you act in response, some positive soul turns to you and says "You could just have not come in here!" or "You could just leave!"

No one is stopping you from leaving and never coming back, but that wouldn't erase the fact that you know that there's a person out there who loves to imagine brown and black characters being killed in order to feel better about themselves, and there there are people who celebrate this person and reward them with their time and attention. All the "curating experience" won't erase the fact that this person is out there, still writing these stories, still finding 'relief' in writing a wrong because a television show decided that in this instance, a Latino teenager would be the good guy and the rich white male serial-killing con artist would be the bad guy.

I don't see how it could, and I'm going to say so.

[writingsofwerewolves]

Here is the first chapter of the 16k word plot-heavy werewolf noncon I have written.

This chapter hasn't been thoroughly edited so things are subject to change before I post the whole thing to AO3.

This whole story was a bit experimental. I'm not super happy with the result but I think there are a few gems in there that some folks might find interesting.

No content warnings for this first chapter, but as previously stated, this is a werewolf noncon.

Chapter 1

“These tunnels were used during the Civil War,” Josephine enthused, her voice echoing ominously against the stone walls, “I can’t believe no one’s been down here since then.”

“I can,” Gunther wrinkled his nose, “It reeks.”

Josephine inhaled deeply, a smile on her face, “It smells like history to me. Rich history. Just think of how many people used these passageways to escape the south two hundred years ago.”

“Can they help me escape the south now?” Jayce muttered in a voice that was clearly meant to be quiet and unheard but with the small space, it carried through the tunnel.

“Mood,” Talia replied wearily, “Josie, we should turn around before we get lost.”

“We won’t get lost,” she held up her smart phone, “I’m drawing out every turn we take. Relax, guys.”

The group pressed on, following the light of Josephine’s flashlight ahead of them. The tunnels were dark, musty, and damp. Each step echoed strangely around them in the tight space.

“Whoa, hold on,” Jayce breathed, “Shush.”

Everyone quieted and Josephine turned back to look at them, “What?”

“Do you hear that?” Jayce asked.

The group was silent, straining their ears. There was the sound of footsteps, soft but close. Josephine moved the flashlight to look around urgently.

“Hey, where’s Aaron?” she asked.

Talia said, “He’s right behind—” she broke off when she turned and saw no one was there. “Fuck. Aaron!” she called.

“Quiet!” Jayce hissed in a low whisper, their eyes full of concern, “I think something’s down here.”

“You-you’re being paranoid, Jay,” Josephine shook her head, though her voice sounded unsteady, “We better find Aaron though. He’s supposed to be filming.”

“You’re probably just hearing Aaron,” Gunther pointed out to Jayce, “Where’s the sound coming from?”

Jayce pointed a shaking finger down one of the tunnel’s branches.

“Then let’s go,” Josie said, leading the way.

The new tunnel was a tighter squeeze, forcing them to go in a single file. Josephine led the way confidently, her phone in one hand and her flashlight in the other. Jayce stuck close at her back, their own flashlight held tightly in their shaking hand. Gunther, the largest of the bunch, had to shimmy sideways through parts the smaller tunnel, slowing him down and creating a small gap between him and Jayce as he struggled to keep up. Talia brought up the rear, using her phone as a flashlight to keep glancing behind her, having the strange feeling that she was being watched.

The tunnel had a lot of curves, but no branches off it, giving the group no chance to change directions. Either they had to continue forward or turn back. And Josephine was no where near ready to turn back.

“Aaron!” she called, “Come on, this isn’t funny.”

No one responded.

“We should go home,” Jayce whispered fearfully.

“We have to at least find Aaron first,” Gunther pointed out.

“And besides,” Josephine began, “We’re nearly—oh!”

She broke off as suddenly the tunnel opened up ahead of them, into a large circular room. Josephine stepped into it, Jayce right at her back, as she looked around in awe. It was fairly dark, but the surprisingly tall ceiling had a grate in the center, opening up to the sky. Filtered sunlight trickled down into the center of the room, on to a raised surface.

Gunther was farther behind and Josephine already had begun examining the room with interest when he stepped in, Talia a few steps behind him.

“I don’t think we should be here,” Talia whispered, remaining in the tunnel, eyeing the room anxiously, “It seems—” her words broke off into a scream when she felt something grab her from behind.

Her scream startled the whole group. Jayce, who had kept themself pressed close to Josephine, lost their footing and fell with a yelp onto the raised surface in the center of the room. The yelp became an exclamation of pain.

“Oh, shit,” a man’s voice came from the darkness of the tunnel.

“Aaron!” Talia pulled out of his grip and slapped his arm, “The fuck?”

“Sorry,” Aaron said sheepishly, a camcorder held in one hand, aimed at Talia’s face, “I thought it’d make a funny video.”

“Jayce,” Josephine breathed, rushing to their side, “Are you okay?”

“No,” they groaned, pushing themself up into a sitting position on the raised center and clutching their hand.

“Shit,” Gunther said, opening his pack and pulling out supplies, “You’re bleeding. What happened?”

“I fell onto this thing,” they pointed at the surface they sat on, “Something sharp went into my hand. It… ah…”

Talia moved closer and looked at the object. It looked like a metal grate with raised walls.

“Is this a well?” Talia asked as Gunther tended to Jayce’s injured hand.

“Looks like it,” Josephine said, looking down into it. She shined her flashlight into it. Jayce’s blood was on the grate, dripping down into the deep hole. With the light, Josephine and Talia were able to see dark shapes. Rocks, they thought, at the bottom.

“No water down there,” Josephine remarked, “Not anymore, at least.”

She looked up, at the grate in the ceiling.

“Strange. I wonder if people lived here,” she said, beginning to shine her flashlight around the room, “Maybe this wasn’t just for transit. Maybe it—fuck!”

She dropped her flashlight, clutching her chest.

“What?” Talia asked urgently, moving to Josie’s side and helping her steady herself on her feet.

Josie pointed a shaky finger across the room, “I thought I saw something move.”

Talia lifted her phone, shining its flashlight in that direction and gasped herself. There was a dark lump and with the movement of the light, it did look like it was moving itself. A second of observation, however, reassured Talia that it indeed was not moving.

“What is that?” Aaron asked, aiming his camera at it as Talia took tentative steps forward.

“It looks like… fur,” Talia breathed, moving closer.

“Careful!” Aaron warned, “Might be a bear!”

“These tunnels have been locked up for over a hundred years,” Josie pointed out, “Even if it was a bear, it’s dead now.”

Talia continued to step towards it. It was indeed fur. A lot of fur. Black fur. Without thinking, she reached out her hand and pressed it against the figure.

She let out a long breath as she felt stiffness beneath her hand. The fur itself was soft, but the flesh below was hard. Dead.

“Gross,” Aaron said, making sure his camera was catching all of it.

Talia felt overwhelming sadness as she stroked the dead creature’s fur. A poor creature had wandered into the tunnel, gotten stuck, and died. Alone. Starving. Never to be seen again.

“We need to go,” Gunther said, helping Jayce to their feet once their hand was wrapped, “Jayce needs to go to a hospital. There’s no telling what type of infection they could get from that.”

“But—” Josephine began to protest. A firm look from Gunther had her shutting her mouth, “Fine. Come on, Talia.”

Talia didn’t move, her hand still buried in the fur of the creature.

Aaron rolled his eyes and grabbed Talia’s arm, “Let’s go, beautiful.”

Talia looked back longingly as she was dragged into the tunnel, away from the hunk of black fur. She didn’t know why. It was just a dead animal. But she didn’t want to leave it.

