#really happy with how this one turned out! id maybe push the values more but i like it.

[deer-a-day]

085

marsh deer are underrated

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: Some months after the breakup you show up at Tom’s doorstep.  

Word count: 3k.

Warnings: A very messy relationship. Mentions of alcohol and drugs. Bit angsty but turns out alright. SMUT. Unprotected sex. +18

Inspiration: blink twice – joy oladokun  

We’ve been coming undone We broke the last thread Learning to pick my battles Or I’ll be the only one left

I only know you’re home when the door speaks  

Blink twice if you still love me

I’ll never know unless you tell me  

Did you ever really love me?

*

“‘ello?”

He doesn’t look at the caller ID as he answers. With his voice hoarse and eyes closed he presses the phone to his ear. Laying back against the soft pillows again he’s already one foot back in a dream where everything turns out alright at the end.  

“Tom”

His entire body freezes. Swiftly opening his eyes he’s at once fully aware of his surroundings (the large bed, the gentle but persistent sound of rain against the windows; the complete darkness outside revealing the lateness of the call) and perhaps even more painstakingly aware of his own body (the sudden tightness in his chest, skin unnervingly warm and prickly; heart beating like it’s trying to escape his chest).  

“Tommy, are you there?”

Your voice is so soft in his ear, gentle even, albeit slurred at the edges. It is as if you’re somehow unaware of the effect you have on him, the pain you cause. 

“What do you want?” He asks, and where your voice is like warm smoke his is hardened ice.  

Silence for several heartbeats then,

“Can you open the door, honey".

He wonders if you use the old familiar endearment deliberately to hurt him, or if the old pet name falls off your lips by old habit. 

“It’s raining Tommy, I don’t have a coat. Please open up”.

*

And so,

you’re on the floor in the man you love’s apartment. He hands you a glass of water, even though you asked for vodka, and he instructs you to drink up. He won’t look at you and you swallow down the water but the guilt stays stuck in your throat. You wonder what he feels for you in this precise moment, what it is that makes him turn away from you; as if looking at you hurts. If it is hate or love. 

Or maybe just lust.

You’re on the floor in your ex boyfriend’s apartment, and even you know you shouldn’t be here.  

He sits down in his armchair, leans back with his legs spread, and avoids your eyes; choosing instead to look at the ground in front of him. You know, because despite all that has happened between you two, you know him. You know that he’s trying to look relaxed, to hide his anxieties with an actor's expertise.

It’s raining, the sound of the raindrops crashing against the window loud like the beating of a drum, yet it’s somehow managing to make the silence between you two feel even more deafening. The only light between you two is a small side lamp by the TV, leaving most of the room in darkness.  

“So” you say in the end, and in contrast to him you divert your eyes, but look straight at him instead with uncompromising focus. “How have you been, honey?”

He sighs, and still looking down at the floor he drags a hand over his shaved head. “Fucking fantastic” he mutters.

"Wonderful” you say, and you don’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, honestly you don’t. Don’t want this to turn into another argument. You’re just not as good as feigning  nonchalance as he is.

“I was at Park Chinois last week” you begin, looking at him while he’s looking at his clasped hands. “Funny how that place never seems to change, like it’s stuck in time. Remember when we went there for Haz’s 21st? Remember the bathroom?”

His hands twitch, but it’s the only sign he gives that he’s even heard you.

“Remember how I went down on my knees for you? That was fun, wasn’t it? And then later that night when you fucked me into the mattress and you told me that you’d wanted to-”

“Why are you here?” he interrupts you, voice hard as steel. For the first time that night he looks directly at you, his warm brown eyes meets yours in a glare. He looks hurt.  

“It’s my birthday”  

Silence falls between you. Outside it keeps raining.  

“No, it's not,” he says in the end. “Your birthday was two weeks ago”

“How sweet of you to remember” you say with a sweet smile. "But the celebrations were tonight”.

He scoffs “and how did that go?”

“Well, I’m here aren’t I?”

“Yes” he says, sounding aggravated now. “Here you are. And why exactly is that, darling?”

You don’t answer, truth is - you don’t know.  

“How come” he continues, contained anger clear in his voice “how come you show up here, at 3 in the morning on the night of your birthday party, Champagne drunk and wearing,” but words seem to fail him here and so he just waves his hand at you, gesturing towards your barely-there sequin dress. “That”. He swallows, before looking away again.

It takes you a while to answer, but in the end you do.

“I feel like I’m drifting” you confess, and you sound small and frail, even to your own ears.Pathetic even. “I feel like everyone else is settling down and getting married or engaged or having babies and I’m just-” you hesitate off for a second. Tom’s looking at you intently now, eyes intense and fixed on your face. “And I’m just drifting, you know? From one thing to another; one place to another, without it adding any value to my life. And all the while my friends are so revoltingly happy with their spouses and their babies and I’m just doing coke in the bathroom at family gatherings and trying to drink until I forget why I’m sad and kissing strangers in nightclubs wishing they were you”

“I thought this was what you wanted” he says in a low voice, eyes not leaving your face now.

You had been the one to end the relationship seven months ago. It had, at the time, seemed like the best way out. The only way out. He’d spent months on end away filming and when you were together all you seemed to do was argue. 

And the awful thing was that sometimes you started arguing with him on purpose. That way it hurt less when he left you again for yet another project.

In the end it had felt intolerable, being without him, being with him. All the rumours about him dating co-stars kept swirling in your head each night and you kept doing stupid things like getting high with people you didn’t know in nightclubs – just to get his attention. 

You had found yourself in bed with him one morning, the day before he took off for several months of shooting, and you had thought to yourself that no, somethings gotta give. One of you had to be brave enough to break things off. You knew it wouldn’t be him, Tom has too much loyalty and tenderness in him to leave where he knows he was needed. And you, well you have too much pride and strength to stay when you know you are a burden or a duty. 

So you had swallowed your pain and you had told him that there wasn’t any need for him to come back to you when filming was done. .  

Yet here you are, on his floor, in a ridiculously revealing dress. Yet again trying to catch his attention.

“Maybe I shouldn’t always get what I want” you say in the end, voice hard and sweet like caramelised sugar.  

“No, maybe you shouldn’t” and his voice is just as hard, but a lot less sweet. “And I thought you liked drifting? It’s what you do, isn’t? Drift in and out of people’s lives. Leave, and then show up at their doorstep when you feel like it; when you want to feel loved or admired, or wanted or whatever the fuck it is that you want out of this”.

“And what do you want, Tommy?”  

He doesn’t answer, but averts his eyes from yours again.  

You stand up then, and walk over to him. In the dim light the sequins of your dress throw reflections all over the room. You place yourself in front of his armchair, in between his spread legs. Slowly you begin to remove the thin straps of the dress off your shoulders. Then you drop the flimsy material to the ground, leaving you completely naked - part from a minimal pair of thongs.  

A sharp intake of breath.

You move closer still until you straddle him, and then you’re on his lap, and he’s trying to look anywhere but at your nearly naked body. But he doesn’t try to push you off. You lean backward, and as if on instinct his big, warm hands move to your hips to hold you in place. You smile, because you had known that he wouldn’t have been able to help himself.

“Tommy, honey”  

He closes his eyes, and you wonder if he’s in pain.  

“Honey, look at me”.

A sigh deep from within escapes him and then, reluctantly, he opens his eyes again and he fully takes you in. You can feel the effect it has on him underneath your crotch. 

You smile, unkindly. “You never did know how to say no to me, did you?”

His fingers tighten around your hips, digging into your flesh and you move against his growing bulge. You move your face closer to his, lips mere centimetres apart.

“Are you hurting, honey?” you say in a quiet, sweet voice. Outside there’s lightning, and then thunder roars.  

He’s full on moving you backwards and forwards over his crotch now, making you dry hump him. Your flimsy thong creates hardly any barrier at all, and so his thin, dark sweats seem to be the only thing really separating you.  

“You are, aren’t you? You’re hurting. I hurt you”  

You don’t know why you’re trying to edge him on, trying to rile him up. Except that this controlled version of him that barely even looks at you feel so out of reach from you, so far removed, and you just want him – closer, The only way you know how to achieve that is by pushing all of his buttons.  

“Yeah” he admits, eventually, “yeah, you really fucking hurt me”.

You kiss his jaw, and you sense how hard his muscles are underneath you, how tense his jaw is - how tightly he’s holding himself together. In a low voice you ask, “want me to kiss it better?”

“Stop playing games with me” he says in a low voice, but he keeps grinding you over his erection

You circle your hips slightly and a low hiss escapes him. “I’m not” you say, lips just brushing against his. “I just offered to kiss it better”.

“Maybe you should kiss one of those strangers instead”.

“What’s the point? I always want them to be you. Besides” and you move against him harder, wondering if he can tell how wet you are. “You must have had your fair share of kisses as well since I-”.

But you don’t get to finish. One of his hands moves up to your face and cupping it he strokes your lips with his thumb as if to silence you in the gentlest way he knows.

“No” he says, and his voice is gentler now too. “There’s been no one else”.

You’re struck silent for a moment, freezing in your movements over his hips. It strikes you then, how you’ve been trying to push his buttons, but he’s the one that’s crept under your skin.

His face is so close to your own, but you don’t kiss him.

See, it all comes down to this. The first to kiss the other is the first to give in. And the first to give in is the loser in this game.  

“Do you still love me, Tommy” you say in the end; voice low and sickly sweet, your crotch moving against his again, his hand still cupping your face. “Blink twice if you do”.

Seemingly instinctively he does and it throws you both off-guard. Your breath catches in your throat and he stills underneath you. Suddenly you hear the rain crashing against the windows again, feel his heartbeat beating rapidly under your palm, the heat from his hand on your hips, the shape of him underneath you. Then -  

“Oh, fuck it”

And you’re mid-air, and he’s carrying you to the bedroom.  

*

Three months ago, when he got back from filming, he’d bought a new bed. The phantom smell of you still lingered in the old one, no matter how many times he washed the sheets with bleach. He could only take it for a week before he dragged Harry along to the store to buy a new one. Harry had convinced him to go for the biggest, most expensive one available. This, it turned out, had been a mistake. The bed was simply too large, too ostentatious, for one person. He’d find himself reaching for you in the middle of the night on more than one occasion, thinking that you’d just drifted away from him in the sea of tangled sheets but alas - he was alone.  

Now, as he lays down your beautiful nearly naked body on the white sheets, your hair spreading out around you and eyes dark with lust, he finds himself thinking that if whatever this is between you doesn’t work out, he’s going to have to get another bed again. Hell, he’s going to need a new apartment and a new city to live in to rid himself of reminders of you.

A new goddamn heart.  

He removes his sweats and t-shirts and any lingering reminder that this is a terrible idea and leaves it all on the floor before he joins you in bed. Seeing you like this, naked in his bed again, as if all that heartbreak had never happened, fills him with equal parts lust and love. There’s anger in there too. 

With a hand on either side of your face he traps you in place and lowers himself until you’re skin against skin, his erection pressing against your lower stomach. His body is warmer than yours.  

“Cold?” he asks in a low voice.

You nod, seemingly unable to tear your eyes from his lips. So he kisses you. It is slow but heated; teasing and tender in equal measures. Both your hands are feeling each other up, rediscovering familiar territories with eager touches. And god, your skin feels so soft, he can’t stop touching you. He kisses his way down your jaw, leaves your lips swollen and wet from spit. His hand makes it down toward your core and he slips a finger inside you,  hears your soft gasp in his ear. He can feel just how wet you are already. Tearing himself away from you he sits up and helps you remove your underwear. Tossing them aside he bends down, and with a wicked smile on his lips he kisses your clit, sucking on it gently.

“Fucking tease” you moan, and you’d pull his hair if it wasn’t so short at the moment. He smiles up at you before making his way up to meet you, to kiss your lips again. Kisses that leave you both breathless. His hand makes it down your cunt again.

“Fuck you’re wet darling” he says, voice rough, “guess grinding on my dick will do that to a girl”.

You want to tell him to fuck off, but two of his fingers are moving in and out of you now, curling just right, and you don’t want him to stop. He always knew how to touch you just right. Always knew how to handle you.

So, you literally bite your tongue to keep the words back. Instead you kiss him just below his ear, a soft spot that always made him lose focus. True enough he halters and a moan escapes him. “Fucking devious, you are” his says, voice even lower now, his pupils wide blown, his entire body affected by lust.

He removes his fingers from your cunt and kisses your lips when you protest. “Wanna be a good girl and actually listen for once?” he says as he lines himself up to you and then, he pushes himself inside you.  

The pleasure of it, of being inside you again, so intense it nearly hurts. You’re so warm and tight and he lets out a guttural and dragged out ‘fuuuck’. You try to buck up against him, but he’s forcing you to keep your hips still by holding them down, making sure you adjust yourself to him before he starts really fucking you. Intent on not hurting you, even if you’re intent on the opposite. 

“Easy, easy” he hushes in your ear as you moan in complaint, trying to wiggle up against him, wanting him to just take you already, fuck you as hard as he can against the mattress.  

And maybe it’s love, or maybe it’s spite, or perhaps a fair share of both, but he moves your legs until they are wrapped around him, and then he starts moving, as slowly and as gently as he possibly can. Deep and slow. Kissing that soft spot behind your ear that has you bucking up your hips to meet his. He knows you want it rough, so he gives it to you tenderly.  

“Know you only say those things to get a reaction out of me” he mumbles against your jaw, kissing you wherever he can. “Know why you do it”

And just as you’re about to answer he bucks his hips forward, hitting that spot deep inside you and even though you meant to answer something clever, quite possibly rude, all that comes out is a strangled moan.

“See,” he continues, and even though his breaths are laboured his words come out even, albeit with a lot of emotion behind them. “It was never enough that I told you I love you. Anyone can say that, doesn’t mean anything, does it? Words come cheap”. Your hands are on his back, nails digging into and down his skin, egging him on to fuck you harder. He takes your hands and presses them down against the mattress instead. Grinding himself against your sweet spot over and over and over again, and you throw your head back, moaning continuously, unashamed.

“But anger” he moans, finding it more difficult to keep his voice even now as you clench around him. “You know anger is a real emotion and you trust it more than love. No one fakes anger. If I’m angry with you or worried about you because you do stupid shit you know you shouldn’t do then that means something. That means I care”  

He moves your hands over your head, and uses one of his to hold you down. He takes your legs wrapped around his hips he presses them wider apart, thus giving him access to fuck you even deeper.

“That’s why you always did stupid shit to piss me off, isn’t it?” and he starts fucking you harder now “and fucking worse, worrying me. You wanted to see if I would care”.

“Fuck Tom” you whimper, face pressed against the arm that’s holding onto your hands, back bent into an arch as pleasure shots through your spine.  

“Fucking love you, yeah?” he confesses in your ear, speeding up the pace of his hips. “Need you to trust me when I say that, can’t keep fighting with you just to convince you of that”. His words come out strained and hoarse. He knows that if he slows the pace down now, he could drag this out, but the sounds that leave your mouth are somewhere between moans and sobs and he can feel your need to come. Knows that this is almost too intense for you and you need release.

He takes his hand from your hip and takes it to your core. You’re so wet and slippery and he wants nothing more than to taste you but that will have to wait. He just hopes you’ll stay the night. That you won’t just leave once you've gotten what you came for. Finding your clit he rubs it in just the pace he knows will send you over the edge.  

“Honey” it’s a half-strangled endearment that falls from your lips just as you’re about to come, you clench around him and fuck if it doesn’t send him over the edge too.  

*

You’re lying beside him in bed, both your chests still heaving. You lean your head against his and the familiar scent of him, the comfort of just being near him. It all feels so achingly intimate.  

“Please still be here in the morning” he begs, though his voice is thick with sleep. You turn around so that he can spoon you and he drapes an arm around you, holding you in place. It hits you, as you listened to his slowing breaths, that it has stopped raining outside.

“I will” you tell him, and he sighs contentedly before drifting off to sleep, holding you in a firm grip.

[alecxaheart]

Falls At 4419 | Bang Chan Oneshot

✎ Genre : Strangers to Lovers AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 2.1k words

✎ Synopsis : Who could've thought that your ride to love life starts at a bus stop.

✎ Requested.

You had the usual tiring daily routine for the rest of your life. Your weekday mornings start with your alarm clock greeting you "good morning" in the most annoying beeping way as possible. What a gentle reminder, too, to tell you that it's almost time for work.

" Work again? " you groaned at the thought, hands reaching out to the bedside table to turn off the alarm.  Once you did, you forced yourself out of the bed and start preparing for today.

You were completely exhausted due to the stack of work your boss gives you.

It's to the point that it made you sleep deprived, haggard or just messy in general. You don't even know if you ever managed to cover all of that, physically, with make-up. However, when it came to your words and actions, it's noticeable when one paid attention. It's a good thing that Ms. Han was blind to that, or else you'll be told that you're lacking and higher chances of you getting fired.

But aside from every negative thing about your occupation, so far your performances were praised by your co-workers. Salary has never been a problem, in fact, you've been paid higher than expected. Maybe it's from the plus being Ms. Han's pet-sitter — for the love of all things, it had to be a cat.

You're almost done preparing for work. With your feet taking a quick slip into your black heels, you're on your way out of the house. Clacking noises could be heard each time your heels meet the pavement.

As you were headed towards the bus stop, you felt something vibrating from your purse. Opening it, you found your phone ringing. The caller ID displays the name of your boss, Ms. Han. What could be the kind of good morning greeting I'll receive from her today?

You answered it and placed it to your right ear, immediately hearing your name. " Assistant (L/N) (Y/N)! " Ms. Han called out through the other line.

" Good morning to you too, Ms. Han. You have matters to discuss with me at this time? " You replied, stopping at your tracks as you've reached the bus stop. All you need to do now is wait for the bus and keep yourself together with whatever Ms. Han may throw at you.

