#she’s becoming possibly my favorite author ever

[euphoricdr3ams]

Untitled

Y/N and Felix have always been inseparable—best friends who shared everything from gaming marathons to dreams of the future. But as their paths begin to diverge, with Felix chasing his K-pop dreams in Korea and Y/N heading to university in Melbourne, the unspoken feelings between them start to surface. What begins as a playful dare at a high school party turns into a kiss that changes everything, blurring the line between friendship and something deeper. As they navigate the chaos of growing up, long-distance, and their own insecurities, they must decide: is their bond strong enough to survive the changes, or will the weight of their dreams pull them apart? A story of first loves, missed chances, and the bittersweet beauty of growing up.

genres: written, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst,unrequited love, senior year (highschool), felix and Y/N are aged up to 17, pre-debut,

Trigger Warning: underaged drinking for now

Word count: 5,000

Authors Note: let me know what u think, I may continue on with this depending on the interest

Circa Late 2017

“How many times are you going to spam the same move?” Y/N complained, her tone a mix of frustration and amusement. She was knee-deep in the world's longest stock-battle stalemate with one of her closest friends.

“I’ll keep at it until you’re as good as dead. I’m not just going to hand you this win,” Felix teased, a smirk on his face as his Pikachu sent her Toon Link flying dangerously close to the edge of the map. 

Both of them were focused, their palms sweaty, eyes locked on the screen. The usual banter and light teasing that typically filled their sleepovers and competitive match nights faded into the background. All that mattered now was winning—something both took very seriously in their shared passion for gaming.

Y/N and Felix could never really pinpoint the exact moment when their friendship had become so close, when they started to latch onto each other like koalas. If you asked, you'd get two different answers, but the overall theme was the same: when they were together, the noise of the world stopped. Nothing mattered outside of each other. 

It had started with casually sparring at the after-school gaming club, but their connection grew far beyond that. She showed up to his Taekwondo competitions whenever she could, cheering him on from the sidelines, and he supported her at her art competitions. Soon, their families knew each other well, and their worlds began to merge without either of them realizing it. 

“YESSSS! I told you!” Y/N practically bounced in her seat after landing the final blow, finally claiming a win after several failed attempts.

Felix rolled his eyes, grabbing a fistful of pretzels from the snack bowl his older sister, Rachel,  had left out for them. The living room table was cluttered with an assortment of junk food—chips, candy, soda—the works for any gaming night.

“Whatever, this game sucks anyway,” he muttered, though his competitive streak was clearly wounded. He dipped deeper into the pretzel bowl, sulking in defeat.

Y/N, still laughing from the high of her victory, nudged him playfully. “Don’t get salty, just get good,” she teased, grabbing her own snack of choice: gummy bears. 

Felix groaned, feigning indifference. “I need a break. My hand hurts.” He switched off the game, pulling up Youtube  instead. The familiar tunes of his favorite group, SHINee, began to fill the room.

Ever since one of his cousins from Korea introduced him to K-pop, Felix had been hooked. The choreography, the passion, the sheer talent—it was mesmerizing. And lately, he’d been practicing more than just his dance moves. His dream of auditioning for JYP was becoming a real possibility. 

“You’ve been practicing your pronunciation, right? Wanna keep going?” Y/N asked, noticing the slight tension in his voice. Felix had seemed more focused, more driven lately, but underneath that ambition was uncertainty—a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.

Felix hesitated, but before he could answer, Y/N added, “Oh, wait! I need to show you my new painting.” She grabbed her phone, scrolling to the latest photo of her work in progress.

It was a lotus flower, blooming from the depths of a muddy pond. Felix stared at it for a moment, appreciating the symbolism. A flower that represents rebirth, resilience in harsh conditions. 

“I really like this,” he said finally, his voice soft with admiration. “Your brushstrokes are so detailed… it's amazing. I know that competition money is yours.”

Y/N beamed at the compliment, feeling a warmth settle in her chest. “Thanks. Any little bit helps. Trying to get as much free money for college as possible,” she joked, lightening the moment.

Felix chuckled, though the tension from earlier still lingered in his expression. He opened his laptop, playing around with his pronunciation notes. “Honestly, I thought I knew how to speak Korean pretty well, but when I listen to how fast the locals talk, it’s so different. But I have to try… I really want this.”

The uncertainty in his voice was palpable now. His dream of becoming a trainee at JYP was more than just a distant goal—it was an uphill battle, and he knew it. The doubt crept in despite his best efforts to stay confident.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she watched him. “You bring so much to the table, Felix. They’d be insane not to recognize your talent.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He wasn’t used to showing this much vulnerability, but Y/N had always been the one to see past the walls he built. That’s why he cherished her support—it was real, unwavering. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, the tension easing just a bit as they shifted into their joint practice session. Y/N, though adopted, had always wanted to connect more with her Korean heritage, and learning the language alongside Felix had become one of their shared goals. It was a comfort, knowing that no matter what happened next, they were there for each other, even if they didn’t fully realize the depth of their bond just yet.

Felix took a deep breath, glancing at Y/N. There was something about her presence that calmed him, that made him feel like everything might just work out. At least, for now.

You paused for a moment, glancing over at Felix as he focused on his screen, his brows furrowed slightly as he corrected your pronunciation. It felt so easy, so natural, to be in this moment with him. But something about the ease made your chest tighten, a sudden awareness that this might not last forever.

That underlying fear haunted you both in ways you’d rather ignore. Things were bound to change; time would only push those changes forward. It was naive to think otherwise. Like seasons, you and Felix would grow, shaped by new experiences and separate paths. Still, it was a reality you both pretended didn’t exist.

Late-night gaming sessions became your escape. You fantasized about visiting him during the trainee program, imagining he’d somehow find time to indulge in the college life you both knew he’d never get to live. You clung to the delusion, and so did he, until reality began to shift, pressing its weight on your shoulders.

A week later, the shift became real.

“You got into the University of Melbourne!” your aunt screamed from the living room, her voice echoing down the hallway as she rushed to your bedroom doorway.

“That’s great…” you replied, nervous, your voice flat. Your gaze barely lifted from your laptop, where you scrolled through Pinterest, saving inspiration for your next art piece. Watching creative content creators passionately pursue their dreams only made your mind race. Was this the start of something great—or the beginning of a path leading to a bitterly unsatisfying life? Worst-case scenarios flashed through your mind, each more vivid than the last.

“Love, what’s wrong? Your uncle and I are so excited for you, but you don’t seem that way.”

“It’s not that, Auntie. I’m happy. It’s all I’ve been working for. I’m just… thinking about what I have to do to get there.”

“I understand, sweetie, but let’s take a step back and enjoy this moment. This is a huge accomplishment! Sit in it. Celebrate!” She placed a plate of fruit in front of you—her way of showing care, via strawberries. “I’m going to call everyone and tell them how amazing my love is! Going to the best school in the country to become a lawyer—how proud we all are!”

Before you could correct her, tell her you planned to double major in Law and Art Studies, she’d already scurried off. You wanted to shout that you didn’t dream of courtrooms and corporations fighting over copyrights. Your dreams leaned toward helping others, blending the creative skills you’d spent years honing with a career that made a difference.  If you conformed to what your aunt wanted, you’d likely end up defending multimillion-dollar companies that wouldn’t care if you lived or died. Instead, you want to become a public defender—a career that's emotionally satisfying but doesn’t promise a high quality of life.

Instead, you sighed, counting to five as you stared up at the ceiling, willing your nerves to calm before the anxiety could fully take hold.

Ding.

Lix: Sooooo… Did you hear back?

You: Yeah, I got in.

Lix: This is great! Why are you texting so cold? Lol, you should be proud. What���s on your mind?

You: It’s just so much. My aunt and uncle are great, but I’m thinking about everything I need to get done before I start, and I’m stressed already -_-

Lix: Hey, hey, hey, trust me, I get it. But we can only worry about what’s right in front of us. One day at a time, right? Right? I know I’m right, lol. Why don’t we just hop online and forget about all of this? You can lose again in Smash XD

You: You say that every time, Mr. Lee, and EVERY time I prove you wrong. Lmao. Ok, give me like 10, and I’ll get on Discord.

You smiled, setting your phone down. Felix had a way of pulling you out of your spirals, always knowing what to say to make you laugh—or at least distract you. For a moment, it worked.

But as you stared at your gaming setup, the heaviness crept back. Melbourne was your dream school—not just for its law program but for its vibrant arts community and the chance to live out both sides of your passion. Still, the thought of leaving behind the comfort of your life, and the people in it, especially Felix, was terrifying.

You couldn’t shake the fear of how it would change things. And yet, for now, you clung to the one thing you knew wouldn’t change: Felix would always be there for you.

Two weeks later 

The moments leading up to the audition were some of the most stressful Felix had ever experienced. This opportunity meant everything—a chance to change his life in an instant. Yet, doubts crept in like uninvited shadows. He knew how competitive the entertainment industry was. Thousands auditioned every year. Why would they take a risk on someone like him—a foreigner who doesn’t fit in with the natives?

He let out a heavy sigh as he stood outside the audition venue, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Felix, listen to me,” Rachel, Felix's older sister, said, her voice steady, offering a small squeeze to his shoulder. “I know you’re nervous, but you’re ready. You’ve been working for this for so long. You’re not just some kid hoping for a shot—you belong here.” She gave him a soft but firm look, as if her words could wrap around him and hold him together. She had always been able to read him, her intuition cutting through his quiet exterior. Even when Felix couldn’t articulate his fears, Rachel could sense them.

Felix ran a hand through his hair, eyes on the building in front of them. “I know. It’s just... There are so many people here, and only a handful get chosen. What if I’m not enough?”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Stop overthinking. You’ve got the talent, the drive, and you’ve got yourself—something that no one else can offer. Go in there and show them why you’re our Sunshine.”

Felix tried to nod, but his nerves only seemed to heighten. The choreography he’d practiced relentlessly blurred in his mind. The moves, so ingrained yesterday, felt foreign now, as if his body had forgotten them entirely. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

This was his dream—his ticket to something greater than the predictable rhythm of Sydney life. He wanted to see the world, to experience everything life had to offer, and to channel that hunger into his newfound passion for dance. But standing here, under the weight of his aspirations, the pressure felt unbearable.

His phone buzzed.

Y/N: Good luck today! Show them the great person I already know you are. Let your light and warmth shine—that’s what will set you apart. I’ll talk to you later when we hop on Steam :D

He stared at the message, reading it twice, then a third time. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He could almost hear your voice, steady and encouraging, breaking through the storm in his mind. Those words quieted the chaos, grounding him just enough to take a step forward.

The audition itself felt like a blur. The music started, and for a moment, he was paralyzed. Then, like clockwork, the moves came back—sharp, deliberate, and confident. His body knew the choreography better than his mind gave it credit for. By the end, his chest heaved with exertion, but his heart swelled when one of the judges complimented his pronunciation during a short Korean self-introduction.

The waiting afterward was agonizing. Felix paced the holding room, his thoughts looping endlessly. What if he hadn’t done enough? What if this was the end of the road? Yet, there was a quiet reassurance that lingered—the memory of your words. You always seemed to pull him out of the mental traps he built for himself, giving him a clarity he struggled to find alone.

“Congratulations, Lee Felix. Please come to the back room to discuss the details of the trainee program.”

The words hit him like a bolt of lightning. He nearly leaped out of his chair, relief and joy coursing through him in equal measure. He couldn’t believe it—he’d done it. He was in.

Later, in the car, his parents’ cheers filled the air. His mom pulled him into a tight hug, her pride evident even as tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Felix, my son, I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m happy for you, but I’m going to miss you so much….”

Felix could feel the weight of her words in the silence between them. He knew what this meant for both of them—his dream was coming true, but it meant stepping away from everything he knew. His family. You.

He didn’t want to leave, not really. But he had no choice. He had to chase this dream.

When he finally got home, Felix felt the weight of the new reality sink in. He picked up his phone and typed a quick message to you.

Felix: You might as well have been my good luck charm. I got in. Details later :)

For now, Felix chose to live in the moment, holding onto the happiness of his success—and the steady presence of you in his life.

With just four months left before everything changed, there was a sense of urgency in the air, but tonight, the world still belonged to you both. The future was looming, but for now, it was all about enjoying the last moments of freedom before things got complicated.

Felix’s voice crackled through the phone, the tiredness evident in his tone. “I don’t know, Y/N. With everything going on for the trainee program... I don’t have time for this kind of thing.”

You leaned back on your bed, staring at the ceiling as you held your phone to your ear. “Felix, come on. You’re not gonna have many chances left to be irresponsible. This could be the last era of your life to just... let be. You deserve it. Plus, I’ve got leftover liquor from last time. You can pregame with me here.” You smirked to yourself, knowing your words might push him just enough.

Felix sighed, the sound almost exasperated. “I don’t know... I have so much stuff to do for the program. I’m so stressed going out would just add to it”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok. lol. Sounds like another day in your life. No offense. What’s one night? You’ve been working your ass off. Don’t you want to enjoy life while you can? I’m not saying we go crazy, but one night won’t ruin your future. You need to relax.”

There was a long pause on the other end, the only sound being Felix’s deep breath. “Okay, fine,” he finally said, with an almost reluctant chuckle. “You’re right. I need to live in the moment, right? Alright, I’ll come. Let me just check on Liv first, and I’ll be at your place around 10:30.”

“I knew you’d come around,” you teased, your voice light and playful.

A few hours later, after too many shots between the two of you, the night had spiraled into a chaotic, unforgettable high school party at Crystal’s parents’ condo. The place was packed with people, most of them barely legal, all drinking cheap beer and dancing offbeat to Kesha. You and Felix stuck together, navigating the crowd, laughing at the awkwardness of it all.

Felix’s voice came through the phone again, a slight smirk in his tone. “Is this really what we’re going to remember about high school?” he asked, glancing at the crowd.

You grinned, holding your cup up to the phone. “Maybe. But I think it’s the people, not the party. You’re not going to remember every stupid thing that happened, but you’ll remember the faces—the ones that were here for the ride.”

Felix sighed, his voice quieter now, as he watched the madness unfold. “I guess... I just keep thinking about how everything’s about to change. It’s hard to imagine how this will look in a couple months.”

You could hear the shift in his voice, the weight of it. You decided to take a different approach, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, nothing stays the same. And that’s okay. That’s what makes moments like this so important. You’ve got to soak it all in while you can.”

Felix let out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. Yeah, I guess it’s kind of nice to know that we’ll have this to look back on.” His voice turned a little more serious. “Thanks, Y/N. For getting me to come out tonight.”

You smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it. “Anytime. We’ve got to enjoy what we’ve got while it lasts.”

Felix’s voice softened. “Yeah, we do.”

The party was in full swing, the music blaring, drinks flowing, and chaos everywhere. You could barely hear anything over the chatter and laughter of your friends, but the tension between you and Felix was palpable. It had always been there, but tonight, it felt different.

Mike, drunker than most, slurred his words as he pushed into Felix. “When are you gonna finally make a move on Y/N?” He laughed, oblivious to the shift in the air, pushing Felix in your direction.

Felix rolled his eyes, but it wasn’t the usual playful response. There was something different in his gaze, something more thoughtful than you were used to seeing. The teasing continued, relentless.

“Sure, sure, I bet you won’t ever make a move at this rate,” Mike teased, turning his attention to you now. The conversation quickly shifted, and you couldn’t help but feel the eyes of everyone on you.

“You should just make the first move at this point. What do you have to lose?” Mike’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.

You hadn’t really thought about kissing Felix, not like this, not seriously. But in your drunken haze, Mike’s challenge hit something inside you. Maybe you should kiss him. After all, what was the harm?

Felix chuckled nervously, shaking his head. ���No way, man,” he muttered, but there was an edge to his voice that told you he was conflicted. The idea of it seemed to hang in the air, pulling at something inside both of you. Something you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge.

Without thinking much further, you blurted out, “I’ll kiss him now. It’s really fine.”

Felix choked on his drink. The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Felix’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth slightly parted as if trying to process what you had just said. “Wait, what? You’re kidding, right?” His voice was tight, but there was an unmistakable flicker of something in his eyes, something that hadn’t been there before.

“You just said it,” Mike teased, a sly grin on his face. “Do it. You’re friends. It’s no big deal, right?”

Felix’s mind was spinning, and for the first time, he saw you in a completely new light. The way your dress hung from your body, the way you’d always laughed around him, but now it felt different, like everything was amplified. Felix blinked, his pulse picking up. He didn’t know what it was—whether it was the alcohol, or the way you’d teased him, or how suddenly everything felt so intimate—but he couldn’t deny it.

Felix shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between you. His eyes flicked to yours, searching, but you were already moving closer. The alcohol dulled his usual caution. His mind raced, his heart pounding as your hand reached up to cup the side of his face. Everything in the room felt like it had stopped moving. His eyes landed on your lips for a split second, and in that instant, it was too late to turn back.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but it was enough to send a jolt through both of you. Felix’s hands instinctively found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. Something inside him—something he’d buried deep—flooded to the surface. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything you hadn’t admitted to each other. The way he felt about you, the way you’d felt about him for a while now, but never dared to say.

Your lips deepened the kiss, and the world outside of you two seemed to vanish. The other people in the room fell away. You were both lost in the moment, but it wasn’t just the alcohol that made your head spin. It was the way Felix kissed you, the intensity of it. The way your heart raced, not just from the thrill, but from the realization that this meant something more.

As you slowly pulled away, your face was flushed, your head spinning. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or if it was the fact that Felix had just crossed the line between friends and something else, something you didn’t know how to name.

“See? No big deal,” you laughed awkwardly, trying to cover the pounding in your chest with casualness.

Felix, still caught in the aftermath of the kiss, looked at you for a long moment. His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Yeah... no big deal,” he echoed, but the way his eyes lingered on you told a different story. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew it had changed everything.

You both tried to go back to normal, but the tension between you was thick. You couldn’t help but notice the way Felix kept his eyes on you the rest of the night, his gaze occasionally flickering to anyone who seemed to show too much interest in you. You were too drunk to notice the subtle possessiveness in the way he glared at the guys who came too close. Felix assumed you only kissed him because it was him, and that was something he wasn’t ready to share with anyone.

As the night wore on, the games continued—Mario Kart, Super Smash Bros.—but the energy was different. Your competitive banter was laced with something unspoken, the kind of charge that buzzed between you both every time your eyes met. You tried to act like nothing had changed, but you could feel it in the air. So could Felix, though he didn’t dare to bring it up.

Eventually, the night ended, and in a blur of too many drinks and too many moments that felt too real, you ended up at your parents' condo. They were away for the weekend, and there was no way Felix would let you walk home alone—even if you weren’t drunk.

As you stumbled toward the door, Felix’s hand lingered on your back, guiding you with a care that was almost too gentle for the way he had acted earlier. The unspoken words still hung between you, thick with everything that had shifted between you two in a matter of seconds.

And somewhere deep down, you both knew that everything would be different now. You just hadn’t figured out if or how to deal with it yet.

Stumbling into your room, you both lazily kicked off your clothes and changed into your pajamas before slipping into the bed. The room was spinning less now, the alcohol haze from the night lifting, bringing some clarity to the situation. Felix lay beside you, feeling the overwhelming weight of the kiss, his mind spinning with thoughts he couldn’t push away. He felt guilty, especially if you had only kissed him because of peer pressure.

He tried to distract himself by doom scrolling through social media, but his head was still racing, and he just couldn’t shake it. The thought of losing your friendship over a stupid dare seemed like too much to bear.

“Hey…umm…” Felix sighed, turning to face you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You glanced over at him, noting the distress on his face. “Do what?”

His heart was pounding, his voice tight. “Kiss me. You didn’t have to, you know? I just want to make sure… I don’t want to mess things up.”

You smiled softly, your gaze steady and reassuring. “Lix, if I wasn’t cool with it, I wouldn’t have done it. You know how stubborn I am.”

Felix hesitated, his chest still tight, unsure of how to respond. “I know… I just want to make sure, because I…”

You cut him off gently, your voice quiet but firm. “I hear you. But I enjoyed it.” You paused, your mind replaying the moment that felt frozen in time. “My only complaint? It was too short.”

Felix’s demeanor immediately softened. That magical ease you always had with him worked like a balm for his frayed nerves, the racing thoughts in his head calming at your words. He had been terrified that he might have ruined five years of friendship with a single reckless kiss, but now—now things didn’t seem so impossible.

“Well,” Felix said, a small chuckle escaping his lips, “I guess I owe you a second kiss one of these days.”

You smirked, inched closer to him, and whispered, “Why wait? Let’s make it ‘one of these days’ right now. YOLO, right?”