“We’ll be back,” Josephine called as she lead the way through the tunnel, “There’s a lot more to find down here and I want credit for it all.

[manonamora-if]

WELLLLLL The last weeks have been a mess and a half. Don't want to get into it. It's probably going to stay messy for a while. whomp whopm :/

Onto what's been happenings. I missed last week, so here's a recap of what I did on that 3rd week of January:

I made a new Zine (CTRL+SHIFT+ZUT+ALORS), with the vibes of lost content/games and weird programs. The Zine is downloadable in both French and English. Also, you can use it as a prompt if you want!

I was working on my Recipe Jam entry (but didn't finish because I kept fighting Adventuron and all the conditional statements...).

Also continued to review a bunch of games (see @manonamora-if-reviews).

And here what happened this week:

I finished my entry to the Recipe Jam: Not Another Sad Meal - a short cooking sim parser (easy! with walkthrough and help!)

I've also done a couple of fixes for the Sugarcube Guide (mainly typo + new indexes)

Also done a mini-fix for Meeting the Parents

Continued to play and review a shit ton of games (got the 3rd place on the Reviewer board, need about 100 reviews to get to the next one...)

A longer note on Harcourt:

I've been going at the coding of the file this week, and I think I cleared at least 1/5th of the file (I've mainly done the easy passages). The maze was insanely long to write and edit... it is now a pain to code. Will people actually see all the written text? probably not. I may have the untested and unformatted version done in a week or two.

Writing wise, MelS is finishing the 2nd ending path for Chapter 6 (it's a bummer one, I've already cried yall...). And he has 2 more ending paths to write before moving to the editing bit.

We're seeing the end with this...

Some other neat things:

An Eggcellent Preparation got 3rd place for Best Puzzle-Focused Game at the IF Short Game Showcase !! I really wasn't expecting that at all!!!

(not so) strangers in the dark won 1st place for Best Use of Songs at the Shufflecomp! my laziness paid off!

Let's talk IF Events:

The Queer Vampire Game Jam ends in about three weeks. Got a vampire/human story with a LGBT+ cast? Then this is the event for you! (unranked)

Obviously @neointeractives got you covered for Valentine's with the Smoochie Jam: it's all about kisses, love and romance (unranked) - The next Neo-Interactives mini-jam will happen mid-March.

The SeedComp! (Sprouting) ends at the end of February. Come transform someone's idea or asset into a new IF game! See @seedcomp-if for more info ;) (ranked)

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2024 se termine dans un mois! Viendez faire des histoires en français!! <3 (ranked, duh)

The Spring Thing is waiting for your intent to participate until March 1st!

Got a cool talk idea regarding Interactive Fiction, narration, or gameplay? Consider submitting a proposal for this year's Narrascope! They are still looking for people!

Finally, Finally Finish Something 2024. Technically not IF, but if you finished something in January, and want to submit something... (it is ranked, but it also gets hundreds of entries)

I think that's all for the near future? See you for the February check up in a few days....

Also: Anon is back on. Send stuff if you want. (I'll prob do an AMA around the end of February)

[getvalentined]

For the truth and dare ask game: 🍓🍄🧩🧃 (any or all)?

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

My family has always been in fandom; my mom is a furry, my biological father was a Trekkie, and my dad is a Whovian. Fanfiction has always just kinda been there, I literally can't say the first time I engaged with it. My mom did fanart and short fancomics for series she followed, so fanworks were just always there! I do know that the first bit of fanfiction I ever wrote was for a Miyazaki film and was like a hundred words written out using a typewriter in the early 90s. I was probably eight years old or so.

Because it was something that always existed in my lived experience, when I wanted to see something from something I loved, I just made it myself! As far as I knew, that was just how it was done.

🍄 ⇢ share a headcanon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Did this for Vinesis and Tseeve earlier, this time we'll go with Sephesis: this has come up in Smoke and Mirrors (specifically chapter five), but Sephiroth is the reason Genesis has the single long earring, and that fact is why he pretty much always wears it. It would make this post way too long to explain it, but Genesis considers it a precious reminder that Sephiroth cared about him once, and Sephiroth recognizes it as proof that Genesis still cares about him—no matter what else happens between them.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Bad formatting and technical errors are the first thing that puts me off, but I think that's pretty normal.

As far as actual story content that will do it, I'll back out pretty fast if I come across certain fanon characterizations, and back out instantly if I come across certain ships that I have blacklisted. My "favorite" instance of this is when people post explicit fic tagged for a specific pairing, but they actually ship them in a threesome or polycule with other characters and just didn't tag it that way because the other character(s) aren't actively participating in the sex scene. The characters in the pairing actually tagged will refer back to the other character(s) who are not participating, sometimes the other(s) will be in the room, but they're not tagged because they're not naked. It's the worst. A complete waste of my time.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I'm not actually sure what this question means, since the phrasing is so vague. Personal lore as in headcanons, or personal lore as in something IRL that I haven't talked about?

If it's the first one: Yuffie ends up with Kunsel postcanon, and I am not explaining that further unless asked specifically.

If it's the second: I lived down the street from my city's cemetery for a couple years as a child and my siblings and I used to play there sometimes. This may or may not have led to some local stories about a bunch of quiet, thin, dark-haired children with big black eyes running around the graveyard around sunset in the summertime.

[ writers' truth & dare ask game ]

[emiri-tezel]

"Yeah, I mean... I wouldn't wanna meet her in a dark alley, so..." She trailed off with a light shrug; chuckling. Taking his words for what they were and not taking any offence - knowing that actually, he wasn't calling her cousin a monster out of spite. "Are you calling me short? At least I'm in the... what people would call normal climate..." she huffed slightly, eyeing him up before letting out a small burst of laughter. Soon only shrugging at him betting she'd floor a grown man, silently knowing herself that she'd give it her best shot, anyway. Her dad had been the one to show her how to throw a punch and then some, after all. Listening as they continued to expand on the whole pyramids conspiracy her blue eyes only widen, because... "Oh my god I know that," that Cleopatra was Greek. It was funny to her in a weird way, as she had mentioned this not only the other day. "Which is so... bizarre, right? Like I really think history in educational scenarios needs to be written, because sometimes you see a black and white photo in a text book and think it's from a million years ago, right?" That was an exaggeration, she knew that... "But reality it's only hundred years at best. Not even that." She says, excitedly, actually, hoping that her point had been picked up on and not missed. "You think mermaids are real?" She asks, curiously, there's that sound of doubt in her tone because she wasn't actually sure she believed. "I dunno, I mean, maybe something similar in size?" Deep deep down, in the ocean anyway. Though the idea of Megalodon sharks still existing scared the shit out of her and didn't help the fact that actually, she couldn't swim. "It's strange, right? But I wonder if it's because... if something fails when we're going up there," she means space, "We know about it? But down there it's like... you're not going to sink upwards are you?" You'd sink down into the deep, was what she was trying to explain, anyway.

"I'm definitely keeping them." she means his socks, but actually she was probably going to go home the next day in his clothes. So it was more a fore warning. Settling back down she happily welcomes Buffy back, giving her a fuss when she lays back down on her. Smiling softly because she thought it was cute. It was also an added thought for Emiri on whether or not she should get a dog herself; knowing having that company was a big part of it for her. Relaxing back into the furniture as Riley pressed play on the movie - one she had seen way too many times, she silently sighs, actually feeling content for once. She found herself turning to look at him when he spoke up, brows furrowing briefly before she laughed, shaking her head softly she paused in her own thoughts for a moment. "I think you watch too much sci-fi." Lizard people? She wasn't sure she could get on board with that. "Or you're obsessed with Doctor Who." Though she only knew one person that was obsessed and that was Alara. "I dunno though, I think if the DNA was there we'd know about it, right? Or is this you saying that the conspiracy is because it's there." She chuckles. "Next you'll be saying Bigfoot is real, huh?"

