#will i be changing this up eventually? probably

[nothorses]

shinigami eyes is inaccurate sometimes. that doesn't mean it's evil.

I've seen more people talking about the shinigami eyes extension lately, specifically because it seems like some "trans inclusive" radfems have been using it to incorrectly mark anyone who disagrees with their hateful rhetoric as "anti-trans".

the conclusion I see people drawing is that shinigami eyes is full of transandrophobic, exorsexist/enbyphobic, intersexist radfems using their moderation powers for evil.

that's now how this works!

shinigami eyes is crowdsourced. everyone who uses the extension can mark anyone and anything as "anti-trans" (red) or "trans-friendly" (green), or "clear" any current markings they might have.

that input is taken into account when determining how said blog/website/account/whatever shows up to everyone else using shinigami eyes, but you will see things marked the way you mark them immediately.

shinigami eyes claims to have some level of human validation involved when they determine public changes to how things are marked, but it's not clear what that looks like. looking through their (fairly inactive) github community page, I stumbled on this person asking about what to do if they've been incorrectly marked "anti-trans":

which confirms my understanding of how shinigami eyes tends to work.

basically, shinigami eyes isn't actually told why anyone marks anyone else as "safe" or "unsafe". even if/when there is "human validation", they're most likely just making their best guesses based on the information available to them: a cursory glance over the blog/account/website that was marked, and how other people have marked the same thing.

if someone's blog is incorrectly marked red, it's probably because one or more people completely unrelated to shinigami eyes moderation submitted that marking. if there was nothing near the top of that person's blog to indicate that person was vocally supportive of trans people (and not just trans themselves) if/when it was checked by a human, they likely just went with what seemed to be the safest bet.

which means if people are abusing this extension to mark folks as "anti-trans" when they're not, we can take action to fix that!

If someone is marked red/"anti-trans" when they shouldn't be, mark them "trans-friendly" yourself. then tell someone else who uses the extension to do the same. it'll update the public marking eventually.

if you are marked red/"anti-trans" when you shouldn't be, and you want to reverse that & prevent it from happening again, it might be a good idea to put something explicit in your bio- like "trans rights are human rights"- so it's front & center if and when a human at shinigami eyes checks a marking someone submitted.

there's another conversation to be had about how much people should be relying on shinigami eyes in the first place, but it's not evil. it doesn't hate you. it's not even exclusionary, historically speaking.

the one thing I will say is that there is definitely some very valid contention around this specific stance they currently hold:

I understand why they might want to avoid wading too deep into questions about what "counts" as a transphobic slur vs. what does not when it comes to intra-community issues, as a pretty public-facing tool for the trans community broadly speaking. but like, "theyfab" is a pretty explicitly exorsexist term, imo.

still, I think this should probably just be taken to their github issues board, where folks can have more of a conversation than the reviews page allows for. trying to pressure them into compliance isn't going to cut it, and our community deserves better than that anyway.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Hello

See Me Through You Series

You had me at hello

Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later

Series Masterlist

Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.

Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.

Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.

“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.

“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”

“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.

It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.

You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.

“Y/N!”

“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”

“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”

You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.

Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.

So the rumors were true, he was really here.

Joe Burrow

Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.

“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”

“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”

“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”

“I threw them away.”

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”

“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”

“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”

Click.

Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.

The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.

Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.

Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.

“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.

“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.

“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”

You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.

“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.

“It's entertaining to watch.”

“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.

“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”

“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”

“Something like that.”

“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.

“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.

“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”

“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.

You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.

Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.

On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.

Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.

You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.

“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”

“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.

“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.

“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”

It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.

“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.

Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.

“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”

Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.

“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”

“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”

“JA'MARR! NO!”

“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”

“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”

“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.

“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”

“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”

“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”

The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.

“Need some help?”

“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.

“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.

As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.

“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”

“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”

“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”

Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.

“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.

“Any time.”

“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.

“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”

“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.

“Nah, you can do better than that.”

“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.

“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”

“He's teaching you well.”

“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”

“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”

The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.

You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.

“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.

“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”

“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”

“No, Erin.”

She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.

“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”

“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.

“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”

“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”

“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”

“ERIN!”

“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”

“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”

“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”

“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.

“I…-”

“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.

“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”

“Erin, shut up!”

“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.

“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”

“And slip them my number while we're at it.”

“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”

“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”

“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”

“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”

Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.

After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.

Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.

“Ooh, there goes your man!”

“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”

“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”

Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.

“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.

“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.

“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”

“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”

“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”

“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.

“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”

“Lead the way.”

“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”

Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.

On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.

“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.

“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.

“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”

“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”

“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”

“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.

“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”

“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.

“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”

Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.

“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”

“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.

“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.

“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”

“Good, because I like being around you too.”

Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.

“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”

“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.

“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”

“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”

“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”

“I got you.”

“Bye, baby brother.”

“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”

“Text it to me, bye.”

Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.

“When do you have class?”

“Not until one.”

“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”

“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”

“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.

“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.

This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.

[mintmatcha]

Thinking about our son and his friends who come over after school and are just floored when they meet you because you're not at all how he talks about you!! You're so nice and feeding them snacks (even though they know you're working two jobs and feeding three extra kids for an afternoon is probably not an easy feat) and checking in on them but not in an overbearing way. They don't get why he talks about you like that and he keeps telling them "you'll see" "just wait" and they do see eventually. When Monoma appears at your door, on your day with your son, and says he's surprising the boys with a trip to the arcade and ice cream and all these big promises, and you clearly didn't know this was happening. 13 year old boys are dumb, but they're not stupid. They pick up on all the shady comments his dad is making that make you uncomfortable or guilty or just plain sad and now they're uncomfortable too. Your son is so excited by the change in plans but his friends are torn. Yeah, it sounds fun, they want to go but they can't? Their parents didn't approve of this when they agreed for a group hang out at your place. They haven't met with Monoma to make sure they trust their kids with him. They don't have his number in case of emergency and vice versa. "Besides," on of them says, "your mom just ordered us some pizzas."

Monoma doesn't get why his kid's lame friends (he says it in jest but it makes them cringe honestly) don't want to go do something cooler than hang out in an unfinished basement eating cheap snacks all afternoon. They get it now. The disconnect between how your son talks about you and the person you really are. They go home sad that afternoon. One keeps hugging his own mom. It's a weird time all around for everyone. Your son is pissed at you for his friends not wanting to go to the arcade.

your son is a good kid, I think. he's got great friends who know that he's smart and kind and brave-

which is why they don't really understand why he's so strange about you.

they're honestly a little taken off guard when you come home with special snacks, apologizing that you're late and the food isn't better. your son has allergies and you hand check the label of everything, just in case, and all he does is mutter a little 'thanks' under his breath.

Theres just so much misplaced anger inside him at that point. He's idolized his dad since he was a baby; its easier to see you as the villian than accept that his dad isn't how he thought he was.

[lisztomaniac-mp3]

i have always wanted to have kids, there's not a moment in my life where i thought i wasn't eventually going to have kids. for reference, i'm 15, so my mind is bound to change, although i've thought about it a surprising amount and i don't think my overall plans are going to change. my family doesn't actually care wether or not i plan to have kids, but whenever i mention the fact i want to adopt there are only 1 of 2 reactions:

"that's so nice? :)"

"are you sure?.."

the first reaction usually comes from a place of "that's a complicated process that takes a lot of time and effort" as if it would take more effort to get pregnant and be pregnant for 9 months and then give birth- they have nothing against adoption or fostering, they just see it as something that takes more effort than giving birth would (for some reason?)

the second reaction is the worst one, and they usually back it up with the "its a lot of effort" excuse, and then start implying or straight up spewing bullshit about how they wouldn't be my real children. i'm adopted by my grandparents, so it's a useless argument to say I'm adopted in this circumstance, but i usually bring up step-family and they stfu. blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

this might seem a bit unrelated to the thread but let me say that both of those conversations end with: "well, you're young, you'll probably change your mind."

alr well i havent changed my mind since i gained ability to think about my adulthood, and i plan on updating this when i'm 28 and adopting a kid.

TLDR:

yes, mom, it is a phase. impermanence is the basis of life. but I can promise you that some phases last a very long time.

stop telling your teenage daughters who say they don't want kids that they'll change their mind

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE having a crush on you, but you have a bf ༉‧₊˚.

req: heyy idk if youre taking requests but if you do could you please do riize as your friends who have a crush on you even though you have a bf? thqnk youuu

pairing: riize x reader — masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

Shotaro would be very respectful about it. He liked you a lot, maybe too much, and couldn’t help but feel serious and angry when he saw you with your boyfriend. However, he wouldn’t want to ruin your relationship over his feelings. He’d always be there for you, sometimes even more than your own boyfriend, but he wouldn’t confess his feelings. He’d patiently wait for the day you realized that all along, he was the one meant for you.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

He wouldn’t be entirely direct, but he also wouldn’t hide the fact that he liked you. He couldn’t bear seeing you with your boyfriend, so if he ever ran into you together, he’d probably ignore your boyfriend completely. If you ever told him about something bad or annoying your boyfriend did, he’d shake his head several times while whispering:

"I would never do that to you..."

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

He wouldn’t be able to stand it. Seeing you with another man? Absolutely not. Sungchan would be very direct about his feelings and wouldn’t act any differently just because you had a boyfriend. He’d buy you gifts that reminded him of you, text you every day, and constantly remind you how important you were to him. Even though you had told him countless times that you had a boyfriend and he shouldn’t do that, he’d just ignore your words.

"I just want you to see how I feel and that my feelings won’t change."

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

You’d definitely know that Wonbin had a crush on you because he’d often say things like, "Why are you with him and not me?" or "I think I’m better than him." Even so, he wouldn’t interfere with your relationship and would patiently wait for the day you were single so he could make his move.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

Seunghan would be very, very patient. He wouldn’t be able to hold back his feelings, so he’d confess to you as soon as he accepted them himself. He’d make it clear that he knew you had a boyfriend and didn’t expect an answer, but he just wanted you to know. He’d even treat your boyfriend quite well, despite being the person he secretly disliked the most for having you.

⭑.ᐟ sohee

He would be so awkward around you, especially if your boyfriend was around. The moment he realized he liked you, he wouldn’t know how to act. Should he tell you? Should he keep quiet and let it pass? Should he distance himself? After a lot of thought, he’d decide to just try to act normal, though he’d always end up nervous and start rambling incoherently when you were near. Eventually, he’d accidentally let it slip that he liked you.

⭑.ᐟ anton

Even though it was difficult for him and he knew it would put you in a tough spot, Anton would confess his feelings for you, despite knowing you had a boyfriend. Who knows? Maybe by telling you, you’d see him differently. Maybe you’d realize you actually liked Anton too. Or maybe not, but he wanted you to know. He’d continue to treat you the same way he always had, but with a little extra attention, making sure you knew he was there for you whenever you needed.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess

[everyonewooeverywhere]

pairing ✭ sub!soobin x afab!reader

synopsis ✭ soobin just wants you to come home. he misses you so so much. but you left your panties on the bed...so maybe he'll be okay.

content/genre ✭ smut

word count ✭ 1k

notes ✭ this is a rewrite of one of my yunho fics 🤭

warnings ✭ smut, panty sniffing ☺️, mommy kink, sub soobin, dirty talk (mc calls soobin a whore & slut), masturbation

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

He knew he shouldn’t call you in the middle of the day. You were out with friends, getting lunch and shopping. He didn’t need to be by your side at every waking moment…but actually he did.

The bed felt so cold without you. No amount of blankets could replicate your touch. But he needed to let you be. It was noon anyway. He should probably get out of bed.

So…he called you. And it rang. And rang. And rang until eventually the tune faded and he was left with his own wildly impure thoughts. He could stop thinking about you. How good you had smelt after you’d spritzed your perfume in the bathroom. How good your legs had looked under that skirt. How gently you’d kissed him before you left.

Pressing a hand to his chest and pressing your freshly glossed lips to his own, “Be a good boy for me while I’m gone, okay?” 

He’d only nodded breathlessly before retreating to your bed and burying himself in your fluffy blankets. Bringing one of them up to his face and inhaling the scent of your shampoo and fabric softener that clung to the fabric. He could already feel himself getting unbearably hard.

And when you hadn’t picked up, he’d only gotten more and more needy. When he tossed his phone down next to him, though, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. 

Fuck.

You’d left a pair of panties on the bed. The ones you had just changed out of before you left. The light blue fabric printed with little bows was taunting him. 

He should put them in the laundry. Clean them for you. And let you kiss him on the forehead and call him a good boy for helping you out.

But they were so close. It was just so easy to take them. Keep them. Hide them in a special place. He should’ve felt more guilty. Where was that nervous knot in his stomach that kept him from doing stupid shit? Was this a boundary he really wanted to cross?

He reached across the bed and pinched the waistband, caressing the fabric with his thumb and dragging it closer to him. “Fuck,” he groaned softly as he gingerly picked them up. 

It was so wrong of him. Why was he acting this way? Like some kind of sex-depraved creep. He was your boyfriend for fucks sake. You buried his cock deep in your pussy nearly every day. Riding him and draining him dry. Leaving him a babbling whimpering mess every night before kissing his cheeks and caressing his hair until he inevitably fell asleep in your arms.

And was here returning the favor by burying his nose in your panties, whimpering at the scent of you left on them. He finally pulled his aching cock out of his shorts (he always forwent underwear in the house). The precum leaking out of the tip was more than enough to lube himself up as he teased himself. Starting the pumps painfully slow. Grazing a finger over the underside. 

He was a whining mess. Whimpering into your panties, picturing you sitting on his face. He imagined you breathing in his ear.

I thought you were gonna be my good boy?

No? You’re gonna be a little whore, aren’t you.

It’s ok~ Mommy likes needy little sluts anyway.

He shuttered at the thought of your breath on his neck. Degrading him just like he deserved, “Hmmm, mommy,” he whimpered, “‘M sorry–fuck–’m sorry mommy.”

The words came out as barely coherent babbles that he choked out between breaths. Pumping his cock desperately and erratically in his fist just to get a fraction of the feel of you. 

He brought the panties down to his cock and rolled over onto his stomach. He gripped your pillow for dear life, moaning and sobbing into it as he furiously jerked himself off. The control he had over himself was wearing thin. He kept grinding into your mattress, too. Trying to give himself just a little more friction. 

It was so overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. Everything smelt like you. The pillow, the sheets, the blankets tangled between his legs. But nothing felt quite like you. Not his fist, not the panties, not anything he could get himself.

The whimpers come out as he aimlessly begged, “Need you. Mmm…need you so bad.” His grip on his cock tightened as he felt himself get closer, “Need mommy’s pussy. Hah–please.”

He imagined you chucking at him. Condescending telling him that, “Mommy’s right here. You have mommy’s pussy.” You’d grip his cheek between your fingers, “Don’t tell me you need more?” And you’d pout out your bottom lip as his eyes welled up with tears, “Baby boy can’t get off by himself, can he? Needs some help?” And he’d nod desperately. He’d have no resolve, no dignity left. Just an empty head filled with the desire to cum.

The more he thought about your dirty words the closer he got. So so so close. “Please please please,” he whined, “Mommy please let me cum. ‘M your good boy. Please–’m a good boy.”

And just the thought of you telling him, “Go ahead baby. Cum for mommy,” made him cum. A lot. All into your panties and over your sheets and he shook under your blankets. Sobbing into your pillows. 

When he collapsed fully into your pillows, he had to take a few minutes to catch his breath. Trying to realize what had just happened. He pulled your blanket up to his neck snuggling further into your bed. 

His phone buzzed next to him. And he groaned as he stretched over to grab it. Only to see a text from you. 

angel : what happened to being my good boy soobin?

angel : i can’t leave you at home for a few hours without you breaking the rules, can i?

What the fuck? He clicked out of the chat quickly to check his call log. And there it was.

You’d been on the phone the whole time.

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine

txt taglist: @shinyj3lly

[sarahroutldge]

i love you, i'm sorry.

a/n: requested based on a prompt list - the dialogue prompt is in bold! gif not mine, all credits to the creator (also the title has nothing to do with the song, it was just stuck in my head lol)

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: you and jj maybank drunkenly hooked up a few nights ago, and neither of you know how to deal with that. (routledge!reader)

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff/humor, angst w/ a happy ending, implied sexual content, drinking, semi-proofread, I think that's it

John Booker Routledge never thought he’d actually have to tell his best friend JJ Maybank that his little sister was off limits. Not once did it ever occur to him that JJ would ever think of you in a different way; he hardly liked to consider the idea that you dated anyone in the first place, let alone that you’d express any interest in the man he knew inside-and-out.