" I'm assuming you've already done the project for today, " You hummed in response. There was sound of a slight slip from the other line, you assumed that Ms. Han was drinking tea. " Make sure to deliver that presentation well. After that, I want you to attend the board meeting this afternoon on my behalf. Send them my sincere apologies for I have other more important business matters. "

So much for being trustworthy..

" Noted, Ms. Han. " Your ride finally came. Once it opened it's doors, you hopped in and tapped your card at a machine.

" Also, fix this week's schedule. Cancel everything on Friday, " Ms. Han added. You ended up seating at the very end of the bus, beside the window. It just happened to be the only row of seats that's vacant.

" Got it, Ms. Han. Anything else? "

" Ah, right. After the board meeting, take care of Eliza, " Her cat – you should've seen that coming. " Don't worry about the ride to my house, my driver will be picking you up. " She continued, taking one more sip at her tea. The ride was never a problem, but her cat is. Nevertheless, you accepted it since you both needed the job and money.

It didn't took that long until the conversation finally ended. When she hung up, you deeply sighed and looked out of the window. Spring was almost over, the atmosphere started to get colder. The cherry blossom trees began to slowly wither, every petal that has fallen decorated the road and sidewalk. It was both exquisite yet melancholic. Could you ever compare yourself as a cherry blossom? To bloom all over again yet someday, you'll wither once again. Possibly.

As you were gazing outside, your eyes widened as you saw someone else's reflection who sat beside you. His airpods plugged in his ears as he bobbed his head to the beat. You never knew or felt that his presence is already there, not until right now.

He's the same guy you meet each day whenever you took this bus. To be honest, he's eye-catching ever since the first time you saw him. He had the usual black outfit. Curly brunette headed, tall nose, dazzling dark brown orbs, lips — Okay, let's stop fawning over him. In conclusion, he has very well defined facial features. It was obvious that he's one of God's masterpiece, many should've envied him with that.

Despite of him always being your seatmate when the seat next to yours is vacant, you both never conversed with one another. Even with him having an eye for you from the start, no one even dared to start one.

Although, maybe today's a bit different.

The bus abruptly stopped in its tracks as the stop light just switched to red. The driver groaned and scratched the back of his neck.

At the back of the bus, there's you who is silently staring at the window. Awfully close to the window. However, when the bus hit the brakes, your forehead bumped onto the glass. " Ouch! " You groaned in pain as you held your forehead, checking if it bled and to ease the pain. The curly brunette noticed this and paused the music he's playing on the phone. He shifted in his seat to face you, " Are you okay? ". Your eyes met his worrisome ones and it made your heart skip a beat. He's more dashing when he's this close to you. It also made you more timid towards him that you began to stutter, " I- I guess I'm okay.. ".

" Let me see, " He reached out to your hand that's covering your forehead. His hand accidentally touched the sore part in the process, causing you to wince in pain. He whispered an apology before carefully taking your hand off and scan your forehead. He sighed in relief, " Thankfully, it wasn't such a big impact but it did turn red. You can place ice or put an ointment on it as soon as you get off, ok? " You responded with small nod and smile, your heart melting at his kindness.

He carefully placed his hand on your head and light pushed it back, gesturing you to rest. You gladly complied and he smiled, showing his dimples. It was cute, you thought.

" Does it still hurt? " He asked.

" A bit but bearable, " You replied, closing your eyes.

" How about a small talk to distract you from the pain? "

" Sounds good to me. "

" My name's Chan, you? "

" The name's (Y/N). It's nice to finally know you, Chan. "

And that's how everything started to blossom, at the end of Spring.

After that day, you started to anticipate what's going to happen on the next days that you never complained about the annoying beeping clock at dawn ever again. Especially and specifically, on the bus. Your mornings now start with you enthusiastically getting up and preparing for work. Chan happened to bring more interest into your life.

You don't know what kind of sorcery Chan does to always know how to remove your stress or just to make your days better in general. However, you don't mind it. Instead, you're really thankful for it.

You blossomed more in Fall, like a cosmos flower. You bloomed while the rest withered.

You excelled so much at work. The company was at its rough times, yet you handled everything outstandingly that you were praised by the whole company. Even Chan was happy for you, which mattered to you most.

" I knew you were exceptional ever since the beginning, " He murmured while hugging you securely, smiling. You, too, smiled brightly and blushed at that.

It's not only you who blossomed this fall. Your love, too, bloomed in Fall.

You never knew that the potential crush you had for Chan back when he was just a seatmate at the bus would grow. You fell head over heels for his giggles, smiles, kindness, goofiness, just for him. It keeps getting stronger as more time passes that you couldn't control it anymore. This was a first ever since you started working. You never really paid attention to your love life since work was always in the way. You're foreign to this feeling, you're clueless on how to handle it.

This love is the most amazing feeling, you'd be honest. Yet you fear that you'll be rejected or wouldn't be loved back. Then love would be the worst feeling.

Although, your faith and hope will never be taken away from you until the day hasn't came yet, until there's a possibility. You'll keep hoping on his small gestures you'd like to think are hints. You'll put your love for him in the hands of faith. And with that, you became patient with him. Waiting for the time that the true feelings will start to unveil.

______________________________

찬의

Channie

Hey (Y/N)

Are you done with work?

Almost

Why do you ask?

I'll pick you up, ok?

I'm on my way there.

'That's first, yet weird.

But I don't mind.'

Alright, be careful

Seen 7:02PM

______________________________

A month has passed, you two grew closer than ever. Yet occassionally, there would be a hint of awkwardness between the two of you. One would act weirdly, stutter or get nervous around one another. You hoped that it wouldn't ruin your friendship. You valued this friendship more than anything else.

Heading towards the front doors of this company, you could see Chan's figure on the other side. Waiting for you to come out. Once you did, he turned to face you and greet you with a sweet smile. You smiled back. " Let's go? " He said as he offered you his hand. You nodded and timidly took it into yours. That's another first.

Both of you exchanged the usual conversation. Asking about each other's day, telling short stories, joking once in a while, then some comfortable silence here and there, it felt just right. It's already dark out, the city light and streetlights being the only source of light, while the moon is having the pitch black sky to itself. The streets aren't as busy as it was in the daylight. You could hear the rustling and crunching of autumn leaves as it was carried by the wind or getting stepped on.

The two of you eventually reached the bus stop, taking a seat as you wait for a bus. " Do you know the number that bus has? " Chan asked out of the blue, eyes boring on the street. You hummed in confusion, he chuckled. " The bus we always took, especially in the mornings. "

" Ohh.. To be honest, I'm completely unaware of that. " You answered, scratching the back of your neck. Once more, he chuckled then gazed at you while your attention was somewhere else. A bus was coming in your peripheral vision. Once it was in front of you, you scanned for it's number. At the very end, it's written..

" 4419, " You turned to Chan, only to find him staring at you with adoration. You two stayed like that for a few minutes. His eyes were so soft, looking ever so luminous and sparkling underneath the light. He took out a flower he plucked from earlier, placing it behind your ear. Not even tearing his eyes away from yours. " Beautiful, like a cosmos flower, " He whispered, but it was enough for you to hear it clearly. You've felt like you're continously falling, yet Chan still has his grip on you. The same grip when he first held your hand back when you've bumped your forehead on the bus. Loving, gentle yet firm. Telling that he's willing to fall with you. " I love you, (Y/N). "

With just those 4 words, you were filled with so much joy and shock. You froze on your seat. For a second you panicked on what's the right word to say, asking if an I love you too was enough or is it already too redundant.

Although you knew that Chan's anticipating an answer as the clock continues to tick, and waiting is dreadful. Chan will love and cherish anything you say to him. Just the thought of you being truly his will bring him genuine happiness, and that's enough. No need for further more explanations. Then you've came to the conclusion, that there's no other words that best describes your true feelings for him. Simple yet genuine, " I love you too, Chan. "

Now, a love fully blossomed at the end of Falls.

End.

[polarbearaone]

Thousand Light Years

Aone trusts his mother more than anyone, but does he love her more than you.

Aone’s father was rarely present in his life. His mother taught him everything, how to ride a bike, how to be gentle despite his size. No matter how gentle Aone was, he never seemed to get a romantic interest. Sure, he liked girls but he never found one that liked him back. Due to this, Aone built a heavy bond with this mother, she was always there for him, she never judged him. Deemed a momma’s boy, Aone would always value his mothers opinions. The first time Aone talked about her, his mother got worried. She didn’t want her baby boy to get hurt again. “ Takanobu, how is volleyball going?”, she desperately tried to change the subject. The second time she was brought up, Aone asked his mother what type of flowers girls liked. “Now he wants to get her flowers?” his mother thought. “ I have to go to the store, baby, make sure you eat ok?”, after a chaste kiss on the cheek, she bolted out the door. Aone wasn’t dumb but he surely was confused as to why his mother has been doging his questions lately. “ Maybe she wants to meet her. '' Futakuchi comforted his tall friend. Aone gave a chaste grunt and continued to eat. “Maybe she’s jealous Aone-san!” Koganegawa said with too much emotion. Everyone's eyes darted to him as he continued voicing his opinion. “ My mom is pretty jealous too! I remember in junior high, this girl liked me so I took her to come meet my mom. She was so dry and out of it. Figure, your mom might be like that too.” Kogane went back to munching on his lunch, as if he just didn’t provide Aone with the explanation to his problem. “Look, I know you really want your mom to know her but take yourself into consideration man. It won’t end well if they meet, don’t lose this chance” Keiji barely said before the lunch bell rang. (Y/N) had the habit of sending notes to Aone in the middle of class. She figured since he didn’t like talking, maybe he liked writing. “ What’s wrong nobu-san?” the small note read. Oh how he wanted to tell her everything. In the small time they got to know each other, she became a safe place for him. Almost like his mother. The day went by fast, as Aone’s thoughts consumed him. Surely his mother had to accept the girl that was making his son’s heart flutter. “ Get you head out of it” Aone’s thoughts were broken as Futakuchi sat next to him on the train. “ I have a plan so I’m going over to yours, is that ok?” A simple nod is all he received. “ I want to see how your mom reacts, I’ve known her for two years, sure she’s quite like you but she doesn't seem like the jealous type. I’ll slowly bring up (Y/N) and see how it goes. I just want to see you happy man”. Aone felt grateful for the wonderful friends he had. He was alone most of his life, and now he has friends helping him and his romantic dilemmas.

Aone’s house is a quick walk from the train station, the boys were easily at Aone’s front porch within a couple minutes. “ Hello Mrs.Aone!” Futakuchi saif cheerfully, thinking of how to initiate his plan. “ Hello Keiji-kun, will you stay to eat?”...” With your food? Always”. Three plates later, Futakuchi slumped in his chair. “ Ah, everything I come over I eat like a starved man.” he stated, patting his tummy. “ I’ll pack some for your mother too. I’ll be back” After she walked out, the plan commenced. “ Ok Aone, I’m going to make a fake phone call to (Y/N), I don't know, I’ll add something related to Christmas. I’ll make it sound like she really cares for you, then your mom would be ok with it right?” Keiji said excitedly. Aone’s head slanted like a confused bear. “ To be fair, I said I had a plan, never said it was a good plan.” Aone’s mother’s footsteps could be heard walking back to the dining room. He quickly dialed (Y/N) to commence the plan. “Hello?” you answered, confused as to why Futakuchi would call you. “ Oh hey! Yea, I think he would definitely Like that '' Futakuchi said out loud, making sure Aone’s mother could hear. “Hmm, Aone always liked turtles, maybe something of that sort” Futakuchi’s loud voice made Aone;s blush deepen. “ Futakuchi-san, what are you talking about?” You were not even more confused. You knew he knew about your crush on his best friend but he didn’t think he would outwardly call you about it, though it did help since you were planning to confess to him on Christmas day. “ Keiji-kun, its rude to speak on the phone while you're in the table” Aone’s eyes shot up to his mother. She never commented on someone else's actions, especially when she talks on the phone in the table too. “ Sorry, ‘I’ll call you later (Y/N)’ Again, sorry for being rude Mrs.Aone, I think its best for me to leave, thank you for the food” Futakuchi power walked to the door, giving a signal to Aone that he’ll text him later.

“ Yea, you’re mom is definitely jealous” The notification pulled up on Aone’s phone. “ She never comments on my actions :('' a second message came in. Determined to fix the issue, Aone made his way to his mother’s room. “Hi baby, what’s up” his mother looked up from her book. “Why are you acting weird” he bluntly stated. “ I have no ide-”...” The first time I have a girl that likes me back, you act all different. I thought you would be happy for me.” Aone said with a monotone voice. “ Takanobu, baby, you wouldn;t understand. What she feels for you is temporary. Don’t you remember what Sayu made you feel? She liked you for one week and left you. What makes you think that (Y/N) won’t do the same? They all just want to hurt you, like your dad hurt me” He saw his mother spit every word out. He knew his after leaving caused a heavy impact on her. He became the man of the house, a pillar for his mother to lean on. He could never leave his mother. What if she had a point? What if you temporarily liked him? Why would he leave his mothers side to be with someone who would love him for one day? He kneeled down by his mother, tears threatening to spill out. “ Takanobu, look at me. You can;t continue to like her. She will never love you like I do” Her words opened the gates to his tears. She held her son once again, despite his large size, he would always be her little boy.

Everyone noticed how Aone seemed to ignore you in school. You couldn’t say he stopped talking to you, the only form of communication the both of you had was through small notes. You naive mind tried to find excuses. “ What if he is trying to play hard to get, it’ll make the confession much more worth it now. Wait. isn;t tomorrow Christmas?!” Taking out a small note, you quickly wrote. Passing it to Aone’s seatmate. Aone opened the small note, wanting to not even read it, remembering his mothers words. “Please meet me by the Christmas Tree outside the school gate around sun down tomorrow!” Aone crumbled the small letter in his palm and placed it in his pocket. Tomorrow he would tell you how he felt. Tomorrow finally came, you put on a beautiful christmas dress. It was a deep blue, complementing Aone’s name and white hair. You grabbed the neatly wrapped present and made your way to the school gates. The sun was setting way faster than you expected, the street lights were coming on as you saw Aone from a distance, sitting on the bench near the highly decorated tree. “Aone-san!” you quietly yell as you power walk to him. His eyes stayed fixated on the tree, not wanting to look at you. Sitting down next to him, you pushed the present towards him. “No thank you” is all he said. Turning his face to you, you saw his tear stained face. “ I always dreamed of finding a soulmate. Getting excited to see a single person is all I ever wanted. I thought it was you too, but you’re just like the rest.” Aone softly said. His words were like baldes to your heart. “What?” your voice cracked. “ My mother always knows what is right, I loved you (Y/N), I really did, but I trust her more than you. Looking at the stars, I remembered you and I asked if there was anyone for me, perhaps in another galaxy far from here. I will keep looking for a thousand light years”. Aone simply stood up and walked away. The cold wind comforted you, the dim lights made the tears streaming down your face look like shooting stars. With shaking hands, you opened the gift. Pulling out the small turtle ceramic, you smashed it on the floor, revealing a turtle keychain with the small words “Be Mine?”

[aliensunflower-fics]

Attitude - [Bustier Salt]

[ I had a teacher like Bustier back in highschool, I was depressed and being bullied at the time among other horrible things so I REALLY dont like Bustier’s character for reminding me of that. So I based this fic somewhat on an actual event that happened with that teacher it was therapeutic! Hope you enjoy! ]

Marinette sighed, a mix of amusement and annoyance gracing her features as class was interrupted for the third time that day, this time it was Kim and Alix the competitive pair loudly declaring war on one another this time over who could procure the better mark on Bustier’s upcoming test. It was certainly the least destructive challenge the two had ever entered but Marinette could already see the many ways they could and probably would take it to far. She’d bet that Max would end up in a tug a war as both challengers would want him as a study mate and Marinette guessed that Kim would likely ignore sleep to cram while Alix would try to study and skate at the same time. Bustier called for the class to be quiet plastering on a cheery smile as she reminded everyone that it was almost time for lunch and that they could all talk then. Marinette fidgeted in her seat eager to bolt out of class and join up with Kagami for lunch at the bakery.

The two girls had grown close ever since Lila had ‘took over’ as the supposed class queen  though it was more like everyone humored her In truth the girls threat had never actually come true. Marinette enjoyed a healthy relationship with all her classmates Alya and her were still friends and if anything Marinette felt she should thank Lila for helping her learn her own value. In the short while where Lila had been queen Alya and the others drew away not intentionally or maliciously they were just so busy listening to such grand tales they sorta forgot about Marinette. And in that time Marinette had bonded closely with Kagami the fencer giving her the push she needed to be more assertive and confident in herself! And when she was she noticed that suddenly Adrien wasn’t so amazing. He was a good friend but she didn't need the crush anymore she didn't need the validation she was happy and confident as she was. 

And not long after that Lila’s new-ness wore off and everyone caught on to the fact that Lila could sometimes stretch the truth or be a bit over sensitive. In the end, Marinette still sat at the back and she still had to deal with Lila on the daily but she still had her friends and if things kept going as they were with Kagami well… Hopefully she’d have more than just a friend soon! The only real problem lately had come from the most unlikely source. Mme Bustier. Marinette wasn’t sure if the teacher had just fallen for Lila’s lies hook line and sinker or if maybe just maybe she’d ALWAYS been like this? It was a thought Marinette didnt like to entertain but it was hard to ignore the permanent fake smiles that never quite reached the eyes or how ever since Marinette became more assertive and confident how the teachers once compliments became criticism.

The sound of the bell caught Marinette by surprise and she moved to gather her things. Kim and Alix raced out of class first trying to beat each other. Adrien dodged Lila’s clutches sticking close to Nino, Alya looked back to Marinette giving her a thumbs up and a ‘go get her!’ Before chasing after Nino. Soon the class was empty save for Marinette and Mme Bustier. Hauling her backpack over her shoulders Marinette headed to the door only giving a curt nod and smile to her teacher on the way out trying not to notice the ever present fake smile and the cold look in her eyes that just didn't match, right as Marinette reached the door however-

“Marinette? Could you stay here please? And close the door would you, we need to talk.” Bustier’s voice as usual held a cheery tone but Marinette could easily hear the underlay of aggression. 