"I'd bet on her against a fuckin' bear," he nods as if that was a fact. "Yeah, so I recall. At the time nobody could have guessed he'd create a monster." Chuckling, he hoped it was obvious that he didn't mean anything by it. Especially not when at that time, he did remember just how lost and fragile she'd been, what Nate did to help her was exactly what she needed. "Don't sell yourself short, Em." Riley smirks, hoping she'd catch the purposely worded pun. "I bet you could floor a grown man if you really wanted to." In fact, that statement rang true to most of the women connected to the club. In one way or another, he never wanted to piss any of them off. "Isn't it? People keep chattin' about conspiracy but the facts are right there. If it's not true then explain why that has water erosion and nothing else does? The only logical explanation is that it was around way before the pyramids. & Did you know Cleopatra was actually greek?" Shrugging, he nods in agreement. "Yeah, scary. And fuckin' annoying, isn't it? We'll never know the real answers." Humming, he couldn't say it didn't excite and infuriate him with equal measure. The mystery of it was what lured him in but as someone who liked to have answers, it irked like an itch he couldn't scratch. "I bet mermaids make up at least 1%, that'll take our knowledge to a solid 11% if we could only prove their existence." Grinning, he tipped his head over to her. "What do you think is down there? Think the Megalodon sharks still exist?" Sure, nobody had seen one, but like she'd said, nobody really knew what was way down there in the depths. "Don't you find it a bit weird? We can build things that take us off planet, set a man on the moon, put a rover on Mars... But we can't build something to explore the oceans? Hmm."

Settling himself back on the sofa, his eyes roam down to his socks with a nod. "Oh yeah, I'm cool. Got the boxers to match." He jests, knowing that really, having pacman socks didn't do much to support that statement. Whilst Emiri is away, he settles with Buffy, chatting to her like he normally would, giving her a fuss, only to be abandoned yet again when Emiri returns. A quiet scoff and a pair of narrowed eyes watch his dog as she stomps her paws in excitement, waiting for her to sit back down so she could lie down. He might actually sulk about it if it wasn't so damn adorable. "You do suit them." Riley smiles, not entirely talking about the socks. Something about seeing her in his clothes just made him feel glad that he'd made the offer in the first place. "Oh yeah, I'm ready." Nodding, he leans forward to hit play, passing her drink over before slouching back down. The movie only plays for about a minute before mischief begins to creep onto his features, knowing he was about to purposely interrupt. "Lizard people." He says, turning to her with a boyish grin. "What do you think? Real or nah?"

[sunder-soul]

PROMPT 1: Hellooooooo! First off ur writing goes off, second off listen to this idea that i truly think u can bring to life... reader n tom r in a relationship and someone tried to slip tom to love potion but ofc he doesn't fall for it and his gf is like ??? and then they rub their relationship in her face LOL. anyways no worried just thought this would slap! Admire u n ur work!!

PROMPT 2: hey i love your the last of your rules series and everything else you’ve written. i’m not very creative so idk what exactly i’m looking for plot wise i just trust you since everything you’ve written is good but i was wondering if maybe you could write a tom x ravenclaw reader please. the ravenclaw reader tends to be more emotionally reserved and isn’t big on physical affection and maybe tom finds that interesting in a way? idk this idea might suck but felt like asking anyways...

Decided to combine these two because I could see them working really well together… :D

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Retribution

Summary: After somebody tries to slip Tom a love potion to break up him and Ravenclaw Reader’s relationship, they get a little bit theatrical in response...

Wordcount: 1.8k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Good morning,” says Tom evenly, lifting a wide-brimmed cup to his lips and taking an even sip as he looks at you.

“Is it?” you say dryly, sitting down opposite him at the Slytherin table and pulling out the new Magical Theory textbook. “Have you looked over this yet?”

“I have,” Tom replies with a very small smile. “Not to your liking?”

“Sophus writes like it’s still the seventeenth century,” you say with a shake of your head, “which isn’t surprising considering I don’t think he included a single reference from the last two hundred years… I mean honestly –” you wave at the title on the front of the book, “– ‘Corpus Magikus?’ Even the title makes it sound ancient.”

“Did you have any criticisms about the actual content per chance?” Tom asks as he lifts his tea again – though it doesn’t quite hide the amused smile on his lips. “Or did you not manage to get past the articulation?”

You give him a look. “The articulation is just as important as the content.”

“I completely disagree,” he replies easily, his cup clinking as he rests it back on its saucer, “regardless of how it is written, his points are extremely sophisticated.”

“I’m not talking about the quality of his points, I’m talking about how well he makes them accessible,” you say at once, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it lightly, “he can have the best criticisms of Magical Theory in the world and no one will care if they can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Tom arches a brow and leans forward on the table, resting on his forearms. “You’re placing the responsibility of understanding an argument on the person presenting it, and not the person receiving it,” he says fluidly, “personally when I find something difficult to understand, I take it as an indicator that I need to return to the topic after better preparing myself.”

“That works fine as an individualistic perspective,” you reply at once, leaning forward to match him, “but a book isn’t written for an individual, is it? It’s written for an audience. A book like this is measured by how wide an audience it can reach, meaning the responsibility is half on him to write accessibly, and half on the audience to go away and fill the holes in our own understanding. That’s when information is dispersed most effectively.”

“Your priority is the dispersion of information as a whole and not the expansion of your personal field of knowledge, and that is the crux of our differing opinion,” Tom says, sitting up straighter and tilting his head calmly.

“I am very aware,” you say dryly, “but you shouldn’t dismiss the importance of charisma when it comes to spreading information. After all, academics aren’t exactly known to be the most charismatic people most of the time, so you end up with intelligent, useful tomes that are utterly incomprehensible to most people –” you nod at the text again, “whilst compelling idiotic drivel is widely consumed.”

The Daily Prophet lands with a thump on your breakfast plate as the delivery owl swoops away with a mournful hoot, and you share a pointed, very wry look with Tom.

Tom breathes a little laugh and laces his fingers around his cup. “So you’re not looking forward to Magical Theory, then.”

“I am,” you amend, frowning, “I just hope the class follows more like Waffling’s work than this.”

“Of course you like Waffling,” Tom smirks, lifting his cup, “he effectively writes in verse –”

Tom suddenly freezes, his brow furrowing lightly. You raise a brow at his sudden reaction. “What?”

He looks down at his tea, still frowning.

“Tom?” you prompt, bemused.

“Someone has attempted to drug me,” he says in complete seriousness, looking up at you.

You stare back, bewildered. “Is… is this more Tom humour?” you ask after a moment, “you seriously need more practice at making jokes, Tom, you really are terrible at it –”

“I’m not joking,” Tom interrupts crisply.

Your scrutiny drops to the cup in his hand. “How can you tell?”

“My tea smells like you.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“My tea,” he repeats evenly, his dark eyes coming alight with a flicker of amusement as he leans closer, his cup still in one hand, “rather suddenly smells like you. I can only assume someone has managed to slip Amortentia into my cup sometime during this conversation.”

You blink at him. “Oh,” you say simply.

Tom’s lips curve into a more defined smirk at your expression.

“Well who’s trying to drug you then?” you ask quickly, looking away.

“An excellent question,” he says silkily, eyes still on you. “Their motive is hardly a mystery, so that should narrow it down.”

You roll your eyes and level him with a flat look. “Nothing could narrow it down less, Tom,” you drawl, “half the school is in love with you, and the other half is in denial about being in love with you.”

