#offensive if you look at it from an angle' and like why would you point this out

[nereidprinc3ss]

just like heaven

in which flirty!reader finally confesses her feelings to a pining spencer reid after a night out. she's slightly buzzed. it's complicated.

fluff (some angst) warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader drinks alcohol, dirty jokes, so much flirting and banter, some arguing kinda, but spencer is such a gentleman, everyone gets flustered at least once, they really wanna kiss, happy ending a/n: gif :D I hope u like this! not bandages reader but like same vibes. like an AU for my AU

“Emily!”

You drawl the ee sound long, the same way you reach across the table and wiggle your fingers at her half-empty glass. Thin dark brows dart up beneath that glossy sweep of reddish-black hair. 

“Oh, wow. That’s unsettling. What?”

It’s been at least an hour since you had a drink of your own, but enough alcohol is still flowing through your veins so as to render her offensive comment inoffensive. You love Emily. You love the Tequila Sunrise sweating onto the sticky table in front of her which she’s not going to finish. 

“I think she wants your drink,” JJ assists, cheek balanced tipsily on a propped up fist. 

“Uh…”

Emily’s doe-sweet eyes flash uncertainly behind you. 

“I’m basically sober,” you insist, laying your head on your outstretched arm and letting your hair cascade as you bat your lashes, offering her your sweetest smile. “Please, Em?”

It does not go according to plan. She scoffs. 

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“... Would that work?”

“Oh my god, just… cool it with the fuck-me eyes,” she laughs. “You can have the drink.”

You sit up, turning just barely over your shoulder to address Spencer. 

“See? Emily buys me drinks. Basically.”

She slides the drink toward you, with a subtle roll of her eyes that you choose to interpret as affectionate under the dim canned lighting. As you sit back, content and free drink in hand, her eyes slide to Reid in the seat next to you, brows arching. 

“Are you sure you can handle her all on your own?”

“Handle me?” You frown deeply as Emily gathers her purse and slides out of the booth, followed shortly thereafter by JJ. “I don’t need handling.”

“Then why do you have a handler?” JJ teases.

You slump against the worn vinyl, stirring what is mostly orange juice. 

“He most definitely is not my handler. He’s my science project.”

“I got it,” Spencer assures your friends, with his trademark flattened smile. You can’t help but watch him with a grin of your own, flipping the straw in the drink and nibbling on the end until it’s stained sparkly pink. Goodbyes are issued, and soon it’s just the two of you. Perhaps it’s a tipsy delusion, but you think he seems to relax slightly when you’re alone. His eyes are easy on you. “You know, you’re not actually decreasing the amount of germ transmission by using the other end of the straw.”

“Mm… pretty sure alcohol kills germs, Doctor.”

At that, you giggle. 

Doctor. 

Soon you’re covering your face and having a full-fledged laugh attack. 

“What?” Spencer asks. From between your fingers you can see that he’s smiling guardedly, brows furrowed in a way that reminds you he’s often worried about being the butt of a joke and not knowing it. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you assure him quickly, gathering yourself. “I just… can’t believe you’re a doctor.”

“Why not? What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“You’re so young.”

And handsome. 

“I’m not that young. I’m older than you,” he defends. Only by a handful of years, but you know he’s defensive about his age after a lifetime of being told he looks young for—well, everything. 

“You’re… 32?”

That’s not right—you know as soon as you say it.

“Thirty three.” He very politely captures a hand—your hand—that had at some point ended up a little too close to his eye. You’re not sure what you planned to do once it got there—you don’t recall moving it at all. 

“Sorry.” You take your hand back, choosing to instead fiddle with a button on his coat ponderously. “33 is a good age.”

“Yeah?” Spencer laughs, angling his head as if to regard you from a new angle. It warms you all over. Burns in some places, like a shot of liquor down your throat. Makes you just as dizzy, too. “You have a lot of experience being thirty three?”

“No, I just…” your cheeks heat and you wrestle with a timid smile, averting your gaze and dropping your hand for fear his grin this close up might actually kill you. “I like 33 year old you.”

“So… you didn’t like me when I was thirty two?”

“Stop,” you beg, a self-effacing laugh into the cup of your palm. “I can’t banter. I’m not at peak performance.”

The truth of it hits you, and you sigh, folding your arms on the table and resting your cloudy head. Only then, from this new perspective, do you allow yourself to fully admire Spencer Reid. He is smiling at you, and your heart does skip a beat like you’ve got some school girl crush. These days he wears his hair falling over his face, messy on purpose, and always smells so nice. You wonder when he started caring about that stuff. You want to see what products are in his shower, and learn why he chose that cologne, or how he decides to pair his socks. He probably has some sort of algorithm. 

“Spencer,” you begin, the serious quality of your voice diminished by the smush of your cheek against your arm. Still, he tries to respect your tone, zipping the smile and answering with a playfully twitching brow. 

“Hm?”

You want to push the hair out of his face. Why is he looking down at you like that? Like he likes you?

“You’re a very good handler.”

His eyes narrow as he considers this, but the glimmer in them could still spark a forest fire. You’re probably grinning like an idiot. 

“Oh, I couldn’t handle you. You know this.”

You hum thoughtfully. 

“I bet you could. Wanna try?”

Spencer shakes his head, huffing a laugh through his nose. To his credit, your bold-face innuendos don’t always send him into a tailspin these days. 

Just sometimes. 

“You need a ride home, don’t you?”

You sit back up, stretching your arms out. 

“You don’t have to. I could get a cab.”

“I know,” he assures you, still a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. Why. Is. He. Looking. At. You. Like. That?

“Will you let me drive?”

“I would. But, you know, my affairs aren’t in order.”

You roll your eyes as he gets out of the booth and offers you a hand. 

“I’m not that drunk.”

Spencer just wiggles his fingers. 

“If you can recite the alphabet in reverse you can drive my car.”

You roll your eyes again. Obviously he’s fucking with you, because 1. He’d never let you drive even the slightest bit inebriated, and 2. He knows you can’t say your ABC’s backward when you’re dead sober. 

The truth is you’re more buzzed than anything. You could get up and walk fine without any assistance, but he’s offering you his hand, so you take it. After you’re standing, you wonder how many excuses could you possibly dream up to get it back in yours. Should you pretend to fall?

No. Not quite worth your self respect. 

“You know…” you muse, reveling in the brief brush of him against your back as he holds open the door for you, “it’s a good thing you didn’t become, like… a medical doctor.”

Now walking side by side on the street, he glances over at you, a poorly veiled smile on his perfect face. Like a trap door brushed over with a few leaves. He wants you to see it.

“Why’s that?”

A breeze ruffles your hair. The brisk cold and the walk seem to be making things crisper already. You shrug, bunching your sleeves in your hands against the increasingly frigid night. The skirt and tights you’d chosen were perfect for a stuffy dive bar. Not so much for an early DC spring. 

“Nobody wants a hot doctor.”

He looks down at the sidewalk, hands pocketed, but the curve of his lips doesn’t lessen.  

“Hm. You’re drunker than I thought.”

“What? No! I’m—barely!” Again he laughs at you, and again you flush, looking down and counting the cracks in the pavement as you journey slowly under the bath of yellow street lights. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you called me hot.” He sounds almost delighted as he grins sheepishly around the final word. 

You snort. You’ve said worse things, more graphic things within the past few hours alone—but you suppose they’ve all been more like dirty jokes than compliments. 

“Yeah. You think you aren’t?”

Sandy locks fall side to side as he carefully measures a response. His cologne is warm—sort of smoky. It’s very nice. He doesn’t seem like he’d wear cologne. Have you already thought about his cologne tonight? Once was probably enough. 

“I just think sober you wouldn’t have said that.”

“But don’t you prefer it when I’m aggressively flirting with you? I mean, I know I do it sober too, but it's not as good, right?”

A silent stretch begins and shortly ends, and you don’t mind it. Right now, everything is a winding path through the woods. You’re willing to follow any fork off the trail if it means spending more time with him. 

“I guess I wasn’t aware that was what you were doing.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you laugh, and it echoes through the canyon of a nearby alley, “I’m not subtle, Reid.”

“I don’t know! You—for all I know that’s just how you are! I mean, what did Emily call them earlier, your—your fuck-me eyes?”

Like he does when he’s flustered, he gets shrill and stuttery. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s still a complete dork on the inside—and the outside, too, as pink stains his cheeks like watercolor. You smirk at him in your periphery, watching him against the darkened city backdrop. 

“You noticed those, huh?”

“No,” he denies forcefully, but his brow is pinched like he doesn’t quite believe himself, “I mean, yes, I notice when you look at other people like that, but that’s not what I would call them—I wouldn’t call them anything, I’d just call them your eyes, you know? Not that you always look like you’re soliciting… the implication isn’t there, it’s just—I notice when you flirt with other people! With Emily, and Derek, like, not even half an hour ago. You’re lucky Hotch wasn’t there. You’d probably have given him a heart attack.”

“I’m more concerned with yours, to be honest.”

“My heart is fine,” he laughs. “Worry about my dignity.”

“Hm. I was going for both. Guess I’d better try harder.”

You don’t notice you’ve come to a stop until you’re face to face in front of his vintage Volvo. Spencer is standing closer than usual, hands perpetually stuck in that nice wool coat. He’s all windswept and pretty, smiling crookedly and eyes sparkly with humor. A strand of hair sticks to your lip gloss, and you brush it away, tucking it behind your ear and squinting up at him against the chilly breeze. The flush is either from the nip in the air or your brazen flirting. 

“Or, you could go easy on me. I’m frail. Like a… sickly Victorian child.”

Again his brow knits and he smiles like he knows what he’s said is ridiculous. But his tone is gentler now. Softer. Invites you to fall in deeper and see what you might find. 

“And ruin all my fun? Toughen up, Reid.”

For a long moment, you don’t get a response—only his eyes, soft and thoughtful on you, before you’re distracted by the sweet bow of his lips. If he notices you’re staring, it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

But something evidently does, as when he next speaks, it’s troubled. Curiosity straining against a rope that says maybe it’s better if I don’t ask. 

“Do… do you actually flirt with me? When you’re sober, I mean.”

He expects to be ridiculed. In his most vulnerable moments, he’s still bracing for rejection—turning his cheek slightly so he’s ready for the stinging blow. It opens a fissure in your chest. You frown, and speak gently. 

“Yeah, Spence. More than anyone else. You really don’t notice?”

Sometimes his face is so expressive, in the pull of his brow and tightening of his eyes and the way he wets his lips. But he probably doesn’t know that. And he can’t seem to meet your eyes, instead choosing to study the leather of your heeled boots. Sounds of late-night traffic, of tires on wet asphalt buffer the pauses between sentences. 

“I notice… when you talk to Derek and Emily and JJ and Penelope the exact same way you talk to me. I didn’t think…”

Another gap in conversation, filled with the chatter of some group pouring out of a bar somewhere. You realize he’ll need some gentle prompting to bridge it. 

“You didn’t think what?”

When his eyes flash back up to meet yours, you have a feeling like he’s shutting the pipes off. 

“It’s—uh—” he clears his throat— “it’s not important, we can—we’ll talk about it a different time. We should—”

“Wait.”

He’d been turning away but snaps right back to look at you as if on command, wearing a brand new face that tells you he’d like to wipe the past minute or so completely away. 

“Yeah?”

“Spencer. I wanna know what you were going to say.”

“I told you. It’s nothing.”

“You didn’t tell me. You mumbled evasively and walked away. We were in the middle of something and I want to know what you were going to say. Please?”

“Well, you’re drunk,” he finally sighs, and it’s a bit sharp. Stinging. 

“I am not drunk,” you defend, and it feels true, with a bitter cold lashing at your cheek and blood heightened from the walk. “You know I’m not too drunk to have a coherent conversation. Why are you being weird?”

“Because I asked you to drop it! We can’t have this conversation right now, all right? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Your stomach flips, and your breath comes a little heavier. Spencer is clearly frustrated with you. Maybe being on the wrong end of this mild vexation, and so suddenly, should make you feel guilty, or some kind of bad—but all you feel is a sort of buzz in the tips of your fingers and the thrum of your heart, something deeper than excitement pooling in your veins at having inspired this sort of passion. It means he feels something. Something for you. 

“I’m sorry,” he tries halfheartedly, unable or more likely unwilling to stay angry at you for very long, “you didn’t—”

“What conversation?”

It’s jarring how quickly this has spun on its head. The very air you’re breathing seems to have changed. The metropolitan soundscape is a rife undercurrent of tension and louder from all the words unsaid. 

Finally he swallows. 

“There’s no conversation. I’m—it was a poor choice of wording. I just meant we should get you home.”

Before he can make it to the driver’s side door, you’re calling out. 

“You think I don’t like you. And I just flirt with you ‘cause I flirt with everyone.”

Spencer stops, and turns to face you once more, sighing and head dropped to one side like you’re doing something incredibly inconsiderate. He’s never looked at you like that before, but you don’t let it shake you. 

“That’s what this is about, right?”

He says your name, but you don’t let him get further than that. 

“No, I think there is a conversation here, and saying I’m not sober enough to have it isn’t fair and you should have said something before and I think you should just say it now.”

You’re pushing his buttons with a heavy hand, though your own voice shakes. He’s feeling it too—you’ve never been so short with each other. His voice is raised. 

“What am I supposed to say?” 

It boils over. 

“That you like me!”

It rings. 

Then it’s silent. 

His face is mostly blank. A little sorrowful around his eyes. 

It’s cold, jumping into the deep end like this. 

“We can’t talk about this right now,” he finally says, glancing to the side as if to suggest a situation the size of the whole city. 

“Spencer, I—”

“It’s impossible to have a meaningful discussion until your judgement isn’t impaired, otherwise it’s—”

“I am telling you that I flirt with you because I really like you.”

“I—”

It appears you’ve truly thrown him for a loop.  For a moment his jaw works at nothing, a soliloquy of words go unspoken, and then he’s stuttering and fumbling for the right thing to say, looking everywhere but at you. 

“I can’t—that’s—regardless of whether or not it’s even true—”

“It is true.”

“Could you—stop?” He pleads. “You can’t tell me that. I mean, the power imbalance when you’ve been drinking and I haven’t—it’s—I mean, it's coercive. Because I brought it up, I asked an inappropriate question—or at least started to ask it, and you—not that it was your fault, I’m the responsible party in this instance, but if tomorrow you realize you never wanted to tell me—so I have to take that with a grain of salt. I’m just—I have to pretend I didn’t hear that, alright? And you can’t say it again.”

He’s ridiculous. You shift your weight onto one foot casually. 

“That’s not very nice. I just confessed to having a huge crush on you and you’re gonna leave me hanging?”

There is an undeniable sort of pleasure in the bright of his eyes, and you phrased it that way on purpose, just to see him preen and glow—also to see if you could make him trip all over himself some more. Right now, despite the liminal space your relationship may or may not be occupying, you’re teasing him like you always do. Like he’s a friend, because he is. Before anything else. 

He tries to glower, barely. 

“Were you listening to me at all?”

“It was hard with all the stammering. I thought you might pass out.”

“I might,” he grumbles, and the admission pleases you greatly. Your lips tug as you admire him for a moment—watch his defenses go down and his features ease into something more inviting. 

God, maybe you really had been too hard on him. Maybe he really didn’t expect that you would like him back. 

You’re struck with the need to reassure. 

A dampened clack emits from your shoe where the heel hits the ground as you step down off the curb. 

“You know… I do like you. A lot. I mean it. And I’m glad I told you, because... you like me too, right?”

He raises his brows, like don’t do anything stupid, as you approach unhurriedly. It’s good to see that you haven’t broken his spirit completely. 

Less than a foot away, you stop. Close enough to be in his space. Too far for him to have the grounds to step back. 

His eyes are careful on you, analytical as always, constantly predicting an infinite number of outcomes to any given scenario. That’s how he keeps his footing in the world. But he’s never very good at predicting you. And it helps that his razor sharp intellect is dulled, some, with affection. Attraction. 

It shows in his eyes. He’ll let you push boundaries he knows he shouldn’t. More so if you keep speaking to him this softly. Almost whispering.

“Tell me you like me, Spencer.”

Because he hasn’t yet. All the heavy lifting has been done for him, and that just won’t do. 

First, he opens his mouth, and you watch the internal debate, a million things he could say, spinning round in his eyes like pinwheels. Rules, and buts, and caveats.

In the end, he just clears his throat. Speaks in the same secretive tone. Low enough to be intimate.

“I like you.”

Such a simple thing has never made you feel so airy before in your life. You steal another glance at his lips.

“So it’s really not that complicated. We could probably just kiss.”

He tinges pink.

“We definitely can’t.”

“You also said we couldn’t talk about it, and yet…”

“Talking is different. As far as I’m concerned, nothing you say to me tonight is binding. Whatever just transpired happened completely off the record. We can… talk about it tomorrow, but right now, you and I are friends.”

You shrug.

“Friends can kiss.”

“No, they can’t,” he says definitively, though not without a healthy dose of sardonic self-awareness and a dark smile. His hand finds your waist, and it’s glancing, if anything a light push, but you’re delighted nonetheless. Almost as pleased as if he really had kissed you. “It’s cold. I’m ready to leave.”

You’ve pushed him enough for one night. And it is cold. So you shuffle around the car with quick steps to the passenger side door, hooking your fingers under the biting metal handle and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle. 

You’re shivering as your thighs press against leather upholstery, only the thinnest layer of synthetic material protecting your legs. Spencer is already starting the car, but the engine is too cold to bother turning the heat on yet. 

“I think it’s colder in here than outside. Look at my hand.” You hold it up for him, and it is discolored, waxy, as he mindlessly takes it between his own much warmer ones. “I thought alcohol was supposed to keep you warm. Didn’t that chef on the Titanic survive hours in the ocean because he was hammered?”