Closing the door Marinette moved back to her teachers desk hoping that this wouldn't take too long. For Mme Bustier’s part she looked to be in no rush carefully taking her time to sort papers humming slightly her ever present smile plastered on as if desperately trying to look the part of the friendly teacher, instead of actually being it. Shuffling from foot to foot Marinette resisted the urge to tell Bustier they could talk another time after all Kagami was waiting for her! Surely Mme Bustier would understand? Finally Bustier slid a packet of papers in her desk drawer before she turned in her chair to address Marinette her smile growing wider more forced crinkling the side of her face before she spoke.

“So Marinette… I was thinking that you should spend your lunch in here!” She blinked once, then twice. But Bustier just kept smiling no hint of joking on her features.

“E-Excuse me?? But why?” The words were careful but Marinette could not stop the very clear confusion and annoyance from slipping into her voice.

“Mmm~” Bustier hummed pleasantly. “Well you see Marinette, I was not a fan of your attitude today in class.” It was stated as if it were gospel, a fact easy to understand. But Marinette understood little.

“I'm Sorry?!” The words came out quiet but strained shock, annoyance but mostly confusion evident. To her credit Mme Bustier didn't even blink.

“Your a good student Marinette, but your attitude is a problem. How can you expect to lead your classmates if you keep up this behaviour? So you will be staying here at lunch.” It was said so sweetly so kindly with such gentle tone yet still Marinette felt like she'd been slapped.

Had she done something? That was Marinette’s first thought. Doubt and panic creeping into her body twisting her stomach making her feel sick and sweaty. But she could think of nothing. All class she’d sat quietly taking notes when they were needed doodling if they werent. Answering questions when called. She’d been a model student! Even when the rest of the class became disruptive she’d sat quietly waiting for Mme Bustier to do her job- Unless. Was that it? Did Bustier expect, no demand that Marinette take responsibility for her classmates? Was this her teachers sick version of forcing Marinette to be an example of a perfect student a base for which others were expected to follow!? A cold feeling washed down Marinette’s back and her eyes hardened at the teacher still sitting still smiling. Did Bustier expect her to smile and apologize and sit quietly going hungry? Because if so she had another thing coming. Tightening her grip on the strap of her bag Marinette marched passed Bustier’s desk toward the door. In shock Bustier stood her voice raising.

“Marinette! Where do you think your going!” Even in her panicked state shocked by Marinette’s defiance she tried to force her voice to be calm and gentle she tried to smile but her widened eyes betrayed panic.

“I'm going to lunch.” Marinette spoke flatly not betraying the cold icy rage in her heart.

“Now Marinette. Your just proving my point. You clearly have an attitude problem. Stay here for lunch and let's talk about it.” Bustier was trying to regain control. Trying to keep her voice even and calm. Trying to make her command seem friendly.

“No. I don’t think I will.” She took another step, Bustier moved quickly taking a step from behind her desk now. Still smiling that horrible fake smile still trying to be friendly.

“Marinette. If you keep up this attitude I’ll have no choice but to take you to the Principle and call your parents! You WILL stay here for lunch.” The smile was so forced so ugly her little cold eyes piercing into Marinette.

But all Marinette wanted to do was laugh. Bustier was so sure of herself so sure of her power and position so sure that she was the most beloved and friendly teacher that all her students would accept even the most unfair punishment because if Mme Bustier said it then clearly it was true! And maybe… Just maybe. If Marinette lacked the confidence she now had, if she was still the Marinette from before Kagami, the Marinette who craved validation from a crush who genuinely believed LILA could take away her friends. Maybe if she was that Marinette things would have gone the way Bustier wanted. But for Marinette’s part. All she did was laugh, a cold dark laugh a laugh that still didn't break the fake smile on Bustier’s face but the shock was clear in her eyes. When Marinette was done laughing she took a breath before speaking her voice coming out cold.

“Fine. Take me to the principal's office. Phone my parents. I'd be delighted to hear what you’d tell them when they ask why you were trying to force their daughter to go without food.” Bustier’s eyes widened considerably her smile twitched but didn't drop.

“This attitude of yours is getting out of control Mari-“

“What attitude?! Mme Bustier? The one where I sat quietly in class taking notes? Or the one where I calmly answered questions when asked? Or maybe the one where when the class got disruptive I didn't do your job for you?” Anger filled Bustier’s eyes and her smile twisted into an ugly look.

“Don’t you think your going a bit far. Marinette.” Bustier’s voice was sickly sweet barely hiding the venom behind it.

“No. I don’t think I am. In fact id go so far as to say that the only one here with an attitude problem is you. Mme Bustier.”

“How Dare You!-“

“No! Mme Bustier! How dareYOU! I am not your perfect shining example, or your substitute teacher! I am a student! And the only thing wrong ive done today is let you waste my lunch!”

Bustier’s smile was gone replaced with an open mouthed look of surprise before being twisted into a sneer. She could not believe this! Her model student was daring to talk back to her? To make a scene? This was not what she was supposed to be this way! She was supposed to set the example to stop her classmates when they got out of hand! To acknowledge Bustier as a caring teacher who only had the best in mind but here she was fighting her!? Would she truly need to drag her to office? No that couldn't be this was just a mistake! Marinette was just acting out a little then she'd settle down and spend the rest of the lunch sitting quietly reflecting on how she could have done better how this attitude of hers was ruining everything! But then why was she trying to leave again?!

“W-Where do you think your going?! Get back here! This attitude of yours has gone far enough Marinette you are spending your lunch here!” The pretense was gone the sweetness lacking shock evident the desperation seeping in.

“No… I’m not. But you know what. If you really think I’m acting out. That I have an attitude problem? Then do it. Take me to the principal call my parents I’ll love watching you bury yourself.”

Cold fear washed over Caline, this was not her Marinette! Her Marinette had been quiet and resourceful she never made a fuss or upset anyone! Why was she suddenly acting out? She wasn’t being treated unfairly! She was being treated with extra responsibilities like all mature children should! Yet Marinette was acting like she was the victim and it was ridiculous if only the old Marinette would come back! Then everything would be easy like it use to be! Finally finding words she moved to speak she just needed Marinette to realize that all this tantrum would do is lead to an Akuma! Maybe, just maybe someone was being a bad influence on her star pupil! It could be that Kagami girl always so aggressive! That was it! She just needed Marinette to stop hanging around such… Unreasonable people. Surely the moment she would she’d go back to how she was and make peace with her role as the model student and Lila. Sure it was stressful to be an example but it was also an honor!

Meanwhile Marinette was having very different thoughts. As she eyed up Mme.Bustier she could see the teacher she once respected thinking her way through Marinette’s words. And if Marinette could guess her teacher was most likely trying to ignore the fact that Marinette had threatened her. But that WAS just like her, to avoid the real issues, the real problems, and instead soften everything until you let it go feeling ridiculous and guilty for something that wasn’t your fault. That’s what she’d done to Marinette during the Chloe and Lila incidents. And Kwami be damned if Marinette let her do it again! Kagami cared for her, stood up for her, was always there for her! And Marinette could hear her now in the back of her head urging her forward demanding she defend herself that she lay the line in the sand. Mme.Bustier would never stop not unless Marinette was firm. So when the redheaded teacher finally gathered her wits and opened her mouth to poor out yet more sewage about her responsibility to her class Marinette was going to remind her of HER responsibility!

“Don’t.” It was a sharp command. “Don’t you dare tell me who I am, or what I must do.” Marinette had no idea how much pent up anger she had at her once favorite teacher until that moment. 

She needed to remain cool so she took a deep breath and centered herself thinking of how Kagami’s armd felt the last time she’d picked her up twirled her and called her ‘her dazzling sun’. She could do this.

“If you were to take me to Mr.Damocles about my attitude problem. What do you think I would tell him.” Bustier looked confused and angry and flustered.

“I would hope you would apologize!” Oh Kwami was she serious?

“I would tell him to review the footage of today's class. And do you know what he’d see?” Bustier paled somewhat trying to stammer out a response.

“He would see Alya at the start of class. Arguing with Chloe and you doing nothing to stop it but look over at me waiting for ME to play peacekeeper.”

“W-well it comes better from a fellow student and shining example then it does-“ Marinette wasn’t even listening.

“By the time you do stop them 10 minutes of class have been wasted. And me? Well I was reviewing notes waiting like a good student for my TEACHER to do her job.”

“Well I-“

“Later, Mr.Damocles would see you letting Lila interrupt class repeatedly to lie-“

“Now we don't know that-“ Marinette grit her teeth but proceeded.

“To LIE, about something relevant to what your teaching. And you let her, she gets zero discipline for repeatedly disturbing the lesson or making up lies. And where am I in all this? Reading ahead. Waiting for my teacher to do her job.”

Caline looked rightly embarrassed her face going from red to purple to white. Marinette didn’t care she wasn’t yet done.

“And then finally he would see Kim and Alix fight. Shoving each other, yelling, and what do YOU the teacher do? Again you look to me.” Marinette sighed.

“Face it, you expect me to do your job FOR you! But I am a student and like every other student here I deserve to go to school and be taught by a teacher who does her job! Instead of putting her responsibilities on a student while also expecting that student to neglect her own feelings so that bullies and liars get an easy pass.”

“That is enough! Marinette this attitude problem is worse than I feared! You will apologize!” Marinette sighed heavily.

“No.” Caline looked slapped. “Because I haven’t done anything wrong. The only thing this conversation has made clear to me is that if anyone has an attitude problem. Its you.”

Before Bustier could think of a response. Marinette was gone. Her confident strides taking her out of the classroom with no room to protest. Finally Caline took a breath it was shaky like her legs. She stumbled back slightly and sank into her chair, the normal happy smile she plastered on her face to show her students that positivity meant everything even when your upset was noticeably missing. Marinette harsh words kept replaying in her head. She couldn't be at fault… Could she? She didn’t have an attitude problem, no Marinette did she had to! Why else would she talk back?! Yet the words kept haunting her and a smile even her perfectly practiced ones seemed impossible to muster. And things remained that way even when lunch ended and her students returned all accept for Marinette who unknown to Caline Bustier was at home wrapped in the supportive embrace of Kagami as she finally told her parents everything that had been going on at school. As it turns out Marinette’s parents also thought Bustier was the one with the ‘attitude problem’.

[ There ya go! Hope ya’ll liked it! Thank you everyone who has followed and sent nice asks or left comments you have no idea how happy it makes me!!! ]

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[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Pandora’s Box, Brotherly Interlude

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(We’re back!!! And OH BOY HERE WE GO!!!! We’re only a few chapters from posting all of book 1 now, just two more updates after this one. I hope you enjoy this ~romantically spicy~ update!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

19. Pandora’s Box

    Something felt off.

    It wasn’t the same sort of off that came with glowering at entitled individuals to get them to give Trinity some space or the kind that came with feeling like she was in danger. No, it wasn’t unpleasant like that. It was a gentle, floaty sort of feeling, something sort of like fondness that she just couldn’t put her finger on because she wasn’t quite sure she’d felt it before. Azure looked up at her friend, that feeling in the back of her mind trying to present itself but lacking the vocabulary and clarity to make any headway. He was talking to her, saying something in that soft voice he used when he didn’t want anyone else to hear them or he was trying to reassure her that she had no need to be nervous. It was such a soothing tone, she realized with a small start, that she hadn’t even been paying attention to what he was actually saying. Her cheeks flared red and she coughed a little, looking guilty. 

    “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. The music’s a little loud, what did you say?”

    “I said, dinner’s over. Care for a dance?”

    Trinity was standing next to her, his hand out in offering. He was always so polite, even after months of… whatever this was, asking before each dance as if she was going to say no and sit in awkward silence while the other couples swirled around them. It was like some sappy romance novel she’d devoured growing up-- the handsome prince asking “may I have this dance,” taking the princess’ arm, pulling out her chair for her… and she had to admit Trinity looked the part, in his perfectly tailored waistcoat. For some reason, Crim had gone strangely old-fashioned for tonight’s style-- Trinity even looked a bit like the illustrations in those old books, with his long coat and silver embroidery and hair shining a soft gold in the false candlelight dancing from wall sconces scattered about the hall. He smiled at her, hand still outstretched, something oddly… hopeful, in his expression. Or was she imagining it? She’d never turned down a dance with him before, there was really nothing to hope for.

    “Right, of course. I’d love to.” She smiled up at him, crooked and even a little bashful, and set her work-toughened hand in his larger, softer one. He helped her up out of her seat and she tried to keep her internal voice down as she quelled whatever this feeling was in her stomach that had begun the moment their hands touched. She stepped carefully with him out to the dance floor, goosebumps covering her skin as he placed his hand on her waist. Something strange was happening, and it was really weirding her out. Maybe the food was bad? That was doubtful, someone’s head would be on a pike if any of the people at this event even thought for a minute the food wasn’t made properly. That took out drinking too, because she hadn’t had anything that wasn’t water today due to some maintenance she had coming up soon. The mystery deepened, layers of what it couldn’t be peeling away.

She’d been staring at his jawline for a full thirty seconds now, and she had been flushed red nearly the last forty-five minutes they’d been here. She was beginning to look feverish. As they began the lazy, spinning journey across the ballroom they’d taken so many times before, he leaned towards her, his lips centimeters from the curve of her ear. His breath was warm, ghosting across her cheek as he whispered.

    “You alright?”

    She shivered and nearly stopped breathing, her head a jumbled mess and eyes wide. Was she alright? She had no idea. She wasn’t dying, so she was probably alright. Her head bobbed up and down and she looked in his eyes, deep and green and pretty. Trinity’s eyes had always been pretty, she’d known that, but she didn’t remember them being so pretty. Maybe it was the candlelight? In the back of her mind, the single brain cell that WASN’T occupied with trying to figure out when his eyes had gotten so green reminded the rest that he’d asked her a question, and nodding alone wasn’t really going to cut it for an answer. She looked startled.

    “Oh yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a little warm, that’s all.” She’d always been a terrible liar, but she hoped against all hope he’d just take it at face value, just this once. She cast her eyes around the room, hoping to find something to talk about that wasn’t herself. Her eyes fell upon a couple in a dark corner, arms wrapped around each other and swaying off beat, smiling ear to ear and conversing quietly. She smiled and motioned with her head. “They look happy, ain’t that out of place here.”

    He followed her gaze, those eyes like a searchlight into her soul leaving her for a moment. His lips curled gently, a soft smile most people here wouldn’t believe was an expression in his repertoire. Sometimes even she couldn’t believe she got to see it. “I’m glad for them. You have to find happiness where it comes, in this kind of life, and too many of us forget how.”

    She nodded and smiled, humming her agreement as she looked back up at him. Then, a question surfaced, brought on by a conversation they’d had in a hallway a few months prior and the memory of a sad look in his eyes. Her brows knit together, and for a moment she was very concerned. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as her heart pounded. “...Are you happy?” 

    Trinity turned his gaze on her once more, his face distant as he seemed to consider. “Right now?” Those eyes came back into focus, and his smile once again lit up their tiny corner of the world. “Yes, I’d say I am.”

    A wave of relief washed over her to see him smile, and then a memory tickled at the back of her mind. She was ten, and her mother was signing divorce papers.

    “Mama,” She asked from her seat across the table, a pencil in hand, “What is love anyway? How are you supposed to know how it feels?”

    Her mother had sighed and turned over a page, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes. “Mija, love is what you call it when there’s nothing more important to you than knowing someone is happy.”

    A second wave, this one of realization, hit her like a train. All Trinity heard in their shared comm was a quiet little “...oh”, before her left foot tried to step where her right foot already was. Her ankle twisted out from beneath her, sending her nearly crashing to the floor.

    Before she could hit the ground, or really before it was even obvious she was falling, Trinity’s strong arms around her shifted and tightened. Suddenly, her hand was clasped in his, the other firmly on the small of her back, arched gracefully in a way she wouldn’t have thought she was capable of. He was holding her in a perfect dip, as if it had all been intentional. Of course, she would realize all of that later. For now, time was lost to the two of them, lost as they seemed to be in each other’s eyes. 

    Time outside their tiny bubble ticked on, of course, the sudden change noted by curious eyes all around the ballroom. Couples shifted in their dance steps, eyes met eyes in conspiratorial glances-- were they about to see a proposal tonight? Others couldn’t help but falter in shock at this never before seen side of Trinity Jericho, known to be icy on the best of days. How many of them, or their children, had he turned down only to be transformed into the sort of man who romantically dipped women on the dance floor by one brash southerner? Two pairs of eyes, on opposite sides of the room, turned away in unified frustration and disappointment. Perhaps it was too late for them-- each of the people they’d been longing for at a distance seemed now even farther away.

    But then the moment had passed, barely an instant to the two who had been locked within it, and Trinity smoothly swung Azure back up into his arms. Their steps resumed. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have recovered from their little mishap more easily than she.

    “And here I thought we were past you tripping over your own feet,” he murmured, thinly veiled amusement evident in his tone. She tried and failed to come up with something witty to say back, her head so clearly somewhere far away from where they were. Her cheeks darkened, the rosy hue stretching to her ears and shoulders, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t hold his gaze. 

    “Sorry, I was thinkin’ about somethin’ else.”

    Whatever it was, he hadn’t noticed it in the comms. Either she’d gotten better at keeping thoughts to herself, or he’d been a little distracted too. No further explanation seemed forthcoming, though, and the last thing he wanted was to push her when she already seemed a little… off. He nodded, allowing her to brush the topic aside, and pulled her close as the music shifted into something slow and sweet. Very close. After all, he wouldn’t want her to trip again.