Felix laughed nervously, his heart doing a strange flip in his chest. His mind was still caught between the confusion of his emotions and the weight of the consequences of crossing this line. What was the point of pushing the envelope? Things were already changing in both of your lives; maybe you should just leave your friendship the way it was.

But all that went out the window the moment your lips met his again.

This time, there was no pressure. Just the two of you, lost in the moment. Your lips danced together, slow and intricate, matching each other’s pace. Before either of you knew it, you had shifted on top of him, straddling his waist, his hands finding their place on your hips, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

Felix had touched you before, but never like this. The sensation sent electric waves up both of your spines, and the world outside of the two of you seemed to disappear. You pulled away slowly, your breath quiet in the stillness.

“That was nice…” Felix whispered, his voice barely audible as he pulled you back down beside him.

You snuggled closer, your voice soft and sleepy. “Yeah. It was. Can we do that again?”

Felix didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed you again, and again, and again, each kiss a little deeper, a little more heated than the last. Slowly, you both relaxed into each other’s embrace, falling asleep tangled together, content and peaceful.

Just two friends, sharing a moment, and nothing more….right?

______________________________________________________

Just temperature checking if people like this... If this is something that intrigues you. leave me an message in the ask box.

[danadiadea]

I am pretty sure Severus didn't see Lily's face "twitching"? I mean, he was hanging upside down with his cloak covering his face, so it was not about that. I think it was mostly about James's attempt to emasculate him because he was defended "by a girl" (didn't they start calling him Sn*velus because Lily brought him out of conflict in the train, huh? i'm telling you, james potter loooves women), and quite possibly about the rejection of his friendship with a muggleborn he encountered in Slytherin, but also about the way Lily defended him.

I don't think Lily's attempts in defence were flirty (even though Rowling clearly assumes they are and fuck that sick misogynistic idea of romance), but they truly were half-hearted. I would have understood if Lily hadn't moved on to more serious actions, because her character was described as calm, gentle and not inclined to fight, but this is not the case for Lily. She chose to interfere, but not to stop them.If, while I was being physically and/or sexually assaulted, my friend instead of calling authorities (teachers) for help, disarming the aggressor, or at least helping me get back MY weapon, had just stood there and verbally shit on the abuser while they continued to endanger and assault me, I wouldn't have gone to apologize to them ever, I would actually expect apologies. Slurs are harmful, but if Severus had called Lily a fucker, I would have no complaints against him.

Lily had a solid right to end their friendship with Severus, of course, but that's not the same as leaving one alone when they are defenseless in front of a crowd of people who are determined to cause them serious harm. If Lily had made sure that nothing was threatening Sev's physical safety and then called him a complete idiot and ended their friendship, I would have no complaints against her either. I don't care if you are friends or not, I wouldn't leave the biggest scumbag in the world in a situation like that.

It seems to me that most of the hate that is Lily gets exists because she was extremely idealized (in quite a few parts of the fandom and in the books and the films and rowling interviews), and now this is the backlash. She actually is just a fifteen-year-old girl, she doesn't have to possess exceptional empathy, be extremely selfless or understanding beyond average. She wasn't an ideal friend to Severus, and Severus wasn't an ideal friend to her, because they were just messy teenagers in difficult circumstances. I mean, when Voldemort came to her house to kill her family, she literally started blocking up the door with boxes and a chair! Obviously, she's still just a teenager in a way. But when she is painted as an absolute saint, whose choices are the measure of moral goodness and impeccable logic, a lot of people look at this and see the incongruity and become pissy.

Oh, and regarding the werewolf prank, Lily didn't know what exactly had been that danger to Severus' life or how serious the situation was, because he couldn't tell her. Yes, she gaslighted him about his traumatic experiences, but she simply couldn't understand what Severus is going through, not only because she has not yet fully developed empathy and a lot of life experience, but also because Severus himself speaks sparingly about his problems, which we see when he talks about his father for example. Sev is admittedly not good in being vulnerable, and the environment didn't help. It's not Lily's fault that she can't fully understand him, nor is it Severus' fault.

However, I understand the fandom's desire for their favorite character to have a more reliable and supportive "perfect" friend to handle all his traumas, because can't we have that unrealistic shit at least in fiction?

for all that us snape fans say how we love his character because he is flawed and complex, i find it disappointing how many of us can't extend that line of thinking towards lily, while pretending that young severus was entirely innocent. i've noticed this a lot recently and it's been bothering me quite a bit so i've felt the need to defend lily, or to be exact, analyse the downfall of their relationship without basically giving her all the blame and instead looking at both characters and especially lily more critically.

so. let's talk about the conversation between her and severus after the werewolf prank. some snape fans harshly criticise her in this scene because she insists that james saved severus and doesn't acknowledge how serious this prank was, while insisting that at least the marauders don't use dark magic.

and i agree that she should have been more on severus' side in this case. after all he could have died or gotten seriously injured, turned into a werewolf etc and she downplays the severity of the situation and generally doesn't acknowledge how the marauders bullied severus very much. so yes, she could have been a better friend here.

but at the same time, from her perspective, she was already noticing that severus was spending more time with his housemates, all of them aspiring death eaters, how he had always looked up to lucius and was slowly heading down that same path. how he didn't truly disapprove of his housemates disgusting actions towards muggleborns - her own kind. even though it's not entirely logical, since we see through the marauders that light magic can be used to do harm aswell, this also explains her dislike of dark arts, which these (aspiring) death eaters all were fond of and using to do awful things to her friends (and hogwarts also pretty much teaches that dark magic is pure evil). by this point she had most likely also experienced discrimination at hogwarts for being muggleborn. she knew the situation in the wizarding world wasn't favourable for her, and now her best friend was starting to agree with those people?

the next notable event was of course snapes worst memory (sigh, here i go talking about it for the millionth time). and i really don't like how some people on our side of the fandom talk about lily in this scene (of course, this is not all of us).

first of all we saw that she initially smiled upon seeing severus be bullied, and yes, this was honestly quite disgusting. we know that severus saw this and was rightfull hurt, and this very well could be the reason why he snapped at her. but that is her only 'crime' in this scene. because she then does quickly turn against james and this entire crowd and defends severus. only for james to insult and threaten her, and severus to call her a 'filthy little mudblood'.

now, people say she should have done more to defend severus, that her attempt was quite half-hearted. i don't know. maybe she could have done more, but she did tell the marauders to stop, you can't say she didn't try. some say she should have hexed james herself or bring up her prefect role (although i'm not sure it's confirmed she was one at this time). but say she was a prefect, her job would be to stop fighting, which she tried to do, not to get involved in fights herself. and you can tell that james is entirely dismissive of her and clearly won't let her stop him no matter what, even threatening her in the process. lily also genuinely seems to still hate him at this point in time, she is described to have been disgusted with him to the point where even harry questions his parents marriage. so i don't believe it's fair to say she was just 'flirting' with james here.

furthermore, people believe she should have forgiven severus for being called a mudblood. i used to agree that it wasn't that serious, but i feel differently now. because it wasn't just a word, it wasn't a one time mistake or slip up or even the first time she noticed that he was slowly turning into a future death eater. that's why i brought up their conversation after the prank. lily knows that severus' descend into the death eaters arms had been going on for months, years even. being called - not even just mudblood, but hearing the words "i don't need help from a filthy little mudblood like her" out of the mouth of her former best friend was just the final nail in the coffin. it was her confirmation that severus was finally too far down that road, and she, as a muggleborn, could no longer justify surrounding herself with him. so she abandons him at the scene, and i can't blame her one bit.

of course this post is not meant to be severus bashing in any way, he is and always will be my favorite character, but i don't enjoy pretending he was completely innocent, even his younger self. this is also not to excuse the marauders, as their bullying never had anything to do with severus possibly being a death eater and was really just for fun and because they could, and because he was an easy victim. but i truly believe that lily deserves some grace and also to be analysed as a complex character like severus, rather than painting her as one dimensional, either fully good or fully bad.

severus becoming a death eater is the tragic result of his background and surroundings, and when we analyse him we factor all of this in. lily was wealthier, had a better family, was pretty, smart and popular and had a good support system in and out of hogwarts. she couldn't understand why severus made the choices he did. maybe as an adult she would have looked back and understood it all better. but as it was, she was just a teenage girl watching her best friend turn against people like her and not knowing what to do about that. and what's also important to me to point out is that it was not her job to try and stop this, to try and fix him or whatever. it was first and foremost the adults in severus' life who failed him over and over again, not lily.

finally a lot of us can't understand how lily ended up marrying her former friends abuser and use this as an argument against her, but i honestly don't want to go too deep into this topic. i personally strongly dislike this relationship, because james treated lily herself like shit too, aswell as other people. we have to believe that he truly did change, even if there is not much to prove this. even if he did, i personally wouldn't have been able to forgive him. but i don't believe that marrying james makes lily a bad person by extension or anything. ultimately, if she was able to find happiness, i'm happy for her.

[glitteredbubbles]

Book 2/4 done!! It will probably be a while until I finish the next book since I’m starting from scratch but we’ll see.

[nsingcat]

MADE FOR EACH OTHER. O, BEARMAN

summary ✶ fan’s can’t help but to gush over you & ollie!

pairings ✶ ollie bearman x reader

type of fic ✶ smau

faceclaim ✶ hanni pham!

notes ✶ i ♡ ollie. you’re a college student (18-19) so you’re a private wag 😚!

#INSTAGRAM: FAN ACCOUNT !

liked by olliebearman, user, user and 256,928 others!

author throwback to when yn brought a teddy bear for ollie at baku 2023 🥹!!

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user AND IT WAS REDD I LOVE HERR 😫

user possibly the cutest f2 couple !! i hope we see her at more races this year

➥ user possibly the best wag 🤷!

➥ user you ain’t never lie !!

user WHEN HE WON THE RACE SHE GAVE IT TO HIM !! IT WAS THE CUTEST THINGG

olliebearman i still have that bear :)! she cuddles with it more than me but eh

➥ author oh HEY GIRLLL!! TELL YN I SAID HI OMGG

➥ user i sobbed i love them both

➥ user GIVE US MORE YN CONTENT 😠🤨👊

➥ user THAT’S SO CUTEEE

user 🕯️ yn at more races this year 🕯️

user SHE’S SO PRETTYY

user waiitt im new here!! how is she related to ollie? like what does she do?

➥ user this is y/n l/n !! she’s a college student majoring in journalism! she’s a private wag, so her instagram & tiktok is private. she doesn’t show up to a lot of races but she tries to and is the sweetest ever

user ollie teach me your ways bro

user best f2 wag soon to be the best f1 wag !1!1

user off topic but once ollie becomes a full-time f1 driver i’m gonna be so excited to see yn interact with all the other wags!!

➥ user HER AND FLAVY OMGGG>>

➥ user ALSO HER AND ALEX??? FASHIONISTAS FRR

➥ user can’t wait until the wags take her under their wing 🙏

➥ user just realized she’s gonna be the youngest wag what the frick 😦

#INSTAGRAM: OLLIEBEARMAN !

liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, alexandrasaintmleux, and 634,827 others!

olliebearman summer break with my baby 💝

tagged: yourusername

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user SHES SUCH A CUTE

user oh my god idk if wanna be ollie or yn

user HE WENT TO HER COLLEGE??? OH IM SICK 😓

user they’re made for each other omfg

user YN CONTENT YN CONTENT ‼️‼️

alexandrasaintmleux cuties 💕!!

➥ user mother omfg

➥ user when i’m in a biggest ynliver fan competition and my opponent is alexandra saint mleux

➥ can’t wait for the yn x alex interactions next yeaarrr 😫

user SHE’S SO HAPPYFUL WHAT

user my favorite couple i cant

user the grass photo of her.. shes so adorable

user “my baby” I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR

user the photos with each other 🥹..

user PLEASE NEVER BREAK UP OMFG

#TWITTER: FAN ACCOUNTS !

#INSTAGRAM: YOURUSERNAME !

liked by olliebearman, user, paularon_, and 185,836 others!

yourusername did a little photoshoot for my friend’s makeup showcase ! these are BTS (not the band) <3!

comments are limited

olliebearman FIRST HA

olliebearman pretty girl 💕

olliebearman can’t believe you’re my girlfriend 😮‍💨!!

olliebearman i miss you sososo much 😵‍💫

paularon_ have some decorum oliver 😧

➥ yourusername leave him alone paul ! let him express his love (even if it’s a little worrying..)

➥ olliebearman THANK YOU BABY!! (i think??)

➥ yourusername you’re welcome baby !! (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous girl !!! we must plan another date 😚💕

➥ yourusername thank you alex 🥹!! i’ll text you <3

kimi.antonelli ollie wouldn’t stop talking about these photos btw

➥ kimi.antonelli seriously. pls come get your boyfriend

➥ kimi.antonelli i’m pretty sure he’s gonna start crying if you don’t call him

➥ yourusername i- okay thank you kimi !! 😭

olliebearman please disregard kimi’s comments, i was in fact NOT CRYING.

➥ olliebearman okay i was, i love you ☹️💝

➥ yourusername i love you more pretty boy 😚‼️

➥ olliebearman that’s impossible but whatever … 🤷 (I LOVE YOU MOST)

nymphia talks! OLLIE FIC OLLIE FIC! he’s not on my masterlist but i’m slowly becoming a fan of his so he’s getting added 😚! i hope you all enjoy <3

[mickandmusings]

something in the orange

pairing: jake seresin x f! southern! reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: when jake is back home in texas for football season, he tries to spend as much time as possible under stadium lights enjoying his season tickets. his girl, a loyal fan of her own state's team, begrudgingly trades in her own home colors for his gaudy orange.

warnings: fluff, simply just flirty hangman, reader is referred to as 'honey' by everyone, little knowledge of the university of texas at austin (born and raised in mississippi, msu fan by proximity, lsu fan through my dad, i'm just a sec baby) purely self indulgent for me, i'm obsessed with southern boy jake, author has limited knowledge on football

based on this request from the always lovely @fraaaaankiiiiieee i'm so in love with all of your ideas <3

**please note: since this is an extended series the love interest is referred to as 'honey' just because Y/N didn't seem right.**

-

Honey was used to this routine after all these years of being married to Jake Seresin. Monday through Friday were for the Navy, while he was on a mission at least, or for working on the farm when he was home. Most Sundays were reserved for the Cowboys, but Saturdays, oh Saturdays, were reserved for the UT Longhorns. Game Day Saturdays were proper nouns among the Seresin's, which Honey had adopted as soon as she took his last name. She didn't mind it much, truthfully, she was passionate about her own home state's teams, almost equally as excitable as Jake.

More often than not his missions took him far from their home in Texas, which didn't allow him to enjoy the full extent of his season passes. It was rare for Jake to be home long enough to swing into Austin to watch a game, so most of the time the couple opted to enjoy it from the comfort of their living room couch. Jake would sling his arm around her, pulling her around by the waist, making comments about this year's lineup, which players would be starting, simply making small talk about the game. As the game progressed, however, he'd coach from the couch, sitting on the edge of the cushion, hands folded as his green eyes watched the players in either pure elation or complete disdain. His well-worn orange Longhorns cap would sit backwards atop his blonde locks, stationary, until he got frustrated, then the cap would come off for him to run his hands through his hair. It was one he'd owned since high school, well-loved, partially sun-bleached, and the fabric was starting to fray around the bill. His Grandpa Seresin had given it to him after he'd joined the high school football team, and he'd worn it ever since. It was his favorite, and he wore it with pride. After football season, the cap lived on the dash of his truck. He'd sometimes throw it on if he was running errands on a particularly sunny day, or if he was in a dire need to cover his windswept hair, but it seemed more often than not that the hat had become part of his otherwise spotless truck.

Today, however, Jake was finally home for the first time in several months, and there was nowhere else he wanted to be than under stadium lights on a beautiful, albeit warm, Texas afternoon. He was sitting in the living room of his and Honey's farmhouse, already dressed in his burnt orange polo with the little white longhorn on the corner, his aviators hanging loosely from the one button he had fastened at the top. He had been ready for nearly half an hour, and had made his home on the couch as he waited for Honey to finish getting ready. Jake was scrolling mindlessly through his phone when his wife's voice sounded from their upstairs bedroom.

"Jake?!"

His eyes looked up, laying his phone face down on his chest as he shouted back so she could hear.

"Ma'am?!"

He received no response, but her footsteps were heavy as she stomped down the stairs, one of Jake's many orange UT shirts tied on her torso, a little oversized. Denim shorts covered her legs to mid-thigh, a comfortable pair of shoes on her feet. Jake stands as she enters the room, as he always does, noting the unamused expression written across her face.

"What's the matter, baby?" His calloused hands reach to rest on each side of her hips.

"I look ridiculous, Jake," her voice is deadpan and serious. Jake's green eyes scan her frame, a sly smirk forming on his face.

"Nothin' wrong with what you got on. In fact, I think you look smokin'." He pulled her closer by her hips. Honey rolled her eyes, smiling up at her husband despite his cheesy flirtations. He leans down to kiss her, only taking a few seconds to deepen it before she's pushing him away from her lightly.

"Don't start that, Seresin," she bats her eyelashes. "Or we'll never make it out of here, and I'm not wearing this gaudy orange for shits and giggles."

"I don't know, darlin', orange might be your color."

She scoffs at her husband's statement and she grabs her bag as Jake ushers her out the door. She stands in front of his truck, already knowing Jake's insistence of opening her door. As he finishes locking the door Honey speaks.

"I look much, much better in maroon."

Jake knew his wife was right. As much as he loved her in his burnt orange, there was something about her in her home colors, sitting in the blistering southern heat as she cheered on her beloved bulldogs. He'd pay attention to he game, but never as much as he paid attention to her. His heart would nearly beat out of his chest as he watched her standing in front of him in the stands to get a better view, the anticipation in her eyes as the players lined up for the next play. He'd laugh as she jumped up and down for touchdowns and field goals, loving it most when she gave him a celebratory kiss.

Jake rolls his eyes, opening her truck door, nudging his head to motion her to get in, closing the door behind her before moving around to his side. He slides in and starts the truck, his usual country music station sounding through his speakers. He backs out and heads down their long driveway. Honey looks out the window, surveying the acres and acres of farmland, noting the livestock grazing and the scenic landscape. Once out of the country and onto big city roadways, her focus turns to her husband in the driver's seat.

Jake is leaned back in the seat, his aviators now perched on his nose. His left hand drums against the steering wheel to the song playing, his gold wedding band shining in the sunlight. His right sits on her thigh, his thumb drumming on her skin. His golden hair and tanned skin gleam in the Texas sun. She smiles, his time stationed in California had done him well.

"You're starin' sweetheart," his southern drawl is thick, completely prominant from his time back home.

"Can I not stare at my husband?! I didn't realize it was a sin."

"It's not, look all you want, baby, but the sight of you in my shirt sure is making me want to sin."

He turns his attention from the windshield of the truck to his wife for a split second, his green eyes staring her down over the tops of his aviators.

"You're stunnin', but I think I know what the outfit's missin',"

Honey's eyebrows raised at her husband, her own eyes cutting at his frame, his eyes now staring back ahead at the roads getting busier with traffic.

"Missin'? Didn't realize my outfit needed more. It's a football game, baby." Her voice is laced with humor as she speaks.

Jake's arm reaches towards the dash, his calloused hands grabbing the infamous orange hat, and tossing it backwards onto her head.

"Perfect!"

Y/N shakes her head at her husband's actions, straightening it so the longhorn emblem is facing the front, adjusting the strap in the back to fit her head. She rolls her eyes as she looks at her reflection in the small visor mirror, Jake's hand returning to her thigh. As he turns to look at her in his cap, Jake's grin is wide on his face, the kind of shit-eating grin only a man completely in love would have.

"No matter if the boys win or lose, baby, I'm still taking home the best looking trophy tonight."