“That’s a myth. Not the chef—he did survive, but it was a complete anomaly. Alcohol causes vasodilation in the dermis layer of the skin, so you feel warmer, but it draws blood flow away from your internal organs and significantly raises your likelihood of developing hypothermia.”

Does he notice how he’s holding your hand? Carefully pressing his thumbs to the center of your palm and pushing up through your love and life lines, cupping the fingers, before sandwiching them between his own and generating friction the way a child furiously rolls a play-doh worm?

“I guess I’m really not that drunk, then.”

He’s not expecting it, and maybe he doesn’t know what to make of your exceptionally gentle tone at first. It was a mistake, you think, as he relinquishes his hold on your hand, and you curl it to retain the memory of his warmth. But then he tucks hair behind your ear, like he’s done once or twice before, and smiles in a way you don’t quite understand. 

“I know.”

You won’t push him. You won’t ask for anything else, and you won’t demand an explanation. Spencer is special. It can all wait, because you have something good with him already. Something important. Something like holding hands. 

It comes as a surprise when he leans across the console, and you lean in a trance to meet him, and another surprise when he gently redirects, pressing his lips to your cheek, close enough to match the corners of your mouths and nothing more. 

You’d let him do it a hundred times over, but he draws back after a fraction of a lingering second, and finds your hand to stroke the back of it, forgotten in your lap. 

“You said no kissing,” you murmur, as if in a dream. If you had the wherewithal to be embarrassed maybe you wouldn’t be ogling so much. 

“Compromise.”

If anything, you should be the cheek-kisser. But there will be time to feel slighted about that later. Time to amend. For now, you look ahead robotically. 

“Is there a rule against friendly hand-holding?”

“Probably,” he says.

But he lets you hold his hand in your lap the whole drive to your apartment, anyway. 

[jnnul]

mr. brawn and ms. brain

sum: you hate athletes. eunseok is an athlete. eunseok is in love with you. it doesn't take a genius to see that there's an issue with this equation. after a one-sided love for the past three years, eunseok is saved when the two of you are partnered to work on an english project together. which means that eunseok's first step of getting you to fall in love with him is done. next step: get you to give him the time of day... word count: 9.6k a/n: hehe i've been working on this for so long i can't believe it's finally out lol i hope that you all enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing this! <3 someone teach me how to make visually pleasing banners. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback warnings: mentions of reader's insecurities, sungchan being a horrible/amazing friend, simp eunseok, uhh love :D

EUNSEOK SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT TRYING TO WRAP HIS MIND AROUND YOUR SHEER GENIUS WAS A BAD IDEA. you were just so much smarter than him; he didn't know why he thought that he could even comprehend the meaning behind your actions anymore.

at least, this is what song eunseok gathers from your animated gestures and anger stained tone as you continue to motion at eunseok semi-offensively.

he's only half-listening (he's perfected the art of the blank stare) and you know that he's not listening too. but eunseok figures that if yelling at him to your heart's content is what would make you feel better, then he was glad to be your not-really listening ear.

"...and you know that i can't do it all on my own!" you yell finally, your distress coming to a climax. eunseok winces when your voice reaches a decibel he didn't know to be humanly possible. your chest is heaving and eunseok, from this, is now well aware that you're upset the fact you had to work on the partner project by yourself last night.

but he didn't know how else to explain to you that he had a soccer match last night that he couldn't just skip out to work on the project - even if it was a project that would more or less determine his grade in the class.

your arms are crossed against your torso, eyebrows furrowed as you wait for eunseok to say something. he's sat in front of you, looking akin to a statue, while you're standing up, glaring down at him and from this angle, eunseok is once again reminded of just why he lets you get away with saying pretty much anything to him.

eunseok is so incredibly in love with you that it takes every fiber of his being from telling you that any time the two of you were together. which was less often than he wanted but more often than you had had in the past so he was willing to take the wins he could get at this point.

"so you want me to the work on the project, that's it, right?" he says slowly and you damn near want to strangle him in that moment. you knew that eunseok wasn't dumb and that he had only sat through your entire lecture because you weren't going to let him hear the end of it anyway but would it kill him to at least pretend like he was remorseful?

"yes," you say finally, with an exasperated sigh. "i just want you to work on the project with me."

the corner of eunseok's lips twitch imperceptibly upwards in a soft smile before it disappears, bringing him back to his much more familiar bored expression. i just want you to work on the project with me.

that had to mean something, right? you wouldn't add the 'with me' without any particular reason, right? you actually meant to indicate something with that 'with me', right?

in all honesty, you're hadn't thought of what you were saying all that hard and had just said everything that came to mind in an attempt to rid yourself of your anger and eunseok knows that as well.

he's been in love with you for long enough to know that you didn't actually mean anything when he formed these delusions on his own but he couldn't help himself.

eunseok has loved you since the moment he saw you sitting inside the classroom, earbuds in your ears as you flipped through your notebook filled with notes while he was outside on the soccer field, squinting up at you against the relentless sun, three years ago.

he wasn't sure what it was. at first, he was sure that it was just the chase. the classic 'unattainable' trope where he was only attracted to you because of the challenge that you presented to him.

but it was strange.

eunseok wasn't a really big fan of cheesy clichés or overplayed poetry about something that he was sure didn't exist anymore but everything had changed when he saw you.

your looks, face, beauty - none of that seemed to be what clicked within him. the moment that you turned your head to peer out the window, your eyes landing on his, it was like his entire soul was breathing a sigh of relief.

if eunseok was any less of a realist, he would've genuinely believed that the two of you were soul tied lovers from previous lives.

the only issue was that eunseok was pretty sure his soulmate would give him the time of day. which you pretty much refused to do. it was like you were allergic to his type or something.

you kept to yourself in general, and didn't really have many friends but at the very least, you were friendly enough to those around you. no one really had anything bad to say about you bar the fact that you never allowed anyone to overtake you on your throne seated comfortably as number one in the whole school.

except for eunseok's friends. they all knew about eunseok's hopeless love for you and for the life of them could not understand why. you barely glanced in his direction in general, and seemed to always glare at any round object that could be used for a sport - and those who carried said offending objects.

which naturally meant that eunseok and the rest of his friends (all of whom unfortunately played some sport or another) were blacklisted by you.

he'd been curious at first why you had so much prejudice against sports and then one time, had seen you be forced to run laps around the field. needless to say, after he saw you nearly trip and fall on your face at least four times in one lap, he was vaguely aware of what prompted you to stay as far away from such activities as possible.

in fact, eunseok was relatively sure that he was going to have to graduate high school without ever actually having a proper conversation. until the fateful day that your english professor had assigned you and eunseok to work on the same project together for a final grade.

it was a simple research paper, but both of you had to submit outlines and drafts that showed how much you each contributed to the project, as well as how much of the project was done with each other - all of which contributed to your grade.

eunseok had thought that this was it! this would be his in!

he was wrong. to be honest, eunseok could count on one hand the number of conversations he'd had with you after starting work on the project together. and could count without any fingers the number of those conversations that were about anything other than project division.

which is why, when you're standing here, arms crossed against your heaving chest and looking at him with those eyes, eunseok has nothing running in his mind other than just how much he wants you to know what he feels.

"eunseok! are you even listening to me anymore?" you ask, waving a hand in his face. eunseok blinks before clearing his throat. he reaches out a long arm to pull out a chair in the desk next to his and indicates for you to sit down on it.

you eye the chair warily before sitting down, folding your skirt underneath your thighs as you sit gingerly, as if you were expecting it to explode.

the sight would normally make eunseok just roll his eyes for anyone else but with you, it makes him smile.

"okay, i'm sorry. with the game last night, i forgot to my part for the draft due friday. but i promise, i'm still going to make it up to you and finish all of the stuff i needed to do as soon as possible," eunseok says. you watch him for a moment before nodding and moving to get up out of the chair as eunseok rushes to come up with some reasoning to get you to stay with him a little longer.

"although, are you sure you're going to be able to finish the section by yourself? i had some issues with the first half of pride and prejudice because of the characterization and the time period," you say, although the last half of your thought seems to be much more reluctant than the first half, as if you didn't want to admit that you had any academic weaknesses to eunseok.

but eunseok barely pays it any mind, jumping on the opportunity as soon as he recognizes it. "oh...yeah, honestly i don't know if i can do it by myself. since we both have access to the late night study room anyway, do you wanna finish it together tonight?"

eunseok watches as the gears turn in your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you debate the possibilities in your mind. and even as you do, he tries to control the erratic beating of his heart at the chance of spending so much time with you.

if he could explain his feelings to anyone, which eunseok was not gifted with the vocabulary of attempting to do so, he was sure that they would ask if he was ripped straight from the novel the two of you were assigned to work on.

to be honest, eunseok thinks as he rests his temple against the heel of his palm, watching as you pull out a timetable and consult it with utmost seriousness, even he found it kinda silly.

well, not silly as in his crush on you was dumb per se (although, there were times where he realized just how unfounded his feelings truly were). more silly like i didn't even know these kinds of feelings could still exist in people.

silly like how a child discovering the world for the first time might be - awkward in their gait but curiosity shining brightly in their eyes, learning how to be human for the first time.

he knows that his whole 'true love' or 'soulmate' semantics were not for the weak of heart - and most definitely not for those who were too embroiled in the 'love' of today's day and age. but he couldn't bring himself to care.

it made him want to be a better person for you. to be the man that you would glance at in more than just passing. to be worthy of your love.

"alright. i'm scheduled for an english tutoring session but i'll ask them to meet me tomorrow instead. maybe i can use some of the stuff that we learn during our project," you say with a sigh, crossing out some of the timings written in your schedule and rearranging them.

eunseok's eyebrows furrow. "you take tutoring lessons? oh, like a private tutor?"

you eye eunseok strangely, as if you weren't sure if he was making a joke or not.

"no...i teach people. i tutor for english, mathematics, and some other subjects as well. it's how i'm adding to my resumé." the chair makes an awful noise when you push it back to stand up.

"oh," eunseok says. resumé? for what? college admissions? god, he really needed to start getting ready for that. his csat score was not high enough for him to even dream about getting into a good enough school for you to recognize him.

or, you know, secure brighter future in such a competitive job market. but that was mostly secondary.

"yeah. so..." you trail off awkwardly, toeing the ground with your arms behind your back. the sight of you being awkward or unsure of yourself was foreign to eunseok but nonetheless endearing.

"yeah. so i'll see you tonight then? after classes end?" eunseok prompts you and you seem to snap out of whatever reverie your mind was in.

"mhm." it's absent-minded and almost an afterthought, as you make your way out of the classroom, pausing at the door to look at him before leaving.

+++

classes end a couple of hours later, and eunseok is left waiting anxiously in the study rooms.

you'd agreed to meet after classes but eunseok realizes that he'd never asked for a specific time or your number to communicate with you, meaning that he'd been stuck in the study rooms for the past hour, unsure if and when you were going to show up.

eunseok had been productive with his time, of course. he'd tucked away the soccer ball he'd brought to school into one of the lockers in the back and popped a breath mint. not for any particular reason, but he didn't want you to think of him in the stereotypical 'jock who doesn't partake in hygiene'.

he'd even tried to make progress on the pride and prejudice chapters he'd been assigned (by you) to write about, only to give up three sentences in.

the one thing that eunseok had done incorrectly, however, was drinking too much water. see, eunseok had a strange habit of chugging water every time he got nervous. needless to say, about an hour of sheer anxiety of when you were going to show up made him down the whole waterbottle.

which was not good because now, eunseok had to relieve himself and you were still nowhere to be seen. and he couldn't just go use the restroom and come back because he was pretty sure you'd just leave and assume that he bailed on you if he left his post in the study rooms.

eunseok paces around the room, hoping that time would move faster if he moved faster (time-space was in same dimension after all, so technically...). he's taken about twenty-three laps around the study room when he finally hears the door click open and you enter the study room somewhat cautiously, looking worse for wear.

"I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!" eunseok manages to holler before sprinting out of the study room, not wanting to look back and see your undoubtedly bewildered face as he makes a mad dash for the men's restrooms.

it's not until eunseok finally relieves himself, washing his hands in the sink that was lower than his hips that he realizes what he'd just done.

eunseok berates himself more than once or twice in the bathroom, pacing back and forth once more when he realizes just how much of an idiot he must've looked like as he sprinted out of the room like a crazy man.

"it's ok. it's ok! having to use the restroom is natural! everyone needs to! it's not like y/n doesn't, right? don't worry, you look fine. you're so hot, she'll forget it happened."

you didn't forget. when eunseok slinked back into the study room, you can barely keep the silly smile off your face, trying your best to look understanding and apologetic instead.

"i'm - i'm so sorry for coming late eunseok. i heard there was soccer practice today so i figured you'd be late and decided to help mrs. kim with creating the study set for the upcoming math test," you explain, unable to keep the lighthearted giggle out of your voice.

eunseok offers an embarrassed half-grin as he waves you off.

"don't worry, i wasn't waiting long. i just got here too. uh, i asked coach to cancel practice since both captains wouldn't be able to make it," eunseok says, looking busily through his backpack in an effort to prevent you from looking at his red face.

"you asked the coach to cancel practice?" you ask incredulously and eunseok tries his best to act nonchalant.

"yeah. i mean, you're right after all. academics are more important than sports - it's not like i plan on going pro or anything so i figured that i should sit down and make some headway on this project," eunseok says with a shrug, and it brings him a strange sense of satisfaction when you glance at him as though you were suddenly looking at him for the first time.

"you don't plan on playing in college? i mean i've heard that you're good enough for it," you say, and you sound genuinely curious, rearranging the books in front of you.

"i mean i plan on playing in college but i can't exactly get into college just on sports. i'm not that good. i still need to have good grades and scores to get in," eunseok says and you frown, deep in thought, but eunseok can tell that it's not in a bad or malicious way.

"i'd never thought you would care that much about school," you say softly and eunseok can't help but shoot you a lopsided grin.

"we're not all just dumb jocks, y/n," he responds, his voice just as soft and he realizes just how much he likes the taste of your name on his tongue.

"yeah. i guess so," you say finally, offering him a small smile.

eunseok thinks he can die happy when he sees it.

+++

the two of you don't become best friends over the next couple weeks. in fact, you still don't have too many conversations with him other than about the project, but it's more than eunseok has been awarded with before.

you talk to him in between classes now, when you see him in the hallways, and ask him about soccer practice. eunseok always blushes, casting his eyes towards the windows so that he had something to look at other than your intelligent and probing eyes.

he even sees you wave at him during soccer practice, when you're headed out early for tutoring and eunseok nearly dies of heart attack, tripping over himself as he rushes to wave back.

wonbin didn't let him live that down for a full week after the incident occurred, laughing and waving in exaggerated motions every time he saw eunseok.

he even went as far as going up to you and asking you to come to one of the upcoming soccer matches, all in the name of good fun.

eunseok had had to literally tackle wonbin to the floor in order to keep him from spilling any vital information ("please come to the soccer match because our captain has been crushing on you since his first year and we can't see him like this anymore.") but it was clear that the message came through incorrectly.

"you don't want me to come to your match that much? i thought we were better friends than that, eunseok," you said with a frown, and eunseok had to scramble to his feet, kicking wonbin with his foot.

"no - no! it's not that. i do really want you to come to our soccer match. but i kinda wanted to be the one to ask you. you know, because you're so busy all the time and i thought you might say yes if i asked rather than this idiot," eunseok had explained, tripping over his words in an attempt to make sure that he didn't hurt your emotions.

you'd stared up at him, your face unreadable. that was the one thing that eunseok didn't like about you - he could never truly predict exactly what you were thinking unless you said it out loud. you were infamous for your poker face and it made eunseok incredibly nervous.

little did he know that that was the exact reason that eunseok made you nervous.

"i'll come if i have time," you had said simply, turning on your heel to flounce away.

"you're an idiot but goddamnit, i love you wonbin," eunseok had said, descending onto the right wing to tackle him to the floor once more with a hug.

"alright! i get it! get off of me, cap!" wonbin said, pawing at eunseok's arms to relieve himself from the bearhug he was trapped in. he'd just laughed, wrapping his arms around wonbin even tighter.

which brought eunseok to his current predicament.

not only had you come to the match, but you'd brought some of your friends with you. eunseok doesn't really recognize any of them but by the way that you're laughing as you're talking to them, eunseok figures that that you must be pretty close.

"if you could stop staring at the love of your life and finish warm-up drills, that would be great, cap," wonbin says and eunseok shivers, startled by the right wing's sudden presence.

"yeah. uh, team! keep up the drills for just two more minutes before debriefing," eunseok yells, finally forcing his head away from your direction to face his team.

"i invited her because i wanted to give you a chance to impress yourself in front of her. don't make this rare opportunity into a mess," wonbin suggests with a smirk, saluting to eunseok as he ran to sungchan to finish the last few drills with him.

"that brat. and he still wants to be captain next year," eunseok grumbles under his breath, begrudgingly joining the rest of the team. as much as he hated to admit it, wonbin was right.

getting you to come to this match was already more than eunseok had ever had in the past; there was no way that he was going to let himself fuck this up. that would be so incredibly embarrassing.

"alright!" eunseok shouts, clapping his hands and waiting for the team to huddle around him. "i don't need to remind anyone that just because our team has been doing well, we still need to play at our best, right? you all know how to play soccer so just do what you've been doing and don't let it get to your head. good and bad plays both."

he extends his hand out to the center of their huddle, and the rest of the team also extends their hands, chanting their school's soccer cheer before dispersing to discard any extra gear or possessions.

eunseok looks one last time to where you were sitting, just as a quick 'good luck glance' and he's startled to see you already staring back at him. you cock your head and smile slightly, offering him a thumbs up and eunseok feels as though he'd already won the match.