20. Brotherly Interlude

    Three hours, some cybernetic tinkering, and three cups of black coffee later, Azure finally felt like her heart wasn’t about to leap out of her throat, but now it was instead hanging low in the pit of her stomach. Once the delighted high of her realization faded, the guilt had set in. It felt wrong to care for Trinity, something forbidden and foreign stripping the joyous feeling down to something upsetting. The entire purpose of her presence at these stupid events had been to keep potential suitors and their pushy families out of his hair. It felt like a violation of his trust, to develop these feelings he was avoiding from others, and she had worked so hard to gain that trust in the first place. She cared about him, about his well being and his happiness, and she couldn’t see how not only making him reject her, but making him then go to these things alone again to avoid her was in any way helpful. He’d be back at square one, but with the added issue of the only person he could ask for help now being part of the problem. Sure, he’d told her the first time that it only had to be a one time thing, but then she’d asked to keep going, and now this looked like the world’s worst ulterior motive to deny other women access to him so she could isolate him and keep him all to herself. It was a horrible concept, and she hated herself for even bringing the possibility to light.

    And she wasn’t even a good match for him, all number crunching and heavy boots. He deserved someone light on their feet and pretty and kind, so kind, just like he was.

    She was sipping at the beginnings of mug number four and wondering how she’d ended up in this mess and how the hell she was going to get out of it when her brother, shirtless and with a fresh coat of blue developing in his hair, entered the room. Her shoulders stiffened and then purposefully slumped, trying to look normal. Crimson tossed her what she found out was a scone once she’d mindlessly taken a bite. 

    “Put a shirt on, dumbass.”

    “Aw get a grip, where am I gonna be comfortably shirtless if not with family?”

    “Weirdo.”

    “Nah, you.”

    She smiled mechanically and dipped the sandy dry baked good in her cup. Sweet, with a little bitterness from the coffee. Crim sat himself on the edge of her workbench table, thoughtfully and carefully dropping every crumb onto her workspace. He looked at her with a measured gaze that she knew was trying to tell her something that she just didn’t want to listen to right now. He cleared his throat.

    “How’d your date go?”

    “Wasn’t a date. Just a favor.” It was a lot harder to hide the strain in her voice that she couldn’t get a lid on when it was her brother she was talking to. She didn’t want to want it to be a date, it’s messy and that meant it wasn’t going to be easy to solve and she hated things that weren’t easy to solve. Except she did want it to be a date. Really badly, actually. Which again, was the problem in the first place. She pulled on a wrench a little too hard and it went flying across the lab. Crim ducked and winced.

    “The eightieth favor, and ya came back redder’n a summer sunset.” Her beloved brother ignored it, like the loving family member he was. Look at him, pressing the initial issue. She wondered if she was like this to him when he got weird and locked himself in his little studio to do mountains of paperwork alone in between four minute naps and four AM meals with Perry. Maybe she should be nicer to him. He was all she had at the end of the day after all, it was just such a shame he was such a little shit. She brushed a few crumbs off her table.

    “Listen, ain’t my fault the rich and influential like blowin’ money just to gossip like they could at a knittin’ circle.”

    “You don’t have to go, you know. I know you hate these things, and any man worth his salt would tell ya you’re free to stay home.” He took another bite of his scone and avoided her eyes, like he knew the contact would make her jumpy and defensive. He was right of course, about men and the eye contact, but then she was already jumpy and defensive, so what was he doing other than mitigating damage like he always did for her. What a good twin.

    She hesitated a moment before responding. She definitely did hate the events, with the overdone glamour and the careful answers to thinly veiled questions about motive and expertise. It was like playing a game no one would tell her all the rules of. She was horrible at games, and she was even worse at talking to people when she knew they wanted to rip her apart. But she didn’t really have to, Trinity had her back, every step she took.

    “I know, but he’s alright, and he needs my help.”

    Her brother shifted to stop leaning on her desk and grabbed the small hand broom she kept nearby to start sweeping bits of scone off her table. She realized with disgust that he’d just been eating it dry. She held out her mug. He leveled her with a look as he sipped it. 

    “Your taste in hot beverages needs help.”

    “Not my fault you need forty packets of sugar minimum to power your ability to breathe.”

    For the first time in longer than she’d want to admit, she watched her brother laugh and try to force down some hot bean water in his least favorite form.

    “Touché.”

    “Backwater hick, speak Terran-English like you were meant to.” She smiled as she took her mug back and dunked into it one more time. She had hoped maybe the joke would change the subject, but damn if stubbornness didn’t run deep in the family. Crimson skipped right back to the topic originally at hand.

    “Azzy, you know that it’s a little outta character for you to keep doin’ somethin’ you don’t like when you don’t have to. What’s goin’ on? He blackmailin’ you? The dick’s bomb and you don’t wanna share, what is it?” He threw the joke in to keep the mood light, and she knew that, but she choked a little on her oversaturated scone anyway. Her brother, ever observant, laughed again, and she’d be happy to see him happy if it wasn’t at her expense. “Oh Azure, you dun caught the bug, huh?” He was still laughing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and decided it was best to take his leave while he still had the last word. “Good luck with that, Kari. You’ll need it with a man like that, I’m sure.”

    She couldn’t formulate a response in time, so she drained the rest of her coffee and returned to her work, ears burning.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XIX: Rosa, Rose

Previous Chapter (XVIII: Renuntiatio)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, FLUFF fucking finally and light smut

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“you’ve been trying to get rid of me for 10 years... and look where that got us?”

the crack that you could’ve imagined splitting the sky into pieces was short-lived, but it stirred you in your sleep, nonetheless.

bright, white light flashes through your opening lids but your body takes too long to prepare itself for the loud, vehement clap. 

it sounded like someone had just thrown a bomb into the clouds.

you cower in fear at the call of mother nature, hands flying up to your ears as you push your head further into the pillow. there was some hint of sunlight spilling into the room, but that was the least of your concerns when the sky was trying to kill you.

a gentle, but firm force on your hips nearly warrants a harsh whack behind you if your hands weren’t preoccupied with covering your ears.

“stop being such a wuss,” barely opened eyes stirred under his lids, a left arm circling your waist as he pulls you closer to his chest. warmth was radiating off him as if the blanket you were nearly fully covered by wasn’t already keeping you safe from the outside world. “nothing’s going to happen to you, not while you’re here, at least.”

“ew, gro--” 

clap

mother nature literally screams at you to shut up, forcing you to ball up further into his skin. his hold around you tightens, and he pulls your right leg up over his hip, palm resting flat and soft on your thigh. 

“as much as i love to see you scared shitless, it sucks to know that i don’t ever want to see you scared like this alone.” 

the words run through your hair and you now notice your hands were balled up into fists against his chest, his light breathing brushing against the little strands that fell over your forehead like little curtains. 

“so be like this only with me, and you won’t have to be scared anymore.”

the skies refuse to let up and zeus hurls another lightning bolt down to earth, yet the orchestral accompaniment doesn’t faze you that much anymore, not after what he said. 

not when it’s completely reduced your hatred for him into nothing but ashes. ashes and dust that fly away in the gentle wind. 

what were the ten years for, if both areses were going to tread on it like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing to do?

what did the ten years of fighting do, if zeus meant for the two gods of war to round a circle in the ring of fire, only to put down their swords and admit defeat?

not to the fear of death, not to the lack of fight left in them.

but to surrender to one another.

where there were once thorns and daggers and poison now bloomed pansies, flowers that grow in winter; in harsh environments.

have you seen pansies in winter? 

white on purple draws a striking, degrading memory in the little crooks and crannies of your mind. 

for ten years, you’ve avoided drinking poison, or going anywhere near it, in fact. in the process, becoming poison yourself. it would’ve been like two pythons in a death match to see who could bite the other first. 

yet, all of that was now of no value to you.

sure, you’ve lost ten years trying to fight a losing war; the entire duration worried that you would lose to he who would triumph had you chosen to take a step back.

but the very fact that nobody lost wears through you like tires on asphalt. 

the notion that both sides took turns destroying each other only to fall in love, becomes the very cure for the tumor in your heart.

why did it take so long for you to realise that you hurt when you couldn’t read him? when he stayed so far away from you, breath on your skin but never touching you. eyes always glued to you, yet never soulful enough for your stomach to churn.

the very sight of him being away from you made you physically unwell.

so this was it.

he has claimed you and he has given himself to you.

zeus has failed in his plan to make the two of you fight to your deaths, but he smiles with pride and glory when he decides that ares’ happiness was more important than spilling blood and ripping flesh off bones.

but that was zeus, and you are ares. 

ares is brutal.

and you would’ve not hesitated to rip her flesh off HER bones if you weren’t in a white coat and a doctor’s ID card was hanging around your neck like a dog tag.

“no, you’re joking!” 

choi minhee was bright, pretty, cream-colored, and had a disgustingly white set of teeth looking like headlights on a fucking truck. 

you? 

you were poison, daggers, the thorns on roses.

of all doctors to be assigned to her father, it just had to be hyunjae?

mrs kang was rather entertained with the conversation that was happening in the other corner of the ward, and she must’ve known your blood pressure was skyrocketing through the roof because she shoots you a look of slight mischief, almost a glance of knowing.

“i should’ve known it was you,” the airy sigh that exits her parted lips calls for your attention over the clipboard. 

“mr choi, you look too good for your age, honestly. this little injury will heal pretty good on its own as long as you take care of yourself while you’re staying here.”

“aw, no. you’re too kind.”

“he’s right, daddy. you’ll take care of my dad, won’t you?”

a wince exhibits itself on your face despite your pen flying across the report, mrs kang’s current condition coming out in ink though you weren’t even consciously writing every alphabet down. 

“get anymore jealous and you’re going to be the one who needs your blood pressure taken, doctor l/n.”

mrs kang had her eyes focused on you in the corner of her eye sockets. slight embarrassment lights your soul on fire, but not as much as the irritation that was making your insides itch and squirm with despise. 

“you should come over for dinner some time soon, do you remember the stew that you liked?

“ah, the one that mrs choi makes? of course, how could i forget?”

stew? 

STEW?

“when daddy gets discharged, you have to visit sometime. mummy would be so happy to see you again!”

“would she?”

“of course! my wife loved you!”

so her parents don’t know he cheated on her. 

doesn’t matter.

i’m gonna fucking kill him anyway.

“you should’ve seen him last week, child.”

the clipboard gets slid back into the slot at the end of the bed, and your neck cranes to look at mrs kang sitting up in her bed.

“the boy was in a mess.”

“you look very well, hyunjae. it’s really been a long time.”

“had you seen him and heard what he told me, you’d be in a mess too.”

“nah, four years don’t do much.”

“doctor l/n, are you listening to me?”

“you took four years to look like this! doesn’t he look great, daddy?”

“you flatter me too much, minhee.”

the mere trill of someone else’s name rolling off his tongue pushes you over an edge, an edge too close for comfort. 

mrs kang reads your furrowed brows with ease and watches with a knowing smirk on her lips as you grab your patient files off the little cabinet next to the ward bed.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning, mrs kang.”

she sees right through your painful, forced smile, and she breaks out into a small chuckle. 

the light hanging above her bed brightens the whites in her eyes, in contrast to the darkening sky right outside the window where choi minhee’s father was warded due to a small, almost unnoticeable stroke.

it tickles you to see mrs kang happy, but the voices coming from behind you were holding your heart in its hands, every word aggravating its merciless grip around you. 

you turn on your heels and head out of the ward, trying your best to block out the voices that sounded like demons inside your head.

how you wished you could whack your patient files across that smug, pretty face. 

how dare she talk to him like he didn’t cheat on her? how dare he talk to her like that despite that whole dramatic confession last week? just how dare he--

someone’s shoulder runs into your arm and your patient files clutter to the floor. 

“oh, i’m-- y/n!”

he bends down to pick up your patient files before you could even process who you ran into.

“eric!” the surprised tone made your voice so much higher, you were sure it would’ve caught hyunjae’s attention if the clatter of the files hitting the floor didn’t. “what are you doing in the wards wing?”

“running off to find the patient file archive office... doctor min wants me to help him finish one more thing before i’m done for the day.”

he hands you the patient files, and your hands brush across each other. he doesn’t look at you with an ounce of awkwardness or distaste, and frankly, you missed his smile. you missed how enthusiastic he was. 

you were lucky you were still friends with him.

“are you alright? you don’t look too--” rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes travel from your face to movement behind you that you could see in your peripheral vision.

“i’ll be right back!” hyunjae gestures into the room while he reverses out, and his patient files brush across your back. 

eric’s eyes light up like bulbs and it stuns you to see how easily eric gets through it. “hyung!”

“eric! my boy!” he pushes past you like you were a road block and wraps his arms around the intern. “how are you? i haven’t seen you in so long-- the research department hasn’t called for me since last week.”

“yeah, i know. i’ve only been seeing y/n around in the research department. you must have more patients to care for.”

your eyeballs roll so hard in your head, you force a polite smile for eric while your feet turn to leave this party. “i’m gonna go--”

“whoa, whoa, where are you going? it’s dinner time--”

“you can find your dinner elsewhere, maybe have some stew at it if you like,” eric takes note of the disgust and disdain in your face before you pry the intern away from hyunjae so you could hug him instead. “i missed you so much. we have to catch up some other time, okay?”

“no problem! just drop me a text.”

the grin he presents you feels like soda on a hot day, and you walk off without bothering to turn to look at hyunjae. 

the orange and blue sky outside your office window greets you like a flag, navy blue clouds cutting the skies into half across the horizon. 

“‘you should come over for dinner soon’,” items get swept into your briefcase instead of being placed in it. 

“‘doesn’t he look great, daddy?’ who even calls their father ‘daddy’ at 23? fluttering her eyes like she had something in her fucking eyes... smiling so hard that her eyes were literally missing from her fucking fac--”

the office door clicks open, and you see hyunjae walking in through your door in the reflection of the window.

the sharp sound of the zipper shutting the briefcase rings in the air like tearing a sheet of paper, and you shut off the main switch under your desk.

“y/n.”

a pen rolls off when you pick up your briefcase, coercing a frustrated groan out through your throat as you bend down to retrieve it.

“y/n, we said we’d have dinner together.”

“oh!” the sarcasm was dripping off your tongue, so when you turn to see his face, you know that he sees right through you. 

but when has he not been able to?

“me? no! you have to get some of that mrs-choi-stew, don’t you?” steps were trying to take you away from him in the direction of the door, but you’ve barely made it past him when he grabs your upper arm without budging from his stance.

“kitten, wait.”

“don’t call me that and don’t tou--”

“kitten, are you jealous?”

“no, i’m not,” effort to writhe out of his hold becomes useless, but you struggle anyway. “let me go. i want to go home and--”

“so i’ll send you home and we can order takeaway.”

“no, i don’t need you to send me home--”

“i didn’t ask kitten. i’m telling you i will send you home and we will have takeaway.”

“ugh,” you vehemently yank your arm out of his grasp and glare at him. “do whatever you want, mr ‘my-wife-loved-you’.”

by the time you were in the car, hyunjae was very obviously finding some kind of fun and enjoyment watching you attempt to control how much your blood was boiling. he doesn’t say anything the whole ride to your place, and you try to convince yourself that you were only letting him drive you back because you didn’t want to pay for a cab or public transport.

but you remember that you love him now, and every little thing he does will end up crawling across the surface of your bones like ants on skin.

once in your apartment, you throw your keys into the basket atop the shoe rack by the door. your heels get kicked off and you dump your briefcase noisily on the kitchen island.

the front door clicks shut and you pull yourself onto the high-chair, occupying yourself with your phone and a menu you would rather have fill your guts than the thought of hyunjae flirting with his ex-girlfriend.

“kitten,” his feet shuffles against the floor and he places his briefcase in the hallway where it led to the front door.

oooh, sushi.

“kitten.”

maybe korean?

“kitten, look at me.”

“do you want sushi or--”

the device slides out of your hands and drops to the table with a soft thud, your high-chair being whirled around so suddenly before stopping abruptly.

the edge of the kitchen island etches itself against your spine as you lean back, one arm leaning on the surface while his fingers grip onto the edge of your seat.

“look me in the eye and tell me what’s wrong, kitten.”

is this man for real?

“for a smart man, you are really dense.”

“who said i didn’t know what’s wrong?”

what--

“i just wanted to hear you say it, that’s all.”

the skin on his cheek suddenly looked so plump and fitting for your palm to kiss.

“say it, kitten.”

“there’s nothing to say--”

“no, tell me you’re jealous, and that you never want me to let choi minhee flirt with me again.”

“i really wish i could stab you and get away with it.”

“you won’t even if you could, because you love me and that’s why you’re jealous.”

the smile on his face was so sweet, it makes you want to shove an insulin jab into your eye. he was so satisfied with the way you reacted, it was absolutely unbelievable that he was getting so much out of you. 

his torso was rocking back and forth so slightly, his face leaning forward into yours. his flirtatious eyes locks with yours that were fuelled with anger and jealousy.

“i don’t think you deserve to hear anything because of what you let her d--”

you were interrupted in the form of a sudden kiss with his hands lining your jaw, eyes instinctively shutting upon the contact and your arms moving downwards to hold onto the edge of the chair.

unwillingly, you melt into the kiss like marshmallow over a bonfire between crackers. 

it was gentle, like clouds in the sky and cotton candy on lips. he tasted sweet, with his lips buried between yours and his warmth seeping through his hands into your cheeks.

the anger and jealousy trickles into him with every passing second, and you marvel at his ability to have such immense control over your feelings. he didn’t even need to do much for you to become his kitten.

the kiss feels like eternity until he pulls away, lids slowly opening to reveal his slightly lustful eyes now.

he knows you’re starting to feel the same.

“say it, kitten, and we’ll forget about takeaway.”

a harsh exhale hits the top of his lip from your nose, and some tiny bit of anger and jealousy inside you surfaces.

“what if i don’t want to?”

he chuckles and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“why is it so hard for you to admit that you want me to yourself and the thought of having another woman in the picture kills you? you think i didn’t see how you wanted to use eric to piss me off just now?”

literally nothing you do gets past this man, it’s annoying.

you try to turn your head but he holds your chin and brings it back to him,

“don’t avoid me, kitten. you’ve been trying to get rid of me for 10 years... but look where that got us?”

his attention switches from your eyes to your neck, soft skin being littered with light kisses softens you even more.