Tom arches a brow and looks very pleased with himself. “Should I drink it and we can find out?” he asks in amusement, lifting the cup.

You huff a laugh and take a bite of your toast. “Go on then, but don’t expect any sympathy from me when you’re pouring your heart out to some random stranger in front of the whole school a minute from now.”

His hand freezes with the rim of his cup an inch from his mouth, amusement faltering.

“That’s what I thought,” you smirk. “If you want to play it that way you’re going to have to be smarter than that.”

“Oh?” he asks, dark eyes narrowing. “And what would you suggest?”

“If someone drugged you during this conversation then they’re probably watching for your reaction,” you say casually around bites of your toast, “so just look out for someone who’s waiting for you to dramatically break up with me.”

“According to you, that would be the entire school,” Tom mutters, looking significantly more disgruntled than before.

A grin slowly builds on your face. “That was nearly a real joke, Tom,” you say ironically, “Merlin you’ve come so far…”

He shoots you a flat glare and you snicker. “Alright, sorry, I’ll stop – look, if I storm out of here looking upset and you act all conflicted and brooding for the rest of the day, whoever it was will probably try to come talk to you.”

“How theatrical,” Tom deadpans.

You shrug. “Do you want to know who drugged you or not?”

His eyes remain on yours for a moment, and then he lifts the tea to his lips. You watch him pretend to drink, your eyes lingering on the tea glistening on his lips as he lowers the cup.

“Don’t lick your lips,” you say quietly, not quite able to look away.

Tom’s other hand shifts slightly where it’s resting on the table between you, and the tea vanishes both from his lips and the cup. You give him another dry look. “Show off,” you accuse, smiling, “wandless and non-verbal, huh?”

“If you ask nicely, I’ll teach you how to do it,” he smirks.

You huff a laugh and slide Corpus Magikus back into your bag. “I should make my dramatic exit soon,” you say casually, finishing your toast and looking around the hall absently. “Perhaps we should have a fight first.”

“That would make it more convincing, yes,” he says delicately, still looking amused.

“What shall we fight about?"

Tom’s expression immediately cools and he leans in so close that you can see the patterns in his dark irises. “The content doesn’t matter,” he says smoothly, a glimmer in his eyes despite his utterly blank expression, “rather, the articulation.”

You hold his gaze for a second, fighting the urge to smile. You force yourself to stand suddenly, as if he’s said something of great offence. “I’ve never seen you so quickly converted to my opinion, Tom,” you say icily, leaning down to him over the table and hoping it looks like you’re angry.

“You made your argument very convincingly,” Tom says immediately, lifting his chin coolly.

“Actively demonstrating my point, I suppose,” you snap, standing straight. “I’m going to storm out now.”

“I’ll see you in class,” he says dismissively, pouring himself more tea.

You turn on your heel and leave, ignoring the curious eyes following you on your way out and not letting the smile break on your face until you’re well outside the Hall. Now all you have to do is wait.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Amelia Staghart,” Tom says in your ear before swiftly sitting down next to you in Potions that afternoon.

You raise a brow at him, watching as he arranges his Potions kit on the desk – Staghart is sitting a few desks behind you at that very moment and can most definitely see the both of you. “Are we no longer having a fight?”

“I grew tired of that pretence rather quickly,” Tom says curtly.

You smirk. “Did she talk to you?”

“Yes.” He looks decidedly irritated.

“A lot, huh.”

He shoots you a glare and you bite back another smile. “Are you going to report her then?” you ask, writing the date out on your parchment.

“No,” Tom says softly. You glance up curiously at his tone and find his dark eyes watching you write, before they flick up to yours. “I can think of a more pertinent retribution for her to endure,” he finishes quietly, not looking away.

“Retribution?” you echo, arching a brow with a slight smile. “And you accuse me of being theatrical.”

But Tom only leans closer and – to general astonishment – places a very gentle kiss on your cheek. His lips linger soft and warm on your skin for a moment as you’re frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly draws away an inch. His eyes roam your face as you blink in surprise, his lips curving into another humorous smile at your expression when there’s a sudden SMASH from behind you.

The entire class turns from where they’ve been staring wide-eyed at Tom’s display of affection to see Staghart’s inkwell knocked asunder on her desk, spreading black ink across the wood and dripping down to the floor, her eyes wide and her expression thunderstruck as she stares at you.

“Clean that up at once, Staghart!” Slughorn says disapprovingly as he strides into the room. “I certainly hope your clumsiness does not extend through today’s lesson – we’re brewing poisons today, class!”

Staghart goes red as the rest of the students titter and chatter, furiously glaring at the pool of ink dripping into her lap. 

You glance at Tom and share a silent look of amusement before the two of you simultaneously turn back to your notes, still smirking.

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

[jjheejz]

About Internet Water Army in the case

This is an ongoing update about the case from start to development. List of all related posts can be found on this blog's pinned post (link provided at bottom of each post as well).

19 August 2021 update: Added the scale of his success for reference, before bonus below

18 August 2021 update: Added timeline of events, orange title in post, found out the official English term for Immoral Media = Internet Water Army)

Major updates since first draft: Added bonus, added disclaimer, certain info details

Originally posted on 16 August 2021

[The purpose of this post is to provide a perspective as to why the Media is raised/blamed regarding the issue. Especially for international fans, as all the encounters happened on Weibo. Also, those who were on weibo, do read through if you will. So although it's lengthy, do try to read all, at least if not the last two parts].

The Media referred by most, is not the common perception of the Entertainment Industry (celebrities, directors, shows, channels, staff etc), but the dark side of the Entertainment industry: Antis, toxic fans, toxic marketing accounts. They are called Internet Water Army💧.

Toxic Marketing Accounts is one of the things they do, these accounts on Weibo has millions of followers, each of their post likes are in the hundred thousands (buyable) to give credibility to passer-bys. Some use similar names to Official accounts, some use similar logos. Their posts are usually subjective or aims to steer view points of a certain celebrity/movie/show. Before the latest update of this post (18.08.21), I just group them all together and term them as Immoral Media*.

*Below is my original post using my original term because at point of first draft, I did not know the official term (so have changed/added the term from Immoral Media to Internet Water Army in content below but retain the content based off first draft).

If you have chased before celebrities, or just simply passed by an article about certain celebrities, recall how some title that caught your attentions were like. Clickbaits is one of the many things they do. If GZ is your first and you do not have Weibo, then this read(link) is good enough.

Just as the term Immoral Media (Internet Water Army), it’s immoral and unethical, but they exists because they are paid to do so. Who pays them? Entertainment Companies, and maybe other Organisations

Normal Media/Marketing vs Immoral Media/Toxic Marketing/Internet Water Army

When a show or movie comes out, the normal Marketing department will generate outreach and buzz so that people know a show is airing soon/know the show exists etc. Official announcements are not enough, because there isn’t much context (limited content to put up as well) so having some other Marketing accounts do the buzz in a planned period to gain awareness through posts, some articles about the casts, the plot summary, the production details etc is normal. This is Marketing, bigger companies will probably have stronger Marketing departments (aka influence) and can hire more Marketing accounts to generate buzz. Celebrities (aka casts) themselves, are also Marketing point.