"seok, i've got an idea," sungchan, eunseok's fellow captain and one of his closest friend says, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"what bullshit are you stirring up now?" eunseok says, his voice flat and unimpressed. sungchan grabs his chest where his heart was, as though he'd been shot, dramatically stumbling backwards.

"here i am, offering to relieve you of your pining and you say i'm stirring up bullshit," sungchan gasps. eunseok rolls his eyes, grabbing sungchan's jersey to pull him forward.

"what? match is starting soon," eunseok says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

"i'll make a bet with you," sungchan says. "if i score more goals than you do, you have to ask out y/n. but if you score more goals than i do, then you don't have to."

"this feels like a stupid bet. i'm not doing it," eunseok says, but he can already feel himself being swayed. he'd liked you for so long - at this point, he was just looking for the slightest push in the right direction to ask you out.

"alright fine. you don't have to. y/n's pretty cute, honestly, and she's hella smart too. so i'll make you a different deal. if i score more goals, i ask her out. if you score more goals, i won't ask her out," sungchan says, a devilish smile on his face.

eunseok's eyes look as though they'd burn sungchan to smithereens if they could but sungchan barely shivers, offering him a shit-eating grin and turning to blow a kiss to you.

"what the fuck? i should've known that you were up to something stupid," eunseok growls. "why the hell would you ask her out?"

"it's only an issue if i score more goals than you, right?" sungchan says, jogging backwards to join the team again, never breaking eye contact with eunseok.

eunseok knew that sungchan was a loyal friend and there was no way in hell that he was going to ask you out - even as a joke or as a push to get eunseok to confess his feelings - but eunseok was pissed. the idea of someone else confessing to you before he ever did made him see red.

the team barely sees eunseok the whole match. which is strange, because he's in for the entire match, but they barely even see him, his red uniform appearing as streaks up and down the field. he scores goal after goal, running towards the goalpost at speeds they'd never see the usually laidback captain move at.

and sungchan was no better than him. although his heart wasn't in it nearly as much, sungchan was hot on eunseok's heels, the two of them on opposite ends of the field and being the two people that the team relied on the most the entire match, carrying the entire team to victory.

which is why when the scoreboard reads 5 - 0, the team is shocked, but sungchan just has that stupid grin on his face. not only had eunseok scored one more goal than sungchan, he'd also gone mad, ensuring that the opposing team didn't score a single goal.

"what the hell did you do to cap?" wonbin asks sungchan, and the older boy just nods in your general direction.

"gave him the push he's been needing," he says, smirking with satisfaction when he sees eunseok jogging over to where you were sitting, after shaking hands with the opposing team and thanking the referees.

"thanks for coming, y/n," eunseok says, out of breath and sweaty when he reaches to where you were sitting. "i honestly didn't think you were coming - since sports aren't really your thing."

"i promised i would come, didn't i?" you quip, and a shy smile overtakes your face, making eunseok having to use every single ounce of his willpower to keep from squealing at how cute he found you. your friends slowly start to file out to leave the two of you standing there - you in the bleachers and him on the field.

"hm, yeah, you did." eunseok's face turns contemplative and for some reason, you rush to fill the silence, in a way that you'd never felt compelled to do with anyone else before.

"i have to admit...i had more fun than i thought," you say, choking on the words as you get them out. eunseok's eyebrows ascend into his hairline - which would be hilarious if you weren't the reason that they were doing so.

"you had fun? y/n l/n? having fun? that too, at a soccer match?" eunseok says incredulously, throwing his hands on his chest dramatically. "well, i'll be!"

you roll your eyes, but you can't help the silly smile you can feel start to form on your lips.

"i can have fun, you know. i'm not always studying and boring everyone. even at soccer games where all i see is a ball go up and down and i have no clue what's happening. i think you did well, though, since everyone was chattering a lot about your performance," you say, adding the last part to appease eunseok for inviting you.

"i don't care about what people say," eunseok says easily, waving his hand in the air as if to physically rid himself of the thought of other people disturbing his mental wellbeing.

"y/n! you have to get going; your tutoring starts soon and mrs. im is always super mad when anyone's the slightest second late!" one of your friends calls out, coming closer to physically drag you away from eunseok if need be.

even his ugliest stare doesn't work on discouraging them from approaching the two of you and eunseok figures that he should work on a mean glare instead of a blank stare; the latter wasn't helping as much anymore now that everyone just assumed that's what his natural face looked like.

"alright, alright. i'm coming," you say, stepping down the stairs of the bleachers carefully, tripping on the last step. eunseok's arm shoots out before he can even think of what he's doing, catching you as you fall.

"thank you," you say breathlessly, and suddenly, eunseok worries that you can hear the erratic beating of his heart from just how close you were to each other, your chests quite nearly touching.

"you wanna hang out some time? maybe prove that the academic queen, school topper, ms. brain knows how to have some fun?" eunseok asks, and he can feel the blood rushing throughout his body as his adrenaline is at an all-time high.

he doesn't think that he was nearly this nervous or that his heart was even pumping this hard during this match. but now, as he's looking down at the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in eighteen years of life, he can't help but feel weak in the knees and just a little too stupidly hopeful.

"i'm sorry eunseok. i'm pretty busy nowadays. especially with new people that i've been tutoring. i don't even have too much time to study myself; i don't think i can afford to take too many breaks now," you explain, somewhat sorry and somewhat sullen.

eunseok tries to keep the heartbreak from showing on his face and he nods, almost too excitedly.

"oh yeah, i get it! no worries! i mean, you are the number one student in the school! you've gotta keep those grades up!" his voice sounds fake even to his own ears and your friend winces apologetically but you don't even seem phased, flashing him a sweet smile.

"we'll 'hang out' when we work on the project next monday though right?" you ask, and eunseok nods, a plastic smile on his face.

"yeah, of course," he says, and for some reason, he can't help but wonder if you knew just how great you were at letting people down. eunseok knew that you were beautiful but no one had ever dared to ask you out, for fear of the fact that they would come second to your academics.

it's hard to ask someone out when you know what the answer is.

"well, i'll get going now then. mrs. im seems like a real tiger mom and i have my first tutoring session with her son today," you say, wrapping your sweater a little bit tighter around your body as you wave goodbye, retreating into the foggy afternoon.

"how did it go, cap?" wonbin asks, a knowing grin on his face, ready to tease/congratulate his captain on his definite success in asking you out.

eunseok doesn't even turn away from watching your figure until he's just staring at empty space and fog before saying, "tell the team we're running laps."

wonbin balks, looking in your direction to see if you'd come to save them. "but we won, cap!"

"no, sungchan and i won. the team is running laps," eunseok grinds out and wonbin immediately retreats backwards, understanding the situation a bit too clearly.

he sets off into a sprint and the team is quick to follow when they see the confusing expression on their captain's face. there was a mix of shame, heartbreak, confusion, guilt, and even some anger on his face and the team was just going to have to take the brunt of his emotions for now. he had a valid point, after all.

you were none the wiser about the soccer team's struggles until your friend, kim minjeong, looks back to see her friend, park wonbin, running in repeated circles before the fog starts to cover the soccer field. she shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweater before shaking her head.

"you know that eunseok was asking you out, right?" she asks and you scoff, pushing her slightly.

"you're insane minjeong. i think that jekyll and hyde is finally getting to you," you jest slightly, referencing her english project. "why the hell would eunseok ask me out?"

"because he wants to spend time with you? because you're a fun person when people get to know you? because he likes you, i don't know!" minjeong exclaims, stopping dead in her tracks and throwing her hands up.

"no, that can't be true," you say, but when you turn to look at what minjeong was looking at, you find that your eyes search the field until they lock with eunseok's eyes, which are trained on you and he cocks his head, causing you to shiver and face forward.

"are you sure?" minjeong asks, looking back and forth between you and eunseok as you march forward determinedly.

"i'm sure. there's no way that eunseok likes me."

+++

you were sure that eunseok didn't like you. that was what you had told minjeong and ning yizhuo, another one of your good friends, when the two of them had confronted you again later. that's the truth, as far as you're aware.

that's what made the most sense too; why the hell would the ace soccer captain be any level of interested in a person who spent all of their time studying and tutoring? someone who was known to be a reserved and kind enough person but a complete hardass when it came to their academics?

yizhuo's words echo in your mind as you sit on your bed, having completed your nightly routine of taking your vitamins and doing your skincare.

he'd never ask you if he wasn't interested.

you hated when she was right. especially when it meant that you were wrong about something. most especially because it meant that you were being emotionally unaware of something.

you stare at your phone, as if staring at it long enough would produce the answers you're searching for - the same thing you'd been doing for the past half hour. you know that you should go to sleep soon; you didn't have any tutoring tomorrow but you were planning on using the time to study, not having had much time over the weekdays to study.

but almost against your own reason and will, your arm reaches for your phone and types out a message recklessly, pressing send before your brain has the time to catch up to the antics of your foolish heart.

you: you wanna go to the arcade with me tomorrow?

you gasp at your own message, scandalized by your sudden initiative and something so out of character for you. you couldn't remember the last time you'd spent more than a couple minutes doing something fun.

actually, that was a lie. you'd just gone to eunseok's game. and you'd had fun. it was something about him that made you want to set down your pens and embrace life. or something else cheesy like that.

your heart jumps when eunseok's response comes, not even a minute after you'd sent the initial message.

song eunseok: i'd lvoe to. song eunseok: **love song eunseok: no tutoring tomorrow?

you type out a response, looking up to check the time on the desktop computer, catching a glimpse of your reflection. why the hell were you smiling?

you: not tomorrow. they canceled since they're going to busan for the weekend. song eunseok: ohhh i see. song eunseok: then let's do it! 1pm? you: sounds good. you: :)

you cast your phone aside on your nightstand, not bothering to read whatever messages eunseok had sent afterwards, instead drifting off into a somewhat peaceful and somewhat anticipatory sleep as you dreamt of the next day.

+++

you're uncharacteristically nervous, knee bouncing as you check your watch for the time for the third time in the past thirty seconds. much to your dismay, it was still very much 12:45 PM.

never had you been this nervous on the day of an important exam or a recital for violin. mostly because those were things that came somewhat easily to you - practice, practice, practice and you would succeed in any task given to you.

but friends? specifically friends who asked you on dates (according to yizhuo and minjeong, that's what this was)? you were somewhere between absolutely lost and crazy scared.

it's just eunseok, you have to breathe and remind yourself. just song eunseok. the stoic soccer team captain. your english project partner. the one that you've been getting a little too influenced by lately.

you consider turning around and heading home to safer territories (textbooks) and bailing on eunseok but before you can put your escape plan into action, the bane of your existence and cause for your issues appears in your vision, jogging over to you with the classic blank face that you've grown used to.

the shit-eating grin on his face that grows when he sees you already sitting on the bench outside the arcade is something that you're not used to, however, and it makes you blush at the implication.

"i'm a very punctual person," you say as soon as eunseok is in earshot, your ego smarting.

"i never said anything," eunseok retorts and you just harrumph, crossing your arms over your chest. "besides, i thought i'd definitely get here before you. you know, to practice."

your eyebrows knit together as you try to decipher the meaning behind his words. "to practice? practice what?"

eunseok's smile grows a little more bashful and sincere as he turns to face the arcade, unable to face you. "practice showing you that i'm worth wasting your saturday afternoon on instead of studying."

you fumble for words, leaping to your feet and marching into the arcade. "i'm not wasting my saturday afternoon on you! i'm - i'm showing you that i can be fun!"

eunseok just watches you enter the arcade, a dopey expression on his face and he jogs to follow you inside, slinging an arm around you in a casual motion that neither him nor you were expecting.

"you're plenty of fun, y/n. you have nothing to prove." eunseok's voice is soft and sweet above your head, and a little too sincere for you to pass over his words nonchalantly. you step just the slightest bit closer into his embrace, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him and his grip, previously loose and lax so that you could push him off whenever, grows just the tightest bit stronger.

"that sounds like someone who's scared of getting their ass kicked in dance dance revolution."

"oh hell no. you're on, miss school topper."

+++

as much as you hate to admit it, you have an incredible time with eunseok at the arcade. although you don't live up to your own expectations of your performance at arcade games (you chalk it up to lack of practice), eunseok exceeds your expectations.

even games that he says that he's never attempted before come to him easily, and he beats you at every single one of them, even with handicaps such as shooting with one hand for the basketball game or closing his eyes and playing whack a mole.

it's somewhat damaging to your street cred (not that you were banking on any street cred, to be honest) but eunseok manages soothe your ego by winning you three plushies at the claw machine (which he was also good at; you were starting to think that he was ai). two of them were matching so you hand him one of them, saying that it could be a good way to remember this afternoon together.

"i don't think i forget this afternoon," eunseok says when you hand him the plushie.

"hm?" you ask, somewhat distracted by the cute plushies in your arms.

"nothing," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "what do you say we go get some coffee? there's a really nice café nearby here."

"oh yeah, lets go. i love memories café; i study there all the time," you say, hugging the plushies to your chest.

"really? one of my friends works there! you should've told me before; i would've gotten you free coffee this whole time," eunseok exclaims, waving goodbye to the arcade employee that he'd become rather familiar with after all his visits to their establishment. the employee points to you subtly and gives him a thumbs up to indicate her approval of eunseok's type, and he just fake bows in agreement, walking out the arcade with a silly smile.

"which one? the tall one? i forget his name but he's pretty popular on campus, isn't he?" you say, your voice growing unsure as you try to place him in your memory.

"sungchan?" eunseok asks darkly, a troubled expression on his face. "yeah, he's pretty popular. for being pretty. and popular. and good at a lot of stuff."

"yeah, sungchan! he's the one who works there, isn't he? yizhuo always drags me to go when he's working because she thinks he's cute," you say before turning to eunseok with a gasp. "don't tell anyone i told you that! god, i can't believe i let that slip!"

eunseok chokes out a laugh, shaking his head. "i won't tell anyone, trust me. but, uh, do you think that he's cute? i mean you come to café pretty often right? is it because...because you think he's cute?"

you frown, trying to conjure his face in your mind before shrugging. "nah. i mean i see why people think he's cute but he's not really my type."

eunseok's heart leaps for joy before stopping at the end of your sentence. "uh, you have a type?"

he opens the door to the café for you when you reach it. you enter it, mumbling a quick thanks as you brush past him.

"sure. which teenage girl doesn't?" you quip, not even bothering to read the menu, already sure of what you were going to get.

eunseok scans the café, before groaning internally as his eyes land on his co-captain, flashing sweet smiles to every person that steps up to the register, never failing to make them swoon.

"care to share?" eunseok asks, shielding you from sungchan, wanting to prevent the clash for as long as possible.

"only if you do," you retort, and eunseok's stuck between figuring out how to keep you from seeing sungchan (or realistically, sungchan from seeing you) and how to tell you that you were his type, without actually saying your name.

he's saved and damned at the same time when sungchan calls out his name, and you peek around eunseok's body to see sungchan standing there in all of his tall, beautiful glory.

"sungchan, hey," eunseok says with a grumble, and you look up at him worriedly. he rushes to fix his tone, not wanting you to think that he was a salty or shitty friend.

"i see you've brought a friend," sungchan says smugly, and he extends his hand over the counter for you to shake. "hi! i'm sungchan, eunseok's co-captain."

you accept his hand, shaking it politely. "nice to meet you. eunseok's talked you up a lot. i'm y/n, by the way."

sungchan's eyes dart to eunseok at the mention of his praise, who's still brooding slightly, with a slight smile on his face. "trust me, there's no person at our school who doesn't know our resident number one academic. you haven't given up the throne since the day you stepped in our school."

you blush, trying to shrug casually. "i'm just really lucky to have the opportunities i do."

"intelligent, humble, and beautiful? how'd you get a girl like this to give you the time of day, seok-ie?" sungchan says, and it's like rubbing salt in the wound. sungchan is joking, and eunseok logically knows that he is just teasing him for finally working up the courage to ask you out three years after he developed feelings for you. but for some reason, the sweet smile on your face directed at sungchan instead of him made him upset.

"trust me, i have no clue either. she's pretty much perfect, isn't she?" eunseok says finally, and the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough for you to rip your gaze away from sungchan and to eunseok, who's looking at you with honey dripping from his eyes.

the sweetness in his eyes makes your heart race for some reason and you clear your throat, unable to turn away from eunseok for a good couple seconds before looking at the menu behind sungchan's head.

"well, uh, could i get a vanilla latte please? hot, not iced," you say, hating the quirk in your voice. eunseok's gaze is heavy on your face and he can barely find it in himself to turn away, ordering the same thing as you.

sungchan smirks, entering the order as his eyes dart between you and eunseok, both standing less than a foot apart but unable to look at each other.

"alright. i'll bring it over to your table, then. pro tip, the second floor has the best spot to watch the sunset in thirty minutes," sungchan says. eunseok nods in thanks, pulling out his wallet to offer sungchan a ten thousand won bill to cover your coffee and his own but sungchan just waves him away.

"today's coffee is on me. for the momentous occasion of song eunseok going on a date for the first time in his life," sungchan says and your head whips to see eunseok's reaction.

this was his first date? you think. but he's so popular! and so handsome...how has no one asked him out before?

almost as though sungchan can read your mind, he responds for eunseok. "he's been asked out so many times but he insisted that he was waiting for the one."

sungchan's words barely register in your mind, and your thoughts are still racing when eunseok guides you upstairs and to the table that sungchan had suggested.

"you've been waiting for the one?" you ask with an incredulous tone and eunseok tries his best to play it off casually.

"sungchan just says whatever. it's mostly because i didn't have the time," eunseok explains. and because none of the people who asked me out were you, he thinks, but doesn't voice aloud.