“i’m waiting, kitten.”

a sigh that must’ve sounded like music to him rings in the air while his arms wrap themselves around your waist. your rear nearly gets lifted off the seat, so your left hand rests on his shoulder blade and the other finds his hair to tangle your fingers in.

“i hate you, do you know that?”

he smiles into your skin, and for a moment, it feels like pure bliss.

“but if you let anybody flirt with you like that and you flirt back, i’ll cut off your dick and make you watch it burn.”

one harsh suck evicts a gasp from you as you cringe under him. his strength channels through your spine as he lifts you off the seat and carries you to the sofa. 

“that’s my girl.”

the rough texture of your sofa greets the back of your neck when he shoves his lips between yours once again, this time more desperate.

neither of you were trying to hide how much you were feeling for one another; all you wanted to do was to kiss him all night long and have his hands roam your body like he didn’t already know everything about it.

the kisses were desperate but slow and sensual, and the only piece of clothing that’s come off was his shirt.

so you could run your hands all over his torso, drawing circles and caressing the muscles on his back atop the soft squelch of your tongues and lips pressing together every second. 

his forearms were resting on the sofa on either sides of your ears, biceps perching his torso up so he wasn’t crushing you under his weight. 

your legs were apart on both sides of his hips and you could feel him fiddling with the button on your pants while he takes his time to press his bulge against your clothed core.

soft moans escape into his mouth, and you start to feel a heat gather in your underwear.

knock knock

hyunjae pulls away so fast, you register the emptiness on your lips before you process the sound. 

knock knock

“y/n! are you at home? i thought i saw the backyard lights on!”

“oh, shit.” 

of all times to come, your parents had to come now?!

you push hyunjae off you while removing yourself from under him, grabbing his shirt from the ground and recklessly hurling it into his face.

“put on your fucking shirt--”

“y/n, we can hear you inside! are you okay?”

“yes, i’m fine! give me a moment!” you run to the glass door of your backyard and fix your hair. 

hyunjae barely gets his t-shirt on when you run over to the front door, opening it with a tiny gap to reduce the chances of your parents walking in on your sworn enemy being in your apartment.

“hi mom... dad...”

both of them look at you weird, but the scent of fried chicken garners your attention.

“you’re still in office attire-- have you eaten?” 

“i--”

“i knew it. come on, we bought fried chicken to share,” your mother takes a step forward and tries to push the door open.

“ahH--”

she stops dead in her tracks, and your father shoots you a confused look.

“i-- well--”

“spit it out. the chicken’s gonna get cold if you don’t speak any faster.”

“i have a visitor with me right now--”

“a visitor? oh, goodie! we can all share, i’m pretty sure we got more than enough--”

“it’s not really a good time, mom--”

“nonsense! i can’t believe you invite others over and not your own parents!”

“well, this was impromt--”

clang

“ow!”

an awkward silence befalls between you and your parents. confused looks swamp their eyes and you struggle to contain your panic.

“is that--”

“that sounds strangely familiar...”

oh, god.

“we’ve heard this voice before, haven’t we, darling?” your mother turns around to look at your father, and your face distorts into an ugly mess of emotions when a second clang rings through the house, followed by a low curse that you were pretty sure your parents could hear too.

“we’ve definitely heard that before-- oh!” a light bulb appears above your father’s face, and you beg with your eyes not to say it--

“it’s that guy from your high school and college!”

your mother gasps, and she covers her mouth in shock.

“lee hyunjae?!”

“he--”

“LEE HYUNJAE! ARE YOU IN THERE?!”

“mom--”

“LEE HYUNJAE, WE HAVE CHICKEN!!! YOU WANT SOME?!”

oh, good god. 

this is going to be a long night.

your parents were sitting across you at the table, with hyunjae sitting by your side. 

the air between the party was heavy, awkward, dense. 

your father was confused but cheerful. 

your mother was shocked but she just couldn’t wipe that smug smile off her face whenever she gave hyunjae a piece of chicken. 

“so... what brings you here?”

hyunjae looks like he was a deer caught in headlights when your mother takes a sip of soda after asking the question.

“i-- we... have a research project to work on.”

under the table, a familiar situation occurs to when you first had lunch with both eric and hyunjae. 

his right hand finds your left thigh and he provides you a light squeeze, forcing you to clench down into the chicken you had in your mouth. 

“oh,” your mother places the cup down. “y/n never told us she’s in the research department.”

“it’s a side job, apart from working with patients.”

heat starts to pool under you, and a chill involuntarily runs up your spine. his fingers were digging into your flesh on your inner thigh, and its only making you think horrible thoughts even with your parents before you.

“i see. must be real busy then? we haven’t seen her in like... what, eight weeks? since she started working at the hospital? the other day we wanted to drop by, but she said she was still working. it was a sunday, if i’m not wrong...”

“sunday? two weeks ago?” hyunjae side-eyes you when both your parents were looking at each other for confirmation.

your father pulls out his phone, nodding. “i believe it was sunday, i remember seeing the date when i texted her.”

“right, yeah. i saw her having takeaway in the pantry after dealing with a patient.”

great. now he knows i blew my parents off for him.

your thigh gets massaged over again, and it takes an immense amount of effort to swallow the moan that was already halfway up your neck. your heart was thumping so fast, you weren’t too sure why.

but your father finishes the last piece of chicken he has on his plate, and your mother gets up to wash some of the cutlery and utensils. 

hyunjae’s palm finally leaves your thigh alone and you sigh with relief, watching your father peel little pieces of meat off the bones. 

you watch in the glass panels of your backyard beyond your living room as hyunjae offers to help your mother wash the plates and cups, forgetting for a moment that your father was sitting right infront of you.

“what are you staring at?”

the white shirt hyunjae was wearing in the reflection loses your attention when your father catches your eyes wandering off axis.

“uh-- nothing!”

he turns around and looks at the glass panels.

“i thought i saw something in the backyard, that’s all.”

“oh,” he responds emptily, turning around. “i thought my hair was in a mess or something.”

my life is going to shorten by like 50 years.

your parents offer hyunjae a ride home (without knowing his car was sitting right outside your residence), and you butt in by telling them that he has to stay because he’s not done with his part of the project. 

luckily, they miss his little grope on your rear when you escort them to the front door.

“it was such a nice surprise to see you again after all these years, hyunjae.”

hyunjae gives your mother a sheepish smile, leaning against the door frame with your shoulders perpendicular to his chest. 

“we should meet up with your parents some time soon, it has been awhile. shouldn’t we, honey?”

your father nods, pulling up his sleeve to check the time.

“we have to go, honey. we both have a long day tomorrow.”

“okay,” she turns back to the both of you. 

your relationship with your mother was never the best. but she looks at you with warm, soft eyes. eyes that said she was proud of you. eyes that said she was happy to be your mother.

and there was nothing more that could comfort you in that moment.

but your mother decides to ruin it, eventually.

“we’ll be taking our leave now...”

“oh, and uh... your shirt’s inside out, hyunjae.”

the look on your father’s face changes like a switch and he laughs at you, turning on his heels and making his way down the steps to the car. 

a cheeky grin spreads your mother’s face when the both of you turn to look at hyunjae’s shirt, and the tag on the back was sticking out behind his neck. 

she leaves without saying anything else, and they both wave to your embarrassed selves as the car drives off.

you wait until the car was no longer in sight, and then you choose to slam the door shut and give hyunjae a hard punch to his chest.

“you had one job!”

“you opened the door so fast!”

“it is a shirt-- how difficult is it to wear a shi-- oh, my god, they are going to call your parents. they are going to ask them out for a meal. we are going to need to go too. oh, my god--”

“kitten.”

“what?!”

“do me a favour and shut up.”

the dim hallway reminds you of the first time he has his hand wrapped around your throat. hours after you removed the oncology report from his folder meant to be submitted to doctor kim. 

you remember the fiery hatred in his eyes. the burning sensation of the wine you downed just seconds before you got the door open, thinking it was your mother.

but this time, his hands were on your waist, his physique gently pressing against yours against the wall behind you when he fits his lips between yours. 

you remember the feeling of the cool wine hitting your skin after the arrogant smile you had on your face was completely wiped away by him pinning you to the kitchen island. 

your palms greet his chest as they slide up over his shoulders, getting your fingers tangled in his hair feels like he was becoming part of you.

as if he wasn’t already.

time? 

one decade.

memories? 

a million.

heartbreaks? 

four in total, two each.

the first heartbreak, orchestrated by the enemy.

the second heartbreak, broken by a lover in silence.

death?

a better choice than being anywhere else besides in his arms. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

A/N: I AM SAD

[xanderwithanx]

Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.

[bytheangell]

You Can’t Keep Safe What Wants to Break - Chapter 4, Simon

(AO3) (Prologue) (Chapter 1 - Magnus) (Chapter 2, Alec) (Chapter 3, Isabelle & Maryse) (Chapter 4 - Simon Lewis)

“Can I talk to you?” Jace asks.

Simon isn’t expecting to see Jace on his doorstep today. In fact, judging from the uncertain look on Jace’s face when Simon opens the door to his apartment he isn’t sure that Jace fully planned on showing up here, either. Or maybe he just didn’t expect Simon to answer, which is totally valid.

“If you’re here to break the news, Izzy already told me,” Simon tells him, nearly ready to shut the door on him.

“I figured as much,” Jace concedes. “But I didn’t come here for that. I just… I wanted your opinion on something. If you have a second,” Jace adds quickly. Then, a bit more slowly, tacks on, “And if you’re willing to talk with me.”

Simon understands why he wasn’t invited to the family dinner reveal of Jace’s decision, that isn’t what he’s upset about. He’s upset mostly on behalf of Izzy, because Izzy wouldn’t even talk to Simon for the better part of last night, and when she finally did she was a mess. He spent hours listening to her alternate between sobs and screams over Jace’s decision to ‘leave her behind’.

Simon feels a similar sting of betrayal, but for a different reason. One that he planned on trying to keep to himself until Jace waltzed into Simon’s apartment before Simon could really get a better grip on his thoughts. So now Jace gets to hear about it... because now that Simon’s looking at him he can’t keep his cool.

“I’m willing,” Simon agrees in the end. Jace makes it two steps into the apartment before Simon jumps on the offensive. “How about we talk about why the solution is to leave, instead of figuring out how to get Clary back here, to all of us?”

Jace’s expression, which starts out hopeful when Simon agrees to talk, falls immediately at that and he walks over to sink down into the sofa.

Simon thinks it’s a fair question. After all, he’s Clary’s best friend. Clary cared - cares - about everyone at the Institute. Jace isn’t the only one with an interest here, and Simon’s more than a little upset that Jace decided to just give up what Simon thought they were working towards together to ride off into the sunset with Clary on his own.

“I tried everything, Simon. I’m out of options. Nothing is going to convince the Clave to welcome her back. She can’t be a Shadowhunter again.”

“Why you?” Simon finally says. “Why is it always you who gets to be the best and save the day? I’d give anything to be a mundane again. To be able to see my mom again. To be Clary’s best friend again. First Raphael, now you… and you don’t even want to be mundane, not really.”

Simon hates that he understands where Raphael was coming from with the whole Daylighter thing now. It’s a fit of stupid, petty jealousy that Simon wishes more than anything he didn’t feel, but here he is, seething with it over the fact that Jace is going to get the chance at the normal, mundane life that Simon wants and can never have.

“I’m sorry, Si,” Jace sighs. “That’s… that’s sort of why I’m here. Which I realize now is extra douchey of me to want to talk about. Forget it.”

Jace stands abruptly and turns to leave, and for a moment Simon’s tempted to let him. He doesn’t want to get in the middle of decisions that aren’t his to make, but at the same time, Jace is Simon’s friend. With any luck, a soon-to-be brother-in-law. And Simon cares about him too much to let him walk away without saying whatever he came here to say no matter how annoyed Simon is.

“Wait,” Simon stops Jace just before the doorway. “What did you want to talk about?”

Jace takes a few extra moments of hesitant contemplation, and just when Simon’s convinced that he was too much of a dick and Jace is going to leave anyway, Jace finally turns back around to step into the apartment properly.

“You were a mundane before,” Jace says.

“Very observant of you,” Simon says, then bites down on his lower lip. “Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

Simon moves to situate himself on the sofa since standing only makes him want to pace back and forth. Jace doesn’t sit next to him but takes a seat on one of the cheap chairs around the dining table.

“You’re the only one who really knows anything about living that life for any extended period of time… so I was hoping you might have some perspective, you know, to help shift from one world to the other.”

Simon frowns slightly - Jace was right, it does sound insensitive to ask after Simon’s little outburst about wishing it could be him - but Simon reminds himself that he asked Jace to say it anyway so he can’t really hold it against him.

“Perspective?” Simon repeats. “You want me to… what, give you a crash course in being a mundane?”

Jace shrugs. “You’ve lived a longer life without the Shadow World as you have with it. I imagine it’s one of those things I think I’m ready for but don’t know the half of it… maybe there are some things you can think of that I wouldn’t consider on my own.”

Yeah, Jace is right, this is probably a terrible idea. But they’re here now, and Simon does have some wisdom to impart now that he’s actually thinking about it.

“You’re going to have to stop dramatically jumping off of buildings. That’ll definitely break, like, all of the bones in your body if you try it as a mundane,” Simon points out.

“Very funny,” Jace says, rolling his eyes.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve been a vampire for how long now? A year and a half? I still forget about my speed or my strength sometimes. You’re going to instinctively want to do things when your runes are gone, and it’s going to be way harder than you think to stop,” Simon elaborates.

Jace’s annoyed expression softens and he nods in understanding, realizing this is Simon actually trying to help and not just sarcastically pushing him away.

“Alright. Fighting my instincts, noted. What else?” Jace leans forward in his seat, not actually taking literal notes but definitely paying attention.

They spend the better part of the day going over little things, like how people will expect he went to school and good resources for a crash-course in basic mundane grade school knowledge, or jobs he could get without much of an issue as long as he can get his hands on a forged GED and a fake ID. A few times Simon’s left to wonder if Maryse or Luke wouldn’t be better people to talk to about this, being proper adult-adults and all, but it’s nice to have his opinion valued. It isn’t often his mundane background is considered a positive thing.

“Thanks, Si,” Jace says after he’s run out of questions… for now, at least. They went over more than enough for Jace to wrap his head around for a few days, even though Simon’s sure if they just waited another half an hour he could come up with half a dozen more talking points.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Look, I’m sorry that I was a bit hard on you at the start… I know this isn’t easy for you. And if there’s anything I can do just say the word, okay man?” Simon figures it’s the least he could offer after nearly biting Jace’s head off earlier.

Jace gives Simon a reassuring smile, and Simon can’t help but feel like that should be the other way around.

“I’m just glad you didn’t kick me out,” Jace admits. “I will absolutely abuse the chance to pick your brain and you’re probably going to regret offering to help.”

Simon laughs. He might, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take. For now, it’s enough to know that what little help he can offer is being put to good use. For now, it’s enough to know that Clary and Jace will have each other again, and his best friend will have the happiness she deserves.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Thoughts on rizzy 👀

jdndkdndidndidn ok so if u wanted a rizzy-positive answer...... avert ur eyes

the one thing positive (?) i can say about rizzy is that it really brought us some of the softest raphael moments, but i also lowkey hate that cuz wow, we really got him to talk about his sister, his past, see some of his interests, his softness, his pains, his smiles because of rizzy... so it's all related to rizzy 💀 which is why you might see some gifsets from rizzy scenes in my blog, i think this might have been what brought this on. i enjoy those scenes as scenes that establish raphael's character, but not as rizzy

and shoutout to sh as usual for only bothering with giving a coc depth, backstory, desires and etc when they were someone's love interest and then dropping them like a hot potato. like bro imagine if they had at least bothered with keeping raphael's characterisation consistent? id be over the moon already. if they had actually made him a person like when rizzy was a thing for the whole show on top of that?? fuck i think id explode in happiness

other than that..... i hate everything about it. and like, it being based on addiction aside (which is already, like, bad, but i could maybe ship them in an alternate reality where the addiction wasn't a thing and they were fine if it was only that), the whole thing was literally Izzy Treats Raphael Like Shit And Then Raphael Is Villainized For It

im not even gonna get into the whole "raphael is blamed for the yin fen thing for some fucking reason when that was not his fucking fault and no one questions this" thing because ive done it before and i might explode with rage if i do, lol. that fucking plotline would have never been handled like that if raphael wasn't latino and therefore a predator drug dealer stereotype. but ANYWAY

those are the two things that i see anti rizzy shippers talking about the most, but those are actually not what bothers me the most. what really drives me up the wall and is just vomiting emoji is the way izzy treats raphael. that's the dealbreaker for me and something that never gets acknowledged

like, for starters, raphael was once again shown to be one of the most caring and selfless characters in this piece of shit stupid show, when he saved izzy's life when she was stupid enough to actually go to a vampire den. she had done nothing but be shitty to him and the vampires up to that point, mind you (which some ppl in this fandom treat as like #GirlPower or something) but he still saved her life for no reason other than that was the right thing to do

and then she immediately, the same second, tried to trigger him into drinking her blood. and he kept telling her no and pushing her away and she was literally GRABBING him and slitting her wrist and then he caved, at great personal cost, which she didn't care about

fine

then we get her going after him again, and raphael, again, being the caring and selfless bastard that he is, does something so monumentally kind and dangerous that it still blows me away: he tells her about his addiction

and i know that ppl in this fandom love to act as if every single thing raphael did for the sake of other characters, particularly the shadowhunters and simon, is just, like, expected and no big deal. but raphael didn't owe izzy that. he didn't have to tell izzy that. hell, he didn't even have to save izzy's life when she went to the den, for all he knew it was all a trick or something. and telling her, someone he doesn't even know, a shadowhunter, not only one of his greatest secrets, not only one of his greatest vulnerabilities, but the single hardest and most painful moment of his life, a whole can of worms about his past that he just bared to her just like that, was just. so much. it was such a huge thing that he did for her, okay. and let's not forget that raphael is a private person, both for survival and because he just is

he basically opened up his biggest wound and showed it to her only because it could bring her some sort of comfort. it wouldn't even help her greatly. it wouldn't even change anything about her situation. it would bring just maybe a little bit of comfort and advice, at great personal cost, way greater than the good it would bring her. and he still did it, because raphael cares, especially when he sees someone going through something he went through as well. just so he could tell her that it gets better, that she's not alone. that he understands

and she fucking!! immediately!!!! uses that against him!!!!!! and continues to try to trigger his addiction again and again and again and again!!!! may i just say, WHAT THE FUCK