[81folklore]

dress - VETTEL - part 2

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: part two because i didnt realise how long it had gotten but im allergic to actually writing.. also i apologize for the first part literally just being build-up.. i honestly didnt know about the 30 pic limit so...

authors note 2: i used google translate for the german so i hope its correct, also i dont know if petnames like darling or sunshine are used in germany but i had to use them

authors note 3: i actually hate how this turned out :/ but it was very hard to actually get my thoughts onto the page so this will do! this is part 2 so go read part 1 first!!

part 1 part 3 masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user5, user77, olliebearman and 45,920 others

YN IN THE F1 PADDOCK TODAY, I REPEAT YN IN THE PADDOCK

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user77: sorry i dont follow f1, i thought the races were on sundays?

user5: dont be sorry! today is qualifying and tomorrow is the race!

user5: SHES THERE I CANT STAY CALM

user91: does anyone know who she was with in those photos of her by the track?

user5: sebastian vettel and mick schumacher!

user6: SHE WAS WATCHING QUALIFYING WITH SEB AND MICK?? SEB VETTEL?? AND MICK SCHUMACHER?? OH LORDDD

user12: i thought i would survive.. i lied

ynupdates

liked by user5, user20, user99 and 101,782 others

seems like yn is with redbull at todays race looking as gorgous as ever!

view comments

user5: OH OH OH OH

user5: SHE IS STUNING HOLY

user20: her style recently has been AMAZING

user68: out of every team i think redbull would have been one of my last guesses

user6: THE WAY SHE IS WITH REDBULL AND SPENT QUALIFYING WITH REDBULLS GOLDEN BOY OH I FEEL SICK

user99: i love her so much

user42: at least her team will win

user591: IS SHE WEARING A WEDDING RING??

user618: i think so?? honestly i wouldnt be surprised shes very private and has been with her partner for almost 8 years so no wonder he popped the question

user90: i need her to be at every gp

ynupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, user55, user81 and 234,891 others

yn on stage performing dress during the post-race concert at suzuka! as far as we know it was a complete surprise, she came on to sing dress then left. this is her second time performing it to a live audience!

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user81: WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO HEAR DRESS LIVE

user5: charles and seb were both spotted watching her from the side of the stage!

user81: charles taking seb to see his favorite artist..what if i cried

user55: i cant believe i lost dress twice without even knowing i could lose it😭

user8: i hope she had so much fun, ive missed her doing stuff like this :’)

user12: apparently she was laughing and looking off stage at someone throughout, possibly her partner?

user1: SHE AWLAYS LOOKS SO GOOD

user13: so much content this weekend..im going to have major withdrawls

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher and 13,712,847 others

four years ago i was given the pleasure of marrying my best friend

i am unable to really put into words how much meeting you and getting to spend the rest of my life with you has changed my life seb, but i tell you i love you enough daily that i hope you understand

when we first met i had no idea how much you would impact me and the way i think, but you have helped me become the woman i am today and i am forever grateful for that

i often feel unworthy of the life you have given me, the life we have together. i wonder how i got to be the one you love and cherish and i know how lucky i am to be the one you spend your life with

you gave me your heart and i promise to look after it for as long as im here, i promise to keep it safe and i know you will look after mine

danke, dass du mich liebst, danke, dass du dich um mich kümmerst. (thank you for loving me, thank you for taking care of me) Ich verspreche, dich bis zu meinem letzten Atemzug zu lieben. (I promise to love you until my last breath) Ich werde nie aufhören, dich zu lieben, Mein Sonnenschein. (I will never stop loving you, my sunshine)

tagged: sebastianvettel

comments on this post have been limited

sebastianvettel: Danke, dass du dein Herz geöffnet hast und mich dich lieben lässt, mein Schatz (Thank you for opening your heart and letting me love you, my darling)

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 8,728,712 others

I won the most important race. It was the race into the heart of the love of my life, yn. I love you.

view comments

yourusername: 🩵🩵🩵

user5: I CANT DO THIS STOP

user12: hes so sweet :(

user18: ive known about them for a total of 2 minutes but i love them already🫡

user6: dress was written about him…

user71: i feel ill wehn will i get posted like this

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris and 10,120,859 others

the sunshine of my life

view comments

yourusername: i love you so much

lewishamilton: very happy for you mate!

user13: THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH OH MY GOD😭😭

landonorris: 🥹🥹

user82: DRESS WAS WRITTEN BY HER FOR HIM AND HE WAS PROUD OF IT OH LORD

user5: literally my favorite people in the entire universe🫶

user19: still in shock that theyve been married for four years

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + two

authors note: holy shit, i didn't expect so many people to be interested in this story! thank you all so much for the kind comments. this one is heavier than the first, but the following should be a little lighter.

i also just want to clarify something that a few of you mentioned: roman will not be abusive in this story. i know that's a plot used frequently, but it's not my thing, so i just wanna make that clear. :)

he is an ass though.....for now.

also, please, please, please heed to the cw/tw's! i will update them to reflect the content of each update. it's up to you, the reader, to prepare yourself properly by reading them to avoid being triggered.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, a scene of torture, depiction of ptsd, trauma responses (panic attacks), mentions of suicidal thoughts, brief line of dialogue referring to past childhood sexual assault, trauma response due to past childhood sexual assault

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 7k

“You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

If Solana was capable of feeling and experiencing any emotion other than sadness and fear, she would laugh. 

She would laugh because no one sane truly thinks that they can kill the head of the table, least of all someone like her. But, it really does settle in that her father and brother truly believe that she, of all people, can do something like that.

Can take someone’s life. 

Just the thought alone unlocks a new level of dread and terror. 

Eyes watering, she shakes her head, protesting. “No. I—I can’t do that. I—I won’t.”

Rarely, if ever, does Solana push back on what she’s asked or told to do. It only results in more severe beatings that lead to ER trips vs having to patch herself back up in her bathroom. She’s accepted that acquiescence is always a better alternative. But this….this she can’t get behind.

Wes smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Solana knows exactly what’s about to happen next. Stupidly, she tries to escape, climbing up on her feet and making it centimeters past Wes when he fists her hair, yanking her body back. She hisses in pain and starts to cry and protest as he drags her across the first floor of the house.

“No! P-please! I–I’m sorry!” She begs, all the while Xavier follows lazily behind, keeping his cigar near his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Wes snaps. She cries, heartbeat sporadic, so much so that it’s becoming difficult to breathe. That’s one of the worst things to happen considering what she knows is about to occur. He kicks open the bathroom door, and sure enough, the tub is already full and ready.

“No…..” Wes shoves her toward the tub, kicking her in her back to force her to the knees, Solana’s head banging against the side of the tub. She can only blink two or three times before water is burning her eyes, filling her mouth, drowning her.

Solana flails against Wes whose strong hand holds her down under the water by the back of her head. It’s a wasteless effort, trying to fight against him, when her energy would be better spent trying not to drown.

Not that Wes will allow that. He’s adept at bringing her to the edge of unconsciousness, pulling back just in time to taunt her. And that’s exactly what he does, pulling her head back, finding a level of enjoyment at her violent coughs and tears. 

His favorite form of torturing her.

She’s not sure how long it lasts, only knows there’s a tremendous amount of relief when he finally lets her go long enough for her to plant her palms on the ground to gather herself. 

Xavier, who stood there watching the whole time with pleasure, walks towards her. Solana gasps and moves her body back against the tub, wanting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

His face is blank, no emotion in his eyes. “You either kill Reigns.” Solana’s eyes shut as Xavier caresses her wet cheek. “Or we kill you.”

It’s impossible to hold back her tears, as Solana breaks down in front of her father and brother, the both of which simply walk away with an astounding amount of indifference. 

They slam the bathroom door shut, allowing her the privacy of at least deteriorating without their judgmental glares. 

Pulling up her legs against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she sobs into her thighs, confused as to just how in the hell she ended up in this situation.

Solana isn’t a killer. Has never even had the desire to kill anyone. Not even the two men who just made it abundantly clear that her only two options are to kill or be killed.

Just how all of this is supposed to work is beyond her. Roman is a boulder of a man, body covered in ropes of pure muscle with a kill count that rivals some of the world’s leading assassins. She’s barely 5'1, can’t seem to get the scale to budge no matter how many diets she tries, and trembles in the presence of anyone who has an XY chromosome combination.

Many have tried to kill Roman, and all have failed, meeting gruesome, torturous deaths. 

What chance does she have?

————

Any prayer sent up requesting some type of divine intervention to stop this unholy union is either denied, ignored, or planning to be answered at a much later date and time, because the next two weeks speed by faster than the speed of light.

Solana’s days are filled with wedding preparations that require little to no of her say in what she wants. Not that that’s any different from most things in her life.

Granted, there’s a small part of her that mourns when she’s presented with her wedding dress.

The dress she doesn’t want to wear for a wedding she doesn’t want to have. There’s an alarming lack of autonomy that suddenly feels so much heavier and suffocating despite it being a consistent, dominant theme in her life.

A large part of her recognizes how it’s probably largely due to the whole reason why all of this is happening.

Her father and brother want control of the bloodline.

Objectively speaking, she can see why this would be a goal. It’s everyone’s goal. To have control and power over the most powerful crime family in the entire continent. Maybe beyond. The Bloodline’s true stretch has never really been made public, per se. She’s certain that’s partially what makes them so dangerous. One can never really know who is a member and who is not, who has ties and who is an enemy.

A secret that gives them a forever advantage.

The day of the actual wedding, like everything else, comes much quicker than Solana feels prepared for. Truthfully, she doesn’t feel prepared for any of this, doesn’t want any of this, but much like most things in her life, her wants and desires don’t matter.

No one cares to hear them, and no one definitely cares to respect them. 

On the day of the wedding, shortly after arriving at the church, she’s left alone in one of the back rooms. Someone mutters something about the makeup artist and hairstylist to come in shortly before slamming the door and leaving her by herself. That’s mostly a bad thing. Being alone with the thoughts she’s been having lately……they typically don’t result in anything good. 

Overwhelmed and in her head too much, Solana grabs her purse and takes out the latest journal she’s been working out of.

And she writes.

Dear Mom,

Today is my wedding day. I should be happy. You should be here. None of that is the case though. The truth is that I feel so empty. This won’t turn out well. I either try to kill Roman and he ends up killing me as a result or I refuse and dad and Wes kill me.

There is no outcome where I make it out of here alive.

And mama, I know you always told me to never forget that life is a gift, but mine isn’t. It hasn’t been since they took you from me.

And truthfully……I don’t think I really care anymore.

Life is hard. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

I’d rather be with you instead.

The knock on the door startles Solana as she hurriedly moves to close up her notebook, stuffing it back in her purse as she calls out for whoever is on the other side to enter. The door slowly swings open as Solana quickly swipes at her eyes, feeling the burning of pending tears.

She can’t let them see her cry though.

No matter how badly she wants to.

While Solana expects another set of hard eyes and an indifferent scowl, she’s met with a woman around the same age as her with half her head shaved, the other side full of dark purple hair that grazes her shoulder.

“Damn, got the right room on the first try. Let’s fucking go.” Solana stands up as the woman walks over, adjusting the black makeup kit on her shoulder. “I’m Bayley.” She extends her hand out for a handshake, and Solana takes a second to reciprocate, caught off guard by her relaxed disposition. The way her smile meets her eyes, not a trace of irritation or disgust in having to assist her.

Solana has only had minimal interaction with representatives of the Bloodline, namely the women who accompanied her at the tailor shop and made comments, most likely about her, in their native Samoan. Nina always taught her daughter not to assume, but it’s hard to not believe cruel things are being stated when they’re conjoined with pointing, eye rolls, and curt exchanges when they needed Solana to move a certain way.

So Solana, understandably, is cautious. 

“Solana,” she shares, shifting in her seat.

“I know,” Bayley snickers, placing her makeup kit on the counter and starting to lay out products. “I’d be a bit of a shitty makeup artist if I didn’t know who the bride was, am I right?”

Solana doesn’t say anything. The silence doesn’t come from a place of rudeness but rather continued confusion. She can’t comprehend why this woman is being so nice to her?

If Bayley is bothered by the lack of responses, she does a damn great job of not showing it. “Now, I have a couple ideas of what look I think I wanna go for with you, but as it’s your big day, what are you thinking?”

That…..that is what triggers another one word responde. 

Cautious, she asks, “me?”

Bayley pauses in the midst of starting to pick out foundation options and leans back against the counter, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “Arranged marriages suck ass. You already don’t get to pick who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with. The least you can do is pick out some makeup.”

There’s something so insanely comforting about her otherwise simple words. Something freeing and liberating about being given an option, even if it’s about makeup. For the first time today, Solana actually smiles.

“I—I like neutral colors. Gold…maybe would be okay too.”

And just like that, the deep smile that revealed the dimple in Bayley’s right cheek returns. “Great minds think alike. That’s exactly what I was gonna go for.”

“And—” Solana adds, voice an octave lower, insecurity creeping back in. “If—if you could cover the scar as best you can.”

“What scar?” Bayley gives her a wink before finishing up the laying out of products. “I got you, girl.”

It’s not very often, if ever, Solana feels beautiful. And even when those once in a blue moon moments occur, they’re fleeting or surface level, typically dashed by a cruel comment from her family. But today, standing in front of the mirror, makeup completed, hair done, and dress on, she actually feels beautiful.

The first time she tried on the dress, it was an unpleasant experience for a variety of reasons, on top of the fact that she hated the style. Strapless and form-fitting with a sweetheart neckline. Solana hates her arms and especially bringing too much attention to her chest and body in general.

But conjoined with the hair and makeup, she actually doesn’t immediately want to turn away from the mirror when she sees the outcome.

Bayley comes behind her, still wearing that smile that Solana is now convinced, despite the odds, is genuine. “Reigns is a lucky bastard. You look fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Solana really does mean it when she offers a sincere “thank you.” Bayley’s positive energy is exactly what she needed. It doesn’t change anything, but it definitely does help her not to be consumed by thoughts she hasn’t had since she was a teenager.

“Hey, uhh, I’m sure being married to Mr. Tribal Chief himself means you’ll probably have to make appearances from time to time, hold his arm and shit.” She hands Solana a small piece of paper. Unfolding it, Solana sees numbers scribbled down in red ink. A phone number.  “Ever need glam again for any of it, hit me up. Or even….even if you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you.” Solana’s voice is stronger this time, firmer, the small act of kindness traveling such a long way. She holds up one side of her gown to walk over and slide the paper in her purse. 

She’ll make sure not to lose it. 

There’s a hard knock on the door that reminds her where she is. Reminds her that people like Bayley are anomalies. One doesn’t get to experience kindness for too long. Not in her world. 

Solana honestly didn’t expect her father to walk her down the aisle, didn’t see it as something he would have any interest in nor find an exciting opportunity. And those two reasons are very much true, but his desire to issue last minute warnings outweighs both of them.

Xavier’s frame fills the door as he looks at Solana from head to toe. Instantly, he’s scowling with disapproval. 

“Why is her hair not down?”

Solana was partially worried about that. She knows her father has always told her she needs to keep her length so that she can always wear her hair down as it helps to “hide how fat your face is.”

She doesn’t know how wrong or right he is about that, but she’s wanted to cut it for ages, being unable to do so because she knows it’ll upset him.

Bayley, however, doesn’t seem to give two shits about Xavier’s disapproval. “Updo’s are typically better for formal events. Granted, up or down, she still looks beautiful.”

Solana can’t tell entirely if Bayley is defending her work or Solana. Either way, she has a tremendous amount of respect for this woman who doesn’t seem to give two shits about who Xavier Miller is.

If only Solana could do the same.

Xavier cuts his eyes in Bayley’s direction but says nothing, instead walking over to Solana and whispering in her ear. “You should have started your fast three days ago instead of two. You still look fat. Hold your stomach in as you walk down the aisle.”

Any relief or peace felt from her interaction with Bayley is dead the second those cruel words leave his mouth. As soon as he entered the room, really. But Solana doesn’t have time to be sad, because he moves to drop her veil over her face and loops his arm with hers. 

He walks her out of the room, depriving her of a chance to tell Bayley goodbye and thank you again. 

Xavier leads her down the hall, a left, and then a right before they’re standing before the double doors that lead to the sanctuary. She wants to ask for a second to gather herself, feeling the panic starting to rise, but Xavier barks for the guards standing outside the door to open said door.

And they oblige without protest.

The veil is more opaque than she remembers, partially obscuring her view of Roman and the others who wait for her at the end of the aisle. There’s a sea of people on either side of the pews, many and most, Bloodline members. But, she can’t focus on that.

All she can focus on is the low, warning voice of her father. “You will please him and do exactly as he asks.” What other choice do I have? “Earn his trust. We will tell you the rest when the time comes.”

Solana would give anything for that time to never come.

And once they reach the end, before he frees her hand for Roman to take it, he snatches the chance to put on a good display of faux love, leaning over for a hug. Solana instantly tenses at his touch.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he whispers and pulls away with a smile that has her empty stomach knotting.

Swallowing, Solana channels her focus back on Roman. Like the past two times she'd seen him, his hair is neatly pulled back, but unlike those exchanges, he’s dressed to the nines. Expensive, designer suit, all black, the only red in his appearance, the red Ula Fala he wears around his neck. Representation of his status as Tribal Chief, his role in his family’s dynasty.

Solana can admit that he looks good. Very good.

If only everything else just wasn’t so bad.

Roman has no reaction at unveiling her, and Solana can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. She’d like to just say he has no reaction to anything, really, but that’s untrue.

He’s notorious for his angry reactions to the most minute situations sometimes. 

So perhaps no reaction is the best reaction she can receive.

Still, it unsettles her. Has she upset him already?

The two of them are directed to kneel by the pastor, or maybe Shaman, or maybe just an official. She’s not really sure, but whoever he is, he wastes no time in starting with the formalities of the wedding. He says many things, but Solana’s mind is elsewhere, not that it’s an intentional avoidance.

Her father reminding her of the fact that she hasn’t had anything to eat for two days is suddenly bringing on the extreme exhaustion and weakness she’s pretty sure she’d managed to put on the back burner in exchange for mental anguish. 

She’s so incredibly tired. And it feels impossible to be present for the vows or to stand when she’s prompted so by the officiant. It’s even more difficult to stay cognizant enough to acknowledge what’s being asked of her, forced of her, with a set of “I do’s.”

But, it’s when a knife is pulled out that her face pales, flashes of numerous, previous exchanges where that little piece of silver was used to mentally and physically terrorize her. Roman somehow notices this and quietly murmurs, “relax. It’s tradition.”

Before she can speak, the officiant continues. “Now, as are the ways of our ancestors, we shall seal this union before God, family, and all with blood.” Roman offers his hand, palm faced upward and nods at Solana to do the same. Reluctantly, she follows, eyes shutting, not wanting to see whatever is about to happen next.

“Careful,” Roman warns. She’s unsure who it’s directed to, but it’s followed by a brief, burning pain across her palm. She’s been cut, nothing major, but enough to draw blood. 

Her hand is moved followed by instant, coarse, warmth. Eyes opening, she sees that her and Roman’s hands have been joined together.

“In the eyes of the ancestors, you two are now officially bound to one another not just by law, tribal and government, but blood. A curse be placed upon anyone who dares interfere with this marriage.” Separating their hands, Roman takes the red cloth and wipes her palm before his own, tossing it to who she recognizes as his enforcer/cousin, Solo. “And now, you may kiss the bride.”

For whatever reason, probably several good ones, Solana hadn’t thought about this part. The part where Roman would have to touch her, would have to kiss her, in front of everyone.

There’s a quick increase of anxiety and panic that ensues when Roman takes her hand, pulling to force her to angle her body toward him. Her heart is smashing against her chest with the weight of a ton of bricks. 

But just as quickly as the anxiety rushed in, it’s gone because Roman’s head dips lower to hers and his lips are on and off her faster than she can process, than she can freak out over.

She’s unsure about this brief interaction, a possible indication he’s just as uninterested in this union as she is. 

A business arrangement.

That’s what he called it.

That’s what he called her.

Even her hand in his as he leads her down the aisle, stoic expression the polar opposite of one would expect for what should be the happiest day of someone’s life.

She wonders if he views this as the exact opposite.

Because Solana certainly does.

————

Despite her best efforts to power through, the weakness gets worse and is complicated by a sort of dizziness that makes Solana partially grateful her arm is linked with Roman’s. She tries not to show that she’s leaning more on him than her own two feet, not trusting them to give out on her.

But, this man is perceptive as hell, she should know this. One doesn’t get to be where he is, accomplished all he has by being oblivious. 

He’s escorting her into the reception area, already lively and full of people, most of which she doesn’t know, many of which she’s not sure she wants to know. 

But instead of leading her toward an individual or group of individuals, he pulls her to the side, asking in a low but steel voice. “What’s wrong?”

Solana stills. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself, and that’s exactly what she’s done. Trying her best to do damage control, she answers in as firm a voice she can muster. “Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tire……” Free hand to her forehead, Solana only recalls her eyes briefly closing before her body sways into something hard and firm, arms around her, holding her up.

Roman says something, calls for someone, but Solana is solely focused on centering herself. 

A woman is suddenly standing before her with a deep, beautiful complexion similar to her father’s. However, that’s where the similarities stop, because this woman and her bold makeup is absolutely stunning. 

“You don’t look well,” is the first thing to leave the woman’s frowning mouth.She takes the back of her hand to Solana’s forehead and offers what could be perceived as a sincere, sympathetic smile. “Girl, when was the last time you had something to eat?”

Solana manages to answer, unfortunately being honest when she should probably lie. “Y-yesterday, I think. Maybe—maybe the day before.”