"hm. honestly, before you asked me out, i kinda thought i was going to die single," you admit after a couple moments of silence.

"why would you think that? we're only eighteen! and besides, you're smart, talented at violin, beautiful, and a bunch of other things i can't think of right now. anyone would be lucky to date you," eunseok says indignantly and you smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"if i'm being honest with you, it's all just to cover up my own insecurities. in middle school, i wasn't that smart and i didn't really care about my grades. i had a crush on this kid - i think his name was shotaro? - but he didn't really notice me. i wasn't the smartest kid in the grade, or the prettiest one, or even rich enough to dress up nicely and wear the things i wanted to.

"i don't think he actually cared about any of that stuff but my own insecurities sabotaged me enough to convince myself that he wanted nothing to do with me because i wasn't good enough. so i threw myself into everything i could. violin, academics, working out - everything. i started getting quieter and quieter because i thought that no one would want to listen to what i had to say.

"and the more i did things like that, the more i got used to being like that. i got used to being alone and focusing on my academics and stuff. even minjeong and yizhuo have always been closer to each other than they have been to me. they do fun things without me and that's mostly my fault because i never truly let them in but i don't know. it's hard to remind myself that people want to be my friend.

"especially because everyone thinks that all i think about is stuff like my studies and violin. it's hard to have fun and make memories when there's no one to make memories with. i just wish that i could have days like this, where i go out and have fun and do the things i want to with someone who wants to make memories with me."

you sigh, brushing away the tears that had welled up in your eyes as you had spoke. eunseok is silent the whole time and you finally come to your senses, rushing to lean forward in your chair and explain your sudden outburst of emotions.

"i'm so sorry for talking your ear off! i have no clue what my problem is; i promise i'm not usually so full of myself. i don't know why i'm talking about myself so much - "

eunseok doesn't let you finish. before your brain can even process, eunseok's lips are on your cheek, and your entire body just freezes.

and before you can understand what's happening, eunseok's back in his chair, looking at you as if you were the one who had kissed him, rather than vice versa.

"sorry! i just - i didn't mean to kiss you without your consent. i'm sorry. i just really don't want you to continue berating yourself," eunseok says. "i really like you and it really sucks to know that the one person that you like the most - the person that you wish nothing but the best for - doesn't like themself nearly as much as you do."

he leans forward in his chair, turning his head so that his cheek was facing you.

"you should slap me. i can take it! i deserve it, anyway," eunseok says, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels a breeze descend on his cheek. but instead of the stinging of a slap, it feels as though a soft pillow has touched his cheek.

eunseok opens his eyes to see you leaning over the table to press your lips to his cheek and in his shock, he turns his head and suddenly his lips are on yours and you're kissing in this café.

it's like fireworks explode in eunseok's body, especially when you raise your hand to touch his cheek gently before pulling away, eunseok resting his forehead against yours.

"this is cute and all but do you mind doing this at home? i'm gonna lose my job and maybe my lunch if i have to watch this any longer," says sungchan's smug voice from behind eunseok, and the two of you leap backwards into your respective chairs.

"sorry man," eunseok manages to choke out, and you just hide your face in your hands, too embarrassed to look up.

"don't mind me," sungchan quips, setting down the two cups of coffee and retreating down the stairs, shoulders shaking from trying to hide his laughs.

"this is going to be all over school, isn't it?" you groan, your head letting a resounding thunk when you collapse against the table. eunseok gets up to hunt down and sungchan and swear (read: threaten) him to secrecy but you reach out, catching eunseok's sleeve.

you let go when eunseok stops to look at you, a hot flush on your cheeks. "i don't mind it, honestly. i mean, i was never expecting my first relationship to be such a public one but there's no sense in hiding things right?"

"wait, wait, wait. we're in a relationship? that you're okay with being public with?" eunseok says, and he can see you visibly debate back-peddling and taking back your statement or going forward with conviction.

it seems that you've chosen full throttle when you cross your arms over your chest, leaning on the table. "isn't that what you want too? a relationship? i'm assuming that you wouldn't kiss me if you didn't want me to be something more than a friend to you and i wouldn't kiss you if i wasn't open to exploring being that something more."

eunseok feels as though he's on cloud nine, slinking back into his chair with the satisfaction of a cat with a bowl of cream.

"trust me, there's nothing that i want more than that."

+++

as the two of you had expected, the school is quick to catch onto the budding relationship between you and eunseok and quite frankly, it feels refreshing for you to be associated with something other than excelling your academics.

eunseok breathes fresh air into your life just by his mere presence. he coerces you into coming to his soccer matches, never failing to run into the bleachers to scoop you up in his arms and kiss you like you're the only two people in the world.

the news of the resident ms. brain and mr. brawn dating had spread like wildfire, and an instagram post with eunseok spinning you and kissing you after winning the seoul championships garners over four hundred thousand views, your romance going viral. so viral, in fact, that someone had created an instagram account just to document your relationship - the account had over three thousand followers, as of the last time you checked.

you'd initially thought that the attention that your relationship spun up would cause issues between the two of you but more than anything, it caused you to work through any issues that came up with communication and healthy relationship counseling (sungchan flirting with you until eunseok finally got off his ass and apologized after fucking up - only whenever fights were about stupid things that either of you were too proud to give in about).

and just like that, months passed by within the blink of an eye. the instagram account (you're somewhat sure that park wonbin and kim minjeong were running the account from sheer amount of footage from close up the instagram page featured) posted a video of eunseok playing insanely well at a match after one of the times that sungchan had been called in reinforcements.

eunseok's dream college had extended a soccer scholarship, and he'd committed within twenty fours of receiving the offer and soon after, you committed to the same college.

when various people, eunseok included, asked you why you'd chosen to go to the same school as eunseok, rather than a bigger or more prestigious school (although this school was still top six in the nation), you'd just smiled and leaned into eunseok's embrace.

"i can study and do well anywhere. i can't make memories to cherish and share for the rest of my life if i go anywhere else." is all you say to everyone who asked and eunseok thanks his lucky stars that he'd kissed you that day in the café to be able to hold you and talk about a future with the two of you like this.

and just as fast the last couple months had passed by, a full ten years pass by. the ten years are filled with moments of happiness and sadness, laughs and tears, but filled with life that you wouldn't trade for the world.

and when you and eunseok walk together to the high school reunion held at someone's restaurant, hand in hand, looking the same as you had as stupidly in love teenagers ten years ago, next to no one is suprised.

"look who it is! it's mrs. brawn and mr. brain now," someone calls out, causing all of your classmates to erupt into laughter. the both of you just look at each other and smile, flagging down where sungchan and minjeong are sitting and taking your own seats next to them.

"by the way, eunseok, how'd you get our resident genius to go out with you anyway? or even fall in love hard enough to go to the same college as you?" someone you don't really recognize asks from the other side of the restaurant and the entire restaurant buzzes with excitement, waiting for eunseok's answer.

eunseok smiles and exchanges a look with sungchan, a teasing glint in his eyes. "let's just say that sungchan isn't allowed within ten feet of my wife."

and with that, the restaurant breaks out into cheers and laughter, everyone returning to their conversation, the attention turning to the most eligible bachelor of their grade, jung sungchan.

minjeong leans over to whisper in your ear. "it's a good thing you had a private wedding; i bet half of these people don't know that sungchan was eunseok's best man."

you shrug, laughing freely with everyone else. "half of these people also don't know that you and sungchan have been dating for the past three years."

eunseok's wedding band flashes under the light as he raises his glass to toast to the 'inside joke' that the four of you shared, clinking his beer with the three of you.

"to the bambi boy and the winter girl!"

"to mr. brawn and mrs. brain!"

"i can't believe i graduated from ms. brain to mrs. brain."

"and i can't believe that you and eunseok have been together for eleven years instead of fourteen because eunseok was too much of a pussy to ask you out when he started liking you."

"JUNG SUNGCHAN, I'M GOING TO FLAY YOU!"

"don't skin my fiancé please. you can do whatever you want after the wedding."

"i can't believe my fiancé hates me this much."

"i can't believe these people are our friends."

"i can't believe i finally scored mrs. brain."

[hart269]

Slithering Hearts

Chapter 6

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother.

A/N : As you set on your jouney to become an animal, some realisations are realised

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

"Will you not talk to me at all" Regulus asked looming over you while you sat underneath a tree.

You quickly scribbled in your parchment, "But I am"

Regulus groaned, "No, speak, why are you not speaking, is your throat sore"

"No" You shoved the paper in his face

"Tell me then"

"whyy"

"What do you mean why, you're not speaking, to anyone?" Regulus huffed.

You shrugged, you quill scratching the paper as you scrawled "What if you tell someone?"

"Tell someone what, that your speech language has turned that of a basilisk" Regulus sassed leaning back on the tree which you sat against. You scoffed, "Fine"

You opened your mouth, he stilled, "Is that a mandrake leaf"

You nodded, he seemed to be in thought "Are you trying to be an animagus?". You nodded again.

"So, that's why you were not speaking and here I thought you were intelligent" he retorted smirking.

You tilted your head offensively, he pulled out his wand and mumbled a charm. The mandrake leaf stuck to the roof of your mouth, leaving you to speak as you wish.

"I was gonna think of that soon" you huffed.

He slid down to sit next to you. "So why are you trying to perform such a dangerous and illegal activity..that too without me?"

You groaned resting your face between your knees, "Because James is doing so", you said, beleiving that to be enough of an explanation.

Really you had to pester James for much longer to tell you, at one point you were running after him as he was running away from you,

"James stop" you yelled your breath running short.

James had turned to look back at your horrified gaze, as he slipped on the marble and plummeted to the ground, he gazed up, "Oh, hey gorgeous, did I tell you that you are beautiful from this angle too".

Lily let out an annoyed sound, "Seems like you need to change your glasses Potter". She walked away and this time you ran, James following suit, yelling behind you "Because of you I swallowed it"

Then here you were, following in his prime example. Regulus nodded getting up, brushing his pants, puberty really had hit him this summer. His hair fell slightly down his ears, he had grown taller, voice more mature. He had started to attract quite a bit of attention, which would have been more if he didn't have a resting bitch face in public.

You stared incredously, "Where are you going?"

"To get a leaf for myself" he shrugged as if it was obvious. You shook your head, "It is really dangerous and illegal", you repeated his own words to him.

He snorted, "Says the girl who's doing so herself". You hummed then grinned, glad to have a partner, "Then let's go, shall we"

Surely enough you both had a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month, you had even managed to avoid getting caught by Amelia who had asked the reason you were eating a leaf.

You had sheepishly smiled, pretending to be embarassed, "I am on this specific leaf diet"

She had nodded and even told you about the different kinds you could incorporate into your diet. You had smiled and thanked her, adapting into your leaf diet, you had felt more like a bowtrukle less a zouwu. However you decided it was best to not tell James, not to mention he will yell at you for doing something so reckless. You instead pestered professor mcgonagoll to tell you hypothetically about it, not suspicious at all.

However your misery was coming to an end when the full moon approached, you both were at the astronomy tower, storing way the phial which contained mixture, now all you had to wait for was an electrical storm, which took longer than the actual process of making the concotion.

"Regulus" you shook the boy, long asleep on the library chair beside you. He opened his eyes groggily, "What?"

You pointed at the window, even though it was middle of the afternoon, the sky had darkened, little grumblings of the clouds could be heard as they clashed onto each other, "An electrical storm" you whispered.   

You had decided to go to a secluded place near the magical creature reserve. You had your phial which contained a blood red potion, you looked up once again as the cloud cackled. You knew the consequences of it going wrong but you had taken all precautions to eliminate any chances of happeing so. You looked at Regulus and nodded, placing the wand over your hearts, you both chanted, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus"

You drank the potion and  instantly wanted to throw up, your throat felt itchy, you gripped your throat taking deep breaths, you saw Regulus on his knees through your blurry vision, your ears ringed, you stumbled to the ground, feeling your bones shift, it was  certainly painful. Your eyes blanked, and you make out a figure of an ainimal with red fur .

You opened your eyes to be met with green eyes of a black feline who mewed loudly. You glanced down at your red paws, moving and getting used to walking on all fours, you were a red fox.

You pushed the cat with your snout and it let out a loud hiss, so you decided for fun to pick it up carefully while it began to hiss and claw. You were quite enjoying this.

You thought of your human form, feeling your bones contract painfully but this time less so. The cat Reggie tilted his head, "Aww, you're cute", the cat hissed as if taking offence, his face contorted as he tried to shift back, his nose scrunched, he turned back into Regulus letting out a small, tiny wheeze.

You bursted into laughter which Regulus crossed his arms, his face turned into a pout. "I thought I was gonna be a big scary animal"

"You are" you replied, gazing at his eyes, they really were so green that the trees paled in comparison to its shine. Regulus scoffed, "Well, you are a sly fox"

"A sly fox" you questioned. He nodded, "Yes, you are"

You grinned, "Then you're fuzzy ball". Then he made a face that would have been hissing in his animagus form. "Stop calling me those, I'm scary". The pout resting on his face was adorable too.

Your smiled just grew wider as a drop of rain fell into your cheek, "Very scary reggie, very, I'm sure the 1st years will run seeing you"

   

It took you both a while to get used to your animagus form but once you did, it felt as easy as breathing. Now that you noticed it, you both did have some of the characteristics of your animal counterparts.

You groaned as a book was thwacked into your head, you glaced at the culprit, Amelia who stood fuming, "Where the hell were you, we were supposed to meet for lunch?". She sat down beside you at the grand table. 

"Sorry, I was studying with Reggie in the library and I lost track of time." Amelia hummed, you knew she wanted to ask something.

"What is it, tell me?" you inquired. Amelia nodded, "Nothing much, just wondering"

You really were confused, "Wondering what?". Amelia seemed to be conflicted, "Alright, but don't take it too seriously, it's just an observation." You nodded.

"Look, I'm not implying it but like are you two together". You tilted your head confused, "Together as in"

Amelia groaned, "Are you two dating?".

"What, no, jeez, No, there's nothing like that, why did you think so?" Your heart raced, you couldn't think how can someone assume so, I mean you two just hanged out like normal people do. 

Amelia shrugged, "I mean you two are mostly together-". You cut her off, "Yeah as friends are"

She continued- "Then there's the thing where you look at each other, it's like no one else exists, not to forget, you two always disappear or run off together"

You were flabbergasted, bamboozled even, "No, I mean, no, he doesn't like me like that"

Amelia raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows, "Do you?"

You shook your head, glancing at Regulus who sat a bit away from you, his lips turned upwards as his gaze met yours. You definitely didn't like him like that. He was your bestfriend if you may, thought he was smart, and nice and preety like the stars. But merlin, you didn't like him like that, right?.

 Taglist - @shycreationdreamland @mp-littlebit @girlbooklover555 @godofstory @misacc08 @starchaser-lily @moonywastakenn @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @skepvids

[lurkingshan]

I've been in multiple tumblr fandoms over the years and the same shit comes up over and over again wrt arguments about how we all engage with our chosen media on here, so here are a few things to keep in mind that have helped me along the way:

Not everyone is going to engage in the same way as you, and that's good, actually. Some people are purely here to gush over the things they like. Some people are here to do deep analytical breakdowns which will include criticism. Some people are cheerleaders. Some people are haters. A lot of people are a mix of both depending on what they're talking about on any given day. It's all good and valid, and it's what gives this space variety, allows us to learn from each other, and keeps it interesting.

The filter, unfollow, and block functions are your friend. If you love a mutual but hate the volume or the way they talk about a certain thing, just add it to your filtered tags (relatedly: tag your shit so people can filter you when needed!). If you consistently don't vibe with the way a person chooses to engage on here, just unfollow them. If you find them actively offensive or detrimental to your mental health, hit that block button, baby. We are all anonymous internet strangers and no one will die.

Someone expressing a different opinion from yours is not a personal attack on you. If someone hates a thing you like, they are not calling you stupid for liking it. If they love a thing you hate, there's nothing wrong with them, they are just taking something different from it than you are. That shit is all about you and your own insecurities, don't try to put it on them.

Vague posting is rude. If you want to directly respond to something someone said to get better clarity about what they meant, reply to their post or shoot them an ask or DM and talk to them about it. If you simply want to express a counterpoint without directly engaging them, just post your own take without vaguely alluding to them and building what is almost certainly a strawman of their original point. People you're vaguing can see you on here, folks. Don't be a dick.

Credit and reblog other people's ideas when you are building on them, and be kind to the creators who provide the artwork that make this place so special and unique. Reblogging is the lifeblood of this website. It's the only way people get to see content that is by anyone they don't follow, and the gifmakers on here in particular put in so much time and effort to give us beautiful images--share their work and tell them you appreciate it! You also don't have to agree with every single word of a meta post to reblog it (why would you expect to, it comes from a different brain than yours), and you absolutely should be crediting people and sharing their words when they sparked something that inspired your own thoughts. This is just being a good community member.

Embrace the difference between meta and fanwanking. Meta writing is analysis of the actual media content as it is presented, with arguments based in the canon text. Fanwanking is doing your own work to fill in gaps or create headcanons to supplement the canon text. Some people prefer content that leaves a lot of gaps because they love to creatively fanwank; some people prefer to be told complete stories without having to do all that extra work to make them make sense. These are both very cool and fun ways to engage, but when you're fanwanking be aware that those ideas are all coming from you, not the actual media being discussed, so others might not vibe with your interpretation.

When posting your own opinions, try to be clear about where you're coming from and why. If you have a personal experience or bias that is affecting your read, own it. If you're looking at a piece of media from a specific angle related to your own interests and learning, say that. It helps other people to know where you're coming from and why you're thinking about something in a certain way that can then help them puzzle out why they feel differently.