EVERY SINGLE TIME she tries to get him to drink her blood, it's not consensual, it's forced. he always hesitates, always tries to push her away, always turns his head. and she just pushes him anyway. even after she knows that he's been through this before. that it almost destroyed him. she knows exactly what she's triggering and bringing on, and she! does! it! anyway!!

watching some of the rizzy scenes, particularly the one where they are cooking together, makes me want to cry for him, because it's so obvious that what he's looking for is a deeper connection, someone to trust, to love, and what she's looking for is someone to satisfy her need. and look, i know addiction is terrible. but he's ALSO addicted. and again, i've met plenty of ppl who struggled with addiction, and they were able of, you know, not treating others like this

it drives me crazy! raphael lets her into his home, teaches her how to cook, opens up about the SINGLE SECRET ABOUT HIM THAT NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT EXCEPT FOR MAGNUS, and generally tries to have a good time with her, and not only does she immediately make his attempt at having a meaningful bonding time about him drinking her blood, but does it RIGHT AFTER HE TELLS HER ABOUT HIS SISTER??? it literally goes "here is my deepest most important secret that pains me greatly and is destroying me inside. oh, i said too much. i should have kept my mouth shut" "i'd rather you didn't *slits own wrist and makes him drink her blood*". like, girl, at least a word of comfort first??? a "you can tell me whatever you like"? an "i'm fucking sorry for your loss" maybe???????????? SHE TREATED HIM LIKE AN OBJECT

and also SHOUT THE FUCK OUT to "i didn't take you for a community service kind of guy", which granted is a minor thing to be upset about in the middle of this shitstorm, but still makes me want to rip my hair off. girl!! he's been doing nothing ever since you first met but helping you selflessly and getting only PAIN in return. like is she for real??? he went out of his way SO many times to help her, when he had NO reason to, not a single one. and she's still like "oh wow raphael cares about others?? im shocked" UDBDIDNDKSMSOSNSOSNSISBSUSBDUDBDIDNDIDNDI ARE YOU SERIOUSSSS

it's really such a revealing moment to me because it really shows that she didn't give any thought about everything he'd done for her. all the endless kindness and care, in the literal sense of TAKING CARE OF, that he offered her without a second thought. she never stopped to think about what it cost him. the fact that he didn't OWE IT TO HER, and thus it says something about his CHARACTER, because he CHOSE to help her. over and over and over again!!! AFTER SHE BETRAYED HIM MORE THAN ONCE. it never even crossed her mind! she just took it for granted, like it's what he was supposed to do, or something

and then!!!!!!! even after they go their separate ways!! and raphael is STILL caring for her and making sure she's okay! she decides to betray him one last time and have simon threaten his sister!!! and ill be honest i dont remember the reason for this, but i do remember that it wasn't fucking life and death, so like!!! it was just unnecessarily cruel and shitty of her and the biggest FUCK YOU to him and his trust. AND IT WASN'T NECESSARY AT ALL. like. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

and at this point izzy was recovering so it's just like. i get that before that we were literally seeing izzy at her ugliest, she even fought alec and said some shit that she definitely didn't mean at all and that was shitty and hurtful. so like obviously we were seeing izzy in her darkest, worst, most selfish, most hurt. which is why i can maybe cut her some slack for some shit (also i just realized i literally forgot that she straight up THREATENED HIM WITH A KNIFE god there is really So Much To Unpack Here), but at that point? at that point she had no excuse. she was recovering. this didn't even have anything to do with her addiction anyway. she was just proving that raphael's trust, his care, his fucking feelings, they meant nothing to her

like seriously! she could at least have the decency to go, after raphael was very obviously kind and considerate to me, maybe i should not conspire against him and bring forward his most important secret? i don't think i'm asking her for much here

and it also ends a circle of raphael opening up to her and trusting her and she betraying that trust EVERY SINGLE TIME! the literal single only thing he told her that she didn't use against him was his asexuality. which look, thank god, cuz that would have been way too ugly and uncalled for, but the bar is low here

(ok, maybe rizzy gets a shoutout for having raphael's asexuality be treated so naturally. especially coming from such an overtly sexual character like izzy. it was nice to have that. i also think that her whole line about how for the first time sex wasn't a big part of a relationship for her could have been explored in so many interesting ways. like it is obvious that izzy uses her sexuality as a way to gain confidence and prove her value and it would be cool to see that being addressed beyond throwaway lines, maybe talk a bit about hypersexualization of woc. but this is shadowhunters we're talking about so of course nah)

so like okay izzy gets a Not An Aphobe But Still Shitty badge for basically using raphael like he existed to provide her. and in short this is why i can't get into rizzy, not even in a very very alternate reality where it all went different and the way they met had nothing to do with addiction. because she really didn't care enough about him and he deserves so much better than this

and again, i know that izzy was at her damn lowest in that point, but i think that even if she weren't, ultimately their incompatibility still lies there - raphael is too selfless and izzy is not attuned to that. she would take what he offered and not really spare it a thought, even if she didn't mean to like, Use Him (cuz i dont think izzy meant to use him even in canon), like it was just expected. and he wouldn't point that out. and it would be. ugh

and yeah i think that summarizes my thoughts dudndjdn im sorry for the angry very long rant, i just started talking and it all was pouring out suddenly. i promise im not mad, i just...... have strong feelings about this whole thing

[naptoons]

Broken- Erick Colon

Warnings: verbal fights, cursing.

Theme: Angst

Summary: you and Erick thought getting together would be great, you guys liked each other since you were in middle school. But never told each other, you’ve dated other people and now y’all are broken. So broken that the relationship becomes toxic.

A/N: I apologize for all the angst buttttt yah girl ain’t feeling the fluffs at the moment, I’ve been in a very let down mood so i apologize. But enjoy!!!

Proofread? : no.

Being in love with Erick consisted of bricking, kissing and makeup sex. Then back to yelling at each other and making each other mad. Loving each other started to become a chore. The push and pull of wanting to and being scared. You both thought this relationship would save you both. But y’all are far to broken for each other.

“She was all up on you Erick!!, did you not notice or you just dont fucking care?!” You yell at him for the fourth time this week, because he was so nice he couldn’t notice his friend was being too flirty, even though she knew you guys were together and you were standing obviously right there. “Y/n?” He sighs “how many fucking times do I have to tell you shes a friend?!” “ friends?! To be all cuddled up in you like that?!” “I don’t understand why you’re so fucking pissed about it y/n I’m with you for fuck sakes!” Erick huffs walking over to the sofa, you stand on the wall apart from him, fighting the urge to block his view of the tv, you weren’t done with him, cause he doesn’t seem to understand how this friend of his has a crush on him, to make matters worse it’s an ex.

“You’re probably fucking her that’s why you don’t care” you mumble with your arms crossed Erick’s leg bounces up and down trying to calm himself down, he was angry at how big of a scene you made at the party, you had leaped over the arms of Richard and Joel, pulling her hair down to the floor as you got a couple of hits in, to make matters even bigger you threw a drink at her. “Y/n-please I’m done arguing with you” he demands through gritted teeth.

“Well are you? Are you cheating on me?” You ponder, Erick doesn’t answer instead he drinks water from the glass “of course you would go back to ex, she’s everything I’m not Huh?”

“How ment times i Gotta tell your she’s just a friend?!” He yells at you standing up and throwing a glass cup close to you, your body shutters in fear. You’d never thought these arguments would result to you guys putting your hands in each other. The impact of that throw just shattered all over your foot.

“Baby—“ he shutters before two members come in, Richard and Chris looking at Erick, one in anger and one in utter shock

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Richard yells at him, walking towards him Chris grabs your arm softly moving you out the way of the shattered glass. Joel and zabdiel turn around the corner looking at your cut feet, Joel lifts you up bridal style to take care of the glass in your foot.

Joel sits you on the sink grabbing the first aid kit, he sees your somber mood, your eyes look so distraught and scared, Joel swallowed the lump in his throat thinking how he can advert your attention from what just occurred. “Hey you wanna go grab some frosty’s? Or do you want McDonald’s milkshake?”

“If their machine works” you dryly joke

“True,” he laughs a little “so what do you want? Or do you want both?”

“I want spicy nuggets and a frosty, maybe a McDonald’s caramel sundae”

“Orders up” Joel smiles, “Cmon lets go”

Sitting on the grass, you pick at your frosty slowly turning it into a milkshake anyways, Joel notices how you’re spacing out so he rubs your back softly “do you need space?”

“No, cause when I’m alone I don’t know what I might start thinking, or doing”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Joel whispers, as if theirs someone following you guys.

“I’m a mess Joel, a broken mess and I knew this all to well, I knew this before I dated him, my last two relationships were scarring, one was verbally abusive, and the other cheated, I don’t know why I thought Erick would save me, I should’ve never jumped into this relationship—" your voice cracked

“If I knew I wasn’t ready” you barely finished, but Joel caught every vowel and Constant. “I fuck up every relationship I have”

“Hey no, that’s not true, listen those guys they fucked up the relationship to not even consider how you felt, because love shouldn’t be difficult, love is when you’re so terrified of hurting the other person, of they loved you they wouldn’t have dare to break you”

“Is love constantly arguing?”

“It is if you’re arguing about something that could potentially cause you guys to separate, that means both of you are scared, and sometimes it’s a defensive mechanism because you don’t want another relationship to turn out as the last”

“Arguments are nothing but miscommunication gone wrong” Joel hums at the end “and when that happens neither party is listening, it’s just pain talking” drinking the frosty from your cup you nod your head. Yeah, it makes sense now, neither of you guys are communicating because you both are scared of your bruises resurfacing, so instead of flight, you fight instead. It’s just pain on top of pain.

“So if you want, take a break think it over, do you love him? and is it worth the wait for you guys to heal?”

“Are you saying we’re together at the wrong time?”

“No, love has no time, and it surely doesn’t wait either, I’m just saying healing takes a while, but you can still be together and heal too, communication is one form of healing” he bumps your shoulder softly

“Wow, you really do give out great advice”

“If I did, id be with my ex right now, I’m just trying to prevent you from making the same mistake”

“Thanks Joel”

It’s been four weeks since you saw Erick, you were trying to give yourself and him enough breathing room to think about your relationship. And not only that but to discover who you are within yourself. ”now or never right?” You ask yourself standing in front of their house, ringing the doorbell you Yep your foot on the welcome mat. “Aw fuck it I can’t do this” just as your about to turn around the door swings open, and there he was. Even after all these weeks, he still gave your butterflies, and your cheeks rose in color.

“Hey” he starts off softly

“Hey-um can we talk?” You ask fiddling with your bracelet, it was the bracelet he bought you back from touring, with every stop they had you always remembered to buy you a souvenir. Since you couldn’t travel along with him cause of school.

“Yeah of course come in” you walk in the house, following Erick to his room, sitting in the bed he sits across from you giving you enough space so you’re not uncomfortable or scared. He’d never want to see you make that face, specially on his accord.

“So I’ve been thinking, that we’ve been having way to many fights, this break we had from each other was much needed” you look to see ericks head looking down at his hands , his body looked so stiff and somber, he didn’t seem like himself. “But, I know that I still love you and I have so much growth for myself, I have a lot of room to improve, so just know it’s not your fault, nor is it mine, and it’s not our exes fault either, we don’t get to choose how or when we get hurt in this world, but we get to choose how we deal with the pain, and we both chose poorly” you turn your body fully towards him.

Erick looked like he hasn’t been motivated to do anything for these past weeks, you had hoped he’d be taking care of himself like you did, but this hit him in a different way. “Hey Erick, I’m not mad at you, I’m disappointed in you nor am I upset with you, I know you didn’t mean it, it was just fear talking so dont-“

“How you can you forgive someone that almost threw glass at you? How can you love someone that argued with you until they pushed you away? How can you even for a second, still love me after all the pain I’ve gave you?” Erick finally looks at you, his eyes drowning in every negative emotion you can think of. “Y/n you don’t deserve the repeat of opening and closing so much, you deserve to be happy, you deserve someone who is there twenty-four-seven, you deserve someone man enough to actually listen and value what you say, because all I did in that relationship was made you cry alone countless nights, and gave you more problems then I was worth, y/n you really are an angel, and I can’t drag you down for being stuck in the past”

You stood up from the bed still eyes laid on Erick, you stood in front of him removing his hand from his face. He looks up at you shocked and dazed. He was wondering why are you still here? How could you even look at him? “Listen, I’m not going to force you into a relationship if that’s not what you want but listen to me carefully” you pause for his answer

“Okay” he lets out an unsteady answer

“Erick, remember when I told you that even if you were a shattered glass house I would still pick you up and rebuild you?” You ask him

“Yeah” his voice simmer down slowly

“I didn’t make that promise because you were my friend, I made that promise because I know what type of person you are, Erick you’re the most wholehearted, passionate and charming man I’ve ever been with, so why the hell would I ever stop loving a person like that?”

Erick gazes at you again his breath stuck in a tight air bubble, “Erick, yeah you scared me that day, but what made me scared wasn’t the glass, it was that we couldn’t help or understand each other, so I thought I would lose you, I can’t pretend that day didn’t happen, but I’m willing to heal it, to heal us, only if you want too” you kiss his knuckles softly. You missed the way his hands fit into yours, the way he would rub circles on your inner thigh when he was driving. The crinkle in his nose when you pull out the awful dad jokes.

You missed him.

“I’m willing to try too, I love you” Erick stands up hovering over you just by a couple inches “you look beautiful by the way” he caresses your cheek In one hand, while the other holds your waist.

“You idiot, my cheeks and eyes are swollen but I’m beautiful?” You punch him softly

“Always beautiful the hell you mean?” He furrows his eyebrows, “your as beautiful as the moon dancing across the water” you giggle with a slight blush tint from ear to ear, luckily it was dark in his room, next thing you knew Erick pressed his lips on yours, passionately he softly laid your back on the bed and hovered over you.

We had to save ourselves. In order to save our relationship.

[arcticdementor]

In the fall of 2008, America’s wealthiest companies were in a pickle. Short-selling hedge funds, smelling blood as the global economy cratered, loaded up with bets against finance stocks, pouring downward pressure on teetering, hyper-leveraged firms like Morgan Stanley and Citigroup. The free-market purists at the banks begged the government to stop the music, and when the S.E.C. complied with a ban on financial short sales, conventional wisdom let out a cheer.

"This will absolutely make a difference," economist Peter Cardillo told CNN. "Now, if there is any good news, shorts will have to cover.”

At the time, poor beleaguered banks were victims, while hedge funds betting them down as the economy circled the drain were seen as antisocial monsters. “They are like looters after a hurricane,” seethed Andrew Cuomo, then-Attorney General of New York State, who “promised to intensify investigations into short selling abuses.” Senator John McCain, in the home stretch of his eventual landslide loss to Barack Obama, added that S.E.C. chairman Christopher Cox had “betrayed the public’s trust” by allowing “speculators and hedge funds” to “turn our markets into a casino.”

Fast forward thirteen years. The day-trading followers of a two-million-subscriber Reddit forum called “wallstreetbets” somewhat randomly decide to keep short-sellers from laying waste to a brick-and-mortar retail video game company called GameStop, betting it up in defiance of the Street. Worth just $6 four months ago, the stock went from $18.36 on the afternoon of the Capitol riot, to $43.03 on the 21st two weeks later, to $147.98 this past Tuesday the 26th, to an incredible $347.51 at the close of the next day, January 27th.

The rally sent crushing losses at short-selling hedge funds like Melvin Capital, which was forced to close out its position at a cost of nearly $3 billion. Just like 2008, down-bettors got smashed, only this time, there were no quotes from economists celebrating the “good news” that shorts had to cover. Instead, polite society was united in its horror at the spectacle of amateur gamblers doing to hotshot finance professionals what those market pros routinely do to everyone else.

…

The episode prompted calls to regulate Reddit and, finally, halt action on the disputed stocks. As I write this, word has come out that platforms like Robinhood and TD Ameritrade are curbing trading in GameStop and several other companies, including Nokia and AMC Entertainment holdings.

Meaning: just like 2008, trading was shut down to save the hides of erstwhile high priests of “creative destruction.” Also just like 2008, there are calls for the government to investigate the people deemed responsible for unapproved market losses.

…

The only thing “dangerous” about a gang of Reddit investors blowing up hedge funds is that some of us reading about it might die of laughter. That bit about investigating this as a “pump and dump scheme” to push prices away from their “fundamental value” is particularly hilarious. What does the Washington Post think the entire stock market is, in the bailout age?

America’s banks just had maybe their best year ever, raking in $125 billion in underwriting fees at a time when the rest of the country is dealing with record unemployment, thanks entirely to massive Federal Reserve intervention that turned a crash into a boom. Who thinks the “fundamental value” of most stocks would be this high, absent the Fed’s Atlas-like support in the last year?

…

In other words, it was all well and good for investment banks and executives of phoney-baloney companies to gorge themselves on funhouse profits on a funhouse economy, but when amateurs decided to funnel just a bit of this clown show into their own pockets, finance pros wailed like the grave of Adam Smith had been danced upon. The worst was Morgan Stanley CEO James Gorman, who issued a somber warning that those behind the recent market frenzy are “in for a very rude awakening,” adding, “I don’t know if it is going to happen tomorrow, next week or in a month, but it will happen.”