Then we have the Internet Water Army/Immoral Media, these are what they mainly do:

Create Fanfiction-rumors: Creating rumors about celebrities to shift audience perception of them. [eg. XX was seen with XX leaving a hotel, XX was drunk on Event Y and did ZZZ to AA, XX is dating BB and has been in a relationship for N years etc]

Honing their brain degrading skills: Come up with titled clickbait headings/ trending topics with negative written contents. For articles, exceptionally out of heading content related to the celebrity. [Refer to Baidu, it’s a winner of these, feel free to Google Translate]

Regressing their common sense and understanding skills: Take everything a celebrity does completely out of context in a negative way and create a topic out of it [eg. XX said AA is a ---, “XX raised his finger, a sign of ---?”, XX pushed BB aggressively on Variety Show Y - A competition variety show, XX is in beef with CC because XX was caught giving CC the eye]

Using their fingers to stir shit and bathe each other in it: Escalate all smallest form of possible tension created by fans/themselves into a huge thing by acting as the fandom's fans/lurk in fandom chat groups, and voicing their disguised opinion to spread tension/exaggerate severity of the issue [eg. XX fans mocked AA - in groupchats: tbh I've never liked AA before, AA just gives off a vibe that I dont like and now this? It just disgusts me even more > Yea, i feel this way too. AA has problems / XX Lurkers expressing views on XX about NN, slowly to NNMHFXW - XX did NNMHGT - I cannot accept NNmHfHw, I'm leaving = multiply by 1000++]

Epitome of a self-deteriorate: Creating something out of nothing and react to that something negatively to gain massive attention/reaction [eg. “XX raised his hand on show Y” - dk what XX fans are thinking, are they literally blind? XX fans are tasteless just like XX hahaha / “XX did community service” - they are acting / “XX breathed” - From the start, i thought XX was NN, but I am so ZZZ that XX breathed. Goodbye fandom, i’m leaving. Those who still want to stay I urge you to rethink your life choices] - if I may add, Xiao Zhan’s fanfiction case as well. 

Metaphor - Ability to use bare hands to collect paychecks from the urinal/toilet bowl where their boss/client peed in: Doing all of the above.

Apologies for any term offense, but not apologetic of the term context. This is what they do for a living. Any normal human being who do not like anything, will generally not be interested at anything about it in the first place, so to have some antis/toxic fans knowing certain things and inside jokes/references in their posts questions their goal.

On involved in Internet Water Army/Immoral Media 💧

Fans on weibo during these few months witnessed many of the above on GZ. From rumored girlfriend (spammed with articles) to mean and nasty comments on trending topics, to bouts of insults and fake emotional cryouts by certain fan accounts that GZ's office has to release a number of Lawyer’s letter to them. 

Aside from WOH there were also a few other BL adaptation films that were actually released this year but they did not reach exponential success like WOH. BL adaptations are so highly followed by because this is the key to wealth. Literally. Successful BLs like The Untamed and  Dao Mu Bi Ji saw the amount of wealth fans are willing to spend on the celebrity as compared to say BG or idols (younger fan groups). This is why when WOH shot up exponentially, Immoral Media start to sweat.

Major anticipated adaptations were supposed to air this year eg. Hao Yi Xing(HYX), Sha Po Lang(SPL) etc but was severely held back due to the stricter change in BL adaptations submitting their scripts for approval regulations (WOH manage to submit earlier before the change). Because of this, most final films were rejected and they have to keep re-editing, by then WOH was already months into reaping tonnes of major brand endorsements, shows/movie casting, variety show appearances etc, something that is seen as too successful in the Immoral Media’s eyes, because they have to create buzz for other celebrities, some are specific celebrity oriented and thus circulate rumors about having endorsement opportunities shifted from celebrity X to GZ (think fanfiction-rumors and shit stirrer) causes tension in celebrity fandoms. - A real event just in July:

The Untamed’s cp fandom is called BJYX which had always been in the Top 1 of Cps for 2 years dropped for awhile to Top 2, over taken by LLD. Both of them had a war and hated each fandom, one fandom is somehow not allowed to like the other fandom even casually after everything broke out because it started out with some BJYX toxics photoshopped GZ on of portraits .

Also another case of which he wore the same costume as WYB did in a previous photoshoot and it became a useless comparison of who wore better, who looks better, degrading the other. (Finger stirring shit).

Now apply all of the above things the Internet Water Army do and we have them earning money, while both fandom reacts and hate each other.

In LLD, our own fans started suspecting each other on who is a spy from BJYX and what not.

The first few months of Internet Water Army saw LLDs mostly mocking them because the average age is 30-40s, they know and see through all of their intentions so nothing was big. They were trumpeting and LLDs didn’t even care, what with all the doing tedious stats was not even important to them.

Over time, as the issues they create became more and more serious LLDs did start to care, reporting Toxic Marketing accounts/toxic fans became a daily task, go vote for GZ at certain polls etc, solo fans, and LLD fans also split apart. Solo fans think cp fans use GZ to furnish their fantasies, and cp fans thinks they are the ones furnishing their dreaming-girls fantasy with (aka my boyfriend).

There was also a period where LLD had a habit of continuously mentioning “we are in the 30-40s so we can see through everything about the media, we are all fans for the first time, we are good at spending money (because of purchase power compared to other fandoms)” it was prevalent for so long it felt odd, ‘chasing celebrities the first time’ in particular sounds more vulnerable as a weakness than a strength / sth to be proud of.

Gradually, more secretive/insider confirmed ‘sweets’ were flying around. Fans advised each other to not circulate, and the mindset of “if you know, you know, dont tell.” (This is a problematic mentality, of which fans will still be curious to know and search for it themselves, but this secretive hook is unhealthy. Over the long term, it becomes hard for existing fans to know a lot of things properly to judge for themselves, especially those who knew and publicly reacted, but blasting those who ask and telling those who know to keep quiet, this did not help some to understand why on certain things, even so for international fans, dont know and dont understand, causing misunderstandings. Yes, certain information should not be shared, so why should you react about it publicly in the first place? - Internet Water Army effect)

The last few months (for example the July fan war) created a tonne of seriousness and anger. A period even broke out with a tonne of ‘insider confirmed sweets’ (which is LLD’s daily dose of happiness), it was hard to tell what was real and what was fake. Trending topics became negative and everyone warned each other not to enter because it will give the trends ‘views’ and trend statistics, in reality entering there is to enter an exhibition by the self-deteriorates, collecting the fandom's traffic data (it's a sure lose for fans each time they enter the topic). Everyone even starts thinking that the trend’s popularity was caused by each other (it's true but it can be bought daily and not caused by fans). There was a raise in the number of fans who were getting emotional because they want to protect but Internet Water Army kept coming and got worse, because fans, tbh, not just GZ fans, every other celebrity’s fans are always fighting with an Army, getting played and plotted in that Army's calendar.

Even so, despite all of these, LLD is actually a fandom Internet Water Army may find the hardest to break because they understand GZ so much, they could tell what are fake news regarding GZ, because among everything above, there are still plenty of logical fans to stop many fans from drifting too far and debunking them. Why? 30-40s are grown up adults.

Why 13.8.21 and the Japan issue is plotted?

First of all, in the political climate of China, there are many political dates in a month that is NO-Entertainment news. Because it’s the honoring of certain important political events. It’s like Remembrance Day, thus the sensitivity is higher. On these days, there are usually no news and even the Internet Water Army zip their pants. This year also marks the 100th year of the Chinese Communist Party(link)

Secondly, he had no work schedule on 13 August 2021. A great full day to focus on any other news (because if he had schedules, everyone will turn their attention to his events, what trumpeting outside is just bird chirps). 

Thirdly, when the news broke out, especially about the shrine, the reception was actually quite serious within the fandom so the scale of this might be big but to what extent in reality?

Lastly, 15.8.21 marks the 76th anniversary of the announcement of surrender of Japanese in World War 2(link). Also a day of NO-Entertainment news. 