But things change and people get older. After you and the rest of the Pogues found El Dorado and began construction on Poguelandia, JJ started to see you differently. Sure, he always found you attractive, but JJ also found every woman he encountered attractive, so he never thought much of it. 

And you certainly didn’t ever think of JJ in that way either. At heart, you were a relationship girl; and while the fact that you were single was proof enough that no relationship of yours had worked out in the past, one of your greatest strengths was that you knew what you wanted. You didn’t seek out something casual because you knew you’d be left unfulfilled. You wanted something all-consuming and destined for marriage. Seeing your older brother grow and mature in his relationship with Sarah Cameron only clarified that further. In your mind, if the second-most relationship-allergic person you knew (after JJ of course) was able to dive headfirst into marriage with a girl so remarkably different from himself, then you decided you wouldn’t settle for any less.

Feelings, however, have a funny way of messing with plans and expectations. While JJ had essentially lived with you and your brother for years, building Poguelandia only pushed the two of you even further together. And watching someone so unpredictable and chaotic as JJ tame himself for the sake of his friends and his future stirred something in you that you hadn’t been expecting at all.

Over the months, your interactions with JJ changed, little by little, and for a while neither of you noticed. It just grew natural for JJ to fix something in the bait shop that you were fussing over, or for you to bring JJ a sandwich or a snack while he worked. You found little ways to make the other’s day brighter, even if subconsciously you never even considered why you were doing these little favors in the first place.

What actually brought the two of you together wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, however. One night, after a long day of work on the house, the Pogues found themselves hanging out above the bait shop, buzzed off of beers, seltzers, and a few joints made of flower grown right from Kiara’s secret spot in the garden. And while the rest of the Pogues eventually found their ways inside and to sleep, JJ and you probably drank a bit too much. One thing led to another, and that was the first night you hooked up. It was slow, passionate, and clumsy, and while the both of you would later blame it on the alcohol and the weed, deep inside you were both fully aware that it was simply the end result of months of pining.

And that’s how you found yourself waking up on the hammock above the bait shop in only one of JJ’s t-shirts and a pair of underwear. The combination of the blinding North Carolina sunrise along with John B.’s extremely loud footsteps on the floor below practically forced your eyes open. While you play the night before over in your head, trying to piece it all together, you’re scrambling to get the rest of your clothes on.

Running downstairs with your shoes untied, you let out a huge “oof” as you collide with your brother, almost sending the two of you to the ground. 

“Good morning to you, too, sis,” John B. says, his eyes expressing his confusion at the fact that you obviously slept upstairs last night.

“Oh, um, sorry, JB, I guess I just drank too much last night and crashed on the hammock,” you practically vomit out.

“Riiiiight,” John B. responds, clearly not convinced but nonetheless wholly uninterested in this situation in the first place. “Just, uh, go shower. You stink.”

Assuming John B.’s comment is a joke, you let out a laugh that immediately sounds forced. “Yeah, uh, that’s what I planned on.”

John B. shoots you a thumbs-up before making his way behind the counter, clearly prepping to open the bait shop for customers. Deciding to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, you begin to make your way back to the house. However, your brain can’t help but consider the possibility that only more awkwardness awaits you back in the house, which you’re really not ready to process. You spin around to face John B. at the entrance to the bait shop. “Hey, uh, is JJ up?”

John B. doesn’t even look up from whatever he’s doing at the counter, clearly focused on something else. “Yeah, he took his bike to the grocery store about ten minutes ago, I think.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, and then turn back around to make your way into the house. Occupied with trying to wrack your brain about what exactly happened last night, you again stumble into someone else as you walk through the kitchen.

“Ow,” Sarah squeaks. 

You immediately apologize, looking her in the eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just, uh, didn’t sleep well last night,” you explain, hoping she’ll move out of the way so you can make your way to your bedroom upstairs.

But Sarah, unfortunately, has the attention to detail that your brother lacks. Looking you in the eyes, her brows furrow. “Did you sleep outside last night?”

You scratch your head. “Uh, yeah. Just, uh, crashed after all those drinks, you know?”

One thing that Sarah does share with your brother, however, is her unwillingness to let things go. Clearly noticing that something is on your mind, her eyes stare into yours, as if she thinks that she can figure out everything about you based on your facial expressions alone. And evidently, she can, because she then proceeds to whisper-yell, “Y/N, is that a hickey?”

She lightly taps a new bruise on your neck that JJ must have left last night, and you can feel your cheeks heat up at the action. You bat her hand away, and she smirks when she realizes what you must be hiding. 

“I don’t have time for this,” you blurt out, before maneuvering yourself around Sarah and walking over to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Whatever you say,” she taunts behind you, and you can practically hear her giggle as you make your way up the steps. 

Once you get to your bedroom, you lock the door behind you. Sliding down the wall, you let out a sigh, grateful that you met no more obstacles on the way upstairs. But as soon as your butt hits the ground, reality comes crashing down, and you realize that you have a much harder obstacle to deal with than running into one of your friends in the hallway. Instead, you have to deal with the fact that you slept with JJ Maybank—the man you’ve known practically your entire life who not only happens to be one of your closest friends, but even more than that, is your brother’s best friend. Yeah, you’re screwed.

For the next few days, JJ avoided you at all costs. He didn’t want to face the consequences of what you’d done, and was worried more than anything that his friendship with you (and John B. for that matter) would be ruined. And while you had the same idea for a while, within only a few days you decided that talking about it was the only way to move forward. Knowing JJ’s extensive dating history, you were convinced that JJ would only tell you that it was a mistake and a regret. You prepared herself for the negative, and found him alone at night in the employees-only area above the tackle and bait shop.

You carefully tiptoe up the stairs to prevent JJ from getting spooked and immediately bailing on the conversation. When he notices your presence, he shoots up from where he was laying on the hammock, just like you had anticipated. “JJ, we need to talk—”

“Y/N—”

“No, please, JJ, just let me speak,” you clarify, before walking closer to him. 

Realizing he doesn’t have any other choice, JJ sighs, gesturing for her to continue.

Working up the nerves, you wring your hands, preparing yourself for a moment that seemed more daunting than any of the actually threatening experiences you’d had with the Pogues over the last few years. “You know me, Jayj. You know that I don’t have one-night stands or casual relationships. And I can’t go on like this, pretending like what happened between us is normal or that I can just ignore it. I know that you’ve probably never had feelings for me, but if I don’t tell you this now, I’ll regret it. I… I like you, JJ.” Taking a breath, you step back, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. Only now, you have to brace yourself for the inevitable rejection.

Looking into JJ’s eyes, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, and that’s nothing short of terrifying. You’ve known JJ since he was a kid, and he’s not the best liar, so you can usually tell what he’s feeling from the moment you see him. But this time, you’re clueless, and the silence is deafening.

“JJ, please say something. If you’re going to tell me you don’t like me back, then just say it so we can move on and put this behind us.”

He brings his hands to his face, trying to piece the words together. “Just, uh, gimme a minute.” You nod at him, before moving to sit where he’d previously sat on the hammock. You swing your knees up to your chest, hugging them in comfort. 

You watch as he paces the floor around you. It’s not long before he speaks, but it feels like hours as you wait. 

“Y/N, I… We’ve been friends forever. You, me, and John B. It was the three of us for the longest time and then Pope came and then Kiara and… Uh, I’m getting off track.” He starts fidgeting with the ring on his thumb as he looks down at the ground, preparing for what he’s about to say next. “I won’t lie—you’ve always been hot. Like super fucking hot. And I’m not good at relationships or whatever, but I… I like you, too.” 

And your ears can’t believe what they’re hearing, so your head immediately jerks up to meet his eyes. “Wait… you do?” 

He nods, and you can feel a smile beginning to form on your face. “Well, then, why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. 

“Because it doesn’t matter,” JJ answers, and your heart immediately sinks in your chest, once again. “I can’t do this to John B., Y/N. I just can’t.”

“Who cares about him? He’ll get over it. John B. is not my problem.” 

“That’s the point, Y/N! He’ll be there for you no matter what. But the Pogues are basically all I have left. You and John B. are my family, and if I mess shit up with you, I’ll lose you both. And I can’t do that to myself.”

“You won’t mess it up, J,” you reassure, though part of you understands what he’s getting at.

“When have I not messed something up? I mess shit up all the time, and you mean too much to me for me to risk it. You need to go and find someone out there better than me, because as much as it’ll hurt me to see you with someone else, it’d be a lot worse if you were in pain and I was the reason. It’s because I’m in love with you that I wish we’d never done what we did,” he blurts out. 

And while you were trying your best to listen to him carefully, all you heard was him telling you that he’s in love with you. “You… You love me?” you whisper, and JJ’s eyes go back to the floor.

“Of course I fucking do! How could I not? You’re gorgeous and funny and weird and you know me better than anyone else, and I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin shit with you. So just let me go, because this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

As you process what JJ says, he rushes down the stairs. The heavy pattern of his boots hitting the wooden floors grabs your attention again, and you sprint downstairs to meet him before he can run away completely. You grab his hand and pull him towards you. When his head moves, you can see tears in his eyes, even as the sky gets darker. “It’s not okay to just leave me here after telling me you love me back,” you choke out.

“We can’t—we’ll never be together,” he bites back, trying to sound angry. But you can read right through him, and he knows it. You drop his arm and reach up to grab his face with your hands. Your thumb wipes away a stray tear.

“JJ, you’re right: I do know you better than anyone else. And yes, you’re not the best at relationships. But don’t you think that with us it could be different? That maybe because we know each other so well we can figure it out together?”

He begins to shake his head, but before he can get any more words out, you continue. “JJ, I know everything about you. I know the worst things you’ve done and the best things. You’re always calling me a know-it-all, and yet right now you don’t seem to believe me when I tell you that I know we can do this. We can do it, and it’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it because I can’t picture myself loving anyone else the way I love you.” And as the tears stream down your cheeks, JJ inches a bit closer to you.

“You… You love me?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. How could I not? You’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, bravest person I know and my life would be so unbelievably boring if you weren’t in it.”

His eyes look all over your face, trying to see if he can detect a lie. But all he sees is someone so convinced in their feelings, so articulate, and he can’t believe that it’s possible but he might just love you more than he did five minutes ago. 

“Let me deal with John B., okay? I get why you’re scared and I would never want to come between the two of you, but you deserve to be loved, JJ. And I want to be the one who gets to love you.” 

As soon as you get the words out, he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you’re so glad he reached out to hold your waist because otherwise you’d be falling to your knees. It’s magical and romantic and you can taste the salty years you’ve both shed. His right hand moves to grab the side of your face and pull you even closer somehow, before moving back down to your waist and squeezing you in anticipation. The two of you break away, panting. He grips you again and gestures for you to jump, which you do, and you wrap your legs around his back. He carries you over to the counter of the bait shop, where he sets you down. Your legs squeeze his, and he grabs ahold of your face with his hands. “Before we um… do anything else… Are you sure?”

You nod immediately. “Babe, I need the words.”

Your heart clenches at the term of affection, and you pull his shirt to bring him even closer to you. “I am absolutely, positively sure that I love you, JJ Maybank.” He grins so wide you start giggling.

He smashes his mouth back to yours, and this time the kiss is hotter and needier. It’s just a mess of clashing teeth, lips, and hands, with little “I love yous” whispered in between. 

JJ tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you break away so that he can lift it off, throwing it somewhere else in the shop. His shirt follows, but before he can unclasp your bra, you push him back. “JJ, I’m not fucking you in the bait shop.”

“It’s dark out and no one’s gonna see—”

You jump down from the counter. “It’s either in the house or in the Twinkie. Your choice,” you challenge, and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, people do it all the time,” he justifies, and you look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you ask.

“Hooking up in the bait shop, duh. I caught Pope and Cleo on top of the freezer once, and I’m pretty sure I saw Kiara making out with her ex-girlfriend behind the counter.”

You roll your eyes. “You are literally proving my point,” you say, and he scratches his head. 

“Well, I know for a fact that John B. and Sarah hooked up in the bait shop once and I didn’t see anything!” he explains.

“That’s not any better! You’re talking about my brother!” you whine, and JJ starts to see that you’re not budging. 

He lifts you up bridal-style into his arms, and you squeal. “Fine, my lady, my room it is.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Have you cleaned it recently?” you ask, knowing how messy his room gets. 

“Uh… Like, maybe not super recently. But I can make it nice,” he offers.

You squint. “As nice as my room?”

“Yeah, let���s just go to yours,” he says, and you giggle at how easily he gives in. As he walks down the talk, carrying you in his arms, you can see a smirk grow on his face. “But after we’re done, it’ll be as dirty as mine.”

“JJ!”

so... what did y'all think? I might consider making a part two where john b. finds out. is that something y'all would be interested in??

also... feedback is very much appreciated - pls comment, reblog, send asks, etc.!

[space-blue]

Fixing Vander and Silco's story (a bit)

Using canon events! Sadly we can't actually fix it, but I hope this makes it a little better. I make my own edit proposal at the end that changes the bar scene to include Felicia without issues.

They meet in the mines, and meet Felicia and her partner there too. They end up together somehow (I think we can put the brotherly allegations to rest now, eh?) and one of them (or both) inherit/buy a bar.

Although Vander is the barman, there is no indication Silco doesn't own or co-own the place. After all he comes to take it eventually as his own, and he's still not bartending. That's just not his gig.

It's implied that Vander and Silco made it, as in, got away from the mines, while Felicia clearly didn't, as she comes home to both her daughters with mining gear and gloves.

So despite Vander and Silco building the Lanes together, the mines aren't closed, and the work "isn't done".

Felicia says they've done it, and Vander is happy to celebrate their success. Meanwhile, Silco has his "NoZ" Nation of Zaun book in which he's scribbling, still planning.

Vander's first memory that Viktor sees even has Silco holding that book.

Later, in season 1 episode 3, we see that Vander tells Silco that he had Vander's respect, the Lanes' respect, but it "was never enough".

There's also this fakeout moment in the memory at the bar, where Vander says they're done, and Silco replies with "You're gravely mistaken". And I thought he was going to go all zealous and say "We'll only be done when we have the Nation of Zaun", but no, he claims he's Bozo 1.

And imo, he is probably right. He calls out Vander in act 1 saying "I trusted you and you betrayed me", and Vander does not contest this. It makes the most in character sense as well that Silco is the brains of the operation while Vander is the brawn.

And we can conclude that Silco's goals were always "bigger" and that the Lanes were indeed not enough.

Years pass, during which we can only assume Silco keeps building his Nation of Zaun and Vander happily bartends and manages the Lanes with Silco. Felicia keeps working the mines and raises Vi, then Powder.

Vi is at least 11, if not more, by the time she's on the bridge. This is just consistent with her model, but also to make her 18+ by the time of act 2.

It's a long ass time for Vander and Silco to be running a bar and the Lanes together. Even assuming Vi is more 8 or 9yo, Vander and Silco spend all that time being together.

Sadly, their models aren't aged very well.

We are also forced here to make some unfortunate assumptions.

It's not a problem, IMO, for Silco to know Felicia and be close to her. It's a problem for him to not be close to Vi and Powder too. Close enough to recognise them at least.

It's easy to say, "Well, Felicia went back to the mines and raised her kids and wasn't super involved with Vander and Silco, who lived much higher up in their bar." Adult friendships and all that.

IT MAKES SENSE, but then it makes zero sense that Vander would murder his life's partner, a man he's been with 10 years at MINIMUM (fuck knows how long they were together while in the mines), over the death of a friend in a revolt they allegedly BOTH participated in.

The memories also imply that Silco is responsible somehow, for throwing a molotov. And yet the molotov doesn't kill the enforcer.

But Vander is shown in the opening of Act 1 season 1 pummeling one to death himself, long after the rest of the revolt has died down. That enforcer wasn't getting back up lol

So whatever we pick, because the writers made Felicia and Silco close, they create a plot hole either way.

Either Vander is whacko and murders his husband over a dead friend at a revolt he set up (since he repeatedly apologises for what he did, and claims he "lost his head after she died" and had that guilt on his hands too)

Or Silco and Vi and Powder spend ALL of season 1 acting like they don't know each other at all. Then Silco takes in Powder and somehow never comments on the fact he was friends with her mom.