This is the same James Gorman whose company just saw its 2020 fourth-quarter profits go up 51% versus the year before, with total revenues up 16% to $48.2 billion, matching almost exactly the 16% rise in the stock market last year. If you’re going to rake in $33 million as Gorman did last year captaining a firm that just siphoned off billions in essentially risk-free profits underwriting a never-ending bailout, should you really be worrying about someone else getting a “rude awakening”? There are 19 million people collecting unemployment who might be reading those profit numbers. Does this man know how to spell “pitchfork”?

GameStop has prompted more pearl-clutching than any news story in recent memory. Expert after grave-faced expert has marched on TV to tell Reddit traders that markets are complicated, this isn’t a game, and they wouldn’t be doing this, if they really understood how things work.

…

Furthermore, everybody “understands” what happened with GameStop. Unlike some other Wall Street stories, this one isn’t complicated. The entire tale, in a nutshell, goes like this. One group of gamblers announced, “Fuck you!” Another group announced back: “No, fuck YOU!”

That’s it. Or, as one market analyst put it to me this morning, “A bunch of guys made a bet, got killed, then doubled and tripled down and got killed even more.”

Regarding improprieties, leaving aside that the Redditors were doing exactly what billion-dollar hedge funds do every day — colluding to move a stock for fun and profit — the notion that this should be the subject of a federal investigation is preposterous.

…

While it isn’t a complicated story, some of the awesome humor of GameStop is in the mechanics.

Unlike betting on a stock to go up (i.e. betting “long”), where you can only lose as much as you invest, the losses in shorting can be infinite. This adds a potential extra layer of Schadenfreude to the plight of the happy hedge fund pirate who might have borrowed gazillions of GameStop shares at five or ten hoping to tank the firm, only to go in pucker mode as Internet hordes drive the cost of the trade to ten, twenty, fifty times their original investment.

Short-sellers bet by borrowing shares from so-called prime brokers (Goldman, Sachs and JP Morgan Chase are among the biggest), selling them, and waiting for the price to drop, at which point they buy them back on the open market at the lower price and return them. The commonly understood rub is that prime brokers don’t always really procure those original borrowed shares, and often give out more “locates” than they should, putting more shares in circulation than actually exist (as in this case). GameStop is exposing this systematic plundering of firms using phantom shares and locates, by groups of actors who now have the gall to complain that they’re the victims of a “get rich quick” scheme.

…

The home of James “rude awakening” Gorman, Morgan Stanley, got its bank holding company license (and the lifesaving Fed credit lines that came with it) late on a Sunday night in September, 2008, because the firm couldn’t have opened its doors without it the next Monday morning. They’d have been blown to bits, by “fundamentals.” Instead, they got rescued, given a forever pass to keep feeding at the neck of society while claiming, falsely, to be not-failures and not-welfare recipients, better somehow than the “dumb money” they think should be theirs alone to manage.

The rank selectivity of this makes any moral argument against the GameStop revolt moot. There’s no legitimate cause here, just an assertion of exclusive rights to plunder, which will doubtless be exercised now in the form of bans, investigations, and increased barriers to market entry. Probably also, in the political spirit of our times, there will some form of speech crackdown on platforms like Reddit, to protect us from the mob.

About that: there are many making hay of a description found on a Subreddit, to the effect that wallstreetbets is “like 4Chan found a Bloomberg terminal.” A columnist at the Guardian, settling into the rhetorical line sure to find acceptance among the wine-and-MSNBC crowd, admitted to finding the rampaging-id dynamic on 4chan funny as a young person, but strange now to “witness a brief and regretful adolescent occupation re-emerge as a prominent cultural force.” The author wanted to admit to laughing at this “intentionally senseless” behavior, but ultimately decried the “transgressive attitudes” of the Redditors.

This is where society will ultimately come down, of course, uniting to denounce $GME as financial Trumpism, even though it actually comes closer to being an updated and superior version of Occupy Wall Street. It’s likely not any evil manipulation scheme, but ordinary people acting — out of self-interest, but also out of sheer enthusiasm for one of the best reasons to do just about anything, because you can — on a few simple, powerful observations.

They’ve seen first that our markets are basically fake, set up to artificially accelerate the wealth divide, and not in their favor. Secondly they see that the stock market, like the ballot box, remains one of the only places where sheer numbers still matter more than capital or connections. And they’re piling on, and it’s delicious, not so much because they’re right, but because the people running for cover are so wrong, and still can’t admit it.

Buy the ticket, take the ride, nitwits. If you earned anything, it’s this.

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Ten

FFN II AO3

Summary: Liz re-introduces Tom to her team and Red and Cooper discuss where it's all heading.

Chapter Ten

When Liz had said that her team was a good resource for intel and backup, Jacob had assumed that had meant for her. He could take leads that she passed along and run them down in ways that a federal agent couldn't. He hadn't expected her to walk him into where she worked to speak to her team directly. At a federal black site. Below ground level with limited escape options. None of this was setting well, but she brushed off every argument that he made.

"They know you."

Jacob bristled at that even as he followed her into the lift that would take them down to what she called the War Room. "But I don't know them."

"You don't remember them. There's a difference." The doors squealed closed and she turned towards him. "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."

"You know my line of work isn't exactly legal," he pointed out.

"They're not going to arrest you either. They know about St Regis."

Jacob turned to stare at her. "You told them?" he demanded.

"I think Reddington did? It just sort of became common knowledge in our circle after you got out and after… well once you and I figured things out."

The doors opened and Jacob fought the urge to run. What good would it do? He was stuck in a black site with a bunch of federal agents that knew he was a covert operative. Despite Liz's optimism, he had no idea how this could end well.

One of those agents looked up from his desk, eyes focused on Liz and started for them, talking the whole way. "Agent Keen! What's the news you couldn't share over… the… Holy crap. Tom?"

"Hey, Aram. Surprise," Liz offered with a struggling smile.

The other agent - Aram - stood there gaping. "How? When? Why didn't you…. you know what. It doesn't matter." Without warning he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jacob's neck. "You're alive."

Jacob jerked backward at the sudden contact, stiff and ready for a fight. It took a moment for his mind to process that Aram had hugged him. Why a fed was hugging him, he had no idea. All he knew was that he had no interest feeling any more contained than he already was in this place.

"He doesn't remember," Liz explained as Aram startled back, pulling his attention around.

"Doesn't remember… what?"

Liz pursed her lips together thoughtfully, gaze shifting towards the main part of the room. "Let's talk in Cooper's office."

It was surreal as Liz made introductions that her team didn't need. While he only recognized them from the file Tremblay had given him, they knew him. What's more, Aram wasn't the only one that seemed happy to see him. Cooper - an assistant director of the FBI - greeted him with a warm handshake and a promise to both of them to help get to the bottom of all of this. Ressler - one of Liz's partners and the one that had been with her the longest - was more awkward, but managed a quiet "welcome back." The only one without much to say was Park, but as far as Jacob had seen she'd joined the Task Force after his supposed death. She looked as confused by the whole interaction as he felt.

"Have you told Reddington?" Cooper asked, and there was something layered beneath the face value of the question.

"No," Liz murmured, "and for now, I'd like to keep this between us."

"I thought you trusted him," Park popped off.

"It's complicated. He and…. the woman I believed was my mother are locked in some sort of war, and until we find out why, I think my circle of trust extends to the people in this room."

Ressler turned to look at her. "Believed to be? What did I miss?"

"Tom's… employer hired him to protect me and he ran a DNA test on her. It was secure. She matched to Katarina Rostova, but there was no parental match with me."

A quiet settled over the group as they digested the new information before Cooper's gaze landed on Jacob. "The person that hired you must have known who you are."

Jacob pulled in a breath, steadying himself to open up to the feds. "Looks that way. All I have is an alias: Brigitte Tremblay. She's gone dark, though, soon as Liz and I ran across each other. She hadn't returned any of the calls."

"I can trace the number," Aram offered. "Might give us something."

"It's a place to start," Cooper agreed. "Aram, work with Tom to get any information he has that might get us a lead on Brigitte Tremblay. If she's slipped up in any way, I want you to use it to ID her. Ressler, Park, catch Keen up on what we uncovered on The Collector."

Jacob watched as Liz perked up at that. The name obviously meant something to her. "You found something with him?"

Park flashed her a grin. "More than something. It's good."

"Let's go." Liz started out the door, but paused, turning towards Jacob. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights for the way her expression softened and she reached out, her touch against his arm gentle. "I trust them. You can too. I promise."

"I've never known cops to have my back," he confessed softly. "Especially feds."

"Well this fed saved your life a few years ago and you still owe him a favour," Ressler chuckled, halfway out the door. "Don't think I'm not calling it in sooner or later now that you're back."

Liz smiled and let her hand drop. It brushed Jacob's and he felt a shiver pass through him. His fingers started to close, holding her hand there, but in the last second he stopped. She didn't, though, and her fingers closed around his, giving a reassuring squeeze and held his gaze.

"I trust you," he whispered and her lips quirked up.

"Don't let Aram get sidetracked with Doctor Who." One more quick squeeze and she was gone, following her partners out the door and down the stairs.

Jacob turned to Aram. "Like the British scifi show?"

"We totally marathoned the Fourth Doctor one time when we were waiting on some intel to come in a few years ago. There was the one where K-9…" He grinned sheepishly past Jacob at his boss. "Right… We can, uh, cover that some time when we're not trying to find the mystery woman that knows where you've been the last two and a half years. Of course. Just, uh… follow me. We'll get started."

Jacob nodded numbly, not bothering to correct him. He knew where he'd been the last two and a half years. It was the previous ten he was worried about.

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

"Before we get started," Park said as she paused at her work station, turning to look directly at Liz, "did you know? Because last I heard your husband had been brutally stabbed to death in a home invasion that turned out to be Federal Marshall after some secret of Reddington's. Didn't Cooper ID him?"

Liz did her best to push down the instinctive desire to go on the defensive at Park's tone. "I found out the night before last. He's been… trying to come to terms with the fact that he was married… had a family and a life that he doesn't even remember."

"Sounds rough."

"It has been. And yes, Cooper ID'd him."

"Not just that, but we all saw him flatline," Ressler pointed out. "Hell of an accomplishment to fake all of that."

"It is, but we've seen doubles before. Sinclair manages it pretty convincingly. Tom told me about a Russian-based program he came across during his time with Halcyon that surgically altered people to look like their targets. It does happen."

She didn't like the look Ressler gave her, almost like he thought she was stretching it.

"Yeah, but who would have those kinds of connections and resources to put it together so fast?" Park asked, shaking her head.

That, Liz had an answer to. One that had been battering around inside her mind since she saw Tom hanging in Katarina Rostova's warehouse, but she hadn't dared to admit out loud yet. "Scottie Hargrave."

Ressler blinked at that. "Tom's mom? Why would she?"

Liz risked a glance over to make sure Tom was distracted with Aram. "She has means and motive."

Ressler didn't look convinced. "Motive for faking his death?"

"If she thought it kept him safe, yeah. I could see it. She thrives on control and there was something…. strangely resolved when she took Agnes a coupe of years ago. She said she'd already mourned him once. I didn't… catch it then, but it was weird."

"That's screwed up," Park managed and Ressler snorted.

"Welcome to the Keen family drama."

Liz shook her head, unable to deny the statement. "Tell me what you guys found on the Collector."

Park lit up at that. "Michael Kowlaski was actually Viktor Petrov. While his paperwork says that he was American-born to Polish immigrants, the identity for Michael Kowlaski was farmed. All the paperwork, the credit history, everything was manufactured."

"Like a shelf company for a person," Liz murmured and Park nodded.

"Exactly like that."

"How did we get to the name Petrov?"

"Aram worked through the night going through photos linked to the Kowlaski ID," Ressler explained. "Cooper recognized one and was able to confirm that it was actually Victor Petrov, a KGB officer known for his intelligence work. Everything started to fall into place."

Liz leaned back against Park's desk. "Okay, so we've got the who and the why -"

"You mentioned that in the debrief," Park said. "The Sikorsky Archive. Petrov's last words. Do you know what it means?"

"All I know is what I've been told. It's a blackmail file that the woman that posed as my mother says she's being blamed for stealing and that she thinks Reddington knows who really has it."

"So another dead end?"

"No… maybe not. I had a PI follow Ilya Koslov -"

"Not Reddington, by the way," Ressler offered and Liz tried to ignore Park's confused look.

"- and she found that Koslov was obsessed with the Archive."

"So he's our next best lead?" Park asked, shaking the confusion from her expression.

"Seems to be." Liz closed her eyes, working through the pieces of the puzzle that made up this case. It was huge. Expansive. Pieces looked like they'd fit and then were part of a completely different puzzle altogether. This, though… she thought they were onto something with this. "The Collector always has two demands: a new secret to carry on and a favour. I know we recovered a jumpdrive on him. Has Aram cracked that yet?"

Ressler shook his head. "He's still working on it, but I think that's what had him here all night. His program's cracked pieces."

"It's German… Something about Bonn, but other than that, we don't know yet," Park agreed.

Liz risked another glance over to Aram and Tom, the tech genius looking like he was in the middle of a long-winded explanation of something that probably could have been said a fraction of the words he was using. Tom, to his credit, was patiently nodding along that he was following. The two had always gotten along well, so it was good to see that even with his missing memories Tom was able and willing to listen through.

"Then I say we focus on Ilya," Liz finally said.

Ressler quirked a ginger eyebrow. "Hasn't he gone into hiding?"

"We'll find him," Liz answered confidently. "We have to."

Park shifted where she was. "If Rostova isn't your mother and Reddington isn't… whatever the latest thing you thought he was… why?"

Liz pursed her lips, working through each word as she let them fall. "Because Reddington used us to get to here. He used us to get to The Collector to kill him. He tried to steer me away from this woman, but he never gave me a clear reason why. He uses us, and just once, I'd like to have more pieces of the puzzle than he does."

There was a moment of silence between the three partners before Ressler nodded. "Okay. Let's find Koslov."

"Uh, guys?" Aram called over. "Mr Cooper just called down. Mr Reddington is supposed to be coming by with intel on The Collector. I know you said…"

"Guess that's my queue to leave," Tom said and his gaze shifted around to Liz. "How about this: give me a lead to track down on this Koslov guy and I'll start in on the groundwork."

"Tom…"

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. "I promise I'll come back. Here, gimme your phone?" He reached a hand out and she held it out to him. He punched in a number. "Saved just above the pizza delivery guy."

Liz found herself echoing the smile. "Good. Let's get you out of here."

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

They walked a thin line with Reddington. That wasn't new, and for the most part Cooper had reconciled himself to it. There was give and take. He gave them terrible people that needed to be taken off the streets and that they wouldn't have had access to without him. In return, he took what he wanted. Sometimes it was a piece of information or access, and then sometimes the price was higher. Sometimes he used them in ways that Cooper found very difficult to see as anything but a betrayal to the very woman that Reddington had surrendered himself for. His actions had forced her into more compromising positions, put people she loved at risk, and consistently left her in the dark on issues that directly affected her without even a hope that he'd reveal the answers to her someday.

Despite all Reddington had done - and for every veiled motive, every secret he had kept about Elizabeth's past, he had quite literally saved her life and career time and time again - Cooper couldn't blame Elizabeth for not wanting to offer up the fact that Tom was alive. Reddington's secrets had, they had thought, cost her husband his life two and a half years before. He was alive, but far from whole, and her wish to protect him from the chaos that Reddington brought into her life was understandable. It was the reason that Cooper had given them a good headstart before calling Reddington into the Post Office.

Reddington didn't like being summoned, that much was clear. He helped them at his leisure and on his terms, despite the fact that, theoretically, he worked for them, but that afternoon Cooper had no patience for his antics. He'd used them to lure a Blacklister out and, when Cooper had refused to hand him over blindly, Reddington had had him shot down in the street.

It was nearly time for Cooper to pack it up and call it a night when Reddington finally strolled into the Post Office with a reminder that he's not at the FBI's beck and call, even though his immunity agreement did have some wording that leaned heavily in that direction. He continued on and on, casually taking a seat across from Cooper with his hat in his hand and Dembe lingering at the door. Cooper lost track of exactly what the point of the story was, but it had something to do with a woman from Beijing that he'd met while smuggling political refugees out of the country. By the time the story wound down, Cooper had already had to send Charlene an apologetic text and a promise to pick up dinner of her choosing on his way home.

"I'm sorry, Harold, was there a reason you called me in when I should be at Marcel's having the most exquisite Lobster Timbale that I've ever tasted?"

"Victor Petrov," Cooper said simply, not bothering to point out that if Reddington had come when he'd called that he could have been out long before his reservations.

"Ah," their often complicated CI managed. "You've put a name to the legend."

"I'm not going to waste both our times asking you exactly what you thought you'd keep Elizabeth from finding out about her mother," he stated firmly, "but I do need to know what Petrov was trying to move through Mr Krause. Aram's working on the encryption, but so far we've only gotten pieces. You said that Petrov was connected to the Cabal."

"He was," Reddington answered, his voice serious now.

"I'm not a fool. We may have decimated their stronghold in the United States, but my guess is that they have a further reach. You handed us this Blacklister and so far, without details of what was being transferred, we've gotten nothing from it other than a dead former KGB operative and another dead end." He paused, taking a risk. "Does Bonn mean anything to you?"

"Is that Krause's final destination?"

"We believe so."

Reddington tilted his head to the side and Cooper straightened his spine. He was already asking for less than they'd been promised on this. Finally, the other man relented. "I already suspected that Petrov had re-aligned himself with his old allies in the Cabal. If he's orchestrating deliveries to Bonn, then it's not just a smaller faction he's trying to reach out to."

"How many factions are you aware of?"

Reddington sighed, and for a moment Cooper thought he was going to try to slip around this. Apparently it wasn't worth the effort. "Originally? Many, but there were key players housed in the United States, Russia, China, and two in Germany: one for the East and another for the West."

"So Petrov was trying to make contact with one of the factions in Germany?"