Timeline of events:

13.8.21 - [His rest day, Eve of Chinese Valentine's Day, Japan News broke out] His rest day, no schedules = increased attention about him online. Lowered guard among fans because they are getting ready for tomorrow's Chinese Valentine's sweets = Caught off guard = Huge break out of fans' reactions

14.8.21 - [Chinese Valentine's Day, Eve of the 75th Anniversary of the announcement of Japanese surrender] Keep a wishful and happy demenaor to not destroy the mood, suppressed thoughts about ZZH's Japan news

15.8.21 - [75th Anniversary of the announcement of Japanese surrender, Official announcement of ZZH's boycott and all China social media account ban] NO-Entertainment news day, Solemn day, not allowed to voice anything so the fandom can only wait for tomorrow to start voicing out/debunking but before they can wait out, the boycott and social media ban happened, every official accounts about him was gone overnight, fans had no time to react

17.8.21 - [All official fandom accounts related to ZZH and JunZhe were locked/removed]

Forced to be silent since the day his matter broke out, over the course of official news release with everything taken down in a day because of the Japan correspondence, his accounts banned overnight across the Chinese media and the overnight cancellation, fans could not speak anything about it. Overnight cancellation like this scale happened for the first time in China, leaving no time to react by the fandom, by the time they can, they are silenced.

When the period of events occured within a set of special dates, it’s not coincidence.

Conclusion

Because he was too successful and had many actually honorable past things, and a hard to influence fandom, Internet Water Army view him as a huge threat enough to want to destroy him, because it’s hard to defeat. With a chance they have, they will hold it till the end, bringing up this issue to the Government during this period also shows a sign of how scared they were of him and perhaps his fandom to plot something like this.

Updated on 19 August: Here's a screenshot of assumed calculation on the scale of GZ success for reference while chatting with a fellow fan, assuming GJ also has 27 brands, and there are 1000 brands. Rationale of numbers used: Only big brands can hire big celebrities.

Bonus

Mentioned in the first post, will mention again in case. After the news broke out within 2 days, there was a drop on his weibo followers from 18.9mil to 18.7mil. 200k+ drops, if the politics was such a big national issue, there should at least be a huge drop, even at least a million right? Because weibo is a China-Chinese majority right? Nope, we get a puny 200k drop.

What's funny? The self-deteroriates:

Translation: "Are his fans bought? Why didnt he drop fans? Those people got brainwashed to this point?" / "I've never entered his weibo and today i feel like having a look yet it showed I've followed him. All his fans were bought right? It disgusts me, i immediately unfollowed. This kind of process is worse than WYF..." / "i dropped fans because of him...no...I just reposted 2 posts and I've dropped 4 fans?"

Isn't the tone and regressing brain cells, all too familiar and same?

//

Added above, will remind again to read this link. It has an even more in-depth knowledge on who are paying them.

So what should we do? Link here

Related posts 🛏️:

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word  IF THERES MORE LMK 

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever.  ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know! 

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me. 

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look. 

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head. 

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding, 

 “I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.” 

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.” 

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.” 

“Where were we?” 

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled. 

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” 

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin. 

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.” 

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled. 

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine. 

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine. 

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted. 

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss. 

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed. 

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.” 

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic. 

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.” 

“You are. So, so much smarter.” 

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest. 

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.” 

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?” 

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.” 

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other. 

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“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.”  he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?” 

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.” 

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him. 

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Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow. 

What the FUCK? 

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain. 

Where am I? 

How’d I get here? 

Why am I here? 

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything? 

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone. 

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me? 

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?” 

I shook my head. “No.” 

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her. 

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care. 

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this? 

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.” 

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred. 

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.” 

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat.  “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe. 

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!” 

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”  

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked. 

I nodded. 

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.” 

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head. 

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked. 

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.” 

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!” 

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera. 

“Is that-- is that a camera?” 

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.” 

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled. 

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!” 

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.” 

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!” 

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Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation. 

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more. 

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.” 

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.” 

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child. 

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?” 

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.” 

“What did you say?” 

“What do you think I said?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize. 

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.” 

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.” 

“Was it, you know, friendly?” 

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped. 

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.” 

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.” 

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?” 

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.” 

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand, 

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.” 

“What Spence? What?” 

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?” 

“A student.” 

“And what did you tell her?”  

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.” 

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.” 

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch” 

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.” 

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization.            “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me. 

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.” 

“I’ll tell the team.” 

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A/N2:  If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[kxrosenehearts]

hi!! can i get something angsty with wilbur? they/them pronouns please :) thank you so much!! feel free 2 ignore this btw <3

Fame is Happiness, Fortune is Gold

I wasn't really sure where to go with this request, so I just went with the flow of my creative juices... I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Wilbur x GN!Reader - Angst

Description: Fame and fortune will mean nothing when you have nobody by your side. He taught you that in the hardest way possible.

Warning(s): Language, probably horribly written angst.

Song recommendation: Since I Saw Vienna - Wilbur Soot

A/N: I do believe that I am TERRIBLE at writing serious angst, so please forgive me if it's dog shit-

You had finally done it. Your eyes teared up seeing '100k' in bold writing on the monitor in front of you. Hitting one-hundred-thousand subscribers on YouTube had been your biggest accomplishment ever, and you could faintly remember what he said to you that night. You should've listened. You should've paid more attention. You should've kept thinking outside the box. But now, here you were, stuck inside the infinite loop of increasing numbers with only the thought of wanting your name to be bigger. He warned you, and you finally understood the meaning of "you'll reap what you sow".

You stared blankly at your illuminated screen just as that number hit 15 million. That same number that you had been jumping for joy over, not so long ago. That same number that caused you to lose them. That caused you to lose him. So now you sat, alone, in your dark recording room. The only light coming from your 3 monitors and LED PC case. You felt happy on the inside, you really did. But something was telling you that it wasn't enough. You needed a higher number than that. If Dream could do it, so could you.

Yet, as your eyes were trained on those last 3 zeros, you thought back to that night. It might not have been this way if you had heeded his warning...

"I'm so proud of you, mate! You finally hit 100k!" He said, patting you on the shoulder as you let out tears of happiness. Your smile was ever so wide as you wiped your tears.

"I can't believe this is happening! I mean, one hundred thousand people out of this entire world enjoy my content! It's such a mind-blowing concept!" You replied, leaning back in your chair. 'This was it,' you thought. It was just you, your channel, Wilbur, and your friends. 'That's all I'll ever need,' is what you told yourself.

"Well, with a big sub count comes big responsibility. Don't let it get to your head, (Y/N). I know you won't because you're the smartest human I know, but just in case. Fame won't keep you happy for very long, and fortune isn't all that," He warned, brown eyes trailing back to the computer screen.

You scoffed and waved a hand dismissively, "I know that, Wilbur. I won't be like that, I promise. It's not like I'll get invested. I only want the people to be happy with my content."

Yeah, right.

"I told you this would happen! Why didn't you listen?! It's in your head now, (Y/N)!" It's already been 7 months since your big 100k debut on YouTube, and since then, your channel had only continued to grow. It was mostly due to your appearances in other creator's videos, such as Dream and TommyInnit, but it was growth nonetheless.

"It's not in my head! I was just saying that I'm already at 5 million and that I'd like the number to be bigger, is all! That's not being in my head!" You defended, crossing your arms.

Wilbur shook his head, disappointed, "You don't even hear yourself, do you? I warned you! And you promised that you wouldn't let this happen!" He said, staring down at you with hurt in his eyes, "What happened to not getting invested, and only wanting the people to be happy? Where did that go?"