Everything being triggered by Felicia's death also means that Vander's emotional thematic moment dropping the gauntlets after seeing what his violence led to is then followed up by a horrible attempted murder on the love of his life, which is... you know. Bad writing.

So I propose that they indeed drift apart. Silco knows of Felicia's kids, and they hangout a bit, but they aren't that close. She's busy mining and being a mom, and Silco is busy making the safe Zaun he promised to deliver.

The creation of that Zaun leads them to act out revolts and uprisings. Vander is happy to follow. He's angry, like he tells Vi. And this manifests in violence. Silco points his violence. It's how they create the Lanes and the moniker of Hound of the Underground. A hound usually has a master, after all.

Vander is Silco's hound, and I think, in Vander's mind this absolves him of some of the consequences of his actions.

So when his friend dies on the Bridge, even if they haven't been that close in a while, well, it's easy to put the blame on Silco.

Since we're following the new canon timeline... we'll have to have him go back with the girls, ready to turn a new leaf.

I think the best way here is to have him either dropping them at an orphanage, or back at their home (trusting Vi to look after Powder for a while) or with friends.

That way, Vi and Powder aren't immediately in Silco's legs back at the drop.

Then Vander and Silco take part in the "clean up" at the bridge. They go get bodies, and since they have no real estate in the fissures, they commit them to the sea (we have canon monsters in there, so I'm sure it all gets gobbled up).

That way, we explain why Vander is weirdly shaved, and why Silco and him are at in the Pilt: they just commited the bodies of the fallen to the waters.

There may have been many others, but Silco and Vander stay there, in the shallows, as they talk.

Vander is done. He doesn't want more of this. He thinks Silco went too far with pushing this one to the bridge. Piltover got defensive and they lost too many people.

Silco doesn't get it. Where he goes, so does Vander, but Vander is his own man, he decided to come too, and he killed enforcers too. Felicia's death is tragic, but as he later will tell Renni about the death of her son: at least she died fighting for the cause, and not some petty infighting, or worse, an accident at the shitty mines.

Vander, the Hound, is not only mad with grief, he refuses to carry the blame of his own actions. It's a character flaw and that's fine! The angry man channels that anger with violence, the only way he knows how.

Silco is probably shocked, and may not say the right things to calm Vander down.

Silco is under the assumption that Vander BELIEVES IN HIS DREAM. That he's a true believer of the Nation of Zaun, like Sevika turns out to be. A true believer would understand sacrifice. A true believer would understand too, that stopping now, after Felicia's death, would make THAT VERY DEATH POINTLESS.

So maybe he screams at Vander! What do you MEAN abandoning the fight? What do you mean, being content with the Lanes? How dare you? You'd make her sacrifice meaningless! You'd make Felicia die a pointless death!

And Vander would bellow that it's over. No more death. No more bloodshed. He rescued her kids from that bridge, and they don't deserve to die too, they don't deserve to see more death.

And Silco screams back that it's their job to create Zaun so these children won't have to see more death. Vander is just delaying the struggle.

And then, perhaps, Silco may even mock him. Say that Vander can't change like that. That he's not that sort of person, to just hang up his gauntlets and go peaceful. That Felicia's blood is on his hands too, and that the only way out is through more blood, more sacrifice.

It would be a horrible point to make, if then Vander truly loses it. Silco runs, and Vander's hound comes out, just grabbing Silco and trying to drown him.

It would be poetic, because then Vander goes home in shame. Gets his arm patched up, hides the scar under a brace, collects the kids and tries to pretend like HE CAN BE THAT MAN. Even though he surrendered his gauntlets and metaphorical violence, and tries to lean into the bartender chill persona, there's what he did to Silco.

And later he'll tell Vander "I'll show you what you really are". Because Silco knows that Vander's promises of being a peaceful good dad are flimsy at best.

Anyway, Vander goes home, and eventually the impact of what he's done really hits him. He's single now, and with kids, and the Lanes to run, and nobody knows where Silco is.

Vander slowly realises Silco was right about one thing. Just because Vander followed, doesn't mean he wasn't behind that event on the bridge. Becoming the solo leader of the Lanes has to have hammered that home for him. Suddenly so much responsibility thrust on him.

So Felicia's death was on him too, and his actions against Silco are the proof that he is indeed the sort of man Silco said he was. At any rate, surrendering violence as his first reaction to any trigger will take a lot of work.

He goes to their old hideout and leaves a letter for Silco.

In the happy AU, Silco finds it, and returns to Vander BEFORE ever meeting Singed. There is no glowing eye, no shimmer, and no cannery.

In our AU, Silco never finds the letter. He finds Singed instead. Starts helping him develop shimmer.

I've been thinking that since the goal of shimmer is a form of "keeping alive" and also "bringing back to life", then it's possible that Silco's glowing eye is a byproduct of shimmer experimentation.

And that the only way to keep it alive and function is more shimmer injections. It would otherwise be grey and dead like in the Nice AU.

So Singed is also a factor here. He gives our Silco a real way to deal scary violence to Piltover. And this changes our Silco. He's more radicalised, and more opposed to Vander, having discovered that Vander works with Grayson to keep Zaun under Piltover's boot (basically making sure the boot stays, but doesn't press down too hard).

Vander is, as always, the enforcer of the status quo.

And though this works for them timeline wise, it sadly doesn't change the fact that Silco should know who Vander's kids are.

Vi and Jinx can be excused for not recognising him, what with him being one of their mom's adult friends, and scarred. But Silco doesn't have that luxury. His great friend Felicia had two very distinctive kids, ONE OF WHICH VANDER FUCKING NAMED! And her death triggered his husband so badly he tried to kill Silco over it. If anything, Silco would be hyper-aware of Felicia's kids.

And no amount of alternate fix-its changes that. It's permanent damage to season 1's Silco.

I feel like we can fix Vander's side of things by inventing an entire scene at the Pilt as I did above, but we can't fix 10 years of knowing your friend's kids and then a lifetime of acting like you don't know them.

I think it also cheapens the found family aspect of both Vander and Silco's adoption. You're left to wonder if they took in the girls only because they were friends with the mom.

Silco's adoption of Jinx and co-dependence with her was great because it spoke of the similar shape of their traumas, and how unexpected their bond seemed.

But now it's redolent of friendly obligation. And lies.

How would I fix it by keeping Felicia in the picture?

I would fully remove Felicia's one-on-one with the boys. That night at the bar? It's a party. Young Sevika is here too!

Felicia and many others are there, all congratulating Vander and Silco over the creation of the Lanes. Eventually Silco tires of the social niceties and goes to write in his notebook at the bar. Or maybe there's a montage of the night as the crowds thin.

In the end, Silco is writing, and Vander is still socialising. He talks to 3 people--Felicia, her husband, and a random person. They thank him for all his work. They've done it! And the conditions in the mines are so much better now thanks to XYZ!

Vander is beaming, he's just so pleased. It's clear for him this is the end goal. Felicia asks him, pointing to Silco, if he's okay.

Vander laughs, says Silco is fine, but he's already got his head back in the clouds. You see, Silco doesn't just want the Lanes, he dreams of a free Nation of Zaun.

The other 2 laugh, but Felicia sobers up. She rubs her belly, thoughtful. Then she says "Sounds like a dream worth fighting for."

I don't think she even needs to say anything about being pregnant, but she could go on with something like "I'm expecting. A girl, I think. I know. And I would love if she could grow in a safe city. I'm so scared she'll have to live the way I did, growing up.'

And Vander smiles sadly and tells her, 'We've gotten this far, and we're not going back. We'll make Zaun safe for your kiddo, I promise you that.'

And that's it.

Vander knows OF Felicia. She is a community member. He knows her enough, maybe from Lanes meetings, that eventually he can recognise her children. But they're not friends, and SILCO definitely isn't friends.

And the disagreement after the bridge is fully about where to go from then on, and Vander deciding he wants to run the Lanes and keep them safe, that what they have now is good enough, while Silco wants "more".

That disagreement can turn nasty, and the fact Vander tried to drown Silco becomes a statement about how violent and temperamental he is as "The Hound of the Underground". Something he'll regret soon enough and spend the next few years working hard to try and change.

What do you think?

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 19

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Nothing

A/N: This is lowkey a pretty boring chapter lol but i really didnt wanna just jump right into the next bit, so ill probably post the next one right after!

The bar was alive with the familiar buzz of laughter, clinking glasses, and low music, but tonight felt different. Tonight, you and Bucky weren’t just walking into your usual booth as friends, as two people who danced around each other for years. Tonight, you were something more, and everyone would know it.

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours as you entered, a subtle but grounding gesture. His fingers lingered, warm and steady, before he finally slid his arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, catching the small, reassuring smile he shot your way. For years, you’d craved moments like this. Now, they were real, and the world felt a little steadier.

Sam was the first to notice, his gaze snapping to the two of you as you approached the booth. He froze mid-sip of his beer, his eyes widening before he stood up dramatically, spreading his arms wide. “Well, holy shit! Would you look at this! Holding hands and everything! Hallelujah—finally!!”

The table fell silent, all eyes turning toward you. Natasha and Wanda exchanged knowing smirks, and Steve, seated in his usual corner spot, leaned forward slightly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he took it all in.

Bucky chuckled low in his throat, squeezing your waist as he nudged you forward. “Well,” he said, smirking at Sam, “someone had to put you out of your misery eventually.”

“Oh, please,” Sam shot back, grinning. “My misery? Barnes, you’ve been in love with her since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. I’m just glad the rest of us don’t have to watch you suffer anymore.”

Wanda let out an excited squeal, practically jumping up to pull you into a tight hug. “Finally!” she exclaimed. “You two were driving me crazy. I’m so happy for you!”

You laughed softly, the warmth of their reactions easing the tension that had been building in your chest all week. “Thanks, Wanda,” you murmured. “It means a lot.”

Natasha leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Took you long enough,” she drawled. “But I’ll admit, the slow burn was fun to watch. Better than reality TV.”

The group burst into laughter, the energy at the table light and easy. Bucky slid into the booth, pulling you down beside him. His arm rested casually along the back of your seat, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as if he couldn’t help but touch you.

But then your eyes flicked to Steve.

He hadn’t said anything yet. He was sitting in his usual corner spot, nursing a glass of whiskey, his face calm but carefully guarded. His eyes flicked between you and Bucky for a fraction of a second before he finally smiled—a polite, distant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Congratulations,” Steve said, his tone kind but restrained. “You both deserve to be happy.”

Your stomach twisted. The cracks in his mask were subtle, but you could see them. You wanted to say something, to reassure him that this didn’t change anything between you, but before you could find the words, Steve leaned back in his seat and took a long sip of his drink, effectively removing himself from the moment.

You forced yourself to smile, but your chest felt tight. Bucky’s hand brushed against your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. “You good?” he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, offering him a soft smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But as the group started talking and laughing again, you couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes lingered on his drink. And when Natasha leaned across the table to whisper something to Wanda, you caught her glance at Steve, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—longing, frustration, maybe even sadness.

Your chest tightened further. You were happy, truly, but there was an unshakable weight that came with knowing the ripple effects your relationship with Bucky had on the group. The laughter continued around you, and Bucky’s arm stayed firmly around your shoulders, his warmth anchoring you. But every time you met Steve’s eyes across the table, a small pang of guilt twisted in your stomach.

You weren’t just navigating a new chapter with Bucky; you were navigating the fragile balance of a friendship that felt more delicate than ever. And as you caught Natasha watching Steve, who was watching you.

The bar was alive with the warm buzz of chatter and laughter, your group nestled into the corner booth like you always were, drinks scattered across the table. For the first time in what felt like forever, things felt… normal. Easy.

Sam was halfway through an animated story about one of his more adventurous days at the VA, his hands flying around as he described some “wild” shuffleboard tournament involving a 92-year-old named Agnes. “And I swear to God, she hustled me. Agnes had that killer glint in her eye. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everyone burst out laughing, Wanda clutching her stomach while Natasha shook her head, muttering, “Should’ve seen that coming, Wilson. Never trust anyone with that much bingo experience.”

Bucky’s laugh came deep and unrestrained, his head tilting back as his free hand squeezed your leg. His other hand, resting on your knee, gently rubbed small circles into your skin as if grounding you, even through his laughter. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of happiness through you. You looked over at him, your chest tightening when you saw the pure joy in his face, the crinkle of his eyes, the twinkle in them as they caught the low bar light. This was your Bucky. This was home.

And in that moment, everything felt right. The weight of the last few weeks lifted, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the bubble of joy that surrounded your friends.

But then, your gaze wandered.

Across the table, Natasha sat beside Steve, her hand casually toying with the edge of her glass. At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary—Natasha, composed as always, listening to the group’s banter with her usual smirk. But then, as Steve leaned forward to share his own jab at Sam, her eyes lingered.

And that’s when you saw it. Really saw it. The way her gaze softened as she looked at Steve. The way her lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, one that seemed reserved only for him. The way her fingers, usually so deliberate and precise, nervously traced patterns on the rim of her glass. It hit you like a freight train— how could you have been so oblivious before?

Your stomach dropped, and your mind spun. How had you missed this? All the little moments, the quiet exchanges, the way her demeanor shifted when he was around—it all clicked into place, a puzzle you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

Steve, blissfully unaware, was chuckling at Sam’s next ridiculous quip, his broad shoulders shaking as he leaned back in the booth. Natasha’s eyes followed him, her expression softening further, almost imperceptibly.

You wanted to say something, to acknowledge it somehow, but before you could, the server appeared with a tray of shots, breaking the moment. “Alright, next round!” the server announced, setting the tray down with a flourish.

Everyone cheered, grabbing their glasses and raising them high. Bucky leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You okay?” he asked softly, his hand giving your leg a gentle squeeze.

You forced a smile, nodding as you grabbed a shot. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

His eyes lingered on you for a second longer, searching, before he smiled and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “You worry too much sweet girl, but im here no matter what's going on in that pretty little head” he murmured, his words a promise.

The group clinked glasses, Sam yelling, “To Agnes and her ruthless shuffleboard skills!” before throwing back his drink. The warmth of the whiskey burned your throat, but it didn’t quite chase away the new weight in your chest.

As the night carried on, the laughter and teasing continued, but your eyes kept drifting back to Natasha and Steve. You couldn’t unsee it now, couldn’t ignore the quiet longing in her gaze, the way she seemed to absorb every little thing Steve did. And for the first time, you realized just how deeply entwined all of your lives were—how every choice, every relationship, every word could ripple through your group in ways none of you could fully predict.

But for now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of Bucky beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his laugh like a lifeline tethering you to the present. Whatever the future held—for Steve, for Natasha, for all of you—you’d face it together. But tonight? Tonight, you’d hold onto this moment, this joy, just a little bit longer.

When the night finally wound down, Steve excused himself before the rest of the group, his usual good-natured demeanor replaced by a quiet reserve. His steps were quick, purposeful, like he needed to get away before anyone could stop him. But you couldn’t let him leave like this.

“Steve,” you called softly, your voice catching in your throat.

He paused, his shoulders stiff as he slowly turned to face you. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his face calm and composed—but his eyes betrayed him, dark and heavy with emotions he couldn’t hide. “Hey,” he said, his tone too casual, too forced. “What’s up?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you took a tentative step closer. The cool night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. “I just… I need to know if you’re okay.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did these days. “Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Steve,” you said more firmly, your brows furrowing as you searched his face. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know this is… hard. And if you need anything, if you need time away from me, I—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice low but resolute. “I don’t need space. I don’t want space. I don’t want to lose you, even if…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching slightly before he continued. “Even if things feel complicated right now.”

His words twisted something inside you, and for a moment, all you could do was nod. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered. “I just—I don’t know how to make this easier for you.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, but it was bitter, devoid of humor. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands like he was trying to ground himself. “You can’t, and I wouldn’t ask you to. It’s not your job to make this easier for me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the weight in his gaze stopped you.

“Look,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. I’ll figure out the rest on my own. I always do.”

The silence between you was deafening, and you could feel the walls Steve had so carefully built pressing between you. You hated it—hated that you couldn’t bridge the gap, that you couldn’t fix this.

Finally, he sighed, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You know,” he began, his tone quiet but laden with sadness, “there was a time I thought maybe… if I’d said something sooner, things would’ve been different.”