A deep frown falls on her face, but Roman is the first to speak. “Why the fuck haven’t you been eating?”

It’s the irritation and anger in her voice that makes her wince, but Solana can’t account for what makes her eyes dart over to where her dad and brother are watching closely. She does her best to redirect her gaze before Roman notices, but it’s a stupid thought.

He sees everything.

His expression turns dark as he mutters something she can’t hear and then directs the woman. “Naomi, take her to get something to eat.”

Naomi. That’s her name. For some reason, it just fits her. Naomi places her hand on the small of Solana’s back, gently taking her from Roman’s grasp as she starts to guide her away. “Come on. There’s definitely plenty of options to choose from.”

Meanwhile, Roman sets his sights on another goal, knowing Naomi will see to it that Solana is taken care of.

Xavier isn’t a hard man to find. He’s laughing it up with some of the other guests at the wedding who aren’t members of the Bloodline per se, more along the lines of allies. Not that Roman gives a shit. His stride is intentful and purposeful, Solo naturally flanking at his side, Xavier’s gaze falling on them with an insincere smile.

“Ahhh, the groom. Congratulations—”

“Why wasn’t she eating?” All Roman has to do is nod for the other men to disperse, and like ants, they do just that, leaving him alone with Miller and his boy.

Xavier steps forward, lowering his voice and clearly playing up the facade of a concerned, loving father. “I believe she said something about looking her best on her wedding day. And as you can see, Solana is not a small woman. She probably thought that was the best and quickest way. Poor girl.”

Roman has this thing he likes to do sometimes when people think they can get one over on him. He likes to tap into the deeply rooted part of himself that can maintain his temper, keep him from acting on his emotions, and instill some well crafted self-control. He puts all of that on the back burner in favor of something else almost equally enjoyable.

Playing with his prey.

Roman knew five minutes into the conversation with Miller that the man’s death would come at his hands. Preferably sooner rather than later. Xavier is the type of man Roman hates the most. The kind who fails in all important areas of his life and spends the rest of it making others miserable for his shortcomings. The kind of man who refuses to see the simpleton he has for a son yet seems keen on turning him into a mafia head.

It’s almost comical. The amount of delusion.

Wes also decides to answer, chin jutted, shoulders straightening. This actually is humorous to Roman, the fact this kid thinks that he comes off remotely intimidating. That shit may work on his sister, but not the Tribal Chief. 

“Solana’s a grown woman. She does what she wants.”

Xavier shoots his son a warning look. A look indicating that he can’t believe Wes would be foolish enough to challenge the man before him. “Wes….”

This only brings a smile to Roman’s face. He steps toward him, vowing in Samoan. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.” His eyes dart toward Xavier. “The both of you.”

Solo also steps forward, asking in their same native language. “Want me to handle this for you, my tribal chief?” 

Roman shakes his head, advising in a deadly calm voice. “Patience, Solo. I’m going to have my fun first.” 

Xavier is visibly irked by the conversation happening in front of him that he can’t understand. But, he does a decent job hiding that irritation. “Perhaps I should go check on her—”

Roman extends his arm, blocking the man. “No.”

Xavier pauses. “What?”

Roman is suddenly ready to get the fuck out of here. He promised his cousins that he would go the day without killing anyone, but this fucker is pushing it. “She’s my wife. I see to it that she’s fine.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, but he covers it with a tight smile. “She is my daughter.”

“The same daughter you knew was starving herself yet did nothing about it?” Roman’s retort is blunt and to the point. He may plan to play with his prey, but that doesn’t mean he can’t call this man out on his bullshit along the way.

Xavier paints on a face of shock and indignation at Roman’s accusation. “I did—"

Roman is directly to the point, advising in a way that makes it clear there’s no room for debate. “Solana is my responsibility now. Any issues she has, I will handle. Any threats she faces, I will eliminate.” One glance at Wes shows that the younger Miller is struggling to control his temper, hand clenching and unclenching at his side. The impulsive side of Roman wants the kid to try something. This will be a beating he’ll enjoy. Thoroughly. 

The kid is as insufferable as his father.

Roman refocuses himself, talking and directing his conversation to Xavier. “Solana will be unavailable for the next few weeks.”

Roman swears he can see the vein forming in the older man’s forehead. “What? Why?”

“She’s a member of the Bloodline now. She must get familiar with our ways. Any messages you need to relay to her will go through me.”

It’s partially true. But mostly, he wants to fuck with Miller. A man who obviously gets off on control needs to be humbled, Roman knows it must kill Xavier to be humbled by someone younger and more accomplished than himself.

He’s also certain Solana won’t be heartbroken by not being around her abusive piece of shit family. 

“I don’t—”

“When she wants to.” He gestures to Solo, explaining, “Solo will accompany her for any outings she has outside of the estate. That includes your home as well.” 

Roman is certain Solo, if not for his adept skill at maintaining a poker face, would be looking at him with surprise. He’s yet to discuss this with his enforcer, but Roman’s word is law. So however his cousin feels about it is irrelevant. It’s painfully obvious Solana is incapable of keeping herself safe, hence her need for protection.

Solo would be the perfect person for just that.

Xavier clears his throat, wrinkled hand adjusting, loosening his tie. “Is that really necessary?”

“As my wife, she now has a major target over her head. I won’t take any chances.” Roman’s smile is mocking. “This is your daughter, right? Surely, you don’t want me taking any chances.” Roman adds on, partially to continue to twist the knife but also because it’s the truth. “I will keep her safe.”

Regardless of how he feels about this marriage, Solana is now a part of the Bloodline. That means, just like for anyone else in his family, he’ll protect her with his life. It’s his duty to do so.

Xavier’s deep complexion is tinged red. The man is fired up. But still, he knows better than to express that rage to the man in front of him. “That is—-was—-her home. What safer place is there to be?”

Now, Roman is getting pissed off. It’s obvious by the faded bruises and pure terror that Solana exhibits in the presence of her family that she’s anything but safe with them. 

Roman steps towards him. “With me.” Tired of these games, he gets straight to the point. “These are not suggestions. They’re orders. Orders you will obey.” He searches Xavier’s face for any signs of indication that he’d be stupid enough to try something. There’s nothing there. “Am I understood?”

With a clenched jaw, Xavier answers. “Yes.”

Roman’s intense gaze burns into him, his undisputed authority surely a thorn in Miller’s side. “Yes, what?”

“Yes…..my Tribal Chief.”

Roman smiles. Pleased with his assertion of dominance, he turns away, venturing off to find his bride.

Time to get the fuck out of here.

————

Solana spends much longer in the bathroom than necessary. She halfheartedly expects for Roman to come beating on the door, demanding for her to come out and fulfill her wifely duties.

But that moment never arrives, so she values every second of time she’s granted to prepare herself for what she’s refused to think about the past two weeks.

Her wedding night.

Solana knows what’s going to happen, what has to happen, but it doesn’t do anything to help the terror she feels in every corner of her body.

The shower water blends with the tears shed at the thought of what she has to do, the act she can’t even think about without her chest tightening.

She hoped that reminding herself this wasn’t that, that this isn’t that, would help. But, it doesn’t. Because this is Roman Reigns she’s about to be intimate with.

He’s not known for being gentle in any area of his life, and bedroom activities certainly can’t be an exception. That’s when her anxiety grows even stronger, especially as she forces herself to dress in the red lingerie that was provided to her.

The silk robe included provides a slither of comfort, and she makes sure to tie it so it covers as much of her body as possible. A silly act considering Roman will rip it off, along with everything else, the moment he gets her onto the bed. 

It’s only when she’s certain she’s stretched out every bit of patience this man is capable of offering that Solana decides she needs to leave the bathroom. Upsetting him is the last thing she wants to do.

So without an ounce of hope that anything moving forward will be remotely good, Solana hits the light switch and opens the door.

She finds Roman sitting almost slouched in his chair located in the corner of the room. He’s lazily scrolling on his phone when his eyes lift and land on her. She stills. There’s a brief second of a delay when he hits the button on the side of the phone and stands up. 

Solana refuses to focus too much on the fact that he’s about as covered up as she is, wearing only boxers.

Because of his size, it seems he’s across the room directly in front of her in a matter of seconds. Eyes taking her in from top to bottom, he asks, “you good?”

Far from it. 

Regardless, Solana nods.

If only that worked for the head of the table.

She gasps quietly when he brings his hand to her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I don’t do non-verbals.” His eyes search her face for something she can’t identify. “Words.”

Blinking, she answers with a low, “y–yes.”

He pauses and then demands, “lay down on the bed.”

Solana licks her lips and makes her feet move over to the mattress, climbing on top and clenching her eyes shut as she lays her head back on the pillow.

Her fingers mess with the material of her robe, trying to distract herself from the sound and feel of him climbing on the bed. She doesn’t need to be looking to know he’s above her, intense eyes probably studying her.

His deep voice sounds at the same time she feels his finger glaze across her clavicle. “It’s just sex.”

If only that was true. 

Still, she manages to nod, eyes and mouth snapped shut.

Solana takes in a deep breath that makes her stomach cave when Roman’s lips are pressed against the soft skin of her jawline, moving downward at a tantalizingly slow pace at the same moment his hands move to her robe. 

She releases another shaky breath as her robe comes undone, revealing so much skin, so much of her she’d do anything to keep hidden away.

A thin sheen of sweat is starting to form all over her body. The room is suddenly much hotter than she remembers. There’s difficulty paying attention to what’s happening because her mind is taken to another place, another time.

A much much darker place and time. 

And suddenly, she’s not in Roman’s bed. It’s not him hovering over her, not his mouth on her neck or his hands on her body.

It’s theirs.

His stench is strong and almost sour, breath tinged with alcohol. “You’ve got some fire in you, girl.” A sinister smile reveals yellowish teeth contrasted against pale, dehydrated skin. “But, I like it when they fight back.” His strong fist connects with her jaw, forcing her head to the side and nearly knocking her unconscious. “Rob, come hold her down for me.”

Solana tries her best to stop it, tries to keep it at bay, tries to do what she’s never been able to do prior to this moment but somehow thinks this will be different. It’s a stupid thought, because moments later, she’s hyperventilating, her body feeling like it’s on fire. 

“No!” 

With strength she didn’t know she possessed, Solana shoves them, Roman, whoever, off of her, scrambling to climb off the bed. She’s standing in the middle of the room, doubled over as the demons overcome her.

Hand to her chest, she starts clawing at her neck. 

Deep down, she knew this is what would happen, knew that she’d fall apart the second he started to touch her. 

What she didn’t expect was a set of firm, calloused hands forcing her upright, carefully holding her arms away from her neck where she’s certain she just drew blood. And she definitely doesn’t expect Roman’s intense gaze on her, studying her with what one might consider to be concern.

But, Solana is too caught up in her panic attack to know for certain if it’s concern or not as she realizes that he’s talking to her.

His voice is distant but eventually travels close enough where she can make out words. “Breathe.” She’s still gasping for breath, trying to find that place of regulation as he continues to speak to her in an almost soothing manner. But, that can’t be possible. This is Roman fucking Reigns. Nothing about him is soothing. 

“Look around the room. Tell me five things you see.” 

Solana doesn’t know how, why, or even where she finds the wherewithal to be present for his directions, but she is. She’s even able to follow through. Eyes moving around the room, the first thing she lands on are the double doors leading to the balcony.

With speech still almost an impossible thing, she lifts her arm and points in that direction. 

He doesn’t even turn to see what she’s pointing at. “Keep going.”

Confused but also not wanting to make things worse by being disobedient, she scans the room, settling on the dresser. Solana points again.

Roman’s eyes bounce from her eyes to her mouth. “Three more.”

At some point in this random exercise, Solana’s breathing began to regulate, so much so that instead of pointing to the chair in the corner of the room, she whispers, “the c-chair.”

His voice grows seemingly softer. “Two.”

The next thing to catch her attention is the painting on the wall, and it’s after she does so, Roman provides her with a reminder that she still has one more. And when she points to the ceiling fan, he provides another set of directions, tasking her to identify four things she can touch.

She struggles initially, realizing she can use herself, going on and identifying several and actually feeling various parts of herself, like her hair and robe. 

And when she’s asked about three things she can hear, it’s only then that she realizes something she’d missed in the midst of following his guidance. 

She realizes that she can breathe.

Solana can actually breathe. That anchor isn’t on her chest, weighing her down to a state of unconsciousness, that heat that made her feel like flames were lapping at her body is extinguished. 

She almost….she almost feels calm. 

While panic was the dominant emotion not even 10 minutes prior, confusion is the primary emotion now. 

And it's with partial confusion and partial recognition that she acknowledges softly, “I’m okay…”

He doesn’t say anything, and it’s in that brief time of silence that Solana tries to process what just happened. Having suffered from panic attacks since she was a child, she’s never been able to calm herself down, never experienced one as short as this one. 

But he….he just changed that. He just helped her through it.

Shaking her head, she stammers, “how….how did you—”

Solana didn’t realize he was still holding her forearms until she looks down. Roman suddenly jerks and steps away from her, forcing her arms back at her side. 

Instantly, she’s contrite. He seems….disturbed. Triggered, almost. “I’m sor—”

“Quiet.” Solana watches with just as much confusion as he moves across the room, dressing himself, back towards her, like he’s physically unable to look at her. There’s a level of aggression in his movement, a wave of irritation radiating off his large being. “Why—why are you….”

She can’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but she definitely thinks it.

She wants to know why he’s leaving, even if it should be painfully obvious.

Truthfully, Solana doesn’t quite understand why she’s suddenly wondering why he’s leaving. It’s obvious she can’t do what needs to be done. More importantly, she doesn’t want to. Him leaving her alone should be sweet relief.

But it can’t be sweet relief because while it may fix one issue, several others are created.

She was told not to upset him.

He’s upset.

She was told to please him.

He’s far from pleased.

She was told to do whatever he asked, and she’s done the opposite of that.

So far, Solana is failing. She’s failing miserably, and that can only lead to one grisly outcome. 

“Where are you going?” Asking while holding her robe closed over her body, she weakly reminds, even if it kills her to do so. “We—we have to—”

“You think I’m dealing with that shit again?” Roman snaps, finally turning to look at her. “I can’t even fucking touch you without you having a nervous breakdown.”

His words, while true, leave a sting. It’s also a bit confusing. How is this the same man who only minutes ago talked her through her panic attack with such patience and compassion.

She suddenly feels even more embarrassed and stupid.

“But, we’re—”

“I can get pussy anywhere, preferably without the headache of dealing with someone clearly unstable.” Solana still isn’t quite sure how to take his sudden change in demeanor. Roman finishes dressing and curtly informs, “the room on the end of the hall on the right is yours. Don’t still be in mine by the time I get back.”

“When are you—” The sound of his heavy double bedroom doors slamming in the wake of his exit prematurely silences her question. 

It’s only when she’s certain that she’s alone that Solana breaks down again.

He’s upset.

She’s upset him.

Nothing ever good ever came out of an angry man. Not for her, at least.

Her mind creates and races with a million and one thoughts regarding not about where he’s going but what will happen when he’s returned. She wants to believe he’s going somewhere to work off his anger, but experience has proven she’s the way that men work off their anger.

Roman indicated that day in the library that he wouldn’t put his hands on her, and while she wanted to believe he was being honest, this was also before she pulled this. He has every right to be upset, but that anger and not knowing what will come from it….it terrifies her.

It terrifies the shit out of her.

Falling to the floor, legs against her chest, she sobs into her legs, one thought and only one thought on her mind now.

What the hell did I get myself into?

[cynical-rain-frog]

"let you break my heart"

Summary: You and Albedo are happily dating but when Lumine shows up, things start to change.

Warnings: Super angsty, Nausea, Albedo is a red flag, cheating.

Authors notes: Not proof read. Im super sleep deprived and just felt like writing. I"m sorry for the bad writing I am completely new to this dont know how to write well. May or may not make a part 2

Word count: 750

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When you first started your relationship with Albedo, you dropped everything to be as close to him as possible. You know you shouldn't build your entire life around a relationship with someone but being with Albedo felt different. It seemed like you and him were always going to be together. He was so attentive, so gentle, so loving. He remembered your favorite flowers and every moment spent with him felt like it filled every inch of you with happiness. You never got over your butterflies whenever his eyes gently fluttered up from his work to meet yours. You would sit next to him for hours, entertained only by the way his hair softly fell forward against his forehead, and listening to the soft scratching of paper against paper.

So when lumine appeared in his life, you were shaken up. Your first thought when you saw her was “oh god, she’s beautiful.” The way she talked to Albedo as if they had always been friends had you second guessing all your conversations with him. You noticed the subtle way he ignored you when he talked to her. The way his gaze lingered on her face when she smiled. Then comes the moment you replay over and over when you're up late at night. The light airy sound of her laugh rings through your ears as if she were right there. You look at albedo and follow his gaze…. Right to her lips. 

You swallow and notice your throat has gone dry. Your stomach is tying itself into knots and your face gets hot. Your voice cuts through as their conversation comes to a pause,” Excuse me.”, you address lumine,”Could I steal away my boyfriend for sec? I need to talk to him.” 

She looks slightly surprised at the word “boyfriend” but nonetheless she nods and Albedo walks with you over to a slightly secluded spot in his lab. Your heart is beating fast but you manage to speak.

 “Albedo. I want to talk to you before this becomes something bigger than it needs to be. I know this will sound kind of possessive and paranoid”,you ramble,” but I just need to let you know that l feel slightly uncomfortable with you talking to Lumine.”

Albedo’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your words. He pauses for a moment before speaking,”My apologies. I never meant to make you uncomfortable, but we are just talking. I don't see the problem in just having a conversation with her.

You immediately feel embarrassed and your face is burning up.”yeah, you're right. I’m just being paranoid. Sorry.”

You wish you could say that day was the first and last time you felt this way but no; over the next few weeks you would often find Albedo already conversing with Lumine upon your arrival to his lab, or see them up in the mountains together. When questioned, Albedo responded with, “I was testing out a hypothesis with some experiments and Lumine was just assisting.” 

You tried to believe him but it was hard not to notice him not calling you your usual pet names whenever she was around. Or the way he seemed less and less interested in your conversations.

It all came to a climax on one particularly cold afternoon, when you had received word via Sucrose that Albedo would be working late tonight. To take your mind off of recent events you decided to go to the Angel share tavern that night. As you stepped into the tavern you looked around to find an open table but were surprised to see Albedo sitting in a booth in the corner of the room.

“I guess he got off work early!” You thought to yourself

 You were excited for a chance to talk to him without Lumine there and were about to call out to him but instead you froze when you saw what was happening. He was sitting next to someone. That someone was Lumine. They were kissing.

 Your body started shaking as soon as the realization set in. You felt nauseous, very very nauseous. The stress that you had felt recently all came flooding into you at once and you lost your footing. The floor was coming up fast and as you hit the floor you heard someone screaming. It was loud and guttural and it wouldn't stop. That's when you realized it was you screaming. You finally ran out of air from screaming your lungs out and soon lost consciousness.

______________________________________________________________

Should I make a part two??? I kinda wanna make this a happy ending... maybe with another character??? idk... Hope you enjoyed!

[cherryblooom]

Enchanted — OP81 [introduction]

Summary: After being forced of moving mid-year of school, the least thing you expected was getting a crush in a cute boy who loves karting and actually being corresponded. I mean, you have always wanted to have a romance like the books but forgot all the struggles and challenges that comes with it.

Pairing: Teen!Oscar Piastri x Teen!Reader

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Warnings: period shaming, bullying, reader has some questionable thoughts and self-contempt, animal abuse (no details). mostly narration.

Author note: This is my very first work ever, please be nice and reblog if you liked it!

Everything felt very surreal. You can feel your eyes stinging, fighting not to let out those tears that you had been holding in since before you left the house.

There wasn't much traffic, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing or if you just wanted to delay the impossible. You knew it was necessary but couldn't help feeling guilty for your parents for having to move across the country and leave everything they knew behind. Your father had lived his entire life working and building his company from scratch and thanks to endless nights, you and your mother were just beginning to see the fruits of his hard work, of course, before all the shitshow happened. Your parents had done everything they could to make you understand that their anger was not your fault and not directed towards you, it was actually the opposite, but you couldn't help feeling resentful and like a freaking failure.

You played with the apps on your phone in a failed attempt to distract yourself but couldn't help to grimace when you opened the Instagram app and saw your now private profile. You followed some famous people but you only had 10 followers as all the others were deleted by your mother.

''I'm sorry for making you move and leave everything behind. Dad, the company...''