You don't owe anyone your presence here, and you don't have to express opinions on everything or respond to tags or asks if you don't have anything to say. Sometimes you might just want to take a break from posting, some things in the discourse might just flow right on by you, sometimes you will not have a firm opinion on a debate. You can post as much or as little as you want. You can suddenly decide you don't want to talk about a show anymore. You can not log into your tumblr for days or weeks at a time. Do you, boo!

Most people come to tumblr because they do want to engage with others, and this place can be a lot of fun if you just take what you need from it and let things that aren't serving you go.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Little specific, but an autistic trans-masc reader with vic’tao and uihoy? maybe a little bit of a breeding kink? I think it would be cute with them trying to figure out why their mate keeps making too much or no eye contact at all, keeps suddenly jumping up and down, and what the scars under their chest is

The Eyes are the Window to the Soul

Pairings: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x Autistic!Trans-Masc!Reader x Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Word Count: 1616

Summary: The two Yautjas are playing their chess-like game with you paying attention. It’s confusing to be honest but you try and its fun to watch them play. When Vic’tao checkmates Uihoy, you jumping excitingly and cheer on the younger Yautja. This is a usual sort for you but Uihoy finally brings up the question. The average ooman’s he’s seen don’t do that. During the entire time, you make direct eye contact with him.

Author Note: Nothing wrong with being specific! I hope I wrote this the way you wanted and didn't step over any lines.

Masterlist

Ao3

On a console in the cockpit, the two Yautjas you’ve grown to learn and love sat in their designated chairs. Serious, thinking expressions were pulled upon their faces. It was cute to be honest. A peaceful smile was etched onto your features as you admired the two.

The yellow Yautja with blue stripes grunted and moved a piece across this game board. Uihoy scoffed and easily countered with his own pawn. A very complicated game of chest that wasn’t all on one board. Parts of the board were vertical and intersecting with other vertical or horizontal pieces.

For the time being, you stood off to the side and watched quietly, learning. It was the smart way to play. Once you learned their tactics, you could join in on their turf. One day, you could possibly even beat them at their own game.

Vic’tao flicked his tongue out then proceeded to swipe off three of Uihoy’s pawns. Your jaw dropped at an incredible move then you jumped excitingly on the balls of your feet. A smug look washed over the yellow Yautja’s face while he looked at his other mate. “The old man can’t learn new tricks,” he snarked and leaned back in his chair, arm resting at a ninety-degree angle. “That such an old play that I bet your ancestors know.”

Despite anger being a normal reaction for Uihoy to fall into. All the purple Yautja did was raised a brow at his Yautja mate. “So, that’s how this going to be? Got one taste of victory and suddenly Vic’tao has gone feral,” Uihoy grunted and rolled his bright eyes. “Like the same way when little hunter allowed for Vic’tao to breed. One taste is all it takes.”

The spit in your throat nearly got sucked down into your lungs. You coughed and stared at the older male in disbelief. He’s become bolder with that statement as evidence.

A snarky look was thrown your way from Uihoy as he played his turn. Yet, it didn’t even steal any of his pawns back nor any of Vic’tao’s. A useless play in your mind.

More rounds of swapping plays and pawn alike occurred over the course of another hour. Interested to learn more, you stayed captured into the game. You decided to sit down between them on the ground and watched from below. Either of them attempted to coax you into their lap but the floor won. Neither took offense. If you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. There was nothing wrong with that.

Somewhere during the game, Vic’tao requested a pause. The two agreed to stop for now. A pout crossed over your features as you watched as Vic left the room.

With the game paused, you shuffled on your knees up to the console and pointed to a spot on the boards. It was a darker spot. “Why is this place darker than the majority of the circles?” you asked then looked over your shoulder at Uihoy, eyes directly staring into his without moving.

Said Yautja scooted until only his butt was on the edge of his chair. “Well, if a pawn lands there, said pawn transforms into a…” he trailed off, mandibles pulling tight to mouth, thinking. Must be a word that was difficult to translate over or might not even have a translated word. It was about one-third of Yautja and English that don’t mix happily together.

He hissed then looked at you a little lost. “Would it be similar to a pawn turning into a queen?” you offered to him, hoping he knew the basics of human chess. “A queen is one of the most powerful figures on the board.” You decided to add that piece of information, so he hopefully understands it.

Uihoy snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Yes! Practically,” he exclaimed then glanced at the board then back at you. Your eyes still on him, watching with rapture that he found slightly strange. He didn’t understand why you felt the need to look into his eyes whenever you were speaking with him. Same with Vic’tao. He almost had the heart to tell you that’s a challenge in Yautja body language. But, you were only ooman.

At this point, the cockpit doors slid open to reveal Vic’tao returning. Not empty handed though. Three waterskins and a bowl of fruit. Your favorite fruit. You immediately got to your feet and started to bounce with your arms in the air.

The bowl was handed to you with a waterskin. You sat back down on your comfortable spot on the floor and resumed your attention back on the game. Uihoy was given one as well and thanked the yellow male with a soft head bump. Vic returned to his chair and took a sip from his drink, body lax.

Both hunters resumed their game with vigor, ensuring they each didn’t lose ground in this battle. One would capture three pawns only to lose two of their own, vice versa. Then, they were able to steal back their lost pawns.

A give and pull game that could take weeks with two highly skilled players such as these two to finish it.

The fruit you were gracious given slowly disappeared over the course of three hours. Every once in a while, your two mates would sneak one for themselves. You’d playfully crinkle your nose at them when they proceeded with snatched a treat. They’d treat it as a game so they didn’t get caught by you. Like the hunters they are, they were nearly successful each time.

Later, at the end of the day, the three of you were winding down for the night. The usual of brushing teeth, changing of clothes, taking a shower or bath if you felt the need.

With your shirt off as you cleaned your teeth, Vic’tao came up behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His large hands palmed at the side of your ribcage. The much larger figurer leaned down to lick the shell of your ear. You watched him passively through the mirror even as one of his claws ghosted over the two noticeable scars that lined the bottom of your pecs.

You shuttered against Vic and slightly tensed. The male read the room swiftly and let his hands fall from that spot. He tilted his head and looked at you through the reflection before. “What are those scars from? They look purposeful?” he questioned and rubbed his cheek against yours, eyes soft. You had the opportunity to opt out and set up a boundary about that. But he’s one of your mates. Any knowledge you share with him will be kept safe.

Through the mirror, you find his eyes again. “They are from a surgery I had,” you answered at first ominously. You reached behind you for one of his hands and held it close. “I used to have breasts… but I didn’t like them. They didn’t match the body I was meant to have. So, I had them removed.” Your grip on his hand tightened. Vic’tao carded his fingers through yours and returned the gesture.

“Now, I feel more like who I’m supposed to be. I feel… safer, freer. This is the body I was meant to have.”

There wasn’t many who you’ve talked about this with. You could count on one hand all those you’ve told this story to. That includes the medical physicians you were forced to relay this story over and over until you could get this surgery.

Behind you, Uihoy made an appearance and strolled over to the two of you. The purple elder nudged his cheek bone to yours in a soft, loving greeting. You knew he had heard your words as well. Them and their incredible hearing.

“We adore you and whatever you decide to do. We love and care for you no matter what, our little mate,” Vic’tao chittered into your ear, taking words he knows Uihoy would love to say. Uihoy was happy Vic could translate his words for you into proper English. “You are ours, till the end of time, till our hearts stop beating. We will be here for you.”

Your body filled with the need to bounce as you kept direct eye contact, flickering between the two of them. Somehow, you refrained from doing so.

The love the two of them held for you went beyond anything you knew of. Never in your life have you experienced such adoration from anyone. “I’m incredibly lucky to have ever met you guys,” you whispered, careful not break the soft feeling that’s been created.

Uihoy was the first to smile pressed his closed mandibles to your cheek. “Let’s go to bed.” With your free hand, you grabbed Uihoy’s and lead the two of them to the shared bedroom. The same bed you’ve shared countless times before.

Like the giant he is, Vic’tao settled down and took the majority of the space until Uihoy kicked him. Vic grunted and scooted over, still on his back. Both of his arms and legs spread eagle, again, dominating all the room possible. You rolled your eyes and watched as Uihoy curled up to Uihoy. Last but not least, you maneuvered your body between the limited space they offered to you. A perfect place for you to squeeze into on your side, facing Uihoy.

The purple Yautja threw an arm, over you and cuddle you close to his form. You tucked your curled wrist under your chin and snuggled close to Uihoy’s warm body. Vic’tao slithered his closet arm from underneath your curled body and wrapped it as well around your torso. Both Yautja having a firm grasp on you.

[radiant-reid]

Hi

Do you think Spencer would say something to y/n when she’s showing pregnancy symptoms and she hasn’t really noticed?

If so can we get a little blurb??

DAD!SPENCE !!!!!! and i have two for this because i cannot decide which was better

"You didn't touch your coffee after you begged for it," Spencer notes after you've finished breakfast, staring at the full mug next to your empty plate.

You scrunch your nose. It smelt good, which is why you begged for it after he told you it wasn't a good idea. "I mean, I did spend the morning throwing up, so I guess that put me off."

"I'm sorry." He apologizes. "I must have made it wrong." He knows that's not true, but he's a textbook overthinker, especially when it comes to potential diagnoses and he doesn't want to force it on you.

He'd almost be able to forget that, file it into the back of his memory, but then other things happen and he starts to connect the dots.

"I'm so fucking sick of these pants." You complain, tugging on the button that won't fit over your stomach correctly like it used to the last time you wore them.

Spencer's always ready to offer you assurance about your insecurities and stands up from where he's sitting in the armchair in your room to meet you in the walk-in wardrobe.

He's much more worried when you burst into tears uncharacteristically. You have no idea what brought it on. It just happened.

"Oh, hey, darling." He coos, wrapping you in a hug and letting you cry into his chest. "What's going on?" He asks the question like he doesn't know. He's just looking for the right way to bring it up.

You shake your head. "I don't know."

"You're so beautiful." He assures you. "And I really don't want you to take this the wrong way."

You know him well enough to know he wouldn't say something offensive. "Tell me."

"I think you could, uh, be preg-pregnant." He mentions delicately, soft voice speaking to you calmly.

You pull back from shock, hand clamping over your mouth. It takes you a full moment of comprehension before you take it away. "Is that good?"

He's grinning, widely, which you don't notice until then. "I'm ready. We're good, you know? But, more importantly, what do you think?"

The answer is right there, it doesn't take a second for you to think of it. "Yes. How did you figure that out before I did?"

He rests his hand over your lower stomach. "It didn't just come from this. There was the nausea, taste changes, and, if I was not as intelligent as I'm proved to be, I would add mood swings to that list."

You giggle, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Good thing you're a genius then."

OR

"Shut up." You roll your eyes, throwing a shirt from your bag at Spencer, who puts it in the machine.

"Thought you married me because I'm funny." He smirks smugly, leaning against the wall while you finish putting the laundry on.

You shake your head. "Nope. I married you for bragging rights. Do you know how much status your genius-ness gives me?"

He follows you as you walk to the living room and plops down on the couch next to you. "Since I'm a genius, you should listen to me." He implores. "You are pregnant. P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T."

"You are annoying. A-N-N-O-Y-I-N-G." You mock him.

He rests his head on your lap, so he can look up at you at an angle that's probably not flattering. "Baby, we fuck like rabbits. Without condoms because of how much you love having cum in you." He reminds you, sounding so soft while he talks so dirty. "All. The. Time."

"Oh." You mumble, clenching your teeth as you look down at him. "Those are some good points."

"Thanks." He winks, only because he knows you're not freaking out. Like he said, it was expected. He turns his head, so he's facing your lower stomach, pushing up your shirt before kissing your skin. "One day, you'll know I'm always right."

[seaskate]

Is It Over Now? Excerpt

”Remus sighed as if he was releasing his dying breath as he laid his head down. In the things tome for Ancient Runes, careful of the drying ink just bedside it. Not for the first time the Gryffindor found himself wishing that Pince would let them smoke in the library, because he would just about kill for one just about then.

The library was stock full with students due to just how close OWLs and NEWTs were, the numbers only increasing more so as the usual finals reared their ugly heads as well. So every table was full of quietly mummering students, and heavily bored ones weighed down by equally heavy books lining their arms. Normally this was something that Remus could find it in himself to tolerate, enjoy even as silence was something that typically set the boy’s nerves on edge after never having it before, but so close to the moon sound was like some kind of personal offense to the lion. The other students seemed to realize it too as his was the only table that anyone in the entirety of the library had to themselves.

That was why it had come at so much of a surprise and yet none at all when Regulus Black of all people had stopped before him, books in hand with two familiar boys and one fair haired girl behind him.

“Mind if we sit, Lupin?” The younger black had asked in that posh accent of his that all of the purebloods seemed to hold. The one that always served to remind the Gryffindor of the Cockney accent that he had come to Hogwarts with first year, and had been systematically killing every year since. The only time that the teen used it was during the summer holidays, but it was always best not to think of those during the school year. “Everywhere else is full.”

Remus eyed the four younger students carefully, wondering if this was some angle that the younger Black was playing. The war had been on everyone's minds this year, and it was no secret where all but one notable expectation of the Black family stood with it. But though the wood within him begged for a good fight, the part of him that had been trying so hard this year to be kinder thought better of it.

“You’re taking Ancient Runes, right?” Remus asked instead of properly answering the question outright as he knew that he should. 

The older boy watched with a twinge of satisfaction as confusion pooled on that of the Slytherin boy’s face, the younger Black’s face morphing into an expression so like his brother’s that Remus almost had to remind himself that the boy before him was not. Eventually the other boy nodded primly and Remus did as well.

“You Slytherins like deals, right? Help me with this problem and you’ll hear no complaints from me,” the older boy said, pointing to the questions that they had been assigned easier in class that day.

“Why? The studious Gryffindor can’t figure it out himself?” One of the other Slytherins, Barth Crouch Jr., had asked with more than a heavy level of annoyance and scorn, only to be hit on the shoulder by the last boy- Evan Rosier.

Remus glared up at the boy, more amused by the title that he had been given then offended by the rude accusation attached to it. It was always strange to hear how others thought of him outside of the Marauders who knew that Remus was the one that was the brains behind most of the group’s bigger pranks throughout their years at Hogwarts. No one ever thought that it was him.

“Can’t remember one of the theorems from last year,” the older boy said, shrugging as he kept a cool head- something that he had become very good at during his time as prefect. “And I don't want to have to bloody well fight my way to the tower and back for the notes on one measly problem, now do I?” Remus remarked firmly.

He watched as the younger boy seemed to eye him consideringly- as if he was seeing something that he hadn’t before- but shifted his gaze away when the younger Black brother moved to stand beside him at the table, looking down at the paper with that too familiar pinch in the younger boy’s brows. Remus had seen it on Sirius more times than he could count when the four of them were drawing out the lines for the map. He’d always had to look away from the older Black when he did that and found himself instinctively doing the same with the younger.

“You’re going to need to put the Algiz before the Dagaz rune,” the younger boy decided after a moment, “since with this theorem you can use literal translations.”

“So it will be ‘shielding from change’, that way the painting will remain unabated by time” Remus remembered quickly before grabbing his quil to do just that, only stopping to gesture to the three Slytherin boys and the one Ravenclaw girl to take their seats as they had agreed to before.

For the next few hours the odd group sat at the table in a comfortable silence that was soon filled with the quiet complaints at the work and questions being exchanged with one another. 

Remus found that the Ravenclaw girl was named Pandora Lestrange and was a particularly gifted witch in just about everything that she tried, and was often prone to experimenting with spells- even right before finals it seemed as none of her mountain of books were about anything that they were currently studying, but her current fascination instead.

Barty Crouch and Evan Rosier seemed to share one mind as the pair filled the table with scathing remarks that Remus somehow found himself adding to when familiar names came up. Somehow plans for an exorcism were brought up for Professor Binns, and Moaning Myrtle before long. The only problem that the group found was how to make sure that it was limited to just the two ghosts and cover their tracks enough that it would look like a natural passing.

Regulus Black had been the most surprising of the odd group, the quiet boy that seemed the best behaved if the lot holding more than his fair share of his brother’s talent for trouble as Remus caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a modified duplication spell created just for alcohol so that it wouldn’t modify the taste or strength of the original or the copy. The younger Black brother had only smiled when he saw what Remus was looking at and the pair had adjusted one or two things together, ‘the exact opposite of what a prefect should be doing,’ as the Slytherin boy had felt the need to point out.

Remus hadn’t known it then, but that simple decision to allow the group close had changed everything.”