Your heart clenched painfully, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, sad smile, waving off your words. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I didn’t, and that’s on me. But it’s not all bad. You’ve got your happy ending now, and… I’ll find mine eventually.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers wrapping gently around his hand. “You deserve the world, Steve. And when you find someone, they’re going to be the luckiest girl alive.”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The sound of the bar door opening behind you pulled you both from the moment. You glanced over your shoulder, and there was Bucky, stepping out into the cool air. His expression softened as his eyes landed on you, and without hesitation, he walked over, his hand finding its place on the small of your back. The touch was subtle, comforting, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.

Bucky’s voice was gentle but edged with curiosity. “Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, brushing at your cheek as you turned back to him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute with Steve.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to Steve, and there was a moment of silence, a quiet understanding passing between them. “Hey, man,” Bucky said, his tone genuine. “Can we talk for a second?”

You hesitated, your gaze bouncing between the two of them, but Steve gave you a reassuring nod. “Go on,” you murmured to Bucky, stepping slightly to the side.

Bucky leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you inside,” he murmured, before turning to Steve.

As they moved a few steps away, you stayed rooted to the spot, watching them. Your heart felt heavy but strangely hopeful as Bucky and Steve exchanged quiet words, their silhouettes outlined by the streetlights. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see the respect in their stances, the way they were trying—really trying—to make this work.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy like the weight of all the years they’d shared. The hum of the bar behind them was a distant echo, muted compared to the tension in the cool night air.

Bucky leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw. “Steve… I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just—”

“Stop,” Steve interrupted, holding up a hand, his tone resigned but calm. “You don’t have to explain, Buck. I’ve had plenty of time to figure it out.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as his gaze flicked up to meet Bucky’s. “She was always meant for you. I get that.”

Bucky froze, guilt and sorrow etched into every line of his face. “That doesn’t make it right,” he said hoarsely. “You’re my best friend, Steve. And I—”

“You love her,” Steve said, cutting him off again, his voice softer now but no less certain. “And she loves you. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. The words should have offered relief, but they only deepened the ache in his chest. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s never been that simple. You were always there for her when I wasn’t. You picked up the pieces when I messed up. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Steve let out a long breath, leaning back against the wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “It’s not about fixing anything, Buck. It’s not about me, either.” His lips curved into a sad smile. “She chose you. She’s always chosen you, even when she didn’t know it.”

Bucky’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, his knuckles whitening. “And you? You’re just supposed to what? Move on? Pretend it doesn’t hurt?”

Steve let out a dry, humorless laugh. “What else is there to do? You think I haven’t known all these years? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Buck. The way you look at her.” He glanced down at his boots, his voice dipping lower. “I never stood a chance. Not really. But I always held out hope.”

Bucky flinched at his words, his chest tightening painfully. “Steve…”

“Don’t,” Steve said, his tone firm but not unkind. He looked up, his blue eyes steady despite the sadness swimming in them. “You don’t have to apologize for loving her, Buck. You think I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in your shoes?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered but understood. Bucky’s head dipped, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked finally, his voice quiet, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Steve hesitated, then offered a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll get there,” he said honestly. “It’s not easy, but it’s not supposed to be. Just… don’t screw this up, okay? She deserves someone who’s all in. Someone who won’t run the second it gets messy.”

Bucky let out a small, broken laugh, his eyes glistening under the streetlights. “I won’t. I promise. She’s it for me, Steve.”

Steve nodded, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall. “Good. Then do right by her.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, his grip firm but brief, and took a step back toward the bar. “Now get inside before she starts thinking we’re out here plotting something.”

Bucky watched as Steve turned and walked back toward the entrance, his silhouette illuminated by the warm glow of the bar lights. The tension in his chest eased slightly, but the weight of their conversation lingered.

“Steve,” Bucky called after him, his voice steady but earnest.

Steve paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Bucky said simply, the word carrying more weight than he could ever fully express.

Steve’s lips twitched into a small, genuine smile. “Always, Buck.”

And with that, he disappeared into the bar, leaving Bucky standing alone under the stars, more determined than ever not to let Steve—or you—down.

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft golden glow across the apartment. The city was still waking up, the distant hum of life filtering through the cracks of the world outside. Inside, everything was still—quiet but warm.

You shuffled out of your room, still in your oversized sleep shirt and fuzzy socks, rubbing your eyes as the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you. The sight that greeted you was enough to make your heart do a little flip.

Bucky was standing at the stove, shirtless, his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was a mess of soft waves from sleep, and he had one hand on the frying pan, the other holding a spatula as he carefully flipped pancakes. The muscles in his back flexed with every movement, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in.

“You’re staring, doll,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep but tinged with amusement. He didn’t even turn around; he just knew you were there.

You smirked, padding over to the counter where the coffee pot sat waiting. “What gave it away?”

“I’ve got a sixth sense when it comes to you.” He glanced over his shoulder, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Or maybe I just heard you stumble into the wall on your way out here.”

You rolled your eyes, pouring yourself a mug of coffee. “It’s too early for you to start with me, Barnes.”

“Never too early,” he shot back, returning his attention to the pancakes. “Besides, you love it.”

“Debatable,” you teased, taking a sip of your coffee. You leaned against the counter, watching him move with ease around the kitchen. “What’s all this, anyway?”

“Thought I’d make you breakfast,” he said, plating a stack of pancakes and setting them on the counter. “Figured it’s the least I can do since you’re stuck with me as a roommate.”

You raised an eyebrow, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Oh, so now you’re trying to bribe me into keeping you around?”

Bucky smirked, finally turning to face you, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “Something like that. Is it working?”

You pretended to think about it, twirling a piece of pancake on your fork. “Hmm… I don’t know. You do hog the covers at night.”

“Lies,” he countered, stepping closer and leaning against the counter beside you. “You’re the one who turns into a human burrito and leaves me with, like, a sliver of blanket.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” you admitted with a laugh. “But you snore.”

He laughed, his head tilting back, and the sound was so pure, so carefree, it made your chest ache in the best way. “I do not snore.”

“Do too.”

“You’re imagining it, baby,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Admit it—you just like having me close.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

You didn’t deny it. Instead, you nudged him with your shoulder, breaking the momentary tension with a grin. “What’s the plan for guys’ night tonight?”

“Sam’s got some stupid idea about poker and whiskey,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Probably just gonna end with Steve lecturing us about the health risks of drinking too much.”

“And you’ll love every second of it,” you teased, taking another bite of pancake.

As you leaned back against the counter, sipping the last of your coffee, Bucky nudged your hip with his. “What’s the plan for girls’ night? Anything exciting, or is it just the usual chaos?”

You grinned, setting your mug down. “The usual. Probably face masks, way too much wine, maybe even a terrible rom-com. It’s a sacred tradition.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds dangerous. You think you’ll bring up the whole Steve and Natasha thing?”

You froze for a second, his question catching you off guard. “Why would you think I’d bring that up?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He shot you a look, one eyebrow arching. “Oh, come on. I know you. It’s been bugging you since the bar last night. You think I didn’t see the way you were watching them? Your eyes were practically glued to them.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well… maybe I will. She used to do it to me all the time, so I think it’s only fair.”

“Do you, though?” Bucky asked, leaning a little closer. His voice was softer now, less teasing and more thoughtful. “Do you think it’s fair to poke at her about it?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s with the sudden wisdom, Barnes?”

He smirked, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying, Nat’s not you. You’ve always been a little more… open about your feelings. She keeps her cards close, you know? You might not get the reaction you’re hoping for.”

“I’m not hoping for a reaction,” you said, though even you didn’t sound convinced. “I just… I don’t know, Buck. I’ve been thinking about how much she must’ve been holding in, how long she’s felt that way about Steve. And now I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before.”

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, grounding. “You’re not an idiot. You were caught up in your own stuff. Nat’s good at hiding things—trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of that more times than I can count.”

You sighed again, the weight of everything settling in your chest. “I just feel like I should say something, you know? Like, if I don’t, it’s like I’m ignoring it. And she deserves more than that.”

Bucky tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Just… be careful, okay? Nat’s not as tough as she makes herself seem sometimes. She’s been there for you through a lot, and I know you want to be there for her. Just… don’t push too hard.”

You nodded, his words sinking in. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he teased, grinning. “I’m always right.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Barnes.”

“Hey,” he said, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re the one who’s stuck with me now, sweetheart. Might as well get used to it.”

You tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his. “Oh, I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I won’t call you out on your nonsense.”

“Fair enough,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Now, promise me you won’t stir the pot too much tonight?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “No promises.”

“Figures,” he muttered, shaking his head with mock exasperation.

As he turned back to the sink to rinse the dishes, you watched him for a moment, a warm, contented feeling blooming in your chest. It was moments like this—simple, easy mornings together—that made everything else feel worth it.

And tonight? Tonight you’d handle Natasha in your own way. You just hoped she’d be ready for it.

[planetdream]

striped carnations.

characters. hwang hyunjin, reader, lee minho + special guests

genre. angst, flower shop!au. words. 5.6k

synopsis. upon hearing the news that your boyfriend is going to propose to you, hyunjin realizes that he's had feelings for you all along

fic contents: hyunjin is both a chronic overthinker and a hopeless romantic. needless pining. angst. heartbreak. talks of marriage and relationships. suggestive content: hookups; heavy make out + implied drunk sex.

💌 if you think you've seen this before, it's because you have! I deleted it like a month ago lmao....but here it is again <3

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a big fan of flowers. A flower can describe the emotions behind every pivotal moment in one’s lifetime—a wedding, a funeral, graduation, or a life-changing event—though not limited to only those situations; Hyunjin's love for, and belief in flowers reaches across all occasions and sentiments. His admiration of flowers as a whole goes beyond the smell, or how visually pleasing and/or vibrant in color they look. Flowers allow him to express feelings that he feels words simply cannot—even if no one else around him understands it in the way he does. Hyunjin loves flowers because of the stories you can tell with them, and thus, he chooses to document his life with flowers. 

As a small child, Hyunjin would pick flowers at the park for his mother; or one of his various personal art projects. A bundle of flowers bunched up in his tiny little hands as he ran to his mother with the widest, dimpled grin he could make. To his mother, the flowers are a sweet sentiment of his admiration towards the woman raising him. However, to Hyunjin they meant so much more than that—a physical manifestation of a deep awareness that he couldn’t find the words to explain until he matured as a person. This habit of gifting flowers out of pure emotion was probably the one constant in his life other than the crushing weight of heartbreak. 

Heartbreak is much like flowers. It has so many different colors and feels, it takes on a multitude of shapes and smells—and it is pretty easy to romanticize. 

When Hyunjin was in kindergarten, he gifted a daisy to a girl he had a small crush on. She ended up stomping on them, but that didn’t stop little Hyunjin from pining after her. The tradition of Hyunjin picking flowers as a romantic gesture continued in a slightly different way as he got older, and the helpless pining after something unattainable never stopped. Coincidentally, a few of his exes are named after flowers—the unfortunate downside of that is that it still pains him to look at whatever flower the ex had been named after, even if they ended the relationship on good terms. 

These are some moments and beliefs that have shaped Hyunjin—and his future. 

In the second to last year of his high school career, Hyunjin began working at a flower shop close to his childhood home. Morning Glory Floral—located between a convenience store and a bookstore (both of which are frequented by Hyunjin)—is a tiny little flower shop that Hyunjin knows like the back of his hand. He’d originally started out as a cashier and order taker until he eventually worked his way up to being one of three floral designers at the shop. 

He typically runs the shop most days of the week, opening in the early morning and closing in the late afternoon unless he happens to work Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—on those days the store is open until 7PM. Hyunjin usually arrives an hour, or sometimes two, before the shop opens just to get a headstart on things. He prints out invoices, splitting the orders between their type—local, domestic/international; additionally divided between funeral, wedding, and those non-applicable—as well as making sure pre-made flower arrangements are ready for pickup. The shop is fairly busy on a normal day (although that typically comes down to season), therefore, a lot of Hyunjin’s time during the day is making sure things are running smoothly and without delay. 

Floral design is an art. One of the many forms of art and creative expression that Hyunjin excels within. In his mind, floral design can easily be compared to architecture or interior design (both Hyunjin contemplated as career options). The vase is the foundation—who or what is this flower arrangement for? What color helps express the emotions behind the arrangement? Then—what flowers should be used (if the customer doesn’t have a request)? What should be the focal flower that grabs people's attention? Do the flowers chosen represent the overall message? Which filler flowers and greenery should be used? The shape of the arrangement matters too. As do a lot of other minuscule details. 

The details are important to him. Making sure the customer is satisfied with his creation is easy, hardly anything to worry about, but making sure that he’s satisfied with the work he’s done is an entirely different thing. A simple glance at Hyunjin creating a flower arrangement and it doesn’t seem like it takes too much time or energy. He moves in fluid movements, placing one flower after the other, a blank expression on his face. In reality, it’s a time-consuming process and it takes a lot of thought and precision to create the arrangements he does. Still, his hard work pays off greatly. He didn’t know he’d be where he is today, but he’s great at what he does—which is why people always come back. 

His favorite floral arrangements to make are the ones that have to do with romantic love—a date, wedding, or anniversary—since Hyunjin feels it gives him a lot more freedom for creative expression. Like floral design, love is of significant importance to Hyunjin, especially romantic love. Seeing people express their love and admiration for each other via flowers is beautiful to him, as he is a hopeless romantic after all. 

A small order of carnations arrived at the shop one morning. Unmarked and not on any receipt nor written in any book. Carnations are typically cut flowers (as in, used for decorative purposes), so consequently, it’s not unlikely for the shop to have extra, especially since Felix, one of the other floral designers, loves to use them for arrangements. The flowers catch Hyunjin’s eye in particular, not only because they’re striped carnations, but because there are three of them, obviously not enough to do much with unless for a small arrangement. 

Felix, as full of knowledge as he is, once explained to Hyunjin that during the Victorian era, carnations were used to speak very straightforwardly. Unlike other flowers that have many different, complicated, and often overlapping meanings, carnations could be used to respond to something—like a love proposal. If one was asking another for their hand in marriage, the recipient of the proposal may respond with a yes by giving the proposer a solid color carnation, such as pink, white, or even red; however, the yellow carnations mean no. Striped carnations generally mean a refusal of love, almost regrettably so. I love you, but I cannot be with you. A message that Hyunjin is more than familiar with. 

Perhaps it’s an omen. A sign that he’s going to fall headfirst into another relationship resulting in yet another heartbreak. A sign that if he falls for someone again, he may not get back up this time. Hyunjin often wonders if fate is real—he knows it is, he can feel that it's real—but has he been fated to fall in love over and over again just to reach the same emotionally catastrophic end that he always does? Maybe he did something in a past life that would warrant this anguish.

He shakes the thought from his mind, for the time being, choosing instead to blissfully and ignorantly fall victim to his subconscious. He won’t admit it out loud, and when the thought arises, he pushes it out of his mind in embarrassment, but Hyunjin loves the feeling of heartbreak. It stings. In both the worst way and the best way. And while he genuinely does hate heartbreak, it’s almost like he’s addicted to it. 

And then the bell of the door rings, signaling to Hyunjin that there’s a new customer. He looks up from behind the counter and his eyes meet Lee Minho, your boyfriend. 

You and Hyunjin had met in the fourth grade. It can only be described now, all of these years later, as an instantaneous click. You both felt comfortable with each other and eventually opted to do everything together, very soon becoming the best of friends. From grade school to adulthood, you’ve kept a secure friendship. Confiding in each other about everything—when one of you is low, the other is sure to pick them up. 

There’s a sheepish smile on Minho’s face as he approaches the counter. The expression takes Hyunjin aback. The smile is surprising because Hyunjin swears that the older man typically has a permanent scowl on his face. Hyunjin greets him, giving a small smile and a wave. 

“Need flowers for a date?” Hyunjin asks, fixing his standing posture. 

“For something better actually,” Minho’s smile grows wider, as if he cannot contain it. Hyunjin thinks this might be the biggest smile he’s ever seen across Minho’s face. Minho places his hands onto the cold surface of the counter, lightly tapping in it. “I’m proposing this weekend.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops in awe. Never had he thought Minho was a man interested in marriage. Not only that, this means he’d be losing his best friend to married life. Next thing he knows, you’ll start having kids! His mind begins to race around, unforgiving. 