''Honey, no. Stop it!'' your father replied after lowering the volume of the radio while your mother, who was in the passenger seat next to him, turned around with a look of concern. ''We already talked about it, you're not guilty of what happened and we're not angry at you. We should have protected you and been there for you but we realized it too late but I promise you that we are going to leave all this in the past and although you don't want to believe it now, we love you and we always will.'' She was right, you couldn't believe her. Your mind was going down a somewhat dark path and you were sure that if your mother had even the slightest idea of what was going on in your head, she wouldn't hesitate to send you to a psychologist. ''Plus, you will love the new house! It has a beautiful patio and a pool where you can practice in case you want to join the swimming team at your new school.’’ She told you slightly excited, trying to pass on the feeling to you but you didn't have the heart to tell her that it wouldn't be possible, so you just nodded and looked out the window again.

You could feel your mother's gaze on you, perhaps waiting for an answer or even a smile but you didn't have the energy to do it or even fake it.

You had become what they call a ''bookworm''. Despite having access to technology and internet, you had developed a great love and appreciation for physical books and the smell of a new book excited you more than what is perhaps ''normal'' but thanks to the fact that apparently not many people shared the sentiment, the library was empty most of the time (at least the one located in the junior wing of the school, you didn't know about the one in the senior wing, but you have heard that it has like three floors and a private cafeteria).

You were reading one of your favorite books again and even though you practically knew the story by heart, you couldn’t stop laughing and feeling your heart flutter at the thought of how it would feel to be loved like that. Would you ever be able to find someone who would love and admire you just for being you? Just for existing? You had a love/hate thing for romance books. You read about how the characters were loved, cared for, how they could let go and turn their brains off to just…be. Exist. You knew you had just turned 14 and that according to your parents and the logical part of your brain, you have a whole life waiting ahead of you, but you can’t imagine that someone could love you like that. You couldn’t even make friends, how the hell are you going out to dates? No idea, but you didn’t want to think about it and fall down that rabbit hole. You turned the page, excited as you were only about 10 pages away from your favorite part but decided to leave it for later to read in the comfort of your room.

The alarm distracted you from your book and with it, you knew that you only had 10 minutes left of lunch (you weren't a big fan of the cafeteria, lots of people and noise so the library was always a good choice) and that you had to go to the biology lab, not forgetting to stop by your locker to look for the essay that you have to hand in today. When you reached for your backpack, you felt a strange tug in your stomach that you didn't know how to describe, you had never felt anything like it before, so you were quite confused, but you ignored it since you knew you didn't have much time left.

Then you saw him. A boy your age was entering the library but you turned around facing away from him, so he was unable see you. You barely saw him for a few seconds but boy, was he cute. Is this what you always read about? You didn't even know the boy's name, but you noticed his short brown hair, his rosy cheeks and how tall he was. Was this your first crush? It’s dumb! You watched him for a few seconds but apparently that was enough to make you fantasize what it would be like to talk to him or what his name would be, if he was nice or a jerk like the rest of the boys in your class (which would be a bummer). All of the other girls in your class have no problem talking to boys or making friends in general but here you are, covering your face with your hair so the cute boy you saw for two seconds doesn’t notice your presence.

You walked out of the library with your coat hanging on your backpack, it wasn’t cold so you didn’t need it at the moment. You had 5 minutes before Biology started so you headed to your locker and you always walked close to the walls, that way you drew as little attention as possible. Apparently, old habits die hard. Up until now, you had done a pretty good job of being a regular girl and not drawing attention to yourself. The girls in your class dangerously reminded you of the girl responsible for you having to move and change schools mid-year and the boys in your class are jerks, is the best way you can describe them. There was no way you wanted to run into any of them. You wake up, go to school, go home, do your homework and then go to bed. Same routine, every day. You watched on social media as your other classmates went out, had fun, went to the mall, bought makeup and clothes, posted photos and videos in groups, laughing, and as much as you wished you didn't care, you felt envious. Why can't you be like that? Why do you have to be the little weirdo who always goes unnoticed, and no one pays attention to?

You had to take one more turn to get to your locker when you heard giggles behind you. You turned your head slightly and saw two boys who were a grade above pointing at you and laughing; your chest started to hurt and you felt like there wasn't enough air to breathe. Anxiety, you felt anxious. You ran to your locker as the laughter intensified behind you and you just knew that you were the reason for it. Suddenly, you felt that same tug at the bottom of your belly.

''Oh no, no, no, please don't...'' you whispered almost on the verge of tears. You felt something hit your head and then fall to the ground. You wanted to die when you looked down and saw a sanitary pad that someone had thrown at your head which made the laughter louder.

''Oh no, the weirdo is bleeding out! I hope she has another skirt because yikes.''

''Hey! You're staining the floor, how fucking disgusting!''

''If I was the janitor, I'd make her clean it up. How disgusting.''

''Hey, honestly, how did you not notice? Didn't you feel your vagina wet or smelly or shit? Fuck, I have to get my book, but my locker is next to hers, imagine if it smells. That will be so gross!''

''In case you prefer to put things inside rather than a pad, weirdo'' Someone had thrown two tampons at your head, one of which had gotten tangled in your curls. At this point, you were already sobbing, not being able to hold back the tears and humiliated, all the while you were still turning your back on everyone with the locker open, with fear and shame eating you away.

Suddenly, you felt someone's presence which brought you out of the little dazed status.

''Honey, come on, I'm going to take you to the infirmary. Come on, you're okay, let's go.'' You could tell by the softness of the voice that it was a woman. She was the school's duty nurse. Apparently, someone was kind enough to call her while the others were scoffing. You let yourself be guide towards the infirmary and could distantly hear the nurse demanding them to stop laughing. At this point, you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to get to your bed and cry, that's all.

5 Months Later

You were in the south courtyard of the school, the farthest of all, with your third sketchbook finishing what would be your second attempt at drawing your mother. It would soon be her birthday and although you had already bought her a gift at the mall, you wanted to give her something that only you could do. Besides, she was the number 1 fan of your drawings and she bragged to her friends that her daughter was a great artist. Sometimes it embarrassed you but at the same time you felt good knowing that you had someone on your side, supporting you. With each stroke, you felt your confidence increase and, you had even opened an Instagram’s account for your drawings, and you felt good knowing that there were people who recognized your talent and encouraged you to continue learning, even if they were strangers. Maybe you were not totally alone.

You felt stuck. You couldn’t draw the hands, and with each attempt you only felt like you were screwing up more. Before you got more frustrated, you decided to take a break and continue in the comfort of your bed after eating. When you were about to start packing your things, your notebook fell open right on the last page that always made you blush. The boy from the library, who you now know also plays on the school soccer team (not that you’re stalking him at all) was looking back at you in an unfinished drawing in your sketchbook. You had only seen him passing by the halls and you couldn’t admit out loud that you unconsciously tried to match your schedule with his, like when he had his sports class. Oscar, that was his name, and you knew it thanks to the fact that he was apparently the star in the games and his name was always shouted by the people in the audience. Apart from seeing him in sports class, you didn't get the chance to see him much since he was in a grade above yours.

It was Tuesday, 3:40 PM according to the alarm you had set. School had ended 10 minutes ago but the alarm reminded you that in 5 minutes the soccer practice, Oscar's soccer practice, would start. Pathetic? Yes, but it wasn't a crime to want to appreciate your crush from afar, right?

Before you could leave the courtyard, you saw out of the corner of your eye a cardboard box which was dirty and you swore that it moved for a second. It looked like trash, but it couldn't be since the school has a zero-tolerance policy regarding that and you can literally end up suspended for throwing trash outside the trash bin. They were really strict about that. You approached it with some caution and jumped a little in shock when you saw that it did move and that it wasn't part of your imagination. Your heart stopped when you heard a small sound...a kitten? You approached more confidently, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw that the box didn't have any holes in it and was in fact sealed with many pieces of tape.

In a hurry, you threw your backpack on the floor and took out your scissors to cut the tape. You could feel the adrenaline and fear of what you might find inside if it turned out to be exactly what you thought but still, you carefully but firmly cut the tape. If they turned out to be kittens, you were going to start crying. You took a deep breath and opened it, feeling your eyes water. There were 4 kittens that looked like they couldn't be more than a few weeks old. One was completely white; another was almost completely black but with a few white spots while the last two were a combination of orange and white. One of the orange kittens, unlike its siblings, wasn't meowing and was just lying there barely breathing. You felt your heart break. They looked cold and hungry, so tiny and defenseless. You have always been a cat person, kittens being your weak point. Quickly, you grabbed your backpack, hooking it on your shoulders so you could carry the box without dropping it and you couldn’t run but did your best to walk fast. When you got to the school gate, you called your mom to come pick you up telling her about the box you found and that you wanted to take them to the vet. Your mom knew there was no way you were going to leave them abandoned after finding them so after 10 minutes you were already on your way to the vet with four beautiful kittens with you.

---------

Your Instagram account dedicated to your drawings has gained 1,000 followers, which was a great achievement for you, but you decided to take that opportunity to post that you had 3 kittens up for adoption. It destroyed you knowing that you couldn't keep the 4 kittens, but your parents had already let you keep Cotton (cliche because the kitten was completely white, you knew it, but you didn't care).

You were appalled while looking at your notifications. Oscar. Yes, that Oscar was messaging you and after checking a little more you realized that he had been following you for a while and you hadn't even noticed. You could feel your cheeks turning red, but you took a breath and remembered that he was only doing that because he wanted to adopt a kitten, you were of zero importance.

my_cherryblossom

Liked by Oscar_piastri and 57 others

A few weeks ago I found a box sealed with tape that contained 4 kittens inside. It's obvious that the intention of whoever put them there was for them not to survive but I found them just in time. Sadly, I can only keep one, which is why I am giving up the other 3 for adoption! They are so cute and playful.

If you're interested, write me.

P.S. These kittens are my life so if you give me weird vibes, I won't give you one lol

view all 10 comments

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Radio Check: As mentioned above, this is just the first part of what I hope will be a series telling Oscar x Reade's story. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know! Please Reblog and like!

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

[rwrbficrecs]

Thanks for all the love on the recent Readers' Choice list ✨ The May faves are a little late but hope you all enjoy these recs 💕

you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Think of the fluffiest bedsharing fic you've ever read and combine it with a college roommates AU, and you have this fic! I can't stress enough just how soft this fic is, this is the perfect fic for if you need a quick pick-me-up!

running through my mind all day by allthelovesaved (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry rarely, if ever, jogs. It's not something that interests him. That is until he stumbles upon Alex's TikTok profile (thanks, Pez!!). Alex, a passionate runner, shares his knowledge in a captivating way. Coincidentally, he's also the brother of Henry's colleague June, who convinces him to join their "group running thing"... This sweet, sweet story is fluffy and funny, very soft and a little silly (says the author), and it just made me very, very happy.

Wit and Wisdom by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: A window into the future of "Little Matters" my absolute favorite story. Im so in love with this family and happy to see the woman Cat has become and how much of Alex she carries with her. I cried and laughed and EJ left me wanting more of them as usual. If you haven't read Little Matters yet, what are you doing with your life?? Haha

hymns down your sides by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@na-dineee: One of my favourite authors delivers yet again! Henry, a refined boyband veteran in his mid-30s, meets wild, lately kind of self-destructive boyband star Alex. Henry can't probably save him, but maybe he can give him a push in the right direction? This story put me through the emotional wringer. So many feelings, so much hurt, and the chemistry - absolutely gripping!

the poem you make of me by @omgcmere (book-verse)

@suseagull04: The riches found within this fic know no bounds! It's a writer Henry AU that maintains a lot of the same themes as the book (which it coveys just as well), but it adds another layer of heart with the fact that in this verse, Henry is not just a writer, but a poet.

Savasana by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Lawyer Alex has hit a low point in his career. The situation is absolutely not pretty, and understandably, Alex is skeptical about whether yoga can fix it, as June suggests. Can yoga instructor Henry straighten things out for Alex? - Alex pulls one Alex after another - it gave me whiplash in the best possible way! The story is very touching and sweet, also absolutely hilarious at the same time !! So fun to read !!

Henry Fox, All-American Hero by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is an AU of a book I loved in middle school, so not only did it give me so much nostalgia, but it has all the quirkiness of RWRB too! Alex in this is so mischievous and sweet, and I love it!

A Wretched Beginning by @royalasstronaut (book-verse)

@dot524: This was a fun romp — forbidden relationship, college/academic AU, tension and angst, and loads of longing. Henry is Alex’s TA and um… things happen. Oh, and they may also be connected in other mysterious ways.

Pleasant Melody by @clottedcreamfudge (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Love at first sight that feels magical in otherworldly way is one of my favourite kinds of love stories. And this fic is a spectacular example! Henry is a pirate, Alex is a very special siren, they shouldn't make sense but they do. The longing is excellent and I would gladly read ten more fics based on the same concept.

Meant to Be Yours by @affectionatelyrs & @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Definitely one of the most unhinged fics I've read in this fandom. (Warning: proceed with caution!) Alex loves Henry, Henry doesn't know Alex exists. Alex's dream is of course to meet Henry and his attempts to do so are... worrying. Second-hand embarrassment hits hard, highly recommend!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[whorergal]

SHE'S MINE

summary: you get attacked by ghostface but another ghostface comes in and saves you…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore… typical horror stuff lol

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: this is my first ever imagine (and post) on here so i hope u like it >.< i want to write more so i’ll try to be active especially for ethan. also, this is pretty short so i wouldn't mind writing a part two :3

———————————————————————————

You weren't in much of a party mood unlike the rest of your friends. Really, you haven't been in the exact mood in doing much anymore. Ever since Woodsboro, you had lost a part of yourself in the tragedy that haunted you. It was unusual especially since it was nearing Halloween, your favorite holiday, that you didn't want to participate in dressing up and getting drunk as a reward. You decided to stay inside your apartment that you shared with Anika, catching up on homework that you had missed.

Tara had made it her job to text you every so often, casually updating you on the party. After a couple more short texts, they started to become more and more hard to understand which made you laugh. At least someone was having fun.

When you sat aside your phone, trying to keep all your attention on finishing your notes, your phone began to ring. You furrowed your brows when you took a glance and saw it was coming from an unknown caller. Immediately you became paranoid. You let it ring until it ended, shaking it off as a coincidence.

Ghostface was gone. There was no possible way it could've followed you and your friends to New York City. Right?

Your phone began to ring again.

Maybe it was Tara, you thought. You knew she was drunk so maybe something happened and she was borrowing someone's phone. But why wouldn't she just use Mindy's or Anika's? You tried not to think about rational answers because you didn't want to feel stupid for answering the call when you knew you shouldn't have.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Hello, Y/N," the familiar voice said back. "You miss me?"

You should've known. Well, you did know; you were just stupid enough to think otherwise. "Fuck, no," then you hung up.

Instantly, you opened your contacts and went straight for Tara's number. But, then you remembered she was absolutely hammered which meant she probably wouldn't be much help in your situation.

You scrolled mindlessly until you landed on Ethan's contact, clicking on it instantly, seeing as he was someone you confided in the most. Mindy had already told everyone her plan tonight was to get shit-faced so you weren't confident in her being able to aid you in this; neither could you count on Anika as she would be with her.

It rang for a couple short seconds which felt like eternity for you, being panicked and all. You were relying on him answering because you weren't sure how long you had until something happened.

Luckily, he answered in confusion. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"E, I need you to come to my place now," you let out in a complete rush, the words almost slurred together.

"What?" he questioned. "Y/N/N, I can barely hear you. Are you okay?"

"Ethan, he called me. Ghostface called me."

The line went silent, only the sound of loud music and people hollering. That was until your phone began to vibrate against your cheek, startling you. You brought it down to your line of vision and saw it was the unknown caller. Or, should you say, whatever fucked up person that was behind the mask.

"Y/N, can you hear me?!" His voice came out in distress, worried something happened to you. "Hey, Chad and I heading over right now! Y/N?!"

"They're calling again," you stated simply.

"Don't answer it!" He was practically yelling into his phone at this point because he knew exactly what you were going to do. It was what almost got you killed in Woodsboro.

You didn't listen to him, deciding to hang up on him and use your remaining courage to answer the call. If you survived once, you sure as hell can survive again.

"What the fuck do you want?" You spat in anger.

"You hang up on me again and I'll paint your bedroom walls in your blood," they rushed out. "It would be a shame for your friends to find your mutilated lifeless body, wouldn't it?"

"Fuck you." You held back your wavering because although you weren't afraid, their descriptive threat made you nauseous.

"How about we play a game?"

"How about you fuck off."

"It's an easy game, Y/N," they told you. "You answer correctly and I may consider sparing your life."

You scoffed, getting up from your bed. "Fine. I'll play your stupid game."

"Great." There was a short pause. "Where in your apartment do you think I'm at?"

The confidence crumbled as now you started to feel the rising fear bubbling in your chest. "What?"

"You heard me," they said. "Where. Am. I?"

"Fuck," you mumbled to yourself. "Why don't you just come and get me, asshole? Are you too afraid?"

"The opposite." Their voice came out hushed.

Then, your bedroom door flung open, hitting harshly against your wall that it left an indent. Ghostface came running toward you, knife rose in the air, intending to plant it into your skin but you managed to dodge their attack, shoving them onto your bed as you made your escape.

You didn't get too far as they grabbed ahold of your ankle, making you face-plant into your wooden flooring. If the pain of hitting your head against the hard surface wasn't enough, the sheer agony rippling through your leg at the feeling of their knife digging into your calf was enough to make you scream. When they pulled it out, you grew enough strength to kick them in the face as you struggled to get up, finding all your energy diminishing.

Attempting to make a run for it didn't turn out well as you heard their footsteps catch up to you, causing you to throw yourself out of the way for their knife to go straight through the door.

Your apartment was pretty small. I mean, it only housed you and Anika so there wasn't much room needed which ultimately meant there wasn't anywhere else to go. Your kitchen was connected to your living room which was also connected to your hallway. It was all one open space. So, it was no surprise that they caught up to you again.

They managed to tackle you to the floor, holding you in place by stabbing you right where you had been previously, breaking through the stitches. You screamed so loud, you were concerned at the fact that your neighbors hadn't become suspicious at the sound. Where the hell was Ethan?

Them pulling out the knife hurt much worse, causing you to whine in return. But then they stabbed you in your abdomen once more, causing you to let out a choked sob. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to release the tension as you were physically helpless at this point. You reached down, feeling the blood coat your hand as you forced them to pull the knife out of you. Using whatever energy you had left, you kicked them off of you.

You used your entire arm to hold your wounds in place as you turned to crawl away. You weren't surprised to feel them grabbing your ankle, on the leg that had been injured which made it feel ten times worse, and drag you back to them. They flipped you on your back and stared down at you for a second until they began to raise their knife in the air.

Preparing yourself for the worse, you laid there with not much else to do, waiting to be punctured for what you assumed to be the last time ever. That was until they were thrown off of you by someone smacking them in the head with the wooden cutting board Anika used to cook you two dinner. Your eyes felt heavy but you couldn't help but widen them when you saw a second Ghostface, staring down their accomplice instead of you. The sound of the wooden board clattering against the ground caused you to flinch.

The one who had previously been attacking you was shorter than this new figure. You began to crawl away again, seeing as this short distraction gave you that advantage. You were bleeding out quickly, but you didn't want give up just yet.

You made it toward your counter, glancing at them as it seemed they were having a silent conversation. That was until the shorter one attempted to attack the taller one, using their knife but they easily intercepted the stabbing by grabbing ahold of their wrist. The taller one tossed the other one carelessly against your bookshelf, causing all your shared books with Anika to fall at their collapse.

It was funny to think you were now more worried about your books well being than your own.

You cowered behind your counter, carefully watching them in total confusion. The fact one of them was defending you, which seemed to go against their whole purpose, had rendered you frozen.

There was one last silent mutual conversation until the one with the knife shook their head in what you assumed could've been anger before fleeing the scene. You followed their figure until it was gone with wide eyes.

Your breath hitched when the Ghostface that practically saved your life turned to look at you. They didn't come near you, or really move at all as they stared into your soul. There was noise coming from somewhere in the building which caught their attention, making them turn toward your door and run out as well.

You watched in surprise. What the hell just happened?

[spnbabe67]

I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight

Kinktober Day 29: Cockwarming

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, PiV, Feels

Summary: Post-hunt cuddles turn into something more

Word Count: 1486

Authors Note: Title based on the song (I Just) Died In Your Arms by Cutting Crew

I've alluded to this 'ritual' before in a couple of my Dean x Tori fics. I've always wondered how, exactly, the aftermath of a hunt would go. A lot of adrenaline and endorphins are probably running through the body after literally fighting for your life against horrific creatures. It's a fictional scenario, but I wanted to try my hand at writing what it would be like (with a smutty twist because it is kinktober after all)

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

One of Tori’s favorite places to be is in Dean’s arms. Wrapped up in them she felt safe, a feeling that was fleeting when you live a life of constant danger running from things most people only thought existed in their darkest nightmares. She’d lacked a home for years, and it had taken a long time to get to this point, to where Dean, and by extension Sam and the Bunker, had become that home for her. That her room she shared with Dean was hers and that there was no check out time she had to adhere to, no key to return at the end of the stay. Permanency, it was a weird thing, but one she didn’t often take for granted. 