[agentoffangirling]

as a south asian why the hell did they make aladdin and jasmine south asian. I am so confused. Isn't jasmine's name literally persian

Okay okay so there's a bit of a story for this

And to quickly answer your last question, yup, Jasmine is one of the forms of Yas/Yasmine, our jasmine flowers

So back in the 90s, and still a little bit today, many production companies such as Disney didn't really see a difference with the Middle East and South Asia. When Disney decided they wanted to make an adaptation of "Aladdin" from "One Thousand and One Nights" (slight tidbit here, the story of Aladdin is not part of the original book. A French guy added it in and for some reason, set it in China? One Thousand is a Persian story, most of the stories in there are Persian, so this choice was. Interesting), it's not like they suddenly hired a bunch of Middle Eastern experts to consult on the film. No, they just created a desert-y landscape and lumped in Persian, Arab, and South Asian all in there

This is why the palace of Agrabah heavily resembles the Taj Mahal on a more Arabic-sounding name. Rajah, Jasmine's pet tiger, is an Indian word for king. Names such as Jafar and Jasmine are Persian in origin, while a lot of the clothing is Turkish-inspired. Villains such as the Captain and Jafar have a lot more stereotypically Middle Eastern features (hooked nose, bushy eyebrows, etc [and it's a convo for another day about how the "good" characters don't have these exaggerated features])

This melding of several cultures is what led up to the live-action "Aladdin" in 2019. The creators of that movie wanted to be more respectful of the region, and so this time, they did hire consultants and the like to help ensure it would be much less offensive ("where they cut off your ear if they don't like your face", nice going 1992)

And for the most part, they did that. Except for Jasmine

Jasmine is played by Naomi Scott, a half white half Indian woman, and look, it's pretty obvious she only got this part because she's well known. I would also like to point out that the casting calls for the characters in general once again lumped Southeast Asian and Middle Eastern people, however, almost all of the cast is Middle Eastern, and several of them are Persian (Sultan and Mara, notably)

So while everyone else is wearing clothes more indicative of the Middle East, you have miss Jasmine over here dressed in sarees and Indian-inspired clothing because costuming department went "oh! She's Indian now!" Agrabah is also a lot more similar to South Asia than the Middle East, further deepening this issue

To an outsider, "Aladdin" is Indian. To them, there's some Arab inspo, but they would mostly think it's set somewhere in India or South Asia. That's what the casting and costuming department in "Rise of Red" were working with, and so they just opted to go the whole South Asian angle. None of the actors who portray Jasmine, Aladdin, and their kid are Middle Eastern, they're all South Asian. The clothes they're wearing are very obviously from that region

And if I'm being completely honest, that's exactly what I expect from Disney. Why would they bother to do research for extremely minor characters with two lines? The problem here is what I've been talking about above, is that Hollywood is constantly thinking South Asians and Middle Easterners are interchangeable when we're not. If I see a MENA character on screen, more often than not the actor is South Asian. This is a continuous problem no one from these places wants to see happening, and yet it is because Hollywood doesn't actually care. The more it's done, the more they think it's okay and so they continue to blur the lines between several different cultures

So, on an ending note, Jasmine and Aladdin are Arab, if not Persian, and the idea that we are interchangable with South Asians harms both our cultures

[im-a-wonderling]

Hollow Victory

Here y'all, have this late on a Friday night. Thank @sassysaxxy for bullying me into posting it.

Villain took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking around with contentment. 

It’d rained earlier in the day, evident by the pleasant smell hanging in the air as well as the puddles on the roof, reflecting the pinks and oranges thrown into the air by the setting sun. A little farther in the distance, she spied the bridge crossing the river that split their city in two.

If she leaned forward slightly, she could see the street 22 stories below, the headlights of the cars winking as the cars weaved around each other. She did so, tracing with her eyes a disjointed pattern in the lights pouring from about half of the windows of the building beneath her feet. 

From where she stood, she could see the whole city, and the fact that it was her building made the view that much sweeter. 

It was a good day.

Villain signed the deal an hour ago, the deal that would secure the future of this company, the one she built from the ground up with her bare hands all by herself. There was nothing anyone could do to screw this up for her. With this victory, Villain was one step closer to–

The sound of a shoe whispering against concrete reached her ears, and she whirled around, hands raised. 

“Hero,” she remarked. “What are you doing here?” 

Villain didn’t get an answer.

She studied her nemesis, attempting to figure out his next move. Surely he was primed and ready to…to…

Were those jeans? And sneakers? Yes, Hero himself stood in front of her wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and red sneakers that looked as though they’d lived more life than Hero himself. Villain opened her mouth, ready to deliver the first verbal blow in their regularly scheduled discourse when she stopped. 

It wasn’t his clothing that gave her pause, but rather the expression on Hero’s face. 

There was no trace of his youthful dimples, nor the ever-wearying smile that was his initial offensive strike against her. His shoulders rounded inwards, bearing no similarity to the confident posture he normally sported. And his eyes. Settled on her face as they were, she had the perfect vantage point to see the severity they held.

Add that to the lack of brightly-colored spandex…

“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously, trying to figure out his angle. 

Hero held out his hands, palm up. “Take them.”

“What–” Villain began.

“Take my powers.”

Villain blinked. And then blinked again. “What did you say?” she asked calmly, betraying none of her confusion.

“Take my powers.” Hero said it again with no hesitation whatsoever.

Villain cocked her head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Take them,” Hero growled through his teeth, giving Villain the distinct image of a collared dog. Villain fell back half a step. Hero’s face darkened. “You’ve been trying to take my powers for months. Now I’m offering them to you, and you’re hesitating?”

That made Villain rethink her life choices far more than any of his monologues about good and evil. She gaped at Hero, trying to find her words. 

“Take them.” Hero advanced, and Villain fell back another step, gripped with uncertainty. “Take them!”

Villain cringed. “Stop it!” 

 “Take them!” Hero roared, holding his hands out farther. “Take them!” 

Villain backed up, her heel running into the step serving as the only separation from the fall. “S-stay back!”

“Take them!” Hero bellowed.“JUST TAKE THEM!”

“I WON’T!”

Hero crumpled forward, so suddenly that Villain worried she’d unintentionally done something to him. But then Hero’s whole body shook with the force of the strangled sobs.

Villain stared at him as he looked up at her, tears streaming from his eyes. “Take them,” Hero croaked in between sniffs. “Please.”

If this was some kicked-puppy routine, it wasn’t necessarily working, but it was far more original than any of Hero’s other schemes. Villain lowered her hands. She’d always wanted Hero on his hands and knees before her like a peasant before a king, but not like this. This would be a hollow victory. 

Something was wrong, and Villain had a sinking suspicion she knew what it was. 

“Hero, who did you hurt?” The rhythm of his sobs increased, and Villain swore underneath her breath, knowing she was right. “Did you kill someone?”

Hero pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. 

She let out a breath. “Are they okay?”

Hero shook his head again, unable to speak in between the strangled breaths and messy crying. 

“Who was it?”

The question ripped through him. Still with his hands over his face, he pressed his face into the pavement. 

Villain watched him.

He was right; she had been trying to take his powers for months. Her victorious evening would double if she succeeded.

Villain inched forward, cautiously reaching out her hand, waiting for Hero to grab it and somehow gain the upper hand. But he remained where he was, bent over and crying. 

Tears like this couldn’t be faked. 

When she finally rested a hand on Hero’s head, Hero didn’t flinch. In fact, his slender fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding her hand in place against his head. His body slumped, as if he was relieved.

But Villain didn’t activate her powers.

She slid her hand down to his jaw, propping her finger to lift his face. His red eyes were still overflowing with water, and a small bubble of snot popped as he looked up at her with the desperation of a cornered and beaten dog. 

She shook herself. This was a ploy, it wasn’t real. He’d heard about her deal, and he came here to knock her down a peg, to humiliate her by tricking her into showing compassion. 

Her heart pulling in one direction and her mind pulling in the other, Villain followed her mind, turning away from Hero, once again facing the city, trying to focus on the view. 

But Hero’s resumed cries from behind her tugged at a deep-rooted thread, the sound echoing ones she’d heard before. Ones she’d made before. 

She glanced up at the clouds as if asking them how she’d gotten into this situation. “I was eight when my mom came up behind me and scared me.” 

Given how loud Hero’s crying was, she didn’t know if he could hear her. Somehow, that made it easier to keep talking. “She was trying to be silly, she didn’t know any better, but my powers just reacted.”

His cries subsided slightly. 

“I was scared, and…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “She was only in the hospital for a few hours, but she never looked at me the same.”

Hero’s crying stopped, aside from the occasional hiccup. 

She turned back around to see Hero had pushed himself up onto his knees. He didn’t bother to wipe away the traces of tears, nor the ones building in his eyes. He simply watched her, hanging on her every word. 

“It happens. I’m not saying it’s good or right or that it isn’t your fault. I’m saying it happens.”

At this, Hero shook his head. “I want to be able to hug people,” he whispered. “I want to be normal.”

“I used to think the same,” Villain whispered. What was she doing?! She was conversing with the enemy, she was…divulging! But the heartbreak on Hero’s face was one she’d walked around with for years. “If you still want them gone in a month…I’ll take them.”

Hero’s face grew more haggard. “A month? Why won’t you just take them now?”

“I can’t give them back, Hero. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. And you’d feel differently about it if you watched someone get hurt when you could’ve saved them.”

Hero fell silent, and she knew he was wrestling with his pesky conscience, just like she knew he’d never return home to his family tonight. He needed to work through his guilt away from them. 

“This is the reality of being a hero,” Villain said softly. “Being a hero doesn’t free you from feeling pain.”

Hero exhaled, the sound muffled and stuffy. “Does being a villain?”

“I’m afraid not.” Villain pursed her lips. “Pain is the great human affliction.”

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[deadsince1973]

Poll Below

So, I saw someone say yesterday that "most people skim watch Chinese dramas", and that honestly blew my mind. If it has subtitles, I have to watch it and focus on it.

But then several thoughts occurred to me. You see, right now, my friend and I are watching The Longest Promise and The Screen Foxes. To us, The Longest Promise is painfully slow. We thought it was a little slower than most Chinese dramas, but most Chinese dramas are a little bit slow, and The Longest Promise actually feels much slower to us because we hate the main character and, like, half the story decisions so much, we thought. (Sorry, no offense to Longest Promise fans.) We thought that if we actually liked the main character and were invested in her story, the way the show dilly-dallied on every one of her scenes - having her say the same things over and over again, showing a dozen different angles on some magical moment in her life, having her express feelings about something that happened in a previous episode that she had made very clear at the time - would be enjoyable. Meanwhile, before we started The Screen Foxes, I read three different reviews that said the plot moved lightning-fast, bounced all over the place, and didn't make any sense. And ... none of that is true (so far). The plot moves at a normal pace. A thing happens, and then, something else happens as a consequence. There ARE several different interconnected story threads, and we do bounce back and forth between them, but it all makes sense. And last night, it hit me that maybe The Longest Promise is so slow because you're supposed to "skim watch" it. Certainly, if you dip in and out, you can follow the plot very easily. Scenes are long enough that it's hard to miss a whole one if you're checking back in frequently, repetitive enough that you can understand the point of the scene even if you miss three-quarters of it, and the same points are repeated in multiple scenes, so there are very few details you can miss even if you don't watch it too closely. (Plus, the plot is predictable enough that it's easy to follow.) Meanwhile, because The Screen Foxes doesn't dawdle on any points, if you're not actually sitting down and watching, it must seem chaotic and nonsensical. Why are they fighting this green monster now? Wasn't the show about painting a minute ago? The green monster is being used by a Taoist to body-guard a rich family. The Taoist is actually the one who made the family rich. Why? That's the mystery we need to find out. In the meantime, this family used its wealth to cheat in the painting contest from the last episode, so fighting their body guard is advancing that painting plotline too. But if you looked away from the screen during the two minutes where they were explaining all that, then yeah, it would be super confusing why this show just went from a painting contest to a demon fight.

If Chinese dramas are MEANT to be watched in the background, and that's the reason so many of them are so long and slow, then, honestly, my whole worldview has been changed.

So, TLDR: I have to know now: DO most people actually "skim watch" Chinese dramas????

[ihatetheinternetandeveryoneonit]

Tainted--An Astarion Drabble

Full fic HERE

A little smutty but mostly angsty. And despite me being a horny bitch I have a very hard time writing smut.

Basically Astarion's perspective in the forest encounter after the fade-to-black and the whole experience blows up in his face.

I'll try and finish the damn thing but I wanted to toss this little bit out there and see how it goes.

nsfw/nsft/18+ argument, dissociation, sad stuff

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Astarion?"

Astarion's attention snapped to reality, but his rhythm was too practiced to falter. "What is it, pet?" he panted.

She stared at him as he continued to thrust into her, but her face showed no pleasure. In fact, it was frustration.

"What's wrong?" Her voice lowered into something so serious it was nearly comical in this situation.

"What do you mean?" Astarion wore a lazy smirk, trying to angle himself to hit an ever-so-popular spot, that ought to shut her up.

"Get off."

He paused and looked at her scowl. Yes, she was serious.

Furious, Astarion pulled out and shoved himself off. His first time choosing to have a roll in the hay, the first time he didn't have to think about his body being someone's death sentence. Only to be brutally rejected like this.

All those times, he wandered now, was his allure even him? Or was it some "gift" from his master?

"What do you even want here?" Tav sat up in a huff.

"What do you want?" Astarion shot back.

"I don't know," Tav narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe to feel like I'm wanted?"

"Why do you think I invited you here?!" He spat.

Tav shrugged in exasperation. "If I wanted a well-oiled piston, I'd buy one from an artificer!"

"It's called skill, darling." Venom began to drip from his words. "Maybe one day you'll know what it looks like."

"Fuck skill, give me enthusiasm! If you're not enjoying it, then what's the point?!" Tav shook her head, scrambling to her feet. "If fucking me is such a chore, then you're relieved."

"Wait." Astarion reached out, but Tav was already out of his grasp. But she mercifully paused.

His mind was a flurry of thoughts. "How…? You think I wasn't enjoying myself?"

Tav rolled her eyes. "I've had to fake it a time or two. I know what it looks like."

So she wanted real. But hells if he knew what real looked like anymore.

"But why do you care?" He frowned at Tav.

"Because I'm…sane?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not deranged? What kind of question is that?!" Her voice grew heated in offense. But after a pause, she softened a bit and sighed, sitting back down.

"Look, I'm not gonna ask any more on…whatever is going on with you right now. But I like you--so far--and there's no point doing any of this if you're not enjoying it. You'll be miserable, I'll be unsatisfied, and we'll both waste our time."

She treated this like it was basic, obvious. Maybe it was.

Gasps, moans of pleasure, nails digging in--those were just feedback to Astarion. His way of knowing that he was doing the right thing, touching the right spot. All those times seeing their pleasure was the goal, but never the prize.

It just then hit him. How utterly broken he was. A perfect machine, with skills honed to a degree that a courtesan could only dream of, but the part of him that would know something so fundamental as sharing pleasure--broken.

He laughed bitterly.

[carefulfears]

okay the hank & mia ask i've been struggling with: i genuinely have no real thoughts about this show, just intense feelings. like i truly love it, all the characters and relationships, but especially these two. and i just wonder at all the ways they're similar. i always go back to the scene on the balcony

i have intense feelings about this show too and a hard time articulating so many of them, this topic included. it's funny because this is something that i've talked about absolutely non-stop for coming close to a year and have broken down from seemingly every angle and i still don't know how to pull it all together or what to say, where to start. most people who would care have heard me run the talking points through a thousand times over.

they asked duchovny this question too ("is mia at all similar to hank?") on the season 2 DVD and i literally hopped out of my seat when i heard that in my longest "i've been saying" ever, because it's something that i find very interesting and emotional but that i was a little surprised to find was as intentional as it is in the text. one of the first times that i talked about it was this tweet: "they're very similar people and it drives me crazy...when you have a dead mom, an absent dad, and you act out by putting yourself in dangerous disrespectful sexual situations."

and i used the word "disrespectful" because there's a quote of duchovny's that always reminds me of mia: "hank's lack of respect is really for himself, not for anybody else." which i think is an insightful observation about mr. moody and his relationship to women and culture and himself, but that also relates a lot to this idea of "acting out" and of sexual encounters as infringing on something personal. which is an experience familiar to that of a young woman trying to develop those relationships and sense of self, during a very spongy time where it's easy to infringe upon.

and so yeah what i'm saying is basically that hank moody has the constitution and coping mechanisms and vulnerabilities of a teenage girl (or as i put it in this tweet: "he has abandoned 16-year-old girl swag")

or how duchovny answered when they asked, is mia at all similar to hank, on the DVD: "you kinda know that there's...that her behavior is being driven by some problems, you know, and you wanna reach out and try to help that. and i think hank has a little of that too. you know, obviously they've got a history that makes everything complicated. but i think that he feels paternal towards her more than anything."

or how madeline zima put it: "mia is a wealthy girl who has had every luxury and is now probably really bored. she's been touched by hank's writing- it may be the only time she's been affected or stimulated in that way. so she's looking for something new, something exciting, and she finds that. and i don't think hank has found many people who are on his wavelength."

mia is the only character on the show that can really go toe-to-toe with hank and match him and never waver to him, which is why she's so diabolical to a certain demographic. they even call it out in the show: "did you see how completely unfazed she was by hank? i mean, no offense, he's a cool guy, but it was kind of pathetic, right?" (dani to charlie after the book meeting)

the only times that hank ever really surprises her or throws her for a loop or catches her off guard is when he's genuinely investing in her. (like when she's struggling in her writing class and he tells her that he'll help her if she just writes something and lets him read it, her eyes go SO WIDE when she has the "really? you'd do that for me?" line.)

and for the most part, outside of the obvious, mia doesn't surprise hank either. he is the only person in the world who really knows her and what she's doing and what her life is like.

we were talking in the group-chat the other night about the scene in season 2 when karen says that mia asked her opinion ("it was like she was kind of asking my approval") on dating an "older man," a scene that's one of my favorites of the series and such a delicious example of dramatic irony.

hank is instantly on offense ("i hope you shut that shit down immediately." / "why would you say something like that?" / "that's foul." / "this gross 'older man' thing.")

while karen is so much more relaxed and talking about her own times in college and how it can be a "valid life experience" with "the right guy."

and what i love about this scene is that they aren't having the same conversation, they aren't talking about the same thing, but so much of that difference is what we said: karen thinks that mia is her, hank knows that she's him.

the kind of dynamic that karen imagines when she hears her 17-year-old stepdaughter who is about to graduate and travel the country say “older man” is a world away from the reality that mia actually inhabits, and that hank knows about. as jaden pointed out when we discussed it, when karen finds out that mia is having sex with lew ashby, she freaks the fuck out!! she goes and throws shit at him and yells and cusses at him and rants at him about how she’s a child. (and hank has the nerve to go “you’re the one who condoned it” during their “parental units” phone call L.M.F.A.O.)