When Hyunjin the two of you were younger, you and Hyunjin would talk about your hopes and aspirations for the future. Of course, the topic of marriage and creating a family entered the conversation. You expressed that when you truly love someone, there’s no need to get the law involved for a piece of paper. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, he felt that your reasoning was a bit childish, joyous of true, deep love. However, when you told him that though, it put a couple of things into perspective—most significantly, how you and Hyunjin are opposites. Hyunjin aches to get married and wants a few children too, he thinks the idea is beautiful. Still, for Hyunjin, the possibility of him actually getting married feels too far-fetched; unimaginable, and unattainable. Would anyone love him enough to want to marry him?

Minho breaks Hyunjin away from the depth of his mind. “I was thinking of a nice bouquet to give them, and you’re my guy for that.” 

Hyunjin exhales as he looks at Minho. He can’t even crack a small smile. He feels he should be happy—but something within him feels wrong. Someone dear to his heart is getting married and he can’t even pretend to be excited. He should be happy for you. He knows he should be happy for you; but he cannot find happiness within himself at all at this moment. 

Hyunjin and Minho aren’t exactly friends. Had it not been for you, they doubt they would have even crossed paths. It’s not that Hyunjin doesn’t like Minho, he’s a cool, upstanding guy; but is he worth being your boyfriend? Let alone, is he worth being your husband? In Hyunjin’s perspective, absolutely not. Sure, from the things you tell him, Minho treats you with love, care, and the utmost respect, but Hyunjin thinks there’s something…off about him, even after four years of you and Minho being together. From Minho’s perspective, it’s obvious that Hyunjin has a crush on you. He’s teased you about it multiple times, but to you it seems highly unlikely that your best friend since practically forever would be in love with you—but it happens. 

“Here, I’ll show you the ring.” Minho fishes into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a black velvet box. He opens the box, places it on the counter, and turns it to Hyunjin. 

The ring is gorgeous. Hyunjin can tell it’s been updated and has had a few repairs, probably a ring kept within the family. He knows this because after looking at so many rings, both through work and in his own free time (self-admittedly pathetic of him to just go looking for engagement rings and wedding bands while he’s desperately single), he’s starting to notice the small differences. 

“Wow.” Is the only thing that leaves Hyunjin’s mouth. 

Minho continues to talk, but it all goes in one ear and out of the other. Hyunjin is lost within his head. One thought after another, layering and locking himself within his own mind. Hyunjin remains on auto-pilot for the rest of his conversation with Minho. Towards the end of it, Hyunjin fishes out the most pathetic fake smile he possibly could. Hyunjin, per usual, promises to do his best at making the best floral arrangement he possibly can. Before he leaves, Minho says something to Hyunjin that sticks with him for the rest of his day. 

“They’ve always liked your arrangements, so just do what you do best. I trust you.”

The carnations are back. Another three. 

Coincidentally, they arrived on the same day that Hyunjin has to create the floral arrangement for Minho’s proposal. Hyunjin can’t lie, while this project was constantly on his mind; subconsciously putting all the pieces together one by one—he absolutely put the entire thing off until the last minute. Hyunjin has never once dreaded coming into work until now. Just the thought of working on the arrangement makes him sick to his stomach. But now there’s no more time left. 

Everything that Hyunjin needs for the making of the arrangement is spread out right in front of him. 

He chooses a white vase as the foundation—white, along with being a symbol of purity or innocence, is also a symbol of new beginnings and marriage, the latter representing what the arrangement means as a whole—sleek and rounded in an hourglass shape. Usually, for engagement bouquets, Hyunjin uses a clear vase to ensure that the flowers stay healthy and alive (of course while being taken care of). However, neither you nor Minho are any good when it comes to taking care of flowers, so Hyunjin figures he can do whatever he wants when it comes to his creation.

The foliage comes first—Hyunjin preps the stems, pulling off the lower leaves that might hang in the water, clipping the ends off the stems before they dive into the water. Floral arranging is not only art, it’s a science. The plants have to be inserted into the vase at an angle so that the arrangement can take shape. The arrangement needs to be balanced and colorful, preferably. Vase arrangements require layering, it’s easier to start with the heavier flowers first; two red chrysanthemums on opposing sides. He cuts the stems so that the flowers hang low in the vase, almost acting as a focal point if not for his statement flowers. 

As a standard for his arrangements and bouquets, Hyunjin chooses flowers that signify love and new beginnings. He also needs to make sure that the flowers he chose actually look nice in the bouquet, as if not, he feels the need to completely start over.

As he works on his creation, Hyunjin allows himself to get lost within his thoughts. Everytime someone comes into the shop, a smile on their face as they’re picking out flowers for their lover; Hyunjin feels something within him break, just a tiny crack at the surface of his identity. For a brief moment, with his work, he’s allowed to peak into the lives—the relationships—of others. Everything from the great moments of excitement to the bad moments that hope and pray to be forgiven. All of it sends Hyunjin spiraling into the depths of his memory. 

He remembers his high school years. Going back to classes after the summer he hit a growth spurt. His voice got a bit deeper, too. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Hyunjin was desirable. Shy as he was, he enjoyed it. And after a few experiences, he’d seemingly gotten over his timid behavior, though still introverted. It was a strange time. He remembers falling deep into infatuation only for things to not pan out. Before the situationship begins, the sharp sting of heartbreak lingers. 

Just a few months back, Hyunjin got his heart broken yet again when his now ex-girlfriend left him to get back with her ex; some total loser named Changbin, of whom she had been originally dating sometime before Hyunjin. It’s not you, it’s me, she said. I just don’t feel the same as you, she said. Maybe we’ll meet later in life, or in the next, she said. He knew she didn’t mean it. That she was just feeding into his past-life and karmic romantic ideologies to lessen the blow. Within that same week (at minimum, three days later), he sees a mutual friend post a picture from a double date including said ex and her boyfriend. 

It stung. Badly. And he’s over it now. In fact, he’s so over it that he can hardly remember her name. Sooyun? Miyeong? See? He can’t remember it. It wasn’t the worst breakup that Hyunjin has experienced. Not by a mile. The worst actually was a couple of years ago, his longest relationship which lasted a year exactly, getting betrayed on the one-year anniversary of their one-sided love. The memory still stings, so Hyunjin prefers not to talk about it—but once it comes time for self-reflection, he thinks of the memories in awe—sickly attached to the distant memory of something that failed to work out. What if? He thinks. 

But three months (yeah, his most recent relationship was only three months; yes, he’s still a bit broken) with someone—constantly talking to them, getting acquainted with their lifestyle, seeing them often, kissing them, feeling them—changes a person; for better or for worse. So, Hyunjin is lucky he got out of it with only hurt feelings. A faint tug at his heart and, understandably, anger surrounding the situation, if anything. Nothing unmanageable that he can’t work or date away. 

Past relationships have driven him into a slump. Depressed and unable to create or live, even, until he finds himself somewhere within the next person—both metaphorically and actually—when he’s really at his worst; the ‘best’ thing to do is to relieve his stress by burying himself inside of someone in an effort to escape intense personal feelings. This occasionally backfires whenever he catches feelings for whoever he fucks and the cycle repeats itself. Over and Over. An unfortunate life lesson that Hyunjin has to continue repeating: spiritually, possibly due to the sins made in a past life; but actually, because he rarely ever learns from past mistakes, especially if it has to do with romance. 

Hyunjin, is, quite simply, a hopeless romantic in every sense of the term, but at a specific level of naivety. Aching to see the good in people or a situation even if it has near-disastrous results to his psyche. Before even speaking to someone, he’d have already envisioned their first few dates, their marriage, and growing old together. It embarrasses him badly. And no matter how many times he has to sit down with himself, reminding himself to calm down, that he should take things slowly, he’s already experiencing heartbreak. 

He’s tried the dating scene multiple times since this most recent breakup. A few dates here and there, and more than a few hook-ups as well (What can he say? He’s a single man). He was mostly encouraged by other friends, and you, to reopen his Tinder account and get back out there. And Hyunjin, easily influenced, did just that. It didn’t last long though, simply due to the fact that he found himself bored almost immediately after each date or hookup. He’s simply wandering through life, boldly yet blindly, without inspiration. 

Then he feels that spark. It’s just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his creation. 

That very familiar, almost sickening spark deep within his soul that he found himself craving after going so long without. Feelings. Of the romantic variety. For you. He can say that he initially realized them during a party hosted by a friend of a friend. You were surrounded by some of your close friends, drinking, and smiling all pretty as you do; and that’s when it started. It was like the universe expanded in a way that could be physically felt—similar to that of an out of body experience—an intensity that feels so right. He could damn near feel the temperature changing in the room due to some kind of universal shift. The vibrations of the music gets heavier, and the chatter of people blurs together—time slows down but is going all too fast. 

But perhaps he’s had these feelings for you for a while now. Maybe since you first met as children. Hiding them deep within himself. Covering up his feelings by searching for you through countless other people. Perhaps it is why many of his relationships never work out. 

It has to be fate calling out to him. Hyunjin clings to this thought and the feeling that it gives him.

Hyunjin questions himself like he does every time he realizes that he has feelings for someone. What do I like about them? He ponders it. Though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. Everything. He likes everything about you. From the way you type on your phone to how you order food at restaurants. He loves how concentrated you get when reading something and he likes how you walk a little weirdly. He likes your opinions and the way you see the world. Those small, specific things that make you who you are, are what Hyunjin loves. You as a person, inside and out. The good and the bad. All desirable and undesirable things. 

This is bad. Really bad. The realization feels bad. 

Hyunjin has had feelings for tons of his friends before. He never tells them, but if he does—because hey, life is short—then it never goes past a -with-benefits label. His friends mean a lot to him, and while a romance could strengthen a relationship, it could also weaken one. Some people are meant to stay friends. Perhaps that could change between you two. But it cannot. Hyunjin remembers one little fact: you are in a committed relationship. Of four years. With Lee Minho of all people. 

What does Lee Minho have that Hyunjin doesn’t? He’s just as pretty. Just as charming. And he’s a few centimeters taller. Plus, he’s known you longer than Minho has. If anything happens, you’d certainly pick Hyunjin, right? But Minho wants to marry you and Hyunjin doubts himself as being ready for that type of commitment even though he craves it desperately. 

By the time that Hyunjin has finally finished the final pieces of the floral arrangement and sneaks away from his thoughts, Minho saulters into the store. Speak of the devil. 

He’s smiling just as wide as he had days ago. Tonight is the night that he proposes, Minho informs Hyunjin. To which, Hyunjin congratulates Minho—but he hopes that you say no. He prays that you say no and, just to add insult to injury, you laugh in Minho’s face, despite how crude it’d be. In the pit of his stomach, though, he knows that you’ll say yes to Minho.

Minho leaves with the flowers after a few minutes of chatter; but not before he pays and leaves quite a hefty tip. 

The rest of Hyunjin’s day goes by dryly. A permanent pout rests on his face, as noticed by his coworkers. He’ll just shyly smile so as to not cause any worry. Hyunjin remains on autopilot. Smiling, talking to his regulars and answering the questions he might receive throughout the day. For the most part, though, he retreats to the dark and cozy area of his mind. 

—

He decides to take a refreshing walk back home. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk, and he does it often. More time to think. His headphones are tight against his ears, but not uncomfortable. Hyunjin initially chooses to blast a soft, slow tempoed song before he switches to something more heavy and aggravated. 

The music is cut and a millisecond later, his phone rings. It’s you. Oh, god. You’re going to rub your relationship in his face. 

When Hyunjin answers it, there’s an, albeit fake, smile on his face as if you could see him, and he begins to speak in a typical cheery tone. He’s cut off by a sob. He can’t understand a thing you’re saying and he panics. He stops in his tracks, hand curling to grasp at air in a panic. His eyes widen while he searches for any thought in his brain to console you. 

“Are you home? I’ll be on my way, okay?” He informs you, voice filled with worry. “We can stay on the line until I get there.”

And he stays on the phone with you until he reaches his home; and then the entire fifteen-block walk to your place. Avoiding the eyes of those who wonder whether he might be talking to himself. He hurries, speed walking the entire way—and almost sprinting at one point when your sobs had suddenly gotten worse—in order to reach your apartment in less time than it would usually take. 

He’s buzzed into your building and within a few seconds he’s at the door of your apartment. He doesn’t need to knock, as you open it immediately. Tears are staining your cheeks and you walk up to hug Hyunjin, not bothering to welcome him into your home. 

Now, everything is seemingly on pause, and Hyunjin is comforting you through your own heartbreak. Once again, time is both slowed down and sped up—he’s present but still lost in his head somewhere. Still, he waddles the both of you into your apartment, and kicks the door closed with his foot. 

He notices the flower arrangement he’d made just hours prior, sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Hyunjin questions. Dealing with those emotions, especially right after they surface, is difficult, and the last thing Hyunjin wants to do is push you into speaking about it—he knows the fresh wounds of a heartbreak all too well. So, he remains by your side, patient, and comforting until—if—you decide to speak. 

The two of you begin rocking side to side slowly. It’s soothing, and you’re able to speak just quietly. 

“Well, he proposed,” His stomach turns, tightening to the point where he becomes nauseous for a moment. Hyunjin even nearly rolls his eyes, but the thing that relieves him is the reason he’s here—obviously you turned Minho down. That, or Minho dropped dead; but that’s not as likely. Yet, the thing that nearly makes Hyunjin sicker is how much he hates that he’s happy that you declined the proposal. 

“And I declined. I-I said I wasn’t ready for marriage yet. Told him I wish we had discussed it a bit more before he did anything so we’d be on the same page. B-but I begged for us to stay together and he said… he said he couldn’t do it.” 

You bury your head in Hyunjin’s chest, weeping a bit more. 

“I know it hurts,” His words get lost in his mind somewhere, feeling as though he isn’t adequate enough to comfort you. 

“It hurts so bad.” You grab his hoodie with your fist tightly, twisting and tugging at it. 

“Let’s just cry it out. That always helps me.” He suggests, hand running up and down your back. 

“Cry with me? Like that scene in Midsommar?” You laugh through your sobs despite the hurt you’re in. Not that it matters to Hyunjin, of course. You can feel him laugh and, fortunately, it makes you smile. 

“Only if you want me to.” He unknowingly returns the smile. You don’t respond, but you ponder it—even as just a joke. 

The room falls silent but the silence is comfortable. That’s what you love about being around Hyunjin. You intrigue him, and while he always wants to know what’s going on in your mind, he never pressures you to speak. Sometimes, we learn more about ourselves—and to an extent, other people—through silence. 

The hug breaks. You fail to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. You walk off to sit in the living room and Hyunjin goes to get water for the both of you. He sets the glasses of water down and takes a seat next to you. 

“Where is he?” Hyunjin asks. His palms are sweaty, so he wipes them onto his jeans.

Your frown somehow deepens before you speak. “Went to stay with his parents.”

Silence. Hyunjin can tell that you’re lost in thought. He feels a bit odd. Individually, you both have gone through a significant amount of breakups; but each one is different from the last. It’s been so long since you’ve had your heart broken. To see you like this after so long—eyes red and puffy with a tear stained face, bottom lip quivering as you try to console yourself—it breaks Hyunjin. He does what you would do for him. 

“What will help take your mind away?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. 

You ponder for a moment. “Remember back in February when you and Miyeong broke up? The sleepover we had while Minho was away? We stayed up all night eating snacks and watching romance movies,” 

He nods. Despite being deeply hurt to the point he got sick, the latter part of that week was one of the most enjoyable times that he’d had in forever. The two of you ate, drank, cried, and watched cheesy romantic movies (to which Hyunjin cried more). Through the stuffy fog that is heartbreak, Hyunjin was reminded that, sometimes, life isn’t so bad. 

“What if we did that again for a couple of days?”

Hyunjin ponders it, considers it, but… “We both have work.” He pouts.

“Not tomorrow, though. I just don’t want to be alone right now,” You need him. A crutch. A support system. And you know he’ll never let you down. “Plus, you act like you haven’t stayed over for long periods of time before! Remember the time that Jisung refused to shower out of spite so you slept over here?”

Hyunjin lets out a short chuckle. He knows that when he goes back to his apartment, it’ll be left a mess. But for you, he doesn’t mind cleaning up after Jisung. “Fine. But only because I love you and I want you to feel better, loser.”

—

“You just have to find your thing, you know?” Hyunjin takes another shot. Neither of you are sure just how many you’ve both had. 