You rolled your eyes, "It's still there, Will. But I want to be happy too! And guess what? I'm happy when I make good content because good content produces big numbers! The bigger the number, the more content I create and the cycle goes on!"

The silence after that was deafening. You wanted nothing more than to go out and have a little fun before recording another video, but you couldn't help but watch the numbers as they ascended.

"...You know what? Fine. Enjoy your big numbers, (Y/N)."

And like that, he was gone. He left. A few days later, the two of you had talked it out, and eventually, all the tension had subsided, but you quickly started drifting apart. He wanted one thing, you wanted another, and that caused a rift in your relationship that went completely unnoticed until the gap was so wide that you had to question when it began.

"I'm so sorry Will... It's been two years and we still haven't spoken. I should've listened... You were right... Fame isn't happiness, and fortune isn't gold."

[mosswillow]

New Year. - Mob boss!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: 18+ adult content, Dark!!!, Noncon/dubcon, manipulation, smut.

Summary: A New Years themed dark Cinderella story.

A/N: this is another quickly written one shot that I threw together today to post. I may revisit this in the future and expand the story a bit but wanted it out today for obvious reasons.

Word count: 1.7k

“You have until midnight and not one second longer.”

You dart across the street recklessly, not caring if you’re hit by a car. Time is running out. You enter a dimly lit pawn shop and sprint to the counter, slamming down a ring. A shady looking man picks the ring up and examines it, grabbing a magnifying glass and holding it up to the light. He reminds you of a lizard, long and lean. He wears a green suit and his eyes are almost completely red, probably from drug use you decide.

“Where did you get this?” He asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

The man thrums his fingers on the counter and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “I’ll give you three hundred.”

“I need four.”

“Three fifty.”

You pick the ring up and turn your back, walking confidently away.

“Fine.” He calls out.

You stop and turn on your heel, holding the ring out for him.

“Make it quick, I have somewhere to be.”

One year ago - New years eve

You attend the annual new year's masquerade every year. The exclusive ball is filled to the brim with wealthy, well connected individuals, most of whom are alleged criminals. You always feel nervous going but go nonetheless. Your father took you several years ago shortly before he died and now you go in his memory, hoping to maybe feel just for the evening like he’s still with you. You put on your dress, a thrifted gown that you were lucky to find, and look at yourself in the mirror.

You look beautiful. It’s rare these days that you feel good about yourself but today nobody can bring your mood down. Today you’re Cinderella, dancing the night away before returning to your ordinary life after midnight comes.

You walk downstairs to find a note left for you. Your step mother and sisters have left without you which is to be expected. You’re thankful for the place to stay and never ask for anything more. They’re not your family and only tolerate you because of your father. Once you find a way out of New York you’ll leave and never look back. You make your way to the street, calling a cab. It’s a little splurge but you don’t want to risk ruining your dress on the subway and tonight is about living luxuriously.

The cab takes you to a decadent hotel and you walk in, marveling at the sheer size of it. Despite growing up in this world, it still feels overwhelming.  Someone hands you a glass of champagne and you take a sip, savoring the taste. You make your way across the room, taking it all in when you bump into him, or more accurately he bumps into you.

“I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there.”

Your eyes meet and there’s a spark, a feeling of intense attraction that you can’t ignore, and you know he feels it too. The noise and movement throughout the room fades and it’s just you and him.

“I’m Bucky,” He says, holding out his hand.

The world comes crashing down as you realize who he is, Bucky Barnes, the most notorious man in the US. He’s young, probably only a few years older than yourself but he holds himself like someone who’s lived a long and difficult life.

“It’s not a problem sir, I’m unharmed.” You smile politely.

He puts his hand up to your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek before tearing off your mask.

“What’s your name?” He says, taking a step towards you.

“Beth.” you say the first name that pops into your head.

“Beth…”

“Smith, Beth Smith.”

Bucky smiles “Nice to meet you… Beth Smith.”

You nod and grab your mask away before escaping his company. You keep your distance the whole night despite Bucky’s multiple attempts to corner you and by midnight you’re ready to leave. You hear the countdown as you run from the building, looking over your shoulder nervously before getting in your cab.

Present.

You check your watch as you leave the pawn shop. You have twenty minutes, twenty minutes to make it to bucky’s penthouse or it’s all over. You barely got all the money you needed. You even asked your step mother to help. She refused, unsurprisingly. You were forced to sell everything you own, even the ring your mother once wore, your last keepsake of her.

Six months ago.

You write the order on a cup and hand it to your coworker before turning back to help the next customer. You’ve worked at the coffee shop for years now. You have a college degree but jobs are scarce in your field and you need the money. You’ve sent applications out across the entire country and hope to one day get hired somewhere and move off.

“What can I get for you?” you say before realizing who’s standing in front of you.

“I don’t like being lied to.” Bucky taps your nametag.

“I…”

“I’ve been watching for a few months, making sure you’re the one.”

He grabs the menu off the counter, looking through the different options.

“I want you,” He says nonchalauntly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Marry me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“If you come with me you’ll live a life of luxury. You won’t have to work places like this.” He sets the menu back down and smoothes his hand over it.

“And what does this marriage entail?” You ask.

“Complete obedience and devotion. You’ll do everything I say, have my children and keep my bed warm. In return you’ll have more money than you know what to do with, more luxury than you could fathom in your pretty little head and my loyalty. You will be my love and my obsession. I will never leave you and never let you go.”

You look at him like he’s crazy, which he most definitely is.

“Thank you for the offer but I’m going to pass.”

Bucky slams his fist on the counter suddenly, making you jump.

“I always get what I want.”

You take a small step back.

“Not this time.”

Bucky stares at you for several moments before taking a deep breath and ordering a drink. You serve it to him and watch him walk out of the coffee shop.

Present.

You jump on the subway and make your way towards Bucy’s penthouse, running like a madwoman trying to make it on time. You look at your watch again and have one minute. Time is running out. You run full speed towards his building, ignoring the ache in your lungs and cramp in your leg.

Three months ago.

“Bucky, stop buying me stuff, I said no already and nothing’s going to change my mind.”

You throw a box of chocolate in Bucky’s face and he scowls at you. He reaches forward, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you forward, whispering into your ear.

“I tried to show you what you could have, how much I could give you. I guess I have to try something different.”

He lets go of you.

“I won’t bring any more gifts.”

“Thank you.” you say quietly.

Present.

The seconds tick away and you finally reach his door. You bang your hand over and over while checking the time again on your watch.

12:02am

One week ago

“Bucky, I know you’re the one who set this up. I didn’t do it, I’m being framed.”

You yell at him, not caring who hears. The police showing up to your apartment with guns and pulling you into the station for hours and hours has left you without any fucks to give. You were about to leave town. You have a ticket ready to leave and start your life over somewhere new. Now you have to turn down a dream job and stay in town due to an ongoing murder investigation of someone you’ve met only once in passing.

“I can cover it up for you… for a price of course.”

You start to turn around and he grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Here’s the deal. You bring me twenty thousand dollars before midnight new years eve. If you can bring me the money I’ll cover it up and leave you alone forever.”

You look down.

“And if I don’t get the money I go to prison?”

“No baby, you go to prison if you leave this room right now. If you bring me the money you’re free forever but if you don’t I own you. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

Your body slackens as you realize you don’t have any choice. Your only chance is to get twenty thousand by next week.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, I’m a fair man. I could just kidnap you but I want you to come willingly.”

You sigh.

“I’ll bring the money as long as you promise not to interfere.”

“It’s a deal,” Bucky smiles.

He lets you go and walks over to a small couch, taking a seat.