Even when the hunts went so smoothly, all three of them moving in sync, the after was a tender moment, the adrenaline dropping off sharply from their systems. After the showers, after the change of clothes, Tori always gravitated to Dean, both of them tangled up in a Gordian knot of limbs in their bed. 

Tonight was no different. Tori and Dean both had trudged to the showers immediately after arriving back at the Bunker. All three of them were covered head to toe in blood, dirt, sweat and Tori didn’t even want to think about what else coated her skin. The eldritch horror they’d managed to gank had spewed some death spray upon its demise, and she’d been right in its path of destruction. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn’t seem to get the putrid smell out of her nose, convinced some of its guts must be shoved up there. 

Tori had heard Dean’s shower go off long before hers, knowing her lover would just meet her back in their room. She toweled off dry, doing her best to wring out most of the moisture from her mane before tossing the towel in the hamper, wrapping a fuzzy robe around her body for the walk from the bathroom. Dean was sitting propped up against the headboard when Tori finally shuffled back into the room.

“I feel so much better it’s not even funny.” Tori sighed, hanging her robe on the back of the closed bedroom door. 

“I bet.” Dean cracked his eyes open, watching her toy with her hair, a nervous tic he’d picked up on.

Tori tugged on a dark strand she’d coiled around her index finger before letting it go. She needed a trim, the fraying ends falling just above her hips.

“That stuff smelled so awful. I felt bad for you and Sam havin’ to ride back with me.” Tori chuckled.

But the momentary jest faded and she took a deep breath, feeling the rush of the hunt, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her quickly evaporating, leaving her feeling almost empty. 

Dean, ever the observant one, opened his arms as she turned back around to face him. “Hey, c’mere.” His voice was warm and placating, an invitation as much as it was an attempt at reassurance.

She quickly plaited her hair, securing it with an elastic before walking over to Dean’s side of the bed. His warm hands fell to her hips as she straddled his waist, their bodies pressed together as much as physically possible. Tori buried her face in his neck as Dean wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close, breathing her in. The ritual of it, this getting so close but feeling so far, wasn’t new. It was a way of collectively dealing with the loss of adrenaline, working through the near-death experiences, remembering that despite the spattered blood and gore behind their eyes when they fell asleep that the other was still here. 

Tori giggled into Dean’s neck as she felt something poke against her inner thigh. Dean’s hands grasped her hips in a mock scolding way.

“You’re sitting naked on my lap, what else do you expect, Tor?” Dean stammered, smoothing his palms up and down the tops of her thighs.

“It’s fine, Babe.” Tori couldn’t help but smile at the blush painting his neck and face a pretty shade of pink. 

“Tor, where-” Dean started as Tori lifted herself up, but quickly shut up as she reached behind her, grasping his length, holding it steady as she sheathed him inside her. “Fuuuck.”

“There,” Tori breathed, wrapping her arms back around his waist, resting her head back on his shoulder. “That’s better.”

In its own way this served its own role in the ritual. Neither one of them could ever get close enough to truly fill that dip in adrenaline and cortisol, and it wasn’t the first time this need for closeness ended with Dean inside her. It was about as close as they could get without physically crawling under the others' skin to find a place to call home, even when that was all Tori’s body was screaming at her to do. 

Dean’s hands explored her body in smooth, sweeping lines. Up her thighs from her knees, across her hips, up her back and down again. They sat like that for longer than Tori cared to keep track, letting their bodies reregulate to the rhythm of the other; their breaths were nearly in sync, his heartbeat thudding under her ear. Slowly Tori could that jittery and on-edge feeling subside, her body exiting fight or flight mode, leaving exhaustion in its wake

Tori could feel her eyelids start to grow heavy, but the not-so-small fact that Dean’s cock was nestled inside her kept the sleepy feeling just far enough away. She knew the same subtle restless feeling was tugging at Dean by the way he kept shifting under her. Granted, Dean wasn’t exactly good at sitting still, the untreated ADHD prohibited her lover from sitting for long periods of time without something to keep that racing mind occupied. Maybe his legs were starting to go numb, her own had fallen asleep long before. 

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, the movement subtle and testing, unable to conjure up enough energy to truly move atop him. Still, her movement had Dean’s wandering hands still on her waist, fingers curling into her skin as he let out a surprised sound from the back of his throat. Dean caught on quick enough as Tori ground against him, simply shifting her hips back and forth enough to create friction against her clit, sliding just enough on his cock to have both of their breathing start to go ragged. Tori dragged her lips up the side of his neck and along his jaw, stubble scraping against them, until she found his mouth. 

The kiss was just as lazy as their hips, Dean’s tongue sweeping into her mouth with languid strokes in the same breath as his hand coming up to cup her face. He always touched her with such conviction. He cherished her in a way that made Tori feel so damn special, so complete. He was never greedy, taking only as much as she gave him with not so much as a whisper of discontent. Even now, when both of them were bone tired, he let her set the pace. Tori was half convinced he’d kneel before her and worship at her feet if she asked, not that she ever would, nor would she want him too; they’d both been on their knees for too long and for the wrong reasons, never again, not even for her, would Tori want him needlessly down on his knees again.

Slowly, that pit in her belly grew, her movements becoming incrementally more animated as she felt the sensations building. Her hand came up to cup his face, her other resting on his chest, palm pressed skin to skin over his heart as she rolled her hips against his. Tori panted into Dean’s mouth feeling that tug grow tighter and tighter. His hand on her hip gave her an encouraging squeeze, the reassurance pushing her over the edge. Dean tugged her close, supplementing her climax by tilting his hips up into her, chasing his own high which came not long after. 

Dean carefully maneuvered them back down the bed, sliding himself out of her. His arms wrapped around her middle kept her lounged on top of him, continuing the lazy lines up and down her back. 

“I love it when we do this.” Tori muttered into his chest.

“Have sex.” Dean joked, earning him a swat to his arm.

“No, jackass.” Tori crinkled her nose at him. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Dean chuckled, the deep sound resounding through her body. 

Tori smiled softly at him, leaning up to peck a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand slid up her back, cupping the nape of her neck. “I know.”

“My God you’re a dork.”

“You love it.” Dean grinned at Tori.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Tori.”

[lauralot89]

“You don’t know these people, do you?” [Varney] asked Ruthven on the way up.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” said Ruthven. “It’s entirely possible they might have read that godawful Polidori book; in which case this will be extremely embarrassing.”

“Not as embarrassing as Varney the Vampyre, or The Feast of Blood,” said Varney drily. “Practically nothing is as embarrassing as that. Polidori at least wasn’t being paid by the word.”

—Dreadful Company, Vivian Shaw

Who's more out of their mind: James Malcolm Rymer, for writing 667,000 words of Varney the Vampire, or me for reading all of them in ten days?

I have no idea how to feel or to surmise what I've just experienced. On the one hand, Sir Francis Varney may now be my favorite vampire in literature, and whenever this book got me interested, it was sometimes one of the most fascinating vampire stories I've ever read.

I wasn't expecting such an early installment in the vampire fiction genre to be so sympathetic toward the vampire. I definitely was not expecting the vampire to eventually befriend his victims, or to refuse on multiple occasions to kill, or to try and help those he had terrorized as a form of repentance.

Granted, even when I was fully on board with the story, it still had a number of baffling elements. The romantic dialogue of this novel is so atrocious that it makes the Star Wars prequels look like one of Shakespeare's love stories in comparison. The comic relief duo of the admiral and his valet consisted of two jokes only (they speak in sailor slang and fight all the time) which were promptly pounded into the ground. At least six times in this book, possibly more, the narrative stopped so the author could write a chapter just consisting of transcribing what the characters were reading. Because he was getting paid by the word.

Despite all of this, I was fully on board up until Varney's would-be wedding as the Baron failed. After that, we got treated to multiple instances, each spanning several chapters, in which Varney would again pass himself off as some rich guy, try to marry a young woman, and then get exposed and run away. I'm guessing those chapters sold really well and that's why Rymer kept doing those stories? Or else he was just out of ideas. I don't see why those chapters would have sold especially well because they were short on vampire nonsense and chock full of wedding preparations and negotiations. I don't know much about the target audience for penny dreadfuls, but I would imagine they would care more about action than the services hired for a wedding breakfast.

And then once the endless marriages stopped, we got several more chapters of Varney biting a woman, getting caught, and running away. The story only picked back up in the last ten percent of the novel, when Rymer finally did something new by having one of Varney's victims become a vampire herself. Unfortunately, she got finished off pretty quickly and then the novel just ended.

(I am not complaining about the ending. The ending was a hell of a thing and gave me all sorts of emotions. But we could have had Varney's exploits with a newbie vamp instead of Failed Wedding Attempt 875)

Also, I'm assuming that Rymer did not plot this story out before he began? Varney's past changes constantly, sometimes within maybe thirty pages of the last backstory we were given. He's a deceased ancestor of the Bannerworths who took his life a hundred years ago! He's an executed highway robber, resurrected maybe a decade ago at most by a doctor's experiments, Frankenstein-style! He's been a vampire for 180 years and became one by murdering an innocent woman! He lived as mortal during the reign of Henry the Fourth! He lived as a mortal during the reign of Charles the First, and became a vampire after accidentally killing his son by striking him in anger!

If it were just Varney's past that was inconsistent, I'd say he was lying or had lived and died so many times that he genuinely forgot which death was the first one. But there are weird inconsistencies throughout the novel. What was up with the document Varney and Marchdale tried to force Charles to sign? Does Varney have a scar on his forehead or his cheek? Why did one girl who died of Varney become a vampire and the other one didn't? And most importantly to me, the hell was up with the Hungarian nobleman?

Why bother to introduce another vampire if it's going to lead to nothing but a red herring where the reader briefly thinks that the baron isn't Varney, and rather that Varney is the vampire that the baron killed?

Granted, roughly two thousand pages later, when a brood of vampires assemble to resurrect a new vampire, then probably the Hungarian nobleman comes back to speak a whole two sentences to Varney, about how they met at an inn once and also Varney used to hang with people named Bannerworth.

(I need to know more about this vampire group that assembles to resurrect vampire newbs. How does that work? Do they just sense them? Do they get pulled there by vampire power?)

And what was up with that time skip? Did we need to introduce Mr. Bevan as a sympathetic character when the entire Bannerworth family already were sympathetic to Varney?

I just don't know, man.

Also, Rymer hates Quakers. And Jewish people. And Catholics. And evangelicals. And organized religion in general. And Scots. And Americans, I think. Now, this is not at all rare for the time. Stoker and Wilde and many other of their contemporaries would also write their prejudices into their stories decades later. But they didn't write a book longer than War and Peace that had big stretches of nothing except weird diatribes of whatever they disliked.

Anyway.

Can I in good conscience recommend that anyone read this?

Not in its entirety. If someone wants to do an abridged version have at it I guess. Or read it in its entirety over the span of months instead of ten days like I did. My brain is going to explode.

The first half was good. The end stuff was good. I want to wrap Varney up in a number of blankets and feed him some of my blood. And thank God he's in the public domain, because he deserves better than an endless slog of miseries that quickly goes off the rails once he leaves the Bannerworths.

Final mob count: 11

Final failed vampire wedding count: 4

I should have kept track of all the times Varney died and/or got shot, but I forgot

Three stars

[ladyloveandjustice]

My Favorite Books I Read in 2023

I read a ton of good novels last year- 36 in all (and uh, 78 manga/graphic novels, but we'll examine that in another post). Here's a link to my Goodreads year in books (the manga is at the beginning, the novels start with Siren Queen) and my storygraph wrap up.  

I reread a ton of Discworld this year, and it's as spectacular as ever. But what about new reads?

Well, here are my favorite books I read in 2023!

In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado

This is an autobiographical memoir about the abusive relationship the author went through with her ex-girlfriend. It's absolutely gut-wrenching, and at times, achingly beautiful. Machado uses the house she shared with her girlfriend, which she calls the "dream house", as a back drop. It's a place she always wanted and also a place she became trapped in, Machado's language is beautiful as she explores the relationship from different lenses-- The Dream House as Lesbian Cult Classic, the Dream House as Noir, the Dream House as Creature Feature, the Dream House as Stoner Comedy....All facets of the relationship are explored in a way that grips you by the throat and makes you remember everyone who ever tried to suffocate you-- but it also explores the hard work of moving on, of picking up the pieces, of living and embracing tenderness along with hardship.

I especially related to Machado's struggle to talk about abuse between queer lovers because of her fears of giving homophobes more ammunition...and when she says "we deserve to have our wrongdoing represented as much as our heroism, because when we refuse wrongdoing as a possibility for a group of people, we refuse their humanity", I felt that deeply.

This wasn't just one of my favorite books this year, it goes on the list of all-time favorite books. I wish I had this kind of writing style. I'll be returning to this again and again.

Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor by Xiran Jay Zhao

A middle-grade novel about a Chinese-American teen who feels a bit alienated from his heritage, which becomes a bit of an issue once he finds out the First Emperor of China has possessed his A.R. Gaming Headset. Now he needs to close a portal to the underworld with the help of other kids possessed by emporers.

This was a whole lot of fun, and often quite poignant. I was unsure if I could really enjoy middle-grade books as an adult, and this absolutely proves I can. There's a lot of really interesting Chinese history blended with action-packed fantasy, and exploration of the complicated feelings a kid can have about their own heritage . The dynamic between Zachary and Qin Shi Huang was so entertaining with the Emperor being villainous, heroic, charismatic, detestable-- and Zachary realizing how his complicated feelings about him mirror his relationship with his culture at large. There was also a lot of fun with other historical figures, and Xiran's take on Wu Zetian is a joy. (Also, if you like Yu-Gi-Oh!, you'll probably like this, since Xiran says it was one of their influences).

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

Rose is young woman who's raised in a fundamentalist Christian household, and she's a devout, obedient daughter. But some weird things are happening. She's seeing a terrifying demon everywhere, insects are coming out of her mouth....and she's possibly having feelings about other girls. What's going on?

Yes, this is by the Chuck Tingle who makes all those Tinglers. But THIS one... will make you tingle with fear! It's a great horror novel! It's skin-crawlingly creepy at times, but also does a great job digging into how fundamentalist dogma harms queer people, and the hypocrisy of such beliefs. The conversion camp aspect is handled tastefully, and overall it was a great spooky read that's also ultimately very affirming, cathartic, and hopeful.

Qualia the Purple by Hisamitsu Ueo

You might go into this thinking it's just a quirky yuri light novel about a schoolgirl and her crush who sees everyone around her as robots (like literally, when she looks at someone she sees a robot instead of a human). But it quickly becomes surreal queer psychological horror steeped in absolutely wild applications of quantum mechanics and thought-provoking time travel.  Some of the quantum mechanics  exposition dumps were a bit much but I deeply enjoyed having my mind cracked open by this book. 

It's one of the most interesting takes of time loop stories I've seen. But it definitely covers a lot of rough subject matter, including a relationship with a serious age gap and extremely messed up relationships, so be cautious if you have triggers.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

This book follows Miri, whose wife goes missing on a deep-sea submarine mission for six months. Miri thought her wife dead, but she miraculously returns one day...but her wife has changed. She's like a stranger. She may have bought the horrors of the sea home with her.

This is a gripping exploration of grief and loss combined with a delicious, slow horror that creeps under your skin. There's excellent Lovecraftian and body horror elements to the novel, but it works very effectively as a metaphor for a loved one going through trauma, and a relationship starting to crumble because everything seems different. A moment that really stuck out to me is when Miri copes with her wife's disappearance by frequenting an online community where women roleplay as wives with husbands missing in space. The way the online drama of the community interacted with her grief was  both funny and heartbreaking. 

This is another example of a book that makes me deeply jealous with its lyrical writing, and another one for the ever-lengthening all time favorites list.

Otherside Picnic Volume 8: Accomplices No More by Iori Miyazawa

The latest entry in a series about two girls exploring an alternate dimension full of creepypasta monsters, while also falling in love with each other. See my other reviews here and here.

This volume has the payoff to a lot of careful character work and relationship building, and it was completely satisfying. In fact, it was...show-stopping. Spectacular.  Incredible. I loved the exploration of how love, sex, and romance are so different for different people and it's impossible to put it in neat boxes. The frank and messy conversation our leads have about their relationship was perfect and so was that absolutely  bonkers, wonderful finale. This is another one for the all times favorite list, and I loved it so much I wrote a extremely long review/recap here. 

Queer Ducks (and Other Animals): The Natural World of Animal Sexuality by Eliot Schrefer

This was a well-researched, well-crafted, easy to read book that explores queerness (mainly homosexuality, bisexuality, trans and genderfluid expressions in animals, and even the question of if and how animals can related to gender) in the animal kingdom. Though it's definitely aimed at teens, I learned a lot from it (who knew female bonobos were such life goals) and it presented its information in a fun way. It included some interesting examinations of how proof of homosexuality and bisexuality in animals was historically suppressed and filtered through homophobic assumptions. If you want to learn a little animal science in an accessible format, definitely check this out.

Night’s Edge by Liz Kerin

The story follows Mia, a woman in her 20's living with her vampire mother. Her whole life revolves around not drawing suspicion towards her Mom. She also has to make sure to feed her Mom some of her blood every night--lest her mother fall back in with her abusive boyfriend and start hunting humans.  But when Mia meets a cute girl, she starts to dream of living her own life...

It was a really interesting use of vampirism as a metaphor for both living with a parent struggling with addiction and having an abusive parent. It's just a well-told, heartwrenching tale that got deep into the character's mindsets. I thought the ending was bit abrupt and rushed, but it did make more sense once I realized this was the first in a duology. It's a fascinating take on vampires, and I'm interested in seeing more.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

This novel follows a middle-aged Muslim female pirate living around the Arabian Peninsula. She's supposed to be in retirement, but wouldn't you know it, she's lured in for one last job! I she rescues a kidnapped girl,  she'll have all the riches she needs to set her family up for life. So Amina begins her adventure of fighting demons and monsters and ex-husbands. But the job might not be all it seems.

This novel is full of all the entertaining swashbuckling action and shenanigans that any pirate story should have. It's a rollicking good time, and feeds my craving for middle aged women going on quests and kicking ass. Amina's journey is a fun, wild ride full of dynamic characters and interesting mythology!

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

Juniper is friends with a successful Chinese-American author, Athena Liu, and has always been deeply jealous of her. When Athena dies in front of her, Juniper decides to steal her manuscript rooted in Chinese history and claim it as her own. But plagiarism might catch up with her...

This is a strong example of a book I thought was really well-done, but one I'm probably never going to read again. The way it depicted Twitter drama is just too accurate and I got anxiety. It did such a good job putting you in Juniper's awful shoes so you can feel the pressure close in along with her. The book's commentary on the insidious racism of the publishing industry was effective, and it made a horrible character's journey fascinating to follow. I was so intrigued yet anxious I had to force myself to finish the last few pages.

Bonus read:

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldtree

A very cute novel about an orc named Viv who decides to retire from the violent life of a bounty hunter and run a coffee shop instead. She ends up getting a lot of assistance from a succubus named Tandri...and my, is that a slow-burn coffee shop romance brewing? This book reminds me a lot of various cozy slice-of-life anime, and it's nice to be getting more of that feeling in book form. I wish there was a little more specific to the fantasy world rather than making it a coffee shop that line up 1 to 1 to a modern day shop, but it was definitely a sweet read.

[liillyliilly]

His Diary

akaashi keiji x reader words; 10082 synopsis; For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

She decided that this was her new favorite book. It had all the right amounts of everything in it, drama, romance, depression, self-loathing. The journal she found was likely never written to be read. The journal he lost, the journal that Akaashi Keiji misplaced on a train going home from his editing job, he never expected to become a crux in his journey to love.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know it was a journal. It just seemed to be an episodic novel with a unique font, something along the vein of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. She only ever knew the leather-bound pages as a novel with no name. The author used a first-person perspective when writing and told the story of a young volleyball player who wanted desperately to find a passion, so he surrounded himself with others who had passion. What he seemed to enjoy more than playing the sport was writing though.

The author of the untitled book loved to read because the way he wrote made everything else she had read pale in comparison to the inky brilliance. He had captured teenager-dom with such sleight of hand that she believed his writing was made of magic and fairy dust. The story made her cry, made her groan, and made her feel second-hand embarrassment to an extreme she thought wasn’t possible.