“Like, you know, my thing is art, and flowers and, you know, expressing myself with them. It’s the one thing I can always come back to and feel good about. Not betrayed, not hurt, or anything. But good. That shop—god—it’s like the one place in this world that’s for me.”

He’s venting now. He shouldn’t be. This is all about you. Tonight is all about you. So he cuts himself short, words still lingering on the tip of his tongue. There’s a momentary silence, eventually broken by you.

“Are you implying that you want to fuck your flower shop?”

“Wha…? No! I’m just saying…I’m trying to help you!” His ears become red.

“Hm. Not sure. Sounds like you’re confessing your love for your job,” Hyunjin looks at you with a face full of temporary disgust. “I’m jooking! Find my thing, something to express myself with, I know, I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be.”

Silence once again occupies the room, planting itself comfortably between you and Hyunjin. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. You do, though. 

“You know what’s kinda funny?” 

“Hm?”

“Minho used to mention, from time to time, how he believed you had a crush on me,” You smile. Hyunjin, however, is caught off guard, eyebrows raised with his eyes slightly wide. “I would always laugh it off but part of me kept thinking What If?”

“What if I had been with you instead of Minho. I mean, you wouldn’t propose to me without having a simple fucking conversation, right?” You ramble on. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.” “Two secrets! It’s actually two secrets!”

“One,” You tilt your head to smile at Hyunjin. “I had the biggest crush on you for years. But I was so hurt because you kept going after literally every fucking body else. Wish you had paid attention to me.”

“And Two!” You continue, not as sad. Ignoring the previous sentences that came from your mouth. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Would you let me?”

He can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth. For a moment, Hyunjin feels ill. He’d somehow missed the signs. You wanted him, too. His eyebrows string together in a brief expression of sadness. He shakes it away. Hyunjin nods and leans in, his eyes close and he puckers his lips. Within a second, he feels your lips on his and then your hand on his thigh. 

Sparks. That’s the only way that Hyunjin can describe it. Your mouth is warm, wet and Hyunjin can only melt into you. The two of you melt into each other. Lips mashed together as your tongues slip into each other's mouths, swapping spit. At this point it’s more than kissing. It’s heavy and messy. It’s full of hurt and passion and the feeling of being missed. Or having something missed out on. Uncertainty. Neither of you have come up for air to interrupt the makeout session. Losing yourselves within each other's mouths—lips and tongue, occasional teeth. 

You end up climbing atop of him to straddle. Breaking the kiss to pin Hyunjin to the floor. You stare down at him, searching within his eyes. “Do you want me?”

“So much.” The two words leave Hyunjin’s mouth desperately. He’s in anguish. 

He tries to sit up, to chase your lips but he’s properly pinned. You plant one soft kiss against his lips. You stand, beckoning Hyunjin to follow you to your room; disappearing into the hallway. And Hyunjin does just that; leaving his sober self to pick up the pieces of a drunken, immoral night. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[enby-ralsei]

you have activated my trap card (worldbuilding and extensive headcanons in bizlys world)

First, about Mr. Extraordinary Lougferd. He is a sort of Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Elon Musk sort of man in my head. He is a millionaire, and he can use that money to fund whatever he wants. He can use that money to fund bills that work in his favor. Laws that will require his inventions, laws that deregulate production, laws that keep people quiet. And this sort of person very likely doesn't see children as people, but as property. Troy is not a son, he's an heir. He must be fit enough to take over the company, the clockwork soldiers, when his father retires from public view. And for that, he must be smart and able to engineer upgrades for these soldiers. Or at least a good enough leader to have others do so for him. And he has neither of these qualities at the moment, which makes his father well and truly upset. He is 25 and neither a mechanical wiz nor a up-and-coming business leader. He is a disappointment and not what Mr. Lougferd wanted, which he made abundantly clear. Troy is not quite banned from the Lougferd estate, but knows that he will be questioned and grilled upon arrival as to if he has somehow become a miracle-child overnight.

The Overseer simply oversees the Wondrous Trade Company. This is a segment of the government that publicly deals with trade deals, especially that of food trades. Privately, of course, it is much different. There are so many above him because he's not the whole government of wonder. this is one branch, one department, and he probably isn't even be the top of that branch. He could easily be the one that oversees the Inventor project.

as for the guards being chill with rat and owl folk, they were heavily covered with scarves, so they probably could barely see any defining features that would make them recognizable, especially in Runt's case because her ears are easily hidden in a hood/hat. And for the general populace, I'm gonna base it off of my reaction if i, personally, were to see an owl-human hybrid. Which is confusion, and then acceptance. If you have ever seen the walrus/fairy at your doorstep debate, very similar to that. Fairies are real? okay, slightly jarring, but I will change my worldview accordingly.

I have more (eventually) but I need to go to class </3

wonderlust took a while to really pull me in but now. what is with the weird sociopolitical climate of this world. "The Overseer" is a big menacing final boss sounding title but according to pinch there are dozens of people above him. why is there a thick fog blocking off the island from the rest of the world. people in wonder arent meant to know about reclaim but all of the overseer's guards were completely chill with rat and bird people. WHY are there animal people living under this random ass island where did they come from. where did the humans come from. why does bizly keep randomly mentioning troys dad but keep going "but theres a lot to unpack there so you dont want to visit just yet". why did the overseer take one look at blink and immediately fall head over heels for Owl Man. is runt about to die

[killerlookz]

i hope this doesn’t put any pressure on you because its not meant to at all but can u give us a preview of anything in your drafts 🥲

yes! absolutely i can <3 here's an extra long preview bc i haven't published anything in a hot min:

preview of the heartbeat!au "honeymoon phase" fic:

warnings: rpf below, do not proceed if you dont fw that but this is in rpf tags so why were you even here to begin with

The light of your phone sears into your eyes, a start contrast from the dark of your bedroom. By now your circadian rhythm undoubtedly in deep disarray. However bad you knew staying up way into the early hours of the morning was, you couldn't seem to rip yourself from the distraction of the blue light, perfectly coded algorithms keeping your anxieties at bay.

For the last week of your life your usual peaceful sleep had been ripped through by horrific nightmares, leading you to prefer to just skip sleeping all together. Of course, you knew that wasn't exactly possible, but maybe if you could just avoid falling asleep until the sun came up you could finally be freed of those dreaded night terrors.

The mattress dips beside you, a groan falling from Joost's lips, peacefully asleep next to you. It had been hours since you had said goodnight to each other, since he kissed you with the promise that you two would soon would be deep in slumber. You hadn't bothered to tell him about your nightmare issue, it had felt so childish. You had only been together for a few months now, your relationship seeming far too fresh to deal out what you had deemed "embarrassing" information. Besides, what was he to do about that? It wasn't like he had the power to change the workings of your subconscious mind.

The comforter slips from Joost's shoulders as he shuffles in his sleep, rolling from one side to another, now facing you. You finally pull yourself from your endless scrolling, turning your head to get a look at Joost. He's illuminated just right by the sliver moonlight that peaks through your curtains. The corners of your mouth peak in a slight smile, a rush a warmth running through you as your eyes finally settle on him.

You couldn't believe your luck with him, desperate for friends outside of your classmates after making the leap of faith to transfer schools and move to a different country for your final year of university. You'd been working as a waitress in Amsterdam, which, all things considered wasn't an ideal position for you, given your less than stellar Dutch, but locals were usually sympathetic to your situation, and tourists hardly spoke Dutch anyway. The day you had met Joost had started as what you had postulated to be the worst shift of your life. Hungover during a rush that seemed to last for hours, constantly seated with the most impossible to please customers. Once you were out of the weeds you had been seated with what you were promised to be your last table of the night, trying your best to suppress a groan and an eye roll as you walked up to the table, your eyes immediately falling to Joost, who had been there with what you would eventually learn were his closest friends.

You had thought you known the type, unruly hair, and scattered tattoos, dressed head-to-toe in Supreme, a cocky smile pressed to his lips. Attractive no doubt, but a type. The type that was undoubtably too interested in the Soundcloud rap scene, probably attempting to make it in that space too as a cheap rip-off of Lil Peep. The type to blow all his money on what streams his mediocre raps did get on box-logo shirts and supreme branded underwear. You could already hear the surface-level introspection of his lyrics, writing about how sad and heartbroken he'd been left by all the girls in his life when in reality he was nothing more than a fuckboy with a shitty nail polish job.

Being young and living in a city you had seen the type before, served the type more than a handful of times since you had started your job. They were always the same, traveled in large groups, like that was their "entourage", usually loud, demanding, and obnoxious, thinking their 2,000 Soundcloud streams, hundred dollar T-shirts and knock-off designer shoes made them a celebrity. They'd flirt with you and act aghast when you dared not to flirt back with them.

You had thought you known the type. But when you had gone up to begin helping his table, your previous perceptions had immediately been shattered- immediately becoming even more attractive upon your realization that he wasn't the worst. There was a quiet flirting underneath his goofy- yet reserved demeanor, the type of flirting you didn't mind and eventually reciprocated when he'd become a regular.

It was apparent that you had gotten the fuckboy thing all wrong. When he had finally got the courage to ask you out he hadn't even seen particularly in a hurry to sleep with you, though that wouldn't stop you from giving it up that night.

As Joost softly snores from beside you, you can't help but want nothing more than to be fitted snuggly between his arms, head pressed to his chest- listening to his heartbeat as you fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. But your current aversion to sleeping aside, you can't bring yourself to potentially wake him to do so.

You take your eyes from him, focusing back on the harsh light that burns into your retinas, continuing your scrolling, barely distracted by another long groan leaving Joost's lips.

"Ga slapen," (go to sleep) His voice surprises you, slow and thick with sleep- you hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Hmm?" You hum, pretending to not have heard him, you set your phone down on the bedside table and focus your attention to Joost.

"Hoe lat is het?" (What time is it?) He yawns, struggling to open his eyes.

You don't want to answer, knowing he'll question you on why you're up so late.

"Go back to sleep," You coo, hoping he'll be tired enough to listen without any resistance. You reach out a hand, slowly carding your fingers through his hair. You lift some pieces that had gotten stuck to his forehead with sweat, Joost was the type to overheat in his sleep, furiously kicking the blankets off of the two of you in the middle of the night, or perhaps worse rolling over onto you while he slept, causing you to suffocate in his humid body heat.

"Nhn, nhn." He tuts, his eyes finally opening entirely, "Je kan niet zomaar (You can't just)- Nhn, You can't just rub my head back to sleep." English finally coming back to him as he sits himself up against the pillows, his head now at your shoulder height in your upright position.

"I tried," A small smile pokes at your lips.

"Why are you awake?" His questioning isn't interrogative, still clearly very sleepy as he nuzzles his head into the pillow, "What time is it?" He asks again.

"I don't know," You mumble, your voice dipping out, answering more-so the latter question.

"You can't lie to me," Joost presses his forehead to your arm, snuggling in to you. How true that was. It surprised you how fast he was able to learn you- the subtleties of your mannerisms, able to pick up on your true emotions from the smallest tells.

"It's late," You simply respond, "I'll go to bed soon." Trying to avoid any further questioning.

"Not soon," Joost whines, his voice stifled by where his lips touch your skin. He throws an arm around the front of you, "Now."

You can't do much besides sigh in response, fidgeting under the comforter to sink down to his level. Your face is right in front of Joost's now, the warmth of his slow breaths ghosting over your skin.

"Sleep now," Joost tightens the arm he had slung around you, using it to pull you closer to him. He's unbearably warm, but you melt into him anyway, turning on your side to press your chest into his.

"I can't."

"Not tired?" Joost asks, "Why not?"

"So tired."

"Then sleep." Joost puckers his lips, barely stretching out his head to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so simple to him just sleep, if only it was that easy for you.

"Can't Joost."

"Why not?" He asks again, pushing harder this time.

"Dunno," You hum, pausing for a moment trying to formulate the least embarrassing way to describe your situation, "Bad dreams I guess, I dunno." You speak quickly, hoping maybe he won't catch all of it, the processes of his brain slowed by sleep.

Joost suddenly becomes more aware, more awake, like you've said some sort of sleeper phrase to activate something in him.

"Could have just told me that, schatje." He coos, it's reassuring, and you suddenly feel so stupid for holding that in. "Could have told me that before I feel asleep without you."

"Seemed stupid." You sigh, pushing your face further into the pillow.

"Not stupid." Joost assures, "What are they about?"

"Don't know. Just- bad."

"I'm sorry." Joost frowns. You feel the arm that he holds around you sneak under the comforter, coming to snake around your torso, his hand pushing into your back to press your body closer to him. The front of your T-shirt no longer just grazing the bare skin of his chest, but rather the two of you have molded into each other. "What can I do?" His lips now pressed against your shoulder from this closer position.

"Nothing,"

"No?" He places a small kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt.

"Not unless you can go into my brain and control my subconscious and make me dream of like puppies and rainbows." You follow with a dry laughter, any real humor stifled by your exhaustion.

"Mmm, if I could I would liefje."

[b-lossm]

•+*I'm high and I'm bi-- WAIT I mean I'm straight*+•

Sevika x highfem!reader

Synopsis: after smoking with her at a party you accidentally tell her you like her because she looks smoking hawt :P

warning: getting high, obviously, but neither of them r stoners, guys tbh idk how to write smoking I dont do it 😭

Also idk if its like clarified but Sevika still has a mech arm, don't ask me how because she's a broke college student

You where invited to this listening party for this music group by Sevika, while asking you for your address she said something about a WolfGang or a WeirdFuture?? idk you don't get it, you where too focused in on the fact that your biggest crush invited you to this party "So I'll pick you up at 6?" she gives you a sly smirk "Oh! um yeah.." you smile awkwardly, your makeup; thankfully, covers up your bright red face, but your ears betray you "you nervous or somethin'?" she moves a little closer, she can smell your vanilla perfume you put on just moments before when you saw her coming, see the tiny, tiny hearts you put at the end of your eyeliner "you smell nice" Sevika chuckles and backs up, starting to walk away "See ya later angel"

oh see her later you did...

When she picked you up you wouldn't have known it but she was giving herself a pep talk, telling herself that she had the responsibility of keeping you all safe and nice, if she didn't the idea of kissing you goodnight was out of the window.

As you put on your shoes and your perfume you hear a knock on the door "Coming!!" rushing over to the door you quickly check yourself in the mirror to make sure you look nice for her while grabbing your purse with the cute little keychains that you and Sevika match with, her's stays on the carabiner that lives on one of the left beltloop of her jeans-- anyways you then open the door to see her in a outfit that matched yours in a more masculine way "oh? so your copying me now Angel?" She teases, resting her arm against the doorframe to lean towards you "o--oh no, um, its okay! I could um change!" bullshit, you had no idea what the freak to wear other then that "Nahh keep it" she chuckles, looking you up and down, stopping at your plush lips "S' real cute.." Sevika stands up straight, leading you to her truck and opening the passengers seat for you, even buckling you in "Ya' ready Angel?" she looks to you for a second before starting her car "um.. yeah!" you smile nervously as you play with the edge of your cardigan "Hey, none of that Angel" Sevika reaches over and offers her hand to play with so you don't mess up your clothes

The drive to the Venue was quiet short, it was filled with you and Sevika talking about random stuff, but eventually it turned into Sevika warning you about what's probably gonna happen at the party "But don't worry Princess, I wont let anyone pressure you into doing stuff you wouldn't wanna" Sevika grabs your hand and squeezes it a few times to reassure you that your safe with her. You look away and giggle softly "Thank you Sevika.." you smile softly at her and squeeze her hand back. You two then pull up to the venue, a warehouse but not the abandoned type "We're here, you still wanna do this Angel?" Sevika checks in on you one last time "Let's go 'Vika" you smile back at her, nerves practically gone as she comes around to your door to unbuckle and help you out

--

Well you never thought you'd be doing this. Currently your cuddled up next to Sevika on this couch outside- away from the noise of this guy singing about Tamales while smoking a blunt one of her friends named Domo rolled "hehehehhe" you giggle at her she can tell-- you are gone "You okay Angel? Having a good trip babes?" she blows smoke from her nose, leaving stars in your eyes "S-Sevikakaaaaaa" you whine "y--your too hot! a--and you keep teasin' me!" she blushes and chuckles "fuck.." she mumbles "Not on purpose Angel" "bullshit" you giggle and cuddle deeper into her, causing her to hoist you up on her lap "agghhghhh you caught me" Sevika blows more smoke out of her nose while chuckling and passing the blunt to you "t-this is m' laaast one.." you giggle and take a puff, knowing that was a lie "H--Hey S'vika...y--ya knnow.....I--I realllly really like you.." you giggle into her neck and pass it back to her.