“You have until midnight and not one second longer,” he says as you close the door to his office.

Present.

You fall to the floor and start crying. Bucky crouches in front of you and puts his finger under your chin, pulling it up so that you’re looking him in the eyes.

“You were so close.”

“Please Buck, it was two minutes.”

Bucky grabs your arm and pulls it up, dragging you into his home.

“A deal is a deal baby, I wouldn’t be where I am now without honoring deals.”

He takes a box from the coffee table and opens it up, showing you a huge diamond ring.

He fixes the ring on your hand, a perfect fit. You stare at the stone, a reminder that it’s all about Bucky. You don’t even like diamonds and you’re sure he knows that. He knows everything about you. From this point on you’re his. He takes your hand and kisses it before grabbing the back of your head and bringing you forward for a kiss. He slides his other hand down between your legs, pulling your skirt up and grabbing your pussy.

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

He pushes you down onto the couch and you take a deep breath before opening your legs, giving him access. He fucks you relentlessly, pushing you toward your own orgasm. Fireworks go off outside the window and you hear the celebrations as people welcome the new year.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky whispers as he pulls you into his embrace.

You listen to the fireworks until they fade and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

[brightbeautifulthings]

This Vicious Grace by Emily Thiede

"'You know that isn't really from them, right? That's written by mortals. Men, mostly. We have a bad habit of locking up people who scare us, and the thing that scares men with power most is a woman with more of it.'"

Year Read: 2021

Rating: 3/5

About: Alessa, as the Finestra, has a goddess-given power to slay the demons that are coming for her home. The only problem is that she can't harness it without a partner, and she's accidentally killed the last three she touched. Her guardians are scrambling to find her a new Fonte with only weeks left until the attack. Worried about assassination attempts, she hires a street-fighter, Dante, to be her bodyguard. She isn't expecting that Dante, of all people, might be the one to help her control her power, or that his secrets might be even deadlier than her own. I received an invitation to read a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at St. Martin’s Press/Wednesday Books. Trigger warnings: death, severe injury, violence, some blood/gore, bug horror, grief. Some mild NSFW content.

Thoughts: This has been a long time coming, but I'm probably going to stop picking up and accepting review copies for YA fantasy for a while. I can read the same stories over and over again in my favorite genres, but fantasy isn't one of them, and the market is flooded with them right now. There's nothing actually wrong with this book, and I can see that. There's just little that sets it apart from the hundred other YA fantasy books that are out right now, except possibly the world-building, and that's typically not one of the things I look for in my reading. All that is to say that you should take this review with a grain of salt. I'm done with this genre for now, but that's certainly no fault of This Vicious Grace.

Alessa is a pretty typical YA heroine, the chosen one with powers she doesn't understand. Her love interest, Dante, is also a pretty typical snarky, standoffish YA hero with a dark past. Again, there's nothing wrong with those tropes, and while they don't really break the mold, I enjoyed the development of their relationship over the course of the novel. Dante helps her understand herself and her power better, and the other characters end up bringing a fun, super-powered group dynamic to the novel.

The pace lags a little in the middle before Alessa starts interacting with much of anyone besides Dante, but it's by no means a killing blow to what's mostly a solid story. The world-building is unique and well-done without being overwhelming, and it's probably one of the biggest draws to this book for people who like that sort of thing. The end battle is quite gruesome, but it goes on a little long to sustain interest or tension. The end wraps up the current plot but leaves some open-ended questions for the rest of the series. I was satisfied enough to leave the story here and won't be continuing with it.

[coolnerdyandalone]

on FIMQ deleting her content and COVID-19 (and a gratuitous larry fic rec)

@freddiesmyqueen first of all queen i hope you’re doing ok although i know some shit must have gone down for you to delete/private list all your videos and i hope you know that the larry community supports you always. Also your talent is TRULY unmatched in the world of video editing - no one makes edits quite like you and that’s why your loss impacts the community so profoundly. 

secondly, i know at least i was hoping to turn to rewatching all of FIMQ’s videos while i’m being quarantined due to the coronavirus. and i’m willing to bet that i’m not the only one. this is a scary time and for people like me who feel profoundly alone right now, the only way for me to calm my nerves and fears is by reverting to the content and community that helped me feel not so alone when i was in middle and high school. For me, that looks like watching FIMQ videos and reading my favorite larry fanfics (which i will also link below).  because of this i thought it might be helpful to repost some links that were posted by @bluemoonlarryandkaylor for a signal boost (if my teeny-tiny account can be called a signal boost). 

link to a google drive with FIMQ videos: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1ONwfLOd_IYvAL5OUDqDb_LLgQsDpd9il

link to an acct with some FIMQ re-uploads: https://www.youtube.com/user/Joana3961/videos

link to FIMQ vids with spanish subtitles: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIouodFhArMkQhOHxv2t2NgxTwl6KvXAT

and now if you want to look at some good old fashioned larry fics that are my ABSOLUTE faves and could 100% be actual novels/movies, keep reading:

And Then A Bit** by @infinitelymint aka the best fanfic ever written (basically larry fakes a relationship for publicity with each other and it could be cannon if you really wanted to hope upon hopes): https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272/chapters/2972746 (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Escapade** by @haydolce aka the Jack McQueen fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034197/chapters/9071932 (146k)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

California Sold** by @isthatyoularry​ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157680/chapters/11877494 (123k)

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) by @theboyfriendstagram : https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263903/chapters/9652944 (84k)

Eighteen year old Harry Styles just graduated high school and landed a summer job as a waterboy for his favorite football team. His job description is simple: be ready to hand water and towels to players if needed. That didn’t seem to include Louis Tomlinson though, a twenty-three year old, recently transferred Paris Saint-German player, who seems to like making Harry’s job much more difficult than it has to be.

OR  

A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can't have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.

Pull Me Under** by @zarah5 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/870766/chapters/1672104 (140k)

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.) 

You You You** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/846690/chapters/1617212 (137k)

“Infamous boybander leaves club together with unknown,” read the headline. Underneath were pictures of a boy with dark curls, green eyes and very tight pants. They both studied the article for a moment, reading it through quickly. “Is that…?” Louis frowned. That guy almost looked exactly like... "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "Louis," Niall said, looking absolutely fucked over. "You just fucked the most wanted guy on earth. You just fucked Harry Styles of One Direction."

Or, the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

Like an Endless Summer by @horsegirlharry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365494/chapters/25442085 (87k)

“You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Three French Hems by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064493 (20k)

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

The Dead of July aka the Marvel Fic by @whimsicule  : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594570/chapters/7928520 (117k)

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Gods & Monsters by  @mizzwilde : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871 (201k)

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Love is a Rebellious Bird aka LIARB aka the orchestra fic aka dont hum bolero by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162438/chapters/2362331 (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

My English Love Affair** by @isthatyoularry​ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873962 (19k)

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by @haydolce : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799241/chapters/13366498 (113k)

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Wild and Unruly aka the Cowboy fic by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723093/chapters/6099611 (124k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December)** by @greenfeelings​ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051122/chapters/34892210 (128k)

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

the boys of fall** aka the american football fic by @godgavemelou​ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443037 (21k)

“And everyone, this is Harry Styles. He’s going to be our starting quarterback this year.”

Louis looks at him, the tall and lanky Harry Styles, and takes it all in. He’s got hair to his shoulders that curls at the ends, tattoos all down his arms, and a bright smile on his face as the team cheers him on. He’s lean and fit, and absolutely beautiful, and Louis hates him to the core.

OR an american football au where the boys play for the university of tennessee, and harry and louis quite hate each other.

** indicates that the fic is a log-in required fic, but if you want the pdf i can send it to you