When she read the first chapter, she realized she ought to pace her reading, because there were only so many entries. And she had no way of contacting or looking up the author, there was no information of who the author was on the back of the book. There was a Fukurodani Sticker, a school she remembers from her own time at a high school nearby, they were known for their volleyball skills and prowess, so she assumed maybe the author had some lived experience when it came to volleyball. Maybe that was a hobby aside from being a writer of such compelling stories.

She carried it everywhere from the day she picked it up on the floor of the train, it was always in her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She never left it alone, it had become a part of her. She felt like somehow this author reached into her heart and left fingerprints of his making into permanent fixtures of her anatomical structure. DATE: XX-XX-2013 TITLE: Alethiology; The Study of Truth

Today I realized that maybe I am all that I will be. My capacity has limits in comparison to others. A friend of a friend told me that their volleyball captain made a speech once, not to the whole team, just talking with buddies. His speech, or at least the parts I remember from it, was devastating. He said something like guys like Atsumu and all those geniuses, do things on a scale of 1-20, whereas normal guys like me do things on a scale of 1-10. Or maybe they have a denser more compact 1-10. And if 1-20 doesn’t work out, they try things from A to Z.

I’ve never thought of things like that. There’s always been a straightforward path for me, whereas, in comparison to Bokuto, he seems to have a much longer and more complex route ahead of him. Am I all that I will be? Is there a way for the normal guy to switch from 1-10 and try 1-20?

We have another game soon, maybe I can control more than I expect. Is flight into this world of geniuses possible? I can only control myself and my thoughts, but maybe there are external factors that contribute to my role on this team. My role in life as well.

Bokuto is asking for me, I need to go. Hope I can write again soon, but with all the games we’ll be playing I’m doubtful I can write with actual thoughts and not just tallies and plays from the games.

- A.K.

“I mean, who thinks of things like that Miwa?” She sits in the styling chair, getting a refresher on her hair. Miwa snips away lightly, inspecting each strand with duty and consideration for the entire look.

“Your author crush does.” Miwa brushes away some hair from Y/N’s shoulders, tidying up the apron wrapped around her.

She just rolls her eyes at Miwa’s comment. Flipping to the page in the book, tracing a finger over the deep black gel pen markings. Numbers and dashes and names of high schools against Fukurodani tell the story of the adventure at Tokyo’s national volleyball tournament from way back in 2013. She had barely started her second year of middle school in 2013, ripely being 14 years old.

Miwa and her sip some freshly made smoothies of Miwa’s creation, sitting at a table in the window of the entrance to the salon. Miwa bounces her foot that’s crossed over her leg and she pours over the entry once again. It was becoming addicting to choose one entry to re-read until she ingrained the stylistic choices into a deep long-term memory.

At that same moment, Bokuto Koutarou and his best friend Akaashi Keiji walk past Miwa’s Salon, attempting to plan a group hangout to celebrate Bokuto joining the MSBY Black Jackals team.

“I’ll need to make sure Konoha comes, and that he brings that cute friend of his for you,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly, and Akaashi shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Konoha is dating that cute girl he brings around.” Akaashi clarifies. Bokuto looks stunned, but then he remembers them making out on his couch during movie night that one time.

Akaashi looks around the street for a moment, peeking into the windows and observing the various occupants. When he sees his journal, the one that’s been missing for a little over a year, he just has to get it back.

When Akaashi pulls Bokuto into the hair salon, and barely below a scream says, “You stole my journal!” pointing at the girl who was indeed holding his journal from high school, Bokuto feels like his head was put through a blender. There were three very distinct things occurring at that moment. A pretty girl was shoving a book into her bag looking very defensive, Akaashi was trying to take the aforementioned girl’s bag from her, and a girl who he assumed was the pretty girl’s friend had a pair of scissors pointing at Bokuto by the throat.

Akaashi was still trying to pull the bag away, the pretty girl was looking extremely scared, and the scissors girl had opened and closed them one too many times for Bokuto’s comfort.

“Listen, I think we should all just take a moment to pause.” Bokuto held his hands up, shuffling to outturn his pockets in a show of lack of violent intentions. The black-haired girl puts the scissors back into her half apron that’s around her waist and then folds her arms.

Bokuto then pries Akaashi away from the pretty girl who was now clutching her bag against her chest and sniffling a little. Akaashi did feel bad that he made such a bad first impression, but he swore she had his journal. His embarrassing high school journal, the same journal that had cataloged many things he wished he never had recorded down on paper.

Bokuto pushes Akaashi’s head down, forcing him into a deep bow. Bokuto follows suit and also bows.

“I’m sorry for, uh, trying to steal your bag. But I think you may have a book, that isn’t a book at all, but rather my journal.” Akaashi is now sitting at the table in the window, Bokuto, the black-haired girl, and the pretty girl also sitting with him.

Outside the evening had quickly set in, with the orange and pink colors racing to get to the skyline. The blue began to fade into a deep dark navy color. And the lights on the streets began to flicker on. The lights on the outside of the salon began to twinkle from the setting they had been placed on, fairy lights luring those with a need for a haircut into the salon.

Bokuto had his head on his hand, staring intensely at the girl who had taken Akaashi’s journal, sighing slightly at the way her lips pouted and shined from her lip gloss. The girl with the scissors had brought out two more glasses of thick smoothie.

She pulled out the journal from her Doughnut Macaroon-style crossbody bag and slid it over to Akaashi. Akaashi flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing it as his. His face goes red and he readjusts his glasses, and she realizes that this must be his journal. He even goes straight to the back cover and smiles at the sticker she had grown to love to trace with her pinkie when reading.

“I’m not done with it yet, so, I really do hate to say this, but you can’t have it back until I finish it.” She takes the book back and tucks it into her bag again. Akaashi looks dumbfounded, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a line.

“You’re just going to keep private property? Even though you know it’s mine?” What a dauntless woman she was, to show what Akaashi considered to be audacity with the whole journal situation.

Bokuto chimes in at this point, “Akaashi, I think we should just let the pretty girl keep your little diary.” Bokuto then starts nodding his head up and down to try and get agreement from Akaashi. Akaashi scoffs.

“Okay, so it’s settled, my cutie of a best friend will keep the journal until she finishes it, we’ll get your numbers and she can contact y’all when she finishes the journal, and I get to cut both of y’all’s hair because honestly, it’s atrocious.” Leave it to Miwa to consolidate a plan in a matter of moments.

Miwa touched the spiky salt and pepper hair that Bokuto had, and Miwa’s expression turned sour when she felt the amount of gel on top of his head, then Miwa pulled out a photo of Yuki Ishikawa in a two-block cut and explained what color of black dye Miwa will use for Bokuto. For Akaashi, Miwa just did a trim and tidied up his sides to bring them slightly tighter into his face.

While annoyed, Akaashi does give her his number, along with his name, and Bokuto does the same with much more enthusiasm. After the haircuts are finished, Akaashi tries to pull Bokuto away from the salon, but Bokuto keeps doing the ‘call me later’ signal with his hand and blowing a kiss to her wistfully. She just waves to the both of them while Miwa giggles behind her dye-stained glove. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Meraki; Putting A Piece of Yourself Into Your Passion

I am the protagonist of the world. We lost but I am still alive, we lost but I loved the game. I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter if you are the best character, the most complex, or the most ‘genius’ of them all. It doesn’t matter because I am the protagonist. I can be the hero of my own story without ever having won first place in a big-name tournament.

Bokuto is graduating, and I’ll still be here, which is disappointing. He’s my best friend I think. Even if he’s the most annoying ass I’ve ever met, he’s still my best friend and I would never trade him for any other person in the entire world. Together we are the protagonists of the world.

Second place is just as accoladed as first place. If I wasn’t who I am, then maybe I would’ve gotten mad. The first-place winner is a rich school, they’ve been a powerhouse for decades at this point, and this win is just another notch on the belt. If I wasn’t who I am, especially after this tournament, maybe I would’ve gotten frustrated at myself for not doing enough. For not being a setter like Kageyama. Or a setter like Oikawa. That doesn’t matter though, I am a setter. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. But a human mind will always wonder why. And sometimes it's just because you’re unlucky.

Kenma told me about his loss to Karasuno, his sweaty hands made the ball slip in the final point. He laughed about it, he said that that was the best game of volleyball he’s ever played. When Kenma told Kuroo thanks for teaching him volleyball, I cried, but not as much as Kuroo did. They remind me of why I went to Fukurodani. I saw Bokuto’s passion for the sport. His passion encouraged mine, and look where we got to. We because the victors at the end of the war.

Mom made katsu chicken for dinner, I did some homework, and I had to put away my volleyball uniform for next year. I practiced in my backyard, alternating between overhead and underhand passes, seeing how long I could go without dropping the ball. Dad called me into the house for ice cream after thirty minutes elapsed.

I called Bokuto tonight before I went to bed. Told him that he’s my best friend and that I love volleyball. Bokuto agreed.

- A.K.

She was crying, and so she held the book out in front of her, resting it on her blanket. She finally had some faces to match with the words she was reading, and it all felt much too real. Bokuto did seem like the type of person to adopt and bring a person like Akaashi into his fold. But the way that Akaashi genuinely admired and appreciated his best friend was unparalleled and she felt like he would understand the exact way she felt about her best friend, Miwa.

Miwa and her met when she was fresh out of college. She hadn’t an idea of what to do in her life, while Miwa seemed to have her passion set out in front of her with her hair and makeup salon. When she got a haircut from Miwa and started ranting about her life, Miwa just told her to slow everything down. Take a gap year from life and just be a human. So, she picked up shifts at Miwa’s salon and moved in with her.

The best friends slowly became business partners as well, and an expansion to the salon was added, a small specialty bookshop that she ran, while Miwa continued to do hairstyling. Their customers were dedicated and loved to support their business. Branding remained solely under Miwa’s name, but she became everything else to the brand as well, the little addition that made the salon extra special.

When she started to cough a little from the way her heart was beating erratically from crying about Akaashi’s diary, she had to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Akaashi’s number was resting on her kitchen table. Miwa was watching some rom-com in the living room of their shared apartment. She brushed pasted the kitchen and sat next to Miwa.

“A good chapter?” Miwa threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s devastating. Who writes like they feel every emotion entirely?” She started crying again and Miwa laughed a little before rubbing her best friend’s back.

“You could always call him and tell him he’s a good writer if you need to talk about it. Sure it’s unconventional, but maybe he has more insights that you can cry to.” She grabbed a pillow and started hitting Miwa with it.

She did take Akaashi’s number into her room on her way back to bed though. Leaving the series of digits on her bedside table, she re-read the passage and cried again. She thinks she knows him better than most, but they aren’t even friends.

Since realizing he’s a person, and that Akaashi lived this story in the book. The story of his life recorded in his journal, she starts to wonder about what happened to him after he stopped writing in the diary. But she hasn’t finished the story yet, so she’ll have to see what happens next. Again, trying to pace herself, she puts the book away until tomorrow when she can read a little more.

Akaashi sits in his office, he’s still there and it’s much later than the clock would like to admit. The clock wondered if Akaashi would ever go home. But there he was, reviewing the different styles of manga serializations Udai Tenma wanted to try out for his next series. His haircut makes him feel a little colder because now the air can hit right behind his ear instead of being covered with his hair. He puts on a beanie to fight the chill.

When it gets too late at night, his mind tends to wander slightly. Just barely drifting out of his control, like the way a lily pad will drift to the center of a pond when the stem at the base of the connection is severed. He can’t dive into the pond to bring his thoughts back into his hands.

He thinks about her. The girl with his journal. The journal was a cheap 2,500 yen book, but he liked the paper, it was a cold press thicker GSM than most other paper forms. Gel inks went on smoothly to the paper, letting him get more words across by the second than if he was writing with a ballpoint. He remembers that from when he used to write in the journal in high school.

Throwing himself into the back of his seat, he rubs his face, his glasses almost falling off from how he runs his hands up from his chin to his forehead. Setting the glasses on his desk, he spins his chair a little. The clock screams at him, he takes the message from his dedicated clock and grabs his messenger bag.

On the train, he thinks about her again. Instead of getting irritated at how Bokuto essentially gave his journal away to a stranger again, he wonders what her thoughts are. Was his writing any good to warrant such a committed reader? Did she like his journal only because it was funny to read what his dramatic high school self wrote about?

He cringes thinking about all the potential things he wrote down. There’s no direct recollection of what he wrote down exactly, but he knows vaguely what was on his mind when he was writing. His ego, his insecurities, his favorite things. Lots about volleyball, Bokuto, and books. Once he wrote about his thoughts on sex, which is embarrassing for him that a grown woman is reading his teenage idealizations of intimacy.

It could be considered something unique to read. Akaashi settled into the belief that she was merely reading his journal because it was something different than typical books that were being published. Although, why she was reading his journal instead of a Haruki Murakami book was beyond him. Nothing beats his favorite literary giant.

Setting his bag on the coat hanger stand, and shrugging out of his long pea coat. He heats some stovetop ramen while listening to Bokuto talk over the phone, he was ranting about the same girl that Akaashi had had on his mind.

“Oh and those eyes of hers. Did you see them?” Of course, Akaashi saw them, they were big, bright, and astute. Akaashi hums in response, and Bokuto continues barreling through his late-night thoughts.

“I think we should invite her to my party. You know, the one to celebrate my big accomplishment.” In a different apartment, Bokuto spins a volleyball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it so he ends up just repeatedly tossing it into the air so he can satiate the desire to feel his fingers on the ball.

“Yeah, how about no.”

Bokuto asks why not, almost in a whining tone.

“Did you forget she has my journal still?” Akaashi put his bowl in the sink, putting on rubber gloves as he started to wash out the dish and then put it on the drying rack. He decided to finish all his dishes right now anyway since he still had the gloves on.

“Your diary can’t be that juicy, you didn’t do anything too dramatic in high school. Plus I know you wanna see her again too. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a piqued interest. Also, did I use piqued right?”

“You used it right, yes.”

He eventually agreed to let Bokuto invite her to the small get-together. Akaashi didn’t know why Bokuto kept referring to it as a party.

A week later, Akaashi realized that maybe Bokuto kept calling it a party because it had shifted from a friends-only gathering to a huge party at the park. Some other Fukurodani alumni helped to set up decorations in the central gazebo and make banners to hang all over the pavilion. Akaashi was mixing the punch at a table, while Konoha asked what he had been up to lately.

Kuroo and Kenma brought huge gifts for Bokuto, a PlayStation from Kenma, and a packet of potential sponsorship deals from Kuroo.

When she finally made her way to the pavilion with a small brown package, Akaashi couldn't care less about the party. She was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt with a tiered white and gold skirt, and her shoes were a pair of sneakers, but the whole outfit made Akaashi concede to Bokuto’s claim of her being “drool-worthy”. He had to remember that this was the same woman who had his diary. The whole conflict between physical attraction and mental frustration made for an entirely convoluted reaction to her presence.

She bows politely to Bokuto when he goes over to her, offering the gift with both hands, only then did Akaashi wonder how old she must have been. Bokuto had been talking to her more than him, and Bokuto had mentioned that she was a second-year middle schooler when Bokuto was in his third year. Akaashi did some mental math and realized that he, himself, must have been around three to four years older than her.

Akaashi forced himself to ignore the idea of a cute younger girlfriend that started to pester him in the back of his mind. He wanted his journal back, and that’s all this relationship was to him, a mutual exchange of her reading and then him eventually getting back his property. But with the way she had done her hair, Akaashi had a hard time focusing solely on wanting his diary returned.

She was glad that Bokuto appreciated the gift, she hadn’t known him longer than a week or so, and she had gone with a safe gift based on what she knew about him and why this party was even being thrown. She got him a wearable jump monitor that her dad had bought a month ago but never used, she was grateful for having a father who never threw things away. She also included some stickers that she had bought from a small sticker shop online, and some that she had made using Miwa’s craft supplies.

When the excitement of her being at the park died down, she made her way to a table, with a small plate of desserts. She observed how everyone interacted with each other, almost as if they had been friends since the dawn of time, and she believed that that very well might have been the case.

Akaashi stalked her from afar. He appreciated that she was similar to him in a way that mattered to him, she was a watcher. She would assess what was going on, who would talk to who, and how they would nonverbally communicate as well. He got so engrossed in watching her that he neglected to observe the others as well.

Specifically, Konoha, Washio, and Komi had grabbed a water cooler and had the full intention of dumping the water on Akaashi. It was payback for declining their invitations to various other parties from the last year. So there he was, not only soaked through with water but revealed from his vantage point unmistakably indicating to her that he must have been watching her. She laughed a little at the antics but then brought over a small cloth she had in her crossbody bag.

His white shirt was completely transparent, and his brown slacks had turned from a regular light brown into a dark musty brown. The only way to resolve the issue in her mind was to start dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief.

“I see that your friends have a peculiar method of exacting humor.” Her handkerchief eventually was too soaked through that she was just touching his chest with a cloth that had performed osmosis and was now at equilibrium with the water on his shirt.

“Yep.”

“Look, there’s a hoodie in my car, I know we aren’t too close, but it’s probably better to wear my oversized hoodie than to have your whole torso on display for the rest of the night.” She shoves her thumb in the direction of her car.

After making their way to her car, she digs through the trunk and pulls out a grey hoodie with the words ‘Miwa’s Salon’ embroidered on the back. He tugs at the back of his shirt to take it off and she widens her eyes before turning around. The hoodie is comfortable, with a soft fleece on the inside, and it smelt like lychee, vanilla, and surprisingly chocolate marshmallows. It smells like her and he wonders if he could have the scent bottled and then sprayed all over his house.

Suddenly he’s tugging at the collar of the hoodie and swallowing thickly, looking around at anything but her figure in front of him.

“We should probably get heading back to everyone now that you’ve changed.” She goes to start walking to the gazebo, but Akaashi’s words stop her.

“How well do you know me?” She tilted her head and said something about not following along with what he was saying, so he continued, “Well, you’re reading a part of me, you know with my journal, my internal thoughts and hopes and dreams and all that. So, how well do you know me?”

She timidly bites down on her bottom lip, formulating a response. But Akaashi surmises that she must not really care much for the conversation, so he, unfortunately, starts to run his mouth and the words just spiral out.

“You know, it doesn’t matter, to you, it’s just a story about a teenage boy who played volleyball. It’s silly to assume you’d try and actually-”

She cuts in, “I know you’re a considerate person. And it's not just about the volleyball stuff, it's about you, finding yourself to some degree. I know you are polite. I know you’re allergic to beating around the bush, you’re direct and blunt. I know that you can overthink too much.”

Akaashi repeatedly adjusted his glasses, and she stepped just a little bit closer to him, folding her hands behind her back and leaning in slightly so she didn’t have to talk as loudly.

“You also have a bad habit of thinking you can control more than you can, one of the interesting things in your journal is how you jump back and forth between knowing what you can control and then inflating from stress and thinking you can micromanage the entire world. You said you can control the court, but in reality, that’s your worldview. You conclude you can control the entire world sometimes.”

He regrets starting the conversation because this revelation of how much she knew about him exposes him. Akaashi didn’t know how to continue with the gap in knowledge between the two of them.

He only knew she was younger than him, she was incredibly perceptive, and she smelled so freaking good he just wanted to shove her into the backseat of her car and kiss her. Akaashi’s thoughts could not have been his own at this point, he was going crazy. He must have gotten sick from the cold water being dumped on him he speculates.

When they get back to the gazebo, Akaashi thanks Bokuto for the party and heads home. She stays at the party, talking to a select few people and wondering what exactly she said that scared Akaashi off so quickly.

Sitting in the tub, Akaashi rests his head against the shower wall and lets the hot water filter his congestion that didn’t exist. His hand twitched over to his phone, which was on the toilet seat playing some piano music that he hoped would alleviate all his bad habits. He wonders if she will text him soon. If she would text him ever. He felt like he was younger, it was ridiculous that one person would have such an effect on him to this degree.

After the party, she sits with Miwa, disclosing everything that happened at the party.

“And then he just ran off?” She nods at Miwa repeating what she just said. “Girlie, you gave him an in-depth review of his personality and you’re shocked that he ran away? Sometimes you can be too judicious for your own good.”

“Should I text him an apology?”

“Are you sorry for anything?” Miwa rolled her eyes, hating when she got like this. Miwa never allowed her to apologize for things that didn’t need to be apologized for.

“No.” She rubs her arm and chews the inside of her cheek.

“I think you think he’s hot, I mean, you understand this man on a deeper level that he now grasps, and you said he had the chest and torso of some kind of slutty librarian/gym rat agglomeration.” Miwa takes a bobby pin out of her hair and runs a hand through her bob cut, “If it was me, I would send him a picture of the journal and ask for nudes, or else the book gets it.”