Sevika's world stops for a second, she had a hunch that you where into girls but always dismissed it, she chuckles and takes it "Oh really? This isn't the Green talking right..? you didn't take anything while I looked away hm?" Sevika starts to rub shapes into your side "n-nuh uh... i- i write about you in my journal like,, like,, everyday" your practically melting into her touch "hmm.. interesting,, I think we should take you home now right Angel?" you whine softly and she coos in your ear "Cant have this Angel not sleeping in her bed hm? I'll get the uber" as she pulls out her phone you tug at her arm "H--hey that guy just said some lyric that is so mee Sevika!" you giggle "M' high and i'm bi" you repeat the line in a sing-song voice "Is that so.." Sevika unfortunately pulls you off of her lap and then guides you to the front towards your uber "Lets go, we can get m' truck tommrow"

--

The next day you wake up with a start, a dry throat and a fuzzy head, and a certain 6 foot woman standing at your doorframe "boo" she chuckles as you jump a little bit "I- um.. I made breakfast" she looks away, "you should come eat before it gets all cold angel.." she walks off into your kitchen with you in tow, smiling as you see the breakfast sandwich she made you two "aww thanks Sevika" you sit next to her, not wanting the table to get in the way of you two "so um.. what happened last night?" 'please don't say we fucked and i don't remember-- please please don't say we fucked and i don't remember--' you repeat in your head as you try to nonchalantly eat your sandwich but you look like a blushing mess "you don't remember?" she smiles teasingly "we got high at this party and you told me you liked me" 'oh fuck that's worse' "O--Oh!" Sevika leans in to kiss your head "Don't worry it was cute.. afterwards we caught an uber and I took off your makeup, changed you then we slept okay? Nothing happened don't worry" chuckling she moves back to eat her sandwich, almost choking on it as she feels your soft lips press against the corner of hers "M' glad that's settled.. thank you for taking such good care of me.." while coughing she looks away "Its um-- noproblemi'lldoanythingforyou" she mumbles and quickly scarfs down her sandwich while you giggle, who knew the scariest senior on campus was such a softie all for you..

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

I love OddFuture :P

upnext

sevika 1

hcs 1

sevika 2

hcs 2

change 3 and possibly 4

sevika 3

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

Saw a post about Mushang and it's similarities to Liushen, then thought about how interesting it would be to have those in the same fic — then I went down a rabbit hole that included Mobing and Gongzhi (for some reason?)

so... here's this plotbunny, it's really fucking long though, sorry!

(oops, it posted before I finished, sorry about that, it's fixed now!)

-

Shang Qinghua knew, theoretically, that his death would be at the hands of Mobei-jun. He knew that when he saved him, he knew that all these years of serving him, but... it's finally sunk in. That Mobei-jun is going to kill him. That the bruises and frostbite and broken bones are all leading up to his death. He wraps another cut and thinks, somewhat deliriously... that maybe he should've killed Mobei-jun on that mission.

Shen Qingqiu knew his fate — the fate of the Scum Villain. He knew that any goodwill he'd built up was destroyed the moment he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss. Knows that all those years of treating him well, only to betray him, may have actually made the situation worse. He thinks back on that day, suddenly realizing that he probably could've made it look like an accident — he could've had Binghe "accidentally" pushed into the Abyss during the chaos, could've faked a Without-A-Cure flare up to excuse his lack of rescue. Maybe, if he'd done that, Binghe would've had mercy.

Their weekly meetings become stilted, their tea goes cold, their snacks uneaten. They don't argue about Airplane's terrible writing, they don't even reminisce over AC or the internet. The air is filled with unease, polluting each of their peaks... until they both snap. They confide in each other, cursing the System, cursing their choices, and try to plan — to dig themselves out of these holes they've dug. The clock is ticking for Binghe's return. Shang Qinghua's wounds are getting worse — he doesn't know if his death will be expedited or delayed at this rate.

And so, they argue and plan and eventually come to a few conclusions...

Shang Qinghua needs the protection of the sect. Needs to confess and beg for Yue Qingyuan's protection as he abandons Mobei-jun. Needs the protection of someone Mobei-jun had no chance of defeating.

Shen Qingqiu, likewise, needs protection — but it's written that Luo Binghe cannot lose, not to anyone in the sect... no one, except for Liu Qingge, who didn't live long enough to fight him, who didn't have a single canonical fight for the world to measure him against. The War God. The one person that wasn't bound by the narrative.

They decide to deal with Shang Qinghua first — Binghe isn't scheduled to leave the Abyss for years, after all. Mobei-jun, however, is a current threat. Every meeting leaves Shang Qinghua with more and more injuries, injuries that the original goods never had to deal with. They don't know if this Mobei-jun is going to follow PIDW's timeline. They don't know how long it'll take before he beats Shang Qinghua to a bloody pulp. After some arguing, it's agreed to come clean to Mu Qingfang first — to test the waters. He's been treating all of Shang Qinghua's wounds since they were disciples, and he'd be good back up if Yue Qingyuan didn't immediately cave to Shen Qingqiu's demands. Of course, Shang Qinghua wouldn't tell the complete truth — no one needed to know that Shang Qinghua spared Mobei-jun because he was hot — but he wouldn't alter the story too much. Better to keep to small lies, easy to keep consistent.

If it goes poorly... they'll just run. They'll abandon the friends and family they've found here, and they'll use whatever plot devices they can find to disguise themselves. The only reason it's not Plan A is because Mobei-jun knows Shang Qinghua's qi signature, and the only artifacts they know that can change qi signatures are... annoying to acquire and dangerous to use.

-

Mu Qingfang isn't surprised when Shang-shixiong shows up with various injuries, absolutely covered in demonic qi. It's routine at this point to sit him down, perform a check up, and ask questions he knows won't be answered. So he does. He heals the cuts and bruises, sets and heals the bones, and does his best to calm the eternally-stressed qi lest his shixiong have a deviation. He asks how this happened, expecting the usual evasive answer (hating that his shixiong is being abused while he does nothing but fix the aftermath), and...

and Shang Qinghua answers.

His shixiong, after years– decades of asking, stutters out an explanation. That he's been a spy for Mobei-jun since that mission where he was the only survivor. That he did it because he was scared, that by the time he was powerful enough to do anything about it, Mobei-jun was a king, and it would probably start a war if he killed him. He says Mobei-jun's been hurting him more often, that he's terrified he's going to die, and Mu Qingfang carefully soothes his shixiong's qi as tears start to fall and he stutters out his plan to team up with Shen-shixiong to tell Zhangmen-shixiong, to beg for forgiveness — for protection, even if it means sitting in a prison cell. He just doesn't want to die.

And in the face of his sobbing shixiong, constantly over-worked and terrified, Mu Qingfang promises to help. Because what else can he do? Turn his back on the shixiong he's been watching slowly fall apart over the decades? The shixiong he's watched go from introverted to downright anxious — the shixiong he's had to pick up and put back together with increasing frequency. Even if he hadn't come clean, Mu Qingfang would've had to have done something soon, with the way the injuries were increasing in severity. He's just glad Shang-shixiong told him first, so they could approach the sect leader together. It wouldn't have been good for his shixiong's stress levels if he'd demanded the sect leader interrogate him to figure out what was going on.

So, the two meet up with Shen Qingqiu and demand a meeting with Yue Qingyuan, who, as always, immediately makes time for Shen-shixiong. Shang Qinghua stutters through his story again, Mu Qingfang regulating his qi, and Shen Qingqiu bringing out a particular icy glare whenever Yue Qingyuan looks like he's going to interrupt. Zhangmen-shixiong's face is carefully blank by the time Shang Qinghua finishes speaking, at which point, Mu Qingfang decides to speak up.

He tells Zhangmen-shixiong of the countless injuries over the decades, of his certainty of their demonic origin, even during that first meeting. He tells the sect leader that if Shang Qinghua is going to be punished for protecting himself, for preventing a war, then he'll need to punish Mu Qingfang too. As a head disciple, he should've reported any suspicious injuries to his shizun, as a Peak Lord, he should've immediately informed Zhangmen-shixiong of Shang Qinghua's continuous injuries and of their suspiciously demonic origin. He says that he has even less of an excuse than Shang Qinghua, who was genuinely afraid for his life and the well-being of his sect. Mu Qingfang simply didn't want to make the situation worse for him, ignoring all rules and expectations that would've had the situation cleared up sooner.

Shen Qingqiu, clearly approving of Mu Qingfang's ardent defense, decides to continue, stating that the sect hasn't experienced an increase in failed missions or other sabotage. He explains that, clearly, Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to protect the sect, even under such strenuous circumstances. He sees no reason to be harsh towards someone who'd been a child when it started, and who was so thoroughly terrified that he only approached Shen Qingqiu, as a friend, because he could see he'd end up dead sooner or later due to the beatings.

Yue Qingyuan lets them all say their piece, and sighs. He sees Shang Qinghua's terror, and he understands both Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu's arguments. He says that this was a breach of trust, that ordinarily this would call for execution, but... Shang Qinghua has not caused harm to the sect, and had he continued, the only harm would've been to himself. As long as Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are willing to bear the consequences, Yue Qingyuan will allow this to be swept under the rug, never spoken of again.

Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are quick to agree, and Shang Qinghua's punishment is to update the sect's defense arrays... left unsaid was the expectation that Mobei-jun never be able to enter the sect again. And so, the matter is dealt with, and Shang-shixiong looks like he's had the weight of the world lifted off him once the arrays are complete.

So long as he doesn't leave the sect without a qi-cloaking artifact (courtesy of the Artifact Peak), he'll be safe. Mu Qingfang feels... thrilled, to know his shixiong won't have to suffer anymore.

-

Liu Qingge notices Shen Qingqiu's nerves as he cleanses his meridians. It's an unexpected change of pace, given the dour mood the man's been in for... months, at this point. The session finishes in silence, but there's an air of anticipation that has Liu Qingge... loitering, just a bit.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh, pours him tea, and starts to talk — quietly, as if ashamed of his words. He shares that, during the chaos at the end of the Immortal Alliance Concerence, his prized disciple broke a seal. It had been placed on him at birth, presumably by one of his parents, and revealed him to be a heavenly demon. He explains that he panicked at the sight of the seal, understanding what it meant, but his disciple looked just as shocked as him. He understood that his disciple was a demon, that he clearly didn't know that fact, and given the presence of multiple sects and the ongoing catastrophe... his disciple would die, if anyone else stumbled upon him.

Liu Qingge listens, as Shen Qingqiu shares that he pushed his own disciple into the Endless Abyss. His grief makes more sense now, Liu Qingge thinks. It's not just the grief of a teacher losing their favorite student, it's also the guilt of pushing that student into danger, even if it's to protect them. Even he would've hesitated to cut down the disciple, if he'd formed such a bond and the child clearly had no idea what was going on.

They continue sitting in silence, and Liu Qingge is almost ready to leave, before Shen Qingqiu speaks up again. He explains that Luo Binghe was a heavenly demon, and the last one — presumably his father — required the collaboration of multiple sects to seal away. There's a chance that Luo Binghe will survive the Abyss, and escape it.

There's a muted fear in Shen Qingqiu's eyes, as he states there's a chance Luo Binghe will hunt him down. That, given a demon's propensity for overreactions, he may take the entire sect with him. It wasn't like he explained his reasoning, when he pushed the child into the Abyss. All he'd know is that his caring shizun saw he was a demon and immediately pushed him into hell.

And Liu Qingge can understand that fear. Heavenly Demons were strong, too strong for even him to be confident in facing them alone. Even if this one was a child, if it managed to escape the Abyss... it would be too strong for Shen Qingqiu to survive. There's an obvious solution then: train until Shen Qingqiu is strong enough to at least run away.

He says that they'll go on hunts together, so Shen Qingqiu can fight those beasts he knows so much about, to get in practice as they look for any artifact that might help him. He says they'll spar, and he'll even let him face the Bai Zhan disciples for variety. Shen Qingqiu is... reluctant, but quickly realizes that it's probably his best option. With the condition that they return to the sect at least once a month to check on his disciples, he agrees to Liu Qingge's proposal.

They'll both train, and Liu Qingge won't let him out of sight for even a moment — not with a heavenly demon after his head.

-

The months afterwards are... peaceful.

An Ding grows used to the sight of Mu Qingfang, who arrives just before dawn every morning to share breakfast with Shang Qinghua before they must start work. They do each other's hair and gossip, sharing whatever happened the day before as they get ready. Without the constant fear, and with Mu Qingfang's help taming his curls (as the only other one in the sect with curly hair), the sect slowly comes to realize that Shang Qinghua is a total knockout, actually, it was just hidden behind frizzy hair, eyebags, and his constant terrified hunching.

There are still bad days, of course, where Mu Qingfang has to insist he delegate his work to his head disciple, or where Shang Qinghua ends up on Qian Cao in the middle of the night having a panic attack, but... they're growing rarer as time passes. Qian Cao learns to turn their heads when Shang Qinghua arrives with an early shipment or unexpected, expensive goods. They learn to mind their business when they see him comfort their Shizun after a particularly challenging day.

It doesn't really surprise anyone when they start courting. The only surprise is that Shang Qinghua is the one that started it, but even that is less shocking now than it would've been the year before. An Ding is happy that their shifu finally looks safe and healthy (he actually stops working at a reasonable hour now, even if it is still after sunset), and Qian Cao is glad their shizun has someone of his own to vent to (given the stress of his job and the various struggles that come with it).

As for Qing Jing, they're absolutely thrilled that their shizun isn't moping anymore. The loss of Binghe hit them hard too, but seeing Shen Qingqiu make the effort to go on hunts made it easier for them to move on too. They miss him, when he's gone, but he always returns with treats from various villages, and a week's worth of stories and lessons to impart. He's even compiled his own bestiary! Ning Yingying has taken to giving Liu Qingge sweets as a thank you for helping her shizun, and Ming Fan grows more comfortable in his old role as head disciple, with how his shizun actually sees him and compliments him, rather than missing Binghe. The Bamboo House is still... a very hard place to be. Without Shizun, it's empty, and even with his recovery, the vacant room seems to bring back his grief.

Seeing this, Qing Jing is both relieved and absolutely pissed when Liu Qingge offers up his spare room instead. Shen Qingqiu accepts, and it's become common for him to join the Bai Zhan disciples in their morning exercises before returning to teach on Qing Jing. They are, understandably, absolutely pumped to have another Peak Lord around to fight (on top of their own being around more often! Shifu teaches them more! And is he getting better at it? What miracles!)

They settle into a routine, and, though it takes an unexpectedly long time, they announce their courting to Yue Qingyuan, who looks both heartbroken and extremely happy for them. Qing Jing gives Liu Qingge a surprisingly scary shovel talk (though he's mostly amused, he respects their dedication), but are overall very happy that their shizun is happy. Bai Zhan is just cheering that another Peak Lord has basically taken up permanent residence, since Shen Qingqiu stays in Liu Qingge's house rather than the bamboo house. They enjoy the unique challenge he gives, and some of the braver ones tell their shifu that he better treat him right or they'll try to take him for themselves (he went particularly hard on them after that, but they had zero regrets — Shen-shibo is a catch after all!)

Meanwhile, Mobei-jun is... frustrated and heartbroken. He can no longer enter Cang Qiong Sect, and he can no longer find Shang Qinghua's qi signature. He doesn't know why — was Shang Qinghua caught? Is he dead? Why else would he just... randomly leave? He's stuck with Mobei-jun for decades, why would he leave now? What was the catalyst? Was he truly so uncomfortable with Mobei-jun's courting? Why wouldn't he just say so!?

The questions leave him angry and frustrated, with no way to get answers. It's only after he enters Luo Binghe's service (an embarrassing loss — would he have done better with Qinghua's advice?) that he finally gets... something of an answer. A potential explanation.

Luo Binghe has no friends in the demon realm, trusts absolutely no one, but he's still a kind person. When he sees that Mobei-jun is frustrated, all it takes is that curly haired boy (a face so similar to Qinghua's) asking for all the questions to come spilling out. Whether it takes hours or minutes, Mobei-jun doesn't know, all he remembers is the lesson from that conversation:

Humans court differently. Constant physical bombardment is known as abuse.