karen tries to look after mia and be there for her (“we are meant to be taking care of her”), but they have such a strained relationship always. and she really isn’t equipped, especially as kept in the dark as she is. it’s honestly really sad the way that you can tell mia regrets pushing karen away.

but hank knows her. he says it himself in mia culpa: “i know you. you’re a mischievous little fuck, but you’re not malicious.” (in the same scene where he tells her that she can do better than her exploitative boyfriend, that karen loves her, that becca looks up to her. holds her hand when she tears up)

and they’re able to say anything around each other. it’s this twisted thing where no one else knows their secrets. i was thinking about the other day, how duchovny always says that his favorite thing about hank moody is that he always tells the truth, and his favorite thing about mia lewis is that it’s the one time he doesn’t. it’s this pervasive exception to a rule that bonds them. the most devastating thing about it all, to me, is that there comes a time when you realize that there is no one else looking out for this girl. there is no one else who looks at her teacher and knows there’s danger. there is no one else that she feels she can call to come get her when she’s in trouble. there is no one else to read her writing or ask where she’s going when she leaves the house. (“my own father has never so much as helped with my homework” / “my dad’s always out of town, i don’t think he cares about my whereabouts”)

but they can tell each other and joke with each other and ask each other (loser shit for grown ass mr. moody but still). one of my favorite moments is when the print review of “mia’s book” comes out and she hops on his bed to wake him up so they can read it together: “it’s our review in the times!” (so much talk and discourse over her stealing his manuscript, it’s their story, it’s their book.)

in more ways than one, considering that both books (hank’s “modern day answer to lolita” and mia’s “nabokov meets judy blume”) are responses to their big secret that they intend for the person closest to them to read. hank is heartbroken when karen won’t read his new book, and we know from charlie that all it takes is “the first page” to figure out the truth. mia wants her dad to read hers, and when he calls it a “fantasy” about hank, she nearly blows the whole thing when she gets upset and snaps “who said it was fantasy?”

these are ultimately two people who want to be seen, who want to be understood, who want to be taken seriously- and they both put that pervasive truth on paper then immediately in the hands of the person that they each should fear ever finding out. it’s the defining moment of their lives, and they both try, and they both are still left with just each other. (what a trap it can be when the person you relate to the most is the most regrettable thing that ever happened to you)

it's these circumstances that lead to the scene on the balcony, my favorite of the series. they haven't seen each other since the arrest. she's back in town for the trial. and everything is so awful. each character is so much darker and weighed down. and every single time that we see mia in season 4 she's drunk or drugged or crying or all of the above.

it always makes me sad to think of her at 16 or 17 or even 19, joking around and being her "mad as a hatter" self, and then to see her on that ledge. hollywood's latest victim.

in a couple of weeks she'll be shaking in a court room, looking over at him from the witness stand, but for today she's on the balcony. remarking how easy it would be to just let go, just fall off. and still, no less tragically, there's only one person to come get her, and know what to say.

"you know what we need to do, mia?"

"what's that?"

"we need to forgive our fucking selves. you understand?"

[look-at-the-soul]

Look at the soul-Part 9 I won’t let go

Series Master list

Song by Rascal Flatts

✨ Panic attack ⚠️ Comfort

I hope you like this! ✨ we’re getting closer, hang in there

“I need some caffeine, are you free to go?” Lee asked stretching her arms above her head while Marianne was finishing her online course.

“Yeah, just let me save this… give me a sec.” Marianne got rid of her glasses and started closing the tabs.

“God I really need a break.”

“Alright, I’m ready.” Marianne sighed thinking like those five minutes would feel like a holiday.

“Guys if you’re going out just be quick, we’re trying to finish early today.” Shane from production asked them.

“Sure thing we’ll just grab a coffee.” Lee replied.

“Why don’t you just get from table they set of food?”

“No offense Shane, but that coffee is shit. Taste like dirty socks.”

Marianne laughed, Lee’s sincerity was always a balm of fresh air.

“Do you want the marshmallow cookies?” She asked Shane in an attempt to distract him from his hurry.

“Please!” He shouted walking in the opposite direction.

“I don’t understand why he likes those so much.” Lee made a face, she had only seen him eating those during rehearsals.

“Don’t want to ask.” Marianne shuddered with a small chuckle.

“Where are you going?” Enda asked, making Cillian turn at them.

“Coffee break.”

“You’ve got a coffee machine right behind your back.” The screenplay writer pointed.

“Have you tried that? It’s awful man.” Finally, Cillian intervened. “I’ll go with you.”

“Fine, just go so we can finish with the rehearsal.” He adviced walking back, he needed to make the new replacement adjust to the rhythm they had reached. One of the girls who played the prostitutes wasn’t able to continue so he called a backup.

As Cillian, Lee and Marianne were walking back to the theater with their drinks, Cillian got tense.

“Would you wait for me?” He asked in a low voice.

“What? Where?” Marianne looked over at Lee, they were both confused.

“There he is! OMG!” Someone shouted.

“Goodness! It’s him!” Another voice said.

“That’s why.” He sighed.

“Cillian! Hi! Can we get an autograph?” One of the girls asked.

“We can’t wait to see the play!” The other one admitted excitedly.

Cillian remained polite, a shy smile on his face while he handed them his cup. “Do you have a pen?”

“Now what? Am I his assistant suddenly?” Lee asked confused holding his drink.

“What should we do? Move away?”

“He asked us to wait with him.” Lee looked into another direction as they watched the girls taking turns to take the picture with him.

Finding each others eyes once more, they didn’t know what to do.

“Do you think they will recognize us like that? After the play starts I mean.” Marianne asked feeling both scared and excited.

“I don’t think so, it’s probably because it’s him.”

“How did they even recognized him with that beanie and glasses?” She looked at both items she was holding now.

“Could you take us all a picture?” One of them asked, Lee immediately lifted up at both hands, showing she was busy. So the girl turned to Marianne with a pleading look, she placed her drink on the fence and asked the group to smile.

Cillian made her a small gesture to hurry up as they wanted different angles and shoots, so Marianne apologized and mentioned they were running late for rehearsal, but waved at the girls and said she hoped they’d get the chance to see the play.

“Great, now I’m the bloody assistant and you’re the photographer.” Lee murmured.

“Bye Cillian!” The girls exchanged looks and started jumping as they walked away.

“Why is that you never took a photo with me?” Lee asked frowning. “I don’t know which one is yours by the way.” She pointed at both cups.

“You’re a terrible assistant.” Marianne teased, making Cillian laugh.

“That’s because I’m not, and you’re not a photographer.” She said sticking out her tongue.

“Sorry about that.” Cillian apologized for the third time, taking a seat at the last row. Marianne copied him.

“I think this is yours.” Marianne exchanged the coffee cups for them.

“Look up here.” Lee called them holding the camera at eye level. She was standing between the row in front of them.

Marianne crossed her legs and smiled, Cillian adjusted in his seat and passed his am behind her shoulders. Lee focused them and counted to three to take their photo.

“Now it’s my turn.” She did a gracious move to cross to the last line of seats.

Marianne captured the shoot and gave Lee back her phone while Cillian moved towards the stage to check something with Enda.

“Hey! No, he closed his eyes…” Lee complained.

Marianne was mortified, she knew Cillian didn’t like to get asked to pose for photos and he had already done a few for the fans that recognized him earlier, so she tried to comfort her friend. “There will be another chance, we still have a long road ahead.”

“And he hugged you.” Lee made a face and turned around to lift her arm and hold the camera for a selfie.

“Look at the bright side, he was smiling.”

“What’s your Instagram?”

Marianne shuddered. “I closed it before arriving to Ireland.”

“Why?” Lee couldn’t believe she didn’t have an account.

“I got tired of some people.” She explained looking away, it had been for the best. For her at least. It was hard at first to not being able to be in constant communication with some close friends though.

Just as Lee was about to ask more about it, they were both called to start the rehearsal.

“#Mariannewithnoinsta #EndasPlay #lookatthesoul #KillianMurphy” Lee read out loud while typing.

“It’s with C.” Marianne corrected over her shoulder as she looked at the collage Lee made with candid photos behind the scenes, the stage and the photo she took of Cillian and her.

“Are you sure? I thought it was with a K.”

“Trust me I’ve seen him roll his eyes when someone makes a mistake or mispronounce his name.” Marianne chuckled.

“But it would sound like Sillian.” Lee replied.

“I swear it’s with C.”

“Just ask him.” She requested Marianne, pointing at the man they were talking about.

“Me? No, why?”

“Because he’s very comfortable around you! You make him laugh.”

Marianne looked at her friend with a panic expression as Lee waived Cillian over.

“You have a sec? Marianne has a question.” Lee showed him a huge grin while Marianne turned into an evident blush that covered even her neck.

Placing his hands on his hips, he looked over at Marianne, waiting.

“For the poster you asked me to sign, she thinks it’s with K, but I was telling her it’s with C, right?” She had to think of some kind of excuse to ask him.

Cillian nodded energetically with a soft smile.

“Can we start already?” Enda pleaded patting Cillian on the back.

As they took their respective spots on stage, Cillian went to the cabin to take his place from one of the sounds booths to read his lines as the narrator.

Watching the rehearsal from afar was a completely different thing, seeing the lights, the costumes… this was magical. He couldn’t wait for the play to start and see the theater filled with the audience.

Rolling his shoulders, he started narrating the opening lines, a small summary of Adria. “…but I warn you, once she stares into your eyes, there’s no turning back.”

The next thing he knew is the lights went on and the curtain was up.

***

“You have to look at this!” Lee stormed into Marianne’s dressing room without knocking.

Luckily she was closing her backpack. “What happened?”

“I got a bunch of followers, people I don’t know asking me where did I see Cillian and asking who are you.”

“Oh Lee, goodness.”

“I know!”

“It’s your account, but I wouldn’t answer anything.” Marianne suggested.

Lee scrolled down. “They won’t stop writing anyways.” She showed her one of the comments.

“Guess the news of the play is being sprayed around, tomorrow we’ve an interview scheduled.” Marianne trailed off as they walked out of the theater to head home, Lee and Heidi weren’t able to have their traditional Thursday Tacos Night, so they’d get together on Friday instead. “And what if there are more girls now that they know Cillian is working on the play.”

“Oh shut… I don’t know, once I get home, I’ll make my account private.”

As they arrived to the point where each got into a different direction, Lee’s phone got several notifications.

Looking at the screen, she groaned and showed Marianne.

“Miss Popular.” She joked.

“Stop it.” Lee rolled her eyes.

“Oh you love it!”

Lee stopped walking and mimicked an annoying voice to read the message she got. “I don’t understand why do they have to bother him when he’s out and about, it pisses me off.”

“That’s bold, they want to know more about him but don’t you dare to ask for a picture? He agreed and with a smile.” Marianne defended. “But look at this reply, he looks happy and smiling, wonder what they said to make him laugh. Lucky gals.”

“Blocked.” Lee pressed the red button.

“They only asked us to not post anything about the script or the play itself… you aren’t breaking any rules, basically. Just let it go, don’t pay attention to someone you don’t even know.” Marianne gave Lee a comforting hug.

——

Marianne felt like she was living an adrenaline rush constantly, running from one place to another, studying between rehearsals, working on her free time to get the numbers for Cillian right.

But in reality everything was alright because every little thing she was doing, it was because she truly loved it.

So she was rushing from the bus to enter the hotel lobby she was instructed where the interview for a local magazine would take place.

The photographer and interviewer adjusted to her schedule without a trouble.

But when she looked at Heidi, she knew something wasn’t going according to plan.

“Hi.” She greeted everyone with a shy smile.

“The make up artist and hair stylist we hired had something come up.” She informed her with a heavy sigh, she was trying to find another date to reschedule.

Looking over at Enda his arms were folded against his chest, Cillian was standing next to him, if he was annoyed, it didn’t show.

“I called Michelle and Isa they can’t come since we wouldn’t have rehearsal today, they took the day off.”

“I can do my own make up and hair.” Marianne proposed.

“We need a professional.” The woman in charge of the interview stated.

“Well, I’m not a pro, but I’ve done it before and I’ve seen how they do it for the play,” ignoring the woman in charge, she looked at Enda, “do you have time enough to reschedule?”

The screenplay writer removed his glasses and shook his head. “No, time is tight.”

“Alright, let’s do this.” Heidi proposed.

Luckily, Marianne had everything she might need in her backpack, she had been using some of her personal things for the play since her skin was so sensitive and reacted badly to some new products.

So quickly she got hands on and started working on her hair, Heidi was helping her to divide it and hold the tools.

Meanwhile, outside of the bathroom, Enda scratched his head.

“Saved by the leading role, this woman is a bombshell.” Looking at Cillian he added; “She does everything she proposes, it doesn’t matter the size of the challenge, you’ll never see her with a bad attitude.”

“We opened the Pandora’s box.” Cillian replied with a nod.

“Would it be weird if I say I’m a bit crazy in love with her?”

Cillian understood Enda’s statement. Unlike the interviewer.

“I’m sorry, what?” He looked at them confused.

“Laborally.” Interjected Cillian before he could get any wrong ideas. “It’s something we’ve talked before, she’s the most dedicated person of this play, whenever we face a problem, she finds a solution, it’s a joy in every possible way to work with Marianne.”

“Can I use that as the header for my note?” Asked the man.

“As long as you don’t twist it.” Enda looked in the direction of the bathroom.

There were no words he could find to fully express his feelings, this play was so important to him, the story was so close to his heart, and it was a dream that he was about to see it become true. On stage, every night with the lines and characters he knew by heart.

He had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Taking a look at her reflection in the mirror, Marianne’s breath got caught in her throat as she stepped out of the bathroom, there was a huge light, a couch, three cameras and a microphone.

Cillian must’ve sensed the panic in her eyes, because he left what he was doing and walked towards her.

What if she messed up? What if she said something out of place? She’d embarrass Cillian and Enda.

You think you're lost

She had never done something like this, she didn’t know anything about the media…

Everything changed in a matter of seconds, the walls started closing around her, her chest felt tight, her breathing was erratic. The room was spinning.

“Take a deep breath.” Then a pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders and gently helped her to sit down. “Look at me.” Said a soft voice.

But you're not lost on your own

That’s when she realized Cillian was talking to her in a soothing tone.

You're not alone

“There it is, everything is alright, take a deep breath.”

After mirroring his breathing, she tried to get up, but Cillian placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

I will stand by you

I will help you through

“I need my inhaler.” She stammered pointing at her backpack.

Cillian gave her a double look, to make sure he had listened correctly, but he passed her bag. As she was trying to empty its contents, he gave her a long, worried look.

“Let me help you.” He proposed with such patience that made her feel embarrassed, she was used to do everything on her own. In record time he found the box in one of the pockets and gave it to her.

After shaking it for an instant, Marianne exhaled and placed it in her mouth, after pressing down the canister, she took a deep breath to take the medicine in.

“Better?” He asked concern written all over his face, she nodded. “Have you been through this before?”

“Sometimes… it’s usually under control.”

Trying to process what just happened, he debated whether to call for help or not. “What happened?”

“I-I had a crisis… an asthma attack. After watching all the lights and cameras I panicked.” She tried to explain and calm herself. “I can’t do this.” Marianne’s voice broke down just as her hands were shaking.

Cillian took both between his and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Of course you can, don’t let this distract you, this is just something that’s part of the job, but this,” he lifted the inhaler to her eye-level, “this is very important, more than anything else.”

“I’m fine, I’m just… I got overwhelmed, got so brave to do the styling by myself when they said the glam team couldn’t make it, I don’t want to disappoint you and Enda.”

Cillian crouched down one more time in front of her. “Hey you could never, ever disappoint us, you just prove us every time that you were the right choice to do this… but I don’t want it to be a trouble for your health.”

Marianne shook her head. “I’m fine really, I just can’t let this control me.”

“How bad is it? Really”

“I’ve had it for like a year and a half, they’ve been trying different steroids every six months, so it could be the cause for the change or it can be other factors.” She trailed off, not wanting to get into that.

“Like what? I need to know so I can help you.” He got really scared.

“Stress.” Marianne confessed looking away from those piercing blue eyes.

“Is it because of the play or the interview?” Cillian asked gently, studying her features.

“I really don’t want to mess this up, what if I say something stupid? What if I don’t understand his accent?”

That made him crack a small smile. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Just let Adria handle this, yeah?” He relaxed when he saw her thinking about it. “Let her do the job, let her handle that reporter and the photographer the way she knows best and you’ll be fine.”

“We’re ready.” Heidi interrupted them, asking right away if she was alright.

“Just a little peep talk.” Cillian gave her a wink and made sure Marianne was fine. “I’ll give you ladies a minute.”

As they started taking pictures of Enda and Cillian, the interviewer asked: “so can you elaborate a bit more about the laborally romance you mentioned?”

“Well you just saw it, she came in and made the character hers from the first lines.” Enda explained, his smile growing bigger as Marianne was at his eyesight.

She mouthed a thank you to Cillian, feeling much better thanks to him.

“She dusted it off and brought it to life so beautifully.” Cillian completed. “You didn’t know this, but she even got completely hands on, she helped to paint some of the items we use in the scenography.”

Marianne smiled remembering the shock in their faces when they found her backstage covered in paint.

“Can we get a shot by the window?” The photographer asked. After a few shoots, they asked the trio to move towards the couch, Marianne standing in the back, while Cillian and Enda sat, leaving her in the middle.

“What it’s like to collaborate once more for you? You’ve been good pals for ages.”

Enda looked at Cillian. “That’s easy, I eat because of him, he makes my plays go full.”

They all erupted in laughs by Enda’s words.

“There’s a magic hidden between the lines, and I say this all the time it’s like a magnet to captivate you from the opening line, he keeps you on the edge of the seat.”