She hits Miwa with a pillow, and Miwa realizes she really should throw the pillows away or else getting hit with them would be a very painful recurrence.

Miwa goes to sleep, but she stays up just a little later. Eyeing Akaashi’s number that lay painfully glaring at her. She decides to read more of his diary instead of texting him. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Weltschmerz; Sadness When The World Isn’t As It Should Be

Summer sucks. Bokuto has a training thing for some team he wants to be a part of in the future. All my friends that were third years are essentially gone, actually out and living life, and I’m stuck here. At least there’s only one more year left of high school. And then I can go and work for a literary magazine.

I miss people. Despite their failings, I do need people in my life.

You can only play so much volleyball in a day by yourself before your motivation is gone by the third week of playing alone.

It’s times like these that make me think about the future. I don’t spend much time with girls per se, but they are pretty and nice. Our manager is a girl, but she has a boyfriend. She’s chill.

Sometimes, when I feel like something is wrong, I turn to the idea of love. I’ll admit that I love a few things in life, but that’s only because I think love is something truly special that you can’t just fling around. I ‘like’ things more often than I ‘love’ them. Volleyball, my best friend, my family, books, and writing.

Will I know when I’ve found the love of my life? My parents said they knew they loved each other from the first moment they met. Will I feel like that too? Will I know it’s love? How can a feeling be recognized as a specific feeling? How do I know what anger feels like, besides that heat and pressure and red hot sun? How do I know what sadness feels like, besides water, coldness, and finishing a run? Would love have those distinct colors and associations? Or would love just become the person I love?

I don’t believe in soulmates. Definitely not. I think people are infinitely compatible, and it all depends on our ability to communicate and agree to grow with a person for the rest of our lives. I believe we make our own soulmates, through sharing experiences and agreeing to be ourselves no matter what. I told my mom this and she just smiled at me like I still had a lot of life left to live.

But don’t I have enough experience to know what I want? Or at least to formulate my own opinions and beliefs? I may be 17 but I am not an idiot.

Or did my mom’s look of a wistful future just mean that when I fall in love I’ll know it and I’ll look back to these words and think I’m completely ridiculous?

Dad made spaghetti for dinner. It was gross so we ended up having to order udon from the place I like instead.

We watched a movie Mom wanted to show me, the title was something like Wildly Wealthy Westerners or something. It was just about rich people from America and Canada, plus a subplot of romance between a basic guy and this rich heiress girl who just couldn’t be together because of rich people's reasons. It was silly but the music was good. The ending kiss scene was hot, he shoved her into the backseat of his jeep and I swear I heard Mom sigh.

- A.K.

She didn’t expect him to text her on Monday of the following week, asking if they could meet for tea at a place near his work during his lunch break. She surprised herself by agreeing to it, and then by cheekily calling it a date.

Akaashi shoved his phone into Udai’s face, “What does this mean?”

Udai pushed his bangs back and inspected the text messages on Akaashi’s phone. “I think it means she agreed to go on the date you asked her on?”

“But I didn’t ask her on a date?”

“Oh, but you definitely did. Oh and tea? What dork takes a girl for tea on a first date?” Udai pushed Akaashi’s phone away and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then Udai’s face breaks into a blinding grin, “Is this your little diary thief? And the one who gave you the sweater at Bo’s party? Oh, it is isn’t it, do you have a picture of her?”

Akaashi briefly flashed a photo Bokuto had taken with her in Udai’s direction.

“DAMN! I need me my own diary thief,” Udai raised his eyebrows and started laughing a little, and then he ruffled his hair and used his fingers to zoom into her face, slowly, he started moving down the picture to her body. Akaashi pulled his phone back before Udai got too far down.

The clock on Akaashi’s desk wanted him to leave for an early lunch and by an early lunch, an hour early. So there he sat at the small cafe on the corner by his office building, rubbing his sweaty hands against the legs of his pants, waiting for her. She was five minutes early and was surprised to see him already at a table, so she decided to have a little fun.

Since his back was turned, she went up to him and tapped his shoulder, when he turned around she let out a small “Boo!” and put her hands up into an imitation of claws, trying her best to seem scary. He just thought she was adorable. He motioned for her to sit down.

Resting her crossbody bag against the back of the chair, she took a seat. Akaashi was able to wave down a waiter, who gave them a single menu to look over.

“What kind of tea do you like?” She asked, using her pointer finger to scan through the options the cafe had available.

“I like black tea, and sometimes chamomile tea.” He asked her for her favorite type, and she told him. He tried to commit her favorite to memory as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they had their tea, and the silence started to set in. Between sips, Akaashi would try to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he thought it was all too bold. So he told her a little about his life, his work, and his friends and she did the same, returning statements in a unique fashion about her life. Her word choice was special, calculated even. She was like him in another way that mattered, a calculated, intentional way of speaking.

She could always make him yearn to be a little more considerate of his words. Until she managed to pry them out of him.

“So why am I here?” She stirs a little more sugar into her tea, then pauses from drinking her tea to take a sip of her water.

“I want one of your journals.”

She laughs before realizing he’s entirely serious, “How do you even know that I have any journals to lend to you? For all you know, I could be living a journal-less life.” She waves her small stirring spoon around, before putting it into her mouth.

“I can’t explain it, but I know you have journals. Only someone with a journal of their own would be so obsessed with another’s.” Akaashi takes the spoon from her mouth and uses it to stir some sugar into his tea. Her mouth gapes for a moment while he smirks, looking right into her intelligent eyes.

The next day they have tea again, and she gives him one of her journals from high school.

“Don’t read it all in one go.” She pauses, “I don’t write nearly as well as you do, so don’t scrutinize my words the way you do all your mangakas’ words.”

Akaashi nods.

He read it all in one night. He calls her in the middle of said night.

“Who the hell is this Ito kid? When did you and he start talking? Just outta nowhere he pops up at the end of your last entry. Where’s the careful recollection of all your interactions with him?” Akaashi is exasperated, running his hand through his hair. He disagreed with what she said about her writing.

She was compelling and interesting, and she most definitely had his heart. Her high school experience had been so different from his, and she seemed to be much more optimistic about life than he was. Despite her calling him a realist, he believed that in comparison to her, he was a total pessimist.

She explained to him about Ito, and that he was a short-lived crush she had had at the end of her second year in high school. Akaashi was glad when she said she didn’t even talk to him anymore. Based on the way she had written about him, Akaashi thought that Ito would be the love of her life, and Akaashi was slowly realizing maybe his heart was in the process of making her the love of his life.

“When do I get the next journal?” Akaashi wanted to keep talking to her despite the lateness of the hour.

“You don’t. I told you to pace yourself, I only have one of yours so you’re only getting one of mine.” She was lying on her stomach on her bed, slightly kicking her feet while talking to Akaashi.

Akaashi groans but tells her he’ll return the journal next week when he can have another long lunch break. She says she’ll be there.

Akaashi recalls when he remembered his diary was lost.

It had been a long day at work, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. His mom hadn’t remembered his apartment address, so she sent one of his old journals to his work office. He put it into his satchel and made his way home.

On the train, there had been a slight jostling. And Akaashi hadn’t noticed the journal falling out of his bag and under his seat.

When he exited the train, she had gotten onto it. She sat down in the same seat he had. Right when Akaashi started walking to the stairs to exit the station, she reached down under the seat to stow away her bag, only to be met with a rough material. And for a moment, if they had just turned around, their eyes would’ve met right as the train pulled away.

When he finally got home, he unpacked his bag, looking to put away his journal safely into a box with other memorabilia from high school. When he dumped his bag upside down, shaking everything out, he just couldn’t find his journal. When going home from work the next day, he had asked all the employees if they had seen a leatherbound notebook. None turned up.

If there ever was a moment that could’ve changed the future, that was what it would’ve been. If the train hadn’t jostled. If Akaashi Keiji hadn’t been tired from work and forgot to check for the journal on his way out of the station. If she hadn’t sat right where he had been sitting, and most definitely, if she didn’t love a good book, then it all would’ve turned out differently.

But that’s not the story that’s being told. The story being told is of Akaashi Keiji realizing that to love someone, you have to accept that they may know you better than you know yourself.

It had been six months, and she was close to finishing the journal. Somedays she didn’t read at all, others she read three entries and wanted to binge the rest of the diary.

They went for tea every single week. Sometimes twice. Then other times, he would take her around Tokyo to go exploring. They went to every museum, every library, every cafe that specialized in tea. He figured that they ought to be on an even playing field when it came to how well they knew each other, so instead of getting more journals from her, they traded lists of their top one hundred favorite books.

She had put three Haruki Murakami books on her list and Akaashi wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss her.

But they were just friends. Friends who knew each other better than Akaashi was comfortable with. She knew what he would order before he said it, and he knew what she was going to comment before she stated it. When she asked him about his experience with failure, he knew that she had gotten in too deep.

She knew more about him than he expected her to, she knew all about the silly things that rattled around in his brain, and although it had been a journal from high school, he knew that people stayed pretty similar throughout life. So when she looked at him, she didn’t just see professional editor Akaashi Keiji, she saw a teenager who wondered what place he had in the world as well. She saw him as acne-ridden and languid with life. He wanted to control her perspective of him and he couldn’t do that now, because she had the key to his past and the map of his future.

So he tried to put some space between them. Just in case. Maybe it was a horrible tendency to overthink, no, he knew it was his horrible overthinking tendency. There were so many ways their relationship could go. He could completely crush her, to be completely crushed himself in turn.

Walking the edge of a knife with her. Balancing on the blade of friendship, if he fell onto one side, with no cuts, then they could have a happy relationship. If he cut himself on that blade, then the worst-case scenario would be that she realizes she doesn’t like him back and then there’s just someone who knows him too well out in the world.

When he hadn’t texted her in four weeks and her messages were left on read, she decided to finish the journal and be done with it. Their time as friends was short-lived she thought. She thought there may have been something more for the pair of them. And suddenly all the depressing love songs became about him. Which made her resentful, because who ruins ‘Iris’ by The Goo Goo Dolls like that for someone? DATE: XX-XX-14 TITLE: Quatervois; A Crossroads

I graduated today. I went through that book of fancy words Mom gave me and stumbled across this one. Quatervois, a crossroads. Does this count as a crossroads?

The magazine I want to work for said I could have an internship while I attend college. An internship in the manga editing department. Was I not good enough for the literature department? Is it because of my age? I think my essay and grades were good enough to at least qualify me for a chance to interview in that department. But they only let me interview for the editing department.

Does that make me a career failure? I like the magazine, but I’m not sold on the department they want me to go into.

Washio called me to congratulate me, he said that I was finally crossing over into the real world. I’m pretty sure I’ve been living in the real world for as long as I’ve been alive, but Washio made it seem like things would be so different for me. I digress.

When nothing seems straightforward, and you come to a fork in the road and you have two options that you can’t see down, how do you choose which road to go down? The one lined with flowers, or the one with a dirt path that could eventually have something more alluring at the end.

- A.K.

On the penultimate page of the journal was a glued-down picture of Akaashi wearing his graduation suit, and holding his graduation scroll, his parents stood on either side of him grinning proudly at their only child. Maybe she should’ve checked the book from the last page and then started reading the front. But she didn’t want spoilers, that’s why she never checked the second to last page.

She texted Akaashi and said she finished the journal and was ready to return it. When he didn’t respond, but had read the message, she texted Bokuto asking for some clarification. She asked if Akaashi had said anything about her that would’ve indicated why he was mad. Bokuto just said that Akaashi wasn’t mad at all. So now she was confused. If he wasn’t upset, then why was he ignoring her?

Instead of going to their tea place, she goes to his office during lunch. She scans the buttons, looking for his department.

“Hey diary thief, whatcha doing here?” A shorter guy with shaggy black hair and a hoodie with a denim jacket over it comes around to her and presses the elevator button.

“Are you going to the Manga Editing Department?” She checked before entering the elevator with the shaggy-haired guy, who had introduced himself as Udai Tenma, but she could just call him Tenma. He confirms and then doubly checks her identity as the same person Akaashi had been talking about and spending all his lunch breaks with.

“It’s funny that you know about the journal, I came here to return it finally. Probably much to Akaashi’s delight.” She adjusts her bag across her shoulders, giving a short sigh.

“No, Akaashi loves that you have his journal. At first, he was a little annoyed, but now it’s kinda like you have a little piece of him all the time. I told him just to get you a necklace with his name on it, but noooooo Udai I can’t do that because I’d essentially be confessing if I did something like that.” Udai did a brilliant imitation of Akaashi, even going as far as to push his shoulders back to make him seem taller and with a broader build.

Udai turned slowly to face her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “Please pretend I don’t exist, I never said anything about Akaashi’s undying love,” He froze, “Also ignore what I just said.”

Udai got out of the elevator on the floor below the editing department. She could hear him start to criticize himself and say he owes Akaashi so many more favors and solids now.

She walked through the office, lightly admiring all the manga panels, all the stories that had come out of this building astounded her, it had been a while since she last read a manga, so she considered picking one up on her way out. Maybe she’d read the one written by Udai.

Then she sees him. Akaashi, with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. His head is moving slightly, due to the music playing through his headphones she assumes. He fidgets in his chair, wiggling the seat around. Despite being angry at him, he was still adorable when he was engrossed in his work.

“You’re being childish.” She handed Akaashi the journal. Akaashi had to take off his headphones when he saw that his journal was being thrust into his face, he dropped his pencil and turned around only to be met with her. Even though she seemed to be upset with him, she still looked beautiful.

Akaashi looked confused, so she clarified, “Ghosting? Really? You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends.” Her tone is sharp and penetrating.

It wasn’t the being friends part, it was the part where he wanted her to be entirely his. An overwhelming desire to attach her to him in all senses. He swallows and takes the journal back. He wants to ask what her thoughts were, and what she came to understand about him. Yet, he knew she was upset with him. He would be upset with her too if she did what he had done.

He had completely blown his chance, hadn’t he? The one woman who had read the teenage journal and still wanted to be friends. Maybe her knowing more about him wouldn’t be too bad at all, maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“I don’t want to be friends.” She starts to sniffle, she quickly runs the sleeve of her shirt onto her eyes. Akaashi rushed the next part out, “I can’t be just friends with you I’m afraid. I think I want more.”

She blinks rapidly before regaining composure and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to sort out your feelings. Because if you really wanted more, you wouldn’t have treated me like I was disposable. You wouldn’t have ignored me. So, figure it out, and let me know what the result is. You know where to find me.”

She rubs her thumb on his cheek in a parting gesture. He remembers when she did that for the first time, around three months ago. They were at a library he had found in a far corner of Tokyo, and he was talking about a book that Udai hadn’t understood at all, which made him irate that Udai could skim over such an important story. They were in their little section, with dim lights and a stack of books they wanted to talk about.

As he was waving his hands around, trying to show her the pages and lines he was referencing in the book, when she reached over and brushed her thumb against his cheek, the rest of her fingers resting along his jaw and lower cheek. Her palm barely contacts his chin.

“You had a little mark there. But I think it’s just a cute little freckle, it won’t wipe off.” She brushes against his skin again, and when the mark doesn’t disappear, she leans back into her chair, waiting for Akaashi to begin again. When he starts talking again about the book, he keeps stumbling and stuttering over his words.

She gave a small wave before leaving his office space. Akaashi's co-workers just turned their heads to watch her exit, heads sticking out of cubicles, and then in a blink, they all turned to face Akaashi with disappointed faces, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Then, they went back to work and Akaashi was sitting at his desk with his journal brazenly staring at him.

He had one chance to make it right. So he set aside Udai’s manga draft, knowing he could go through it in less than an hour, and he picked up his pencil, writing one more entry in his journal.

He can only wait a week before giving it to her when he shows up to her apartment unannounced. Miwa opens the door and rolls her eyes, but letting him in.

“I gotta run and get some new specialty scissors. I’m not afraid to use them in an unintended use if I get back and she’s crying.” Miwa motions her fingers from her eyes to his. Akaashi gives her a thumbs up.

When she comes out of her room, she inspects him on the couch, he’s holding his journal.

“Read the last page for me. It’s an extended edition.” He jokes somewhat. She sits next to him and reads his ‘extended edition’. DATE: XX-XX-XX TITLE: Micawber; An Eternal Optimist

I was stupid. Believe me, I know I was a whole idiot and a half.

Here’s to giving up realism and embracing optimism.

You knew who I was before I knew you. I was scared that you would know too much. That’s hilarious, right? I wanted you to know me, and yet there I was completely afraid to let you get too close, but you were already close. It’s not just what words were contained here, although I re-read my journal and there are definitely some things I should’ve self-censored.

You were what made the entire difference. Your ability to perceive me as a whole rather than a sum of my parts was the distinction that was made.

With you, I truly am a protagonist. Not a side character anymore, but the main character who shares the limelight with his love interest. Although, I have a distinct feeling that you may be more of a main character than me. But, I know you’d say you digress.

In your journal, you mentioned once how you believed that a good story can compel you to be changed. How characters drive a real tangible change in a person. Did I do that for you? At least a little bit? I know I was changed when I read your story, I realized that maybe I liked you a little more than just liking you.

Please don’t think I am mean. I was cruel, rude, and inconsiderate to you. Ghosting for more than a month because I was worried is likely going down in my personal history as the worst thing I’ve ever done to you. But I’m dedicated to never doing anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never lie.

I’m optimistic that you like me a little. Maybe even a little more than like.

So, tell me why I still feel worried. Is this feeling even worried? Or is this what love feels like? The desperation to not hurt you in any way. The pang of knowing that I am myself with you. And, yes, the physical magnetism that makes me feel just a little more like a teenager when I am with you.

I think this feeling is love. I just think it’s so overwhelming that I ended up making it into a negative emotion instead of what it is.

I’m sorry. Forgive me or I really won’t know what to do with all these feelings that flit around in my heart for you.

I love you.

- Yours, Akaashi Keiji

She knew he was watching her. She had her nose in his journal, reading what he had written for her.

“Can you get me a tissue?” Akaashi handed her one. He was ready to say his goodbyes.

When she closes the journal, he looks at her with curious eyes. She smiles.

“Best book ever.”

He grabs her by the back of her head and kisses her. She held his face in her hands, tilting her head slightly and he hummed into her mouth. His nose was cold on her face, but the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the frostiness. His other hand grips her hip, trying to pull her closer to him. Despite them being already so close, he wanted her to envelop him.

Then he was pressing her down onto her couch, both hands on her hips. When she wrapped a leg around his waist he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Her head was on the arm of the couch, and he had moved from her mouth to the side of her face to her neck, to right above her bra, leaving a trail of his making. He was glad she was wearing a low-cut top because it made it easier for him to pull the shirt down so he could reach more of her skin.

In contrast to him, she felt soft and pliable. She also felt wholly his in this moment.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling the strands in a mellow methodology, not wanting to hurt him almost. She wanted his hair just a little longer, but the short hair tickled her neck, so she was happy with the length it was currently.

The top of her chest was creamy and supple. He let his tongue brush out once, twice, before going back up to kiss her again. He licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth just enough for him to run his tongue into it for a moment, before biting at her bottom lip in thanks.

“You taste like sugar.” He was hot in the face and had some hair sticking to his forehead. She pushed his bangs back tenderly, his chest was still rapidly moving up and down trying to catch his breath. He went in for another kiss, still short of breath, so she had to intervene.

“Slow down loverboy, you need to breathe, or else you can’t keep going.” She laughs a little and he can feel the way her body carries the laugh from her chest to her stomach. She moves in close to his ear, “And that would be a zero-sum game for us both.”

He nods, and she draws his head down to rest on her chest.

“Is this better or worse than that fantasy you had about making out with a girl in the backseat of a car?” She recalls one of his entries from his journal.

He rubs his face against her, inhaling deeply. “This is way better. But we’re still gonna kiss in the back of my jeep, and soon at that.”

She hums a little in response.

The next year, Akaashi and her moved in together, Miwa was glad because now she could finally walk around her apartment without clothes on (despite her doing that when they were roommates anyway). Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi finally had someone to read his confusing books and that he didn’t have to read another one ever again. Udai would occasionally make a joke about if it didn’t work out with Akaashi she had a place in his awaiting arms. Akaashi threatened to work for another manga magazine and Udai would be stuck using only Grammarly. That usually shut Udai up pretty quickly.

They both kept detailed journals. And when they finished them, they would let the other read them. Akaashi let her read all his past journals as well, and she let him read her diaries.

Maybe love isn’t what you expected at first, maybe it's not even a feeling you want to feel at that moment, or for that person. But love works out for the best in the end. Whether that’s with a best friend, a lover, a child, or even a book.

For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.