And Mobei-jun is sick.

He hurt Qinghua. He drove away the one man that stuck with him through everything, just because he couldn't be bothered to double check that his courting would be understood. According to Luo Binghe... it was a miracle Shang Qinghua hadn't left sooner. And the worst part? Mobei-jun can't right this wrong. He can't explain himself. Because Cang Qiong has new wards, and Shang Qinghua has figured out how to make himself thoroughly disappear, even though Mobei-jun does receive word when the Peak Lord is spotted during a trade deal. He can't get Qinghua back. There's nothing he can do.

So he stays by Luo Binghe's side. His curly hair, his similar face... these days, Mobei-jun curses himself for not digging into Shang Qinghua's history. For this boy is an orphan, a street rat, and now it would be near impossible to find out his true relation to Shang Qinghua, given that no one knew which humans Tianlang-jun had bed. It doesn't truly matter, whether he is a cousin, brother, or nephew, Mobei-jun will right his wrongs through Shang Qinghua's kin, unable to reach the man himself.

-

When Luo Binghe leaves the Demon Realm, he goes to Huan Hua, and things progress pretty much as they did in canon, with Shen Qingqiu running, absolutely fucking terrified, being force fed blood, and agreeing to be held in the Water Prison to avoid blowback on the sect. Only difference is that Liu Qingge tried to kill LBH, which almost caused an incident with Huan Hua, because no one believed he was a demon. In the water prison, Luo Binghe sees... a ring. He knows his shizun never wore that before, so he asks about it. Not wanting to put Liu Qingge in even more danger, Shen Qingqiu stays silent.

Gongyi Xiao helps Shen Qingqiu escape, and things continue to progress. When Liu Qingge squares up to fight Luo Binghe, he notices him wearing a ring, threaded onto a necklace, and so similar to Shen Qingqiu's. It doesn't take him long to process the fact that his beloved shizun is... already taken.

By Liu fucking Qingge.

He's thoroughly pissed off, he goes to attack, but pauses when he sees his shizun grip Liu-shishu tightly, shaking like a leaf. He looks like he's preparing to take his husband and run. The thought is... off-putting. Because Liu Qingge is the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. Why doesn't Shizun have faith in the man he married?

So he asks.

And Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer.

Liu Qingge still hasn't relaxed, ready to attack at any moment, and Luo Binghe is running out of patience.

"If Shizun finds this demon despicable enough to throw into the Abyss, he should let his husband kill it."

"That's not why he did it."

Liu Qingge's words throw him off balance. He expected the man to be shocked, hearing that his loving husband had done such a thing (maybe cause a rift in their relationship), he expected, maybe, to be attacked for being so disrespectful.

Liu Qingge then explains, because Shen Qingqiu is terrified into silence.

And Luo Binghe is crushed. Shizun threw him into the Abyss... to save him? Shizun was scared for his safety?

And suddenly Luo Binghe feels sick, when he remembers what he's done. How he hurt Shizun, who was too scared to answer. Who just wanted to protect him, only to realize later that he wasn't thinking straight — that his words were twisted in his effort to get Luo Binghe into the safest place possible in that moment: the Endless Abyss. The shizun that believed in his capabilities enough to be afraid that he'd come seeking revenge.

The fight drains out of him, Liu Qingge doesn't relax, but Shen Qingqiu behind him looks just the slightest bit more curious than terrified. Luo Binghe pulls out a note, written from Mobei-jun to Shang Qinghua, and drops it onto the roof. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun. Please ensure this message gets to Shang-shishu." He uses Xin Mo to teleport to a different roof, staying just long enough to see Liu Qingge hand the note to Shen Qingqiu, who collapsed bonelessly into his side.

He goes to the Northern Desert, rather than the Southern Kingdom. He arrives in the sitting area of Mobei-jun's quarters, and plops himself into a seat. He thinks, and thinks, and he's feeling absolutely awful by the time Mobei-jun arrives. He takes one look at Luo Binghe's disheveled state, and takes the seat next to him.

They talk.

Mobei-jun is a surprisingly comforting presence. He'd always listened and offered advice, but Luo Binghe didn't think he'd have the patience for talking him through... whatever the hell this is. Heartbreak? He isn't sure.

It helps though, and Luo Binghe feels much lighter. Mobei-jun had already promised to never darken Cang Qiong's doorstep, to never go anywhere near Shang Qinghua again, after what he'd done... Luo Binghe would just have to do the same. Even if all he wanted was to go back to Qing Jing, to his room in the Bamboo House... but Shizun is married now, there's no way he'd allow Luo Binghe to stay there permanently.

So he just... stays in the Demon Realm. He's an emperor now, surely Shizun wouldn't want him neglecting that duty? And even if he would've liked Shizun's advice... Mobei-jun would have to do. He had experience, and he's been nothing but helpful. Decision made, Luo Binghe embraces his status as the Demon Emperor, and gives it his full attention.

Without him, Shen Qingqiu's trial falls apart, even as the Palace Master accuses Liu Qingge of killing Luo Binghe. There's not enough concrete evidence for Shen Qingqiu's crimes, and the character defenses from the sect and his husband all speak louder than Qiu Haitang's slander. Even if Liu Qingge was in extremely hot water with Huan Hua, they couldn't prove he'd done anything either.

Shen Qingqiu delivers Mobei-jun's note to Mu Qingfang, asking him to be there when Shang Qinghua read it, because who knew what was in it. He agrees, and they read it as soon as possible, to get it over with.

It's an apology, with an explanation of their different cultures and a promise to never bother him again. It's a promise to right his wrongs through Luo Binghe, who he assumes to be related to Shang Qinghua through the boy's mother. It's short and blunt, and Shang Qinghua is... conflicted. He loves Mu Qingfang, and honestly, couldn't even dream of a life without him, but... Mobei-jun was his dream man. Thinking like that... perhaps it was for the best that they didn't end up together. The reality could never live up to the expectation.

More importantly, is him remembering his half-sister in this life: Xi-jie. Who had suddenly cut contact with him completely, and who he'd never managed to track down afterwards, not having known her full name. Shang Qinghua is crushed, to realize the protagonist was that close to being given a better life. Had Su Xiyan managed to contact him at any point, he would've taken her son in in a heartbeat. Mu Qingfang consoles him, and they decide, jointly, that it was for the best if he didn't pursue that relationship. Not with Mobei-jun promising to stick by the boy, and not with the way he'd treated Shen Qingqiu.

And everyone just... moves on with their lives.

Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua are happy together; they have three kids that get absolutely spoiled by their disciples, and they take care of each other, ensuring neither overworks too severely. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu, without the threat of Binghe's return hanging over them, relax more. They enjoy peaceful days with the Qing Jing disciples, they have fun jointly beating up the Bai Zhan disciples and teaching them new moves, and their hunts aren't nearly as battle-focused as they were before, giving Shen Qingqiu a chance to study the beasts rather than immediately going to fight them.

Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun are rarely apart and treat each other as equals in all things. They value the other's advice when implementing policies, and they will each jump to the other's defense, whether it be physically or through words. It surprises absolutely no one when their affair is found out — at first a convenient way to control Xin Mo, eventually morphing into a proper relationship. They're the rulers of the demon realm, they need not abide by the rules, but... Luo Binghe enjoys planning the wedding, and Mobei-jun can't deny him that, even if it meant dealing with the paperwork of technically merging the two kingdoms but also not. Their broken hearts have long been mended by each other, and it's no surprise when they have six children, close-knit and loving, like the family they wished they'd had sooner.

-

Tianlang-jun rotted away, despite Zhuzhi-lang's best efforts. His last act was to give Zhuzhi-lang enough energy to sustain his human form indefinitely. He is purposeless, and alone, and he sits beside his uncle's corpse for far longer than he should have. There's nothing left for him, not with his uncle gone.

So he exits the cave, and he sits under a tree, out in the open. He is very clearly a demon within Huan Hua territory, so it wouldn't take long for a cultivator to stumble upon him and put him out of his misery. Sure enough, in the middle of his patrol, Gongyi Xiao sees a snake demon just... sitting there. He doesn't look hostile, nor does he look like he's going to move.

He also just... looks kinda pathetic.

So, Gongyi Xiao makes a decision. He can't, in good conscience, leave it there. If he does, and it attacks someone, that's his fault. He also can't just kill it if it's not even doing anything. So he decides to... initiate conversation.

It takes a while for Zhuzhi-lang to bother properly responding, but once he does, they get along quite well. He shares stories about his and his uncle's journies through the human realm, reminiscing as he starts to process his grief. Gongyi Xiao decides, maybe this demon isn't that bad actually, and before they know it, it's sun down and Gongyi Xiao is very late.

They meet daily, with Gongyi Xiao taking on more patrols than usual to make sure his demon is doing alright. Eventually, though, pieces of Zhuzhi-lang's story start to... click. They conflict with things he's been told by his shizun. Maybe Zhuzhi-lang is misremembering in his grief, but... he's concerned enough to start investigating on his own.

He finds a lot of dirt on the Old Palace Master, most of it completely unrelated to Su Xiyan, which is what he was actually trying to investigate. Eventually, he grows so disgusted with the sheer amount of crimes the old man has committed that he decides to just... start a coup. He's well-liked, so it's easy enough to get people on his side — it's even easier when he starts spreading rumors and has all of the man's misdeeds printed into a fairly popular book (more than a few publishing houses were burned down because of it, oops). He didn't... intend to replace the old man, but that's what happened and, hey, now he can bring his demon home and no one can fight him over it, yes sect leaders, he's perfectly sane, thank you.

Zhuzhi-lang learns that he's just as attracted to competence and beauty as Tianlang-jun, he just prefers his with a side of kindness rather than tsundere. He also finds it incredibly funny that everyone just... pointedly ignores his presence. A demon he may be, but their sect leader wanted him there, so there he would stay. The whole scenario brings to mind the forbidden romances his uncle loved to read about. As he settles in, watching Gongyi Xiao overhaul Huan Hua Palace and all its greedy rules, he thinks his uncle would want to see how this story ends.

-

AND THAT'S IT! My wrists hurt and i accidentally posted before it was done, lmao, but yeah. Feel free to write this, I feel like I'd start it and never finish lol

[cellophaine]

Chapter X: APPROACH

Masterlist

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan

Warnings: Angst.

Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.

GIF Source: @/spookyrps

2019. New Rochelle.

There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.

Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.

The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.

Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.

For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.

"You look great."

"You, too."

You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.

"It's good to see you."

You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a challenger."

"No, I meant here, right now."

You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.

"I … I want to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.

"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."

The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.

"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."

To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.

"Tashi has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with us."

"Not when she resents me."

For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.

But it should end here.

"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."

You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.

"There's no more us."

At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.

"I have to go."

"Can you at least think about it?"

Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.

"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."

You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.

Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.

At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.

Tomorrow night. 7:30.

As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.

2012. Columbus, Ohio.

Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.

"Hey. It's you."

"It's… you."

You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.

"It's been a while."

"It has been. How are you?"

You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm … great! You?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.

"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."

You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.

"Right. No, I mean, in the city."

"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."

"What happened?"

"I got eliminated."

He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."

Patrick gestured to you.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a book tour."

"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Thank you."

You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.

"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."

He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.

"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?"

You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.

"Yes, we do."

"I don't think so."

"They got married last month."

It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.

"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."

Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.

"You don't mean that."

"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."

The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.

"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."

He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.

"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."

Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.

"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."

You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.

"Where and what time?"

His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.

"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"

"Fine."

That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.

"How's it going for you career-wise?"

Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.

"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."

You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.

"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."

You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.

"Isn't your family rich?"

"They are. Not me."

His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.

"Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."

Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.

The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.

"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."

"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."

You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.

The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.

"So … they got married."

"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."

A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.

"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"

You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.

"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."

"I know it all too well."

"Little fucker."

You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.

"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."

At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.

Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.

"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

You prompted him to continue.

"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."

"I figured as much. It's not new news."

An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.

"Spill, Patrick."

He relented after a moment.

"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."

You looked at him, unsure where he was going.

"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."

You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.

"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."

He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.

"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."

That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.

"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."

"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"

Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.

"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."

You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.

"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."

Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.

"Does Art know?"

"I don't think so."

You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.

"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."

He held his hands up in defence.

"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."

You gave a rueful smile.

"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"

He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.

"No, you're not. You must really love him."

You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.

"I hate that I still feel this way about him."

Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.

"Do you miss him?"

Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.

"I do."

The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.

/

"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."

He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."

His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.

"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."

"How?"

"I, we, can make Art jealous."

You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.

"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.

"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."

"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.

"I really do."

He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.

You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.

Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.

"Did you think about him?"

You nodded and swallowed.

"Did you think about her?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Revenge is always a good idea."

You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."

Patrick shook his head.

"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."

"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"

"I guess not."

You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.

"Come on, you still have to drive me back."

Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.

"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."

His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."

You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.

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[dairy-farmer]

There was a yaoi manga I read years ago where the couple was currently in a long distance relationship because the top/seme had to go overseas for like 5 years, and their bottom/uke would send them cute pictures of them being adorable and Twink-y. Then one day the pictures stopped coming even though they kept writing to each other and still talked about being in love.

Eventually the top returned and found out that the reason the pictures had stopped was because his adorable bottom had had a growth spurt over the years apart and turned into a beefcake taller than the top was. The bottom had been too ashamed to come out and say it, because even though he looked like a big strong top personality, he was still just as twink-y and delicate in personality as before.

It was fine in the end, the top realized that regardless of appearance they were still the same cute person he had fallen in love with.

Which brings us to this ~❤️ Jaytim

Jason and Tim are together before Jason goes to Ethiopia and dies, and are very twink4twink. Tim is only about 2 years younger than Jason and is obviously a short king, and Jason is suffering from all that malnutrition, so his growth was majorly stunted.

When Jason had originally confessed his feelings, he admitted that he hadn't been sure they'd be reciprocated because he wasn't particularly 'manly' in appearance, since he wasn't very tall and it seemed like no matter how he tried he just couldn't put on a lot of noticeable muscle. But Tim had accepted and explained he actually preferred the twink look to the muscular hunk, and felt safer with someone closer to his own size.

So after Jason dies, comes back, and gets dipped in the pit, he's shot up to over 6 ft tall and is about as big and muscular as Bruce. So while part of his plan was being mad that Bruce didn't avenge him (but not about Tim being Robin, because he loved him and knew Tim probably did it for Jason's sake), part of it was also fear. He was afraid to return and reveal himself to Tim, because he was sure Tim would reject him now that he looks so different and was no longer small and slim and delicate.

In the end there's no Titan Tower incident, and the showdown with Bruce is not quite as explosive. Once all the dust clears, Tim corners Jason and demands to know why Jason didn't just come home (why didn't you come back to me 😭?). And Jason explains.

He explains how Tim is still a hot little twink, even with the height and muscle he's managed to put on, but Jason is now huge and muscular and the exact type of person Tim said he wasn't attracted to; he admits that he wanted to put off the meeting/confrontation between them as long as possible so he could continue believing that Tim would still love him even when he looked like this.

Jason is just about to open his mouth to let Tim know he won't hold it against him for wanting to break up (no matter how much the idea tears him up inside) when Tim interrupts him by shouting "I lied!!".

"Well", Tim clarifies in a slightly calmer tone "it wasn't really a lie so much as.. not the full truth? I didn't like you because you were a twink, I liked that you were twink because you are you!"

Jason's just standing there vaguely stunned like "what???"

So Tim says "Jason, I don't care if you're a twink or a muscle hunk or a leather daddy or a bear or a fucking basement dwelling neckbeard (as long as you bathe regularly)! I love You, so I'll love however you look."

I just like the idea of Jason being insecure about the epic change in his appearance, and Tim just being straight up "I would love you if you were a worm. I would love you if you were a woman, or a horse, or a writhing mass of tentacles from beyond the void. If you turned into a gorgon I would literally blind myself so I could be with you." And Jason's just like "🥹🥹🥹 babe 🥹🥹🥹"! And then they fuck nasty for like a week straight until Jason is convinced that Tim really doesn't care what he looks like.

~❤️🦇

jaytim

tim loving jason in any form!!!! and jason being nervous because he wasn't a twink anymore and worried that tim might not be interested in him anymore 🥺🥺🥺!!!!