“Can I see a smile? That’s it.”

“That’s for you.” Enda elbowed Cillian, making them laugh.

“Marianne can you tell us how has this process been for you? We know this is your first play.”

She gave him a seductive smile, his mouth went dry.

Cillian looked at her.

“It’s been a roller coaster, but I fell in love with the character and I’ve been blessed enough to learn from the very best mentors.” This was a mix between Adria and Marianne, and the combination was lethal.

“Can we take a look at the script?”

“No, sorry you’ll have to wait until the play starts.”

They posed again and laughed and answered more questions, nothing too revealing about the play though.

“Last but not least, they mentioned earlier they’re both laborally in love with you. How do you feel about this?”

The question made her snap out of character and she blushed immediately.

***

Part 10

Thank you for reading!! So, the cat is out of the bag, she finally opened up to him about what she’s been through, so the level of trust they’ve been building is growing… what do you think will happen next? 🥰

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[one-flower-one-sword]

so aside from 2x02, 2x05 is so far my favorite ep from season 2, simply for the fact that we get to see Hua Cheng fight. in previous posts, I've already analysed scenes from the novel in regards to Hua Cheng fighting while blind on one side and the logistics of his disability in general, so now I want to try it with the donghua as well. caveat and disclaimer that while I am disabled myself, I am not so in regards to my vision, so everything I know comes from research I've done rather than personal experience. if anyone reads my analysis and feels like it's wrong or offensive, please do let me know and I will correct it.

I mentioned in previous posts (like this one) that there are several instances where Hua Cheng seems to deliberatley turn his blind side towards people and that the reasons for this vary depending on context. in 2x05, Hua Cheng starts off facing Xie Lian and the others directly after he stood up from where he'd been pushed to the floor by Xie Lian:

while he's talking to them about "Ming Yi" though, he starts walking off to the side while having his blind side facing them completely. here, it comes off as a power move - a way to convey "I don't feel the need to keep you in my line of sight at all since I don't consider you serious threats worthy of my attention", without having to say any of that out loud at all:

while the action is the same, the reasoning behind it as well as the way it comes across seems very different to when he has his blind side facing Xie Lian while he's with him in Paradise Manor's main hall in the previous eps:

Xie Lian sat down first, and then Hua Cheng chose to sit with his blind side facing him. like I've argued in previous posts, Hua Cheng seems to do this when he wants to hide his expression and thereby his emotions from others. in this case, I assume it's for the same reason he withdrew from Xie Lian's touch in the ox cart - he's afraid of getting too excited and making Xie Lian uncomfortable with it. of course, he does turn his head and look at Xie Lian several times during their conversation here, but the point is that this positioning gives him the option of hiding when he feels it necessary - like when he offered the dice for Xie Lian to keep and got adorably shy about it. because while on the one hand this was a strategic move to make the whole rescue "Ming Yi" thing work, it was also a genuine gift he was offering to his god:

back to 2x05 now with a brief word from our sponsors, Hua Cheng's beautiful fingers carressing that sword hilt:

ahem. moving right along

Hua Cheng has drawn E'ming now and this is where I get less coherent because ooohh oh wow look at this. first of I love how casually threatening this comes off. most importantly though please look at the way he's holding E'ming and how it's mirroring and accentuating the angle he's standing at, the positioning of his arms, and the direction his gaze is pointed at. beautiful and deadly, no notes

then Xie Lian starts talking to him again about how he understands now that the fault lies with them but to please make an exception and show mercy, to which Hua Cheng replies in this regretful but resolute tone that there are some things one shouldn't get overly involved in. he's stopped pointing E'ming at them and switched it from his right to his left hand. but his stance has been made clear, underlined by the fact that he's now switched to facing them with his seeing side - he won't just let them leave. since Xie Lian is there, he seems wary about being the one to attack first though. this is speculation, but I assume He Xuan understands why Hua Cheng would rather be on the defensive than the offensive in this situation, hence why he twitches his hand here to remind Shi Qingxuan of his presence and his injured state and spur him into action:

now we've arrived at the parts that really got my heart racing. I'm sorry I'm just like Xie Lian in that regard - I love Hua Cheng and Iove swords and sword fighting. or in this case, fan fighting:

the way he effortlessly snatches that fan out of the air is so smooth and badass. also the way he's holding E'ming behind his back and the scimitar again mirroring the line of his body... *dreamy sigh*

his fighting here gives a nice glimpse into that "arrogant, rebellious confidence" that Xie Lian is going to feel so weak-kneed over in the future. it's also proof of Hua Cheng's skill - he had to make this look real and convincing while also making sure his attacks were of a nature that the others could defend against without too much trouble. while I assume that in the name of authenticity, it would have been okay if Shi Qingxuan and "Ming Yi" got hurt, the same does not go for Xie Lian - hence how broken up and angry at himself Hua Cheng is when that does happen in the end. I could also see him choosing that fan in particular because he knows Lang Qianqiu is on the way and knows his sword can neutralize that fan - and if he's facing off against Lang Qianqiu, that means Xie Lian will be out of the line of fire.

I've hit image limit on this post, so we'll continue in part 2!

[zoeyslament]

Under Scattered Stars

In which Noel and Mischa confess to each other while stargazing

So yeah, tw Nischa under the cut!

Nights were the most beautiful when the sky was clear and the stars flickered in the night air like sprinkles on a freshly baked cupcake. Telescopes would poke out from balconies, the world at a standstill as people admired the constellations. It was beauty and happiness at its finest. However, they say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, so in the same way of thinking, one man’s beauty and wonder is another man’s sadness and pressure. 

It had to have been nearly one in the morning when a tired, and more importantly, angry Mischa Bachinski crawled onto the roof of his foster parents’ house, staring out at those balls of gas and fire with disdain. 

Just last year at this time, he was staring out at these same stars, but in the company of his mother, back in his hometown in Ukraine. As he glowered at the rooftops of Uranium, he remembered how much more breathtaking the nights had been back home. Here, some stars were barely visible behind the thick curtains of clouds. 

“Stupid, stupid Uranium…” He grumbled. “Killing my mother, slowly eating away at my soul too. I hate this whole damn place.” A chill breeze blew over the roof, and he shuddered, but didn’t go back inside. Why would he? He wasn’t wanted there anyway. 

He lay back as the lights from the few, dimly lit street lamps glowed at his feet. There was nothing left for him in this stupid town. Nothing at all!

Noel loved watching the stars. There was something so beautiful and romantic about it, gazing up at galaxies beyond his own. That particular night, he had been up for hours. He scrambled out to the backyard and climbed into the treehouse. 

The thing had been there since Noel was six. It was just about the only nice thing his father had done for him. Now, the roof had a massive hole in it, the wood was rotting, and the tree itself had withstood decades of storms. Was it unsafe? Hell yeah. Did Noel care? No, he did not. 

He set himself up so he was staring out the giant hole in the roof, a mostly-clear expanse of stars opening up to him. It was absolutely gorgeous. 

          He moved his body so that he got a glimpse out the treehouse window. To his shock, something moved on a nearby rooftop.

         Mischa’s eyes fixed on the rickety treehouse. He lived fairly close to Noel, and from this angle, he could see just about everything. The poet’s head was visible through the window. He waved. 

Noel waved back. It was kind of funny, the bond they had. You wouldn’t think they would be so close, considering one was a self-proclaimed bad boy rapper gangsta, the other a romantic, closed-off poet. 

Mischa felt his phone buzz. He picked it up to see a text message appear, from Noel:

N: Why are you up so late? 

He laughed for the first time that night and scrambled to reply. 

M: I could ask you that too

Another reply:

N: stargazing, dumbass. You look like you want to jump off the roof. 

M: nah, just thinking about how much i hate stupid uranium

N: that makes 2 of us.

N: you should go to bed

N: see u at choir tmrw

M: ya see u

“You look so tired, Noel!” Ocean pointed out the next morning. “I told you not to stay up so late, you look homeless, what with the bags under your eyes!” 

“Thanks for the reminder, bitchface.” Noel may have been tired, but he would never be too out of it to snap back at Ocean. “Some of us prioritize actual joy over your stupid choir.” 

Ocean clapped a hand over her chest in offense. “Stupid? And who was the first person to join after I said I was starting the choir in the first place?”

“That would be Constance.” 

She bit her lip. “And the second person?” 

“Ricky.”

Ocean wrinkled her nose up in annoyance. “My point is, you joined, Noel.” 

“Only because you forced me,” he shrugged, “Now I’m stuck with you losers. Speaking of losers, where’s Mischa?” 

“Probably doing drugs.” Ocean growled. “He’s always late. It’s tempting to just kick him out of the choir.”

Noel’s heart grew heavy, and he wasn’t really sure why. Mischa was really the only reason he came to choir. He never would have expected to get along so well with the Ukrainian, but they were basically tied at the hip. Choir was the only class they had together, but they made it enjoyable for each other. Noel was even willing to endure Ocean’s lectures on music theory if it meant more time spent with his friend. 

“You can’t kick him out!” He sputtered. “Not only is he here as a punishment, only Father Markus has the authority to decide who can and can’t join! You may have started the idea for a St. Cassian’s choir, but he’s the advisor! So you can’t kick Mischa out. End of story.” 

From beside him, Noel heard the electronic chirp of Ricky’s AAC device starting up. “Getting a little defensive, are we?” It said. Ricky had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, eyebrows raised as if he knew something someone else didn’t. “Why are you so keen on Mischa staying? It’s not like he actually sings or anything.”

“Neither do you.” Noel hissed, to which Ricky replied: “I provide moral support. Your bad boy lover doesn’t even do that.” 

“He’s not my lover.” Noel snapped. “He’s just a friend.”

“A friend you’re madly in love with. Admit it, Noel. I see the way you stare at him. That’s not how friends look at friends.” 

Noel couldn’t deny that he did spend a lot of time looking at Mischa. What else was he supposed to look at, Ocean’s stupid face? 

“You wrote his initials down in your algebra notebook.” Penny added with a giggle. “I watched. N+M=L.” 

“That was an algebraic equation!” He flew up from his seat. “You know that’s all it is!”

“But of all letters?” Ocean joined in on the teasing. “Why not X and Y?” 

“Those are boring! Besides, N and M can stand for anything! Like… Nutella and marmalade!”

“If you’re eating Nutella and marmalade, there is something seriously wrong with you.” Penny said matter-of-factly. “Like, full on needs-to-be-in-a-mental-hospital.” 

“Thank you all for your input.” He growled. “Much appreciated. 

At that moment, the door swung open. Mischa waltzed in as if he owned the place, earbuds in. The entire choir turned to stare at him. 

Look, your boyfriend is here! Ricky signed in Noel’s direction. Noel glared at him, but as usual, couldn’t tear his eyes from Mischa for too long. 

“Where were you!” Ocean demanded, standing up. Her head barely reached the middle of Mischa’s chest. 

He looked down at her, sneering. “My car needed gas, little orphan a-hole. Not like you would know, since you got your permit revoked a day after you got it.” 

She tapped her foot impatiently. “You could have told us!”

“Did not want to.”

“You should have.”

“Too bad.” 

He plopped down. “Can we start stupid singing now please?” Ocean glared daggers at him, but sighed and turned to the rest of the choir. “For this next piece, I want to add in a dance component.” She explained. “I want to have us learn ballroom dance, make it into a real scene. What do you guys think?”

“I think you should have Noel and Mischa dance together.” Penny said, “Give them a chance to get to know each other better.”

Mischa looked confused. “I already know Poet plenty well. He and I watched stars together last night.” 

Noel’s face reddened. “Mischa. You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why? I liked that. Watching the stars with you. It was nice. Peaceful, even.” 

All eyes were on them. Damn Mischa and his fucking stupidity! Damn his adorable smile and his charm and his obliviousness to anything that could possibly be considered romantic. 

“Half the time I don’t think you know what you’re saying.” Noel kicked at pebbles as he and Mischa walked home that day. “It’s like you’re trying to embarrass me.”

“I am not, I was not lying. I did enjoy staring out at the same stars as you. Noel you are always calling things poetic, and what I think is poetic is the fact that we walk on the same earth and gaze out at the same stars.” 

Noel pondered this for a little while. “You’re kind of right, I suppose. It’s nice to think about, huh?”

“I do feel bad for being late again. Car broke down.”

“You’re okay. Ocean and Penny and the others were too busy teasing me anyways.” He admitted. “They think I have a crush on you or something.” 

Mischa laughed. “You do not, though, right?” 

Noel swallowed. “Uh…yeah, right.” Mischa looked suspicious. “Really? Because, Poet, sometimes I notice the way you look at me…”

Noel was dead. Ricky had been right all along and the secret was out. He cursed himself for his stupidity. 

“Mischa, I…” he began, but Mischa silenced him with a finger to his lips. 

“My Poet, do you not realize the very reason I spend so much time at your side?”

“Because we’re friends?”

“No, Noel! Because I think you are…” He turned to face the shorter male, one hand reaching out to cup Noel’s face. “Perfect.”

Noel blushed, taking one step closer. “Really, Mischa?”

“Yes, dumbass. Now come home before the sun sets, we must watch the stars.” 

The two of them climbed up onto Mischa’s roof that night as the vast sky sparkled above them, dotted with pearls of flame. They lay down side by side. 

“Mischa, why are you even telling me all this?” Noel wondered aloud. 

“It felt like the right time.” Mischa’s face was nuzzled into Noel’s hair. “You look pretty, my boy.” 

“You flatter me, dumbass.” 

A few moments of silence passed before Noel pointed up to the sky. “Look, the big dipper!”

“Huh.” Mischa grunted before pointing himself to another cluster of stars. “That one looks like a penis.” 

“How very mature of you, Mr. Bachinski.” Noel sat up again. “So glad you are the guy who fell for me.” 

“You fell first!” Mischa laughed. “I merely followed the example of the most romantic boy in town!” He joined him in sitting, hesitantly wrapping an arm around Noel. “It gets pretty chilly up here. Want to go inside? There’s hot cocoa!”

“You know as well as I do I hate hot beverages. Besides…I really want to kiss you and it only feels right to do it under the stars.”

Mischa nodded, and pulled Noel closer and closer until their lips touched lightly. Noel’s lips were smooth and glossy, Mischa’s rough and chapped. They pulled away after a moment, breathless.

“Look up, Mischa. Even the stars are smiling at us.” Noel moved his body close, and they shared one more cuddle before going inside to sleep of the last few restless nights. 

[talk-danmei-to-me]

Heyya, here's my attempt at prompting ahem :D

WangXian + Mafia AU

Or

WangXian + Anniversary Date

Thanks for sending in a prompt! I went with Mafia AU, established relationship where Lan Wangji is a policeman because Lan Wangji throwing away his morals/breaking rules for Wei Wuxian is my favourite thing.

***

Wei Wuxian rocked slightly on the chair, trying to get a peek through the two way mirror that only worked one way. As though through sheer willpower alone, he'd be able to see the man on the other side. They really needed to stop meeting like this. With nothing better to do, Wei Wuxian began to count the times he'd sat in this very chair. He was still twiddling his fingers when the door was unlatched and pushed open.

Immediately he looked up, 'Lan Zhan!' he cried out happily.

'Wei Ying.' Lan Zhan apparently did not share his enthusiasm.

Rather than indulging him in conversation, Lan Wangji set up the recorder and opened his notebook to a clean page. He clicked his pen and angled it with such precision, prepared to complete the most elaborate calligraphy, not write a perfunctory account of Wei Wuxian's current porn empire.

'Where have you been printing the offensive materials?'

'In Gusu, have you seen them?' Wei Wuxian smirked, teasing Lan Zhan was his favourite sport in the whole world.

Lan Wangji frowned, 'Answer the questions more seriously.'

'Ask better questions then.'

A sigh then, 'Who is your accomplice?'

Now it was Wei Wuxian's turn to frown. He already knew it was Nie Huaisang. They'd been peddling uncensored pornography for months, Wei Wuxian had funded it all through his security business.

'Don't need one.'

Wei Wuxian leaned in to better watch Lan Wangji write some nonsense about the Jiang family. The tape recorder continued to make a whirring sound, but upon closer inspection, there was no tape.

If Lan Wangji already planned to cover up for him, Wei Wuxian figured there was no point in maintaining such a formal manner.

'Ask me something exciting. If you squint, this really isn't that far removed from speed dating.'

'It's not a date,' Lan Wangji said without pausing in his writing.

'It could be.' Wei Wuxian punctuated his sentence by inching his foot forward until it squeezed itself between Lan Wangji's.

Lan Wangji's back straightened at the contact, 'Shameless.'

He set his pen down and glared at Wei Wuxian, in response, Wei Wuxian worried his bottom lip between his teeth, hoping it gave the illusion he held some concerns over how the night would end.

'You wouldn't let them send me to prison, would you?' Wei Wuxian reached forward to take Lan Wangji's notebook.

'Why would you go to prison. This is clearly the work of Jiang Cheng.'

Wei Wuxian wanted to burst out laughing. The idea that his stoic, law abiding, adopted brother would be able to run an underground porn studio was too much. He'd love to be a fly on the wall the day the police came calling. He wondered whether he'd be pushing his luck one step too far by asking Lan Wangji to wear a wire and let him hide in the back of his car.

After a few more dull questions about his alibi, Lan Wangji announced he was free to go. Wei Wuxian stood and stretched his back. In his familiarity, he forgot himself for a moment and went to open the door himself. He paused his fingers inched from the handle.

'Will I see you tonight?'

'Mhn.'

Lan Wangji reached around Wei Wuxian's waist to open the door, the other hand pulled him into a slight embrace as Lan Wangji reset their positions. Now he was the one in front, eager to lead Wei Wuxian out of the station.