"There's only one left. With the fall of communism in Germany, the Cabal lost its foothold in Berlin. Bonn is all that's left, but Harold -" he caught Cooper's gaze and held it, and in that moment his voice was deadly serious - "if this is more than an attempt to make contact, if the faction in Bonn is using someone like Petrov to move information Stateside, this is bigger than either of us could have assumed."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have killed the man with the answers then."

"What's done is done. Aram mustcrack that encryption and he must do so quickly."

"Or what?"

"If we wait to find out, it will already be too late."

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

TBC

Notes: ** insert dramatic music here **  

I feel bad for poor Tom right now. Everybody in this story knows more than him and he's just not okay with that.

Next Time: When Tom's search for Ilya continues to run into dead ends, Liz takes matters into her own hands.

[jmeddows2]

You (Roger Taylor x fem!Reader)

This is my Halloqueen gift for @mezzomercury​ Happy belated Halloween! I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it on time,but here it is. I’m really nervous about it ARGHH  @dtfrogertaylor​ Summary: Reader is an opera singer, with a chaotic manager with just the right contacts in the industry  Warnings: only a bit of swearing, else we have Fred and Reader become best friends, fluff Word count: 2k+ Notes: sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language Roger is single and childless in this story! The Duck House really exists and Queen used to stay there quite frequently when recording in Montreux :)

You were supposed to get a real job with a purpose, regarding the field you were actually educated in, but Steve, your manager had quite the reputation. Especially in terms of missing dates and mixing things up, making him the chaotic mess of a man that he naturally was. As an opera singer, that’s just started out, you struggled with auditions. Steve’s lack of time management was rather poor, that sometimes he wouldn’t tell you about the most important auditions in time, or miss most of them, because they just weren’t on his radar. If it wasn’t for all the contacts in the industry Steve apparently had, you would have run for the hills ages ago. One day, when Steve waltzed into the office to your meeting, which of course he was again late to, he was restless, jumping from one foot to the other. "I have it. This is going to be IT for you.” He explained it as a project. To 'expand’ your horizon, to fill your CV with something, that would make your future opportunities skyrocket from 0 to 100. .....to stand in for the band Queen as a background singer (in case of use)...... living, food and drinks provided.... is what the contract read ...should not be opposed to beer and fun. Must be flexible and be available to fly out during the time period of recording from June 1981 - March 1982. Place: Montreux, Switzerland. The few black letters on white seemed to get even more ridiculous throughout the over 100 page contract. But also funny. Mainly ridiculous though. Being crammed up in a recording studio in Montreux, Switzerland as an "option of use” wasn’t exactly your idea of a job. Or at least not what you were aiming for at the moment. The numbers with a 5 digit payment that crested the contracts last page, made you rethink the whole deal though, much to Steve’s joy. So you agreed. Your first encounter with Freddie, Brian, John and Roger was weird. Well, not with Freddie, Brian and John. They were all kind and excited to get to know you better. Roger was another thing. He didn’t even look at you or recognize you when you all gathered in one of the temporary Queen offices, to go over all the details. He was too distracted reading through the schedule for the upcoming months. It felt more like he pretended to be interested in the schedule on his lap, while absentmindedly toying with the pen between his fingers. You later found out, that he was dealing with the aftermaths of a really ugly breakup. Montreux, Switzerland You arrived at Geneva airport on a cold January morning, approximately 7 months after your first encounter with the band. Your personal driver was already awaiting you with a sign that read your name in capital letters. He had a wide grin plastered on his face. The exclusivity didn‘t stop there though. The one hour ride from the airport straight to the recording studio in the black limousine felt more like 10 minutes. A bottle of champagne, a few snacks and the heated leather seats in the car that made you feel oh so comfortable, may have been the reason why time passed so quickly. The nervous feeling crept back into your mind, as soon as the driver dropped you off in front of the casino, in which the recording studio was located.  The recording studio was situated in the basement. As you pushed the door open, there was only a friendly security guard in the foyer, checking your ID.  "Hi love, are you lost?“ It was Roger. His hair was a bit shorter than the last time you‘d seen him. "Oh hi, no actually, I‘m supposed to be here. As a background singer“ The uncertain tone in your voice made it sound more like a question. "uhh, I received a call to come out here. We had a meeting a few months ago“ Roger looked confused, but not bothered by your presence at all. "Well, be my guest then“ he awkwardly shook your hand and gestured for you to make you feel comfortable. "Where are you from uhm?“ "Micaela. Born and raised in New York City“ “A NYC girl?  pretty sure you’ve got some stories to tell” he teased.  “I’m sure not nearly as many as you” You got right back at him. That was something Roger highly valued. The wit, someone who’s not afraid to speak up. He smiled to himself and soon after Fred, Brian and John entered the studio as well. They each greeted you warmly.  Freddie was very excited to have you on board. When he wasn’t busy recording, as a fellow opera enthusiast, him and you always found something to talk about. Or it was rather having Freddie listen to all the stories you had in store, even if it was just a few. It almost felt like telling bed time stories to a child, seeing his dark, beautiful eyes light up, even at the slightest mention of words like ‘stage’, ‘orchestra’, ‘costumes’ or ‘opera’ in general. "I’m going to be honest with you, darling” Freddie said, as he took a seat beside you on the couch, while Roger was banging his drums frustratingly to the already finished guitar and bass backing track of ‘Las Parablas de Amor’ in the recording booth.  "We don’t actually need your beautiful vocals here” Freddie patted your thigh gently.  "You’re kidding, right? Why am I here then?” "I thought you may enjoy a little holiday out here. You know, there’s great spa resorts around town. And you could do some small assistant work, nothing hard or bad, I promise! No, I promise on Montserrat Caballé, so you really know I’m not joking” he swore. Well, you couldn’t say no now.

Out of nowhere there was a loud crash. You turned around to see Roger tossing his drum sticks across the room, nearly hitting John in the head. Roger continued to throw casette tapes around, that were properly lined up on the shelf nearby. “I’m done with this. It sounds like a cheap piece of crap.” he stormed out of the room. The boys only looked at each other, as if they were communicating through their minds on who’s turn it was now to go after Roger. "I’ll go” you volunteered, seeing as no one else made a move and what could you possibly have to lose? Except for a huge amount of payment. Ok, maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but the other boys looked quite relieved when you got up from your seat. You prepared for the worst,  grabbing your coat from the hanger on the door on the way out. It was really cold outside. Roger wasn’t hard to find. He was just outside the building, a cigarette hanging from his lips and rubbing his hands up and down his arms. He certainly wasn’t clever enough to bring a jacket with him, after his dramatic, oscar worthy departure. "Hey” how exactly do you approach an angry person you don’t know, but find really attractive? "Did they send you out here?” a chuckled groan left his lips.   “No, I came out here on my own. Want to talk about it?” you suggested. He offered you a cigarette, but you declined. 

"Talk about what? about the crap we’ve been recording lately? It’s disco.” he grimaced a pained face. “It sounds like the music they play in gay clubs. I mean don’t get me wrong, I support everyone’s sexuallity, but not everyone’s taste in music! I’m just not made for Disco music. It’s a load of bollocks. God, now I’m just venting” he threw the cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his boots. "I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m actually an opera singer. Not really Rock 'N Roll, is it? Yet I’m here in a recording studio with one of the biggest rock bands.” "Ok you have a point. Why did you agree to do this anyway?” he was shivering, while lighting another cigarette. "Sometimes you make sacrifices for the sake of others, but only as long as you’re feeling comfortable in your own skin ”  "God,I hate that you’re right.” he sighed, unable to hold the pout anymore, that was was replaced by a smile forming on his lips. "Now let’s better get back inside before you freeze to death” you gestured for the door. "Just a minute” he grabbed you gently by the arm. "Thank you” Roger hugged you tightly, nuzzling his face into your neck. The feeling of his cold cheeks in contact with your warm skin made you jump a bit.  “ Now let’s go and make some disco music” he laughed, grabbing your hand.  Expecting another fight and argument by Roger, Brian, Freddie and John were surprised to experiece as calm as he ever was. Stil, you decided to put the recording on hold for the day and locate back to the house, in which you all stayed. "Welcome to Duckingham Palace” when entering the house, you quickly noticed why Roger called it like that. There were hundreds of wooden duck statues situated all around the house. They were evrywhere, quite creepy, but as time passed, they became pretty much invisble to you. Believe it or not.

You all had gathered around the living room with a hot drink in hand, when John lit the fireplace, creating a cosy atmosphere. It felt like you’d known Freddie, Brian, John and Roger since forever, as you seemed to pretty much share the same or at least similiar interests and humor. "Ok now Micaela. Tell me. What’s your favorite Queen album?” John asked curiously while pouring a generous amount of rum into his hot chocolate. "Easy” Freddie answered for you. “Has to be A Day At The Races” you nodded in response. "See? we’re besties already, you guys better step your game up” Freddie threw his arm around your shoulders.  Roger couldn’t stop giving you little looks while having a conversation with Brian, who as expected also wasn’t a fan of the new direction in music they were headed at. “ how did you tame the lion, darling?” Freddie chuckled into your ear. " you know..How did you get Roger to calm down so fast? I know how he can get when he’s in a mood” "The cold outside did the job actually” you tried to sound nonchalantly.

"Of course yeah, that’s also why he’s been eyeing you up, ever since we left the studio. Did something happen?” Freddie kept pressing, but in a playful way.  "He never gives in so easily. Usually not even to pretty girls like you when he’s mad” Your only answer was a light blush of cheeks. At 2 am, John was the last one to go to sleep. Roger and you literally had to drag him up to his room. He was so plastered, that he didn’t even recognize his own song on the radio. Roger and you decided to sip on one last ‘good night drink’ to reward yourselves for all the hard work of tucking John into bed like a little baby. There was a silence upon you, but it wasn’t awkward at all, just relaxing. "Thank you again for today” Roger broke the silence. "Nothing worth thanking me for” "It is actually. Y'know I’m glad you’re here. You’re going to make this much more bearable for me" you snorted out with laughter, not realizing how serious he was about the words he said. "I’m being honest, love! I really fancy you and I want to get to know you better.” he was so close to you now, you could feel his warmth. "the seaside promenade is really beautiful, almost as beautiful as you.” Roger brought his hand to your hair, to brush a few strands behind your ear. "So, it’s a date then” you nervously drew a circles with your fingertips on the surface of the wooden kitchen counter, while looking into his ocean eyes. "Yeah it’s a date” he smiled at you. You both took your last swigs of your drinks.    "Good night Roger” you hugged him tightly and gave him little peck on the cheek, before wandering off to bed, thinking of all the beautiful scenarios the following day would have to offer. Roger followed closely behind, entering his own bedroom. The feeling of your kiss on Roger’s cheek lingered with him, until he fell asleep, thinking of his newly found happiness. You.

[ctl-yuejie]

the grandmaster of demonic interior design or mound squatting & a smitten renovator

⇨ for @howdydowdy​ who wisely suggested a home renovation tv series au based on my crack gifset

Ia . IIa . IIIa . Ib . IIb . IIIb. Ic . IIc . IIIc . Id . IId . IIId . Ie . IIe ⭐︎ . IIIe ⭐︎⭐︎ . extra

Id.

He hadn’t expected to see Lan Wangji again. Meeting him on top of Burial Mound was even more of a peculiar twist of fate.  During their school days he’d never been sure whether Lan Wangji liked him or was just too well-mannered to tell him to get lost. Well, he had been told to get lost at one point, but that had been after a rather crude practical joke so maybe it doesn’t quite count.

However, being a nuisance on purpose had let to the great discovery that beneath his cold demeanour Lan Wangji’s way of thinking was quite alike to his and he had gotten to enjoy detention, Lan Wangji proving to be a worthy opponent in an argument when riled up enough.  There had been a lot of detention.  He’d just correctly assumed that their relationship wasn’t to be long lived after they graduated and went different ways. The family heads sometimes met at conferences but Wei Wuxian was never interested in attending those. Lan Wangji must have sat there every single year, looking attentive while possibly being bored out of his mind. How couldn’t he have been without him there.

He hadn’t realized that he had actually missed the level stare he often was the recipient of.

People who follow the old customs talk about Lan Wangji with the greatest respect. Nevertheless, most accounts of meeting him don’t miss a pitying comment on his icy stare and aloofness. These people are just not able to see what he does. The warmth that radiates off his good deeds, just a vague taste of how compassionate Lan Wangji truly is, and the way his face pulls into a tiny smile when he’s truly happy.

Wei Wuxian tries to remember Lan Wangji’s smile.

It’s way past midnight, and while he long has gotten used to the eerie silence on Burial Mound he’s still rolling around in his sleeping bag, not able to stop the thoughts running in his head. The stone plateau he’s sleeping on doesn’t help in the frontline of comfort either. How soft Lan Wangji’s hotel bed must be.

He could bet that Lan Wangji doesn’t even appreciate it properly. No jump test, no pillow fights. Lan Wangji would just lie down, perfectly still on his back, hands folded over his chest and fall asleep immediately.  As if hotel beds could be exchanged with just any bed.  Whenever he and his siblings had shared a room at hotels or traditional inns, they had pushed their beds or futons together to create one giant cushy paradise to roll around in. He’d always wake to Jiang Cheng laughing at his weird sleeping position, mocking his hair that always looked terrible in the morning before smacking a pillow back at him in retaliation. 

Lan Wangji would look pristine in the morning, no puffy cheeks and no grit in the eyes.  Very boring.  Maybe if they’d share a room some time he’d be able to see it. Have Lan Wangji’s immaculate face turn to him to take in his disheveled state.   Would he have to smile? Would he scold him? At five in the morning he’d probably have to deal with a very grumpy version of himself. He might lie down in Lan Wangji’s bed and pull him down with him just to get him to sleep some more.

Now he regrets not pestering Lan Wangji about sharing a room during his stay at the Cloud Recesses. If Lan Qiren would have ever found out he’d crawled into his nephew’s bed he would have burst with anger.  But down at the hotel they could’ve just slept in, take their breakfast in bed and Lan Wangji would’ve definitely fixed the strands of Wei Wuxian’s hair that were in danger of falling into his coffee. Would his fingers feel soft against his cheek? Or calloused from his Guqin practice?  Wei Wuxian falls asleep to the thoughts of Lan Wangjis fingers carding through his hair.

The shooting starts early in the morning with Wei Wuxian guiding an unusually meek Nie Huaisang through the outer area of the compound. His excited voice easily carries over the soft footsteps of the elderly who tend to the fields.

The air is still cold and crisp, morning dew lazily gliding to the centre of lotus leaves, waiting to get scooped up by the tiny hands of Ah-Yuan.

It’s the first time that Nie Huaisang is commenting on something other than the lack of Wei Wuxian’s sense for interior design. He looks genuinely amazed, voicing his confusion at how Wei Wuxian had managed to build a lotus pond in this hostile environment.   He is rather proud of the pond and even though the seeds are inedible it is a piece of home in this wasteland.

Around noon Wei Wuxian finds himself rambling on about the importance of the cause, his inventions, what farming has taught him, the community in shared values, and really just how brilliant his inventions are. Sometimes the producers have to intervene because he gets too caught up in his stories, and name dropping the Wen family as one of the instigators of the astronomical rents doesn’t help either.

Throughout shooting, Lan Wangji doesn’t say much. He’s mostly tagging along, having quickly gotten used to putting in minimal effort to fulfil his sole role as eye candy.  After all, most people aren’t that well-versed in cultivation anymore and it might be for the better not to dig too deep into the demonic kind.

Even so, despite not saying much and the cameras definitely not being able to catch it, his silence is contemplative. It looks like Lan Wangji is actually listening to him. Listening very attentively. Just really listening. And that hasn’t happened before.

Wen Ning just enjoys the company in general and spending time with Ah-Yuan. Wen Qing is brilliant but also can’t be arsed to put any ounce of her energy into humouring him. Shiejie is supportive as always, but he knows that she doesn’t fully get it. Jiang Cheng, well, he listens and somehow understands totally different things. The other squatters are mostly just fondly exasperated. He doesn’t blame them. For them the cause is much more important. This project means their survival in the city.

But it is nice to show someone how he views the world, to share his interests and light eyes meeting his in understanding. He shoots a cheeky but appreciative wink back but Lan Wangji simply looks away.  Well, that’s not fun then.

Nie Huaisang is filming a solo-portion on appropriate colour schemes.  While the remodelling itself is unnecessary in Wei Wuxian’s mind, some of the ideas on how certain colours can improve moods actually don’t sound half-bad. He has to admit that he has underestimated Nie Huaisang and his dedication to deliver not only a perfect house remodelling but genuinely try to improve the lives of the inhabitants as well. Nie Huaisang is obviously stumped by how little he has to work with in terms of traditional architecture but he makes a commendable effort, even venturing into the historical significance of the statue guarding the cave.

Lan Wangji steps a little bit closer, robes flattering in the afternoon wind. “Isn’t this illegal?” His whisper tickles Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Lan Zhan-ah, Lan Zhan-ah, of course it is. That’s why it’s called squatting.”  He can’t believe that now is the time for Lan Wangji to question the legality of this project. “Wei Ying. You could get in trouble.” He sounds forceful. “That – is the point?” Lan Wangji looks like he has trouble finding the right words. “Wei Ying could just leave, you have a home!” Something squeezes him on the inside and his arm shakes when he points to the collective around them. “You know I can’t leave them behind.” Lan Wangji doesn’t relent. “You could take class-action. My family’s firm could help. If you are willing.” His voice goes soft at the end.  “What the Wen’s do isn’t against the law, they are just using the system to their benefit. Much as I hate them, they’re not that innovative...and Lan Zhan, you are great–“ Lan Wangji’s face softens in surprise– “but I know your dad.” Lan Wangji’s eyebrows ever so slightly draw together. “He does pro bono work.” Wei Wuxian laughs in delight at this. The confusion on Lan Wangji’s face that’s just visible to him is hilarious.  “Money isn’t the issue. Would he really want to have his firm’s name associated with going against the Wen clan?” The associated with me part is left unsaid. Lan Qiren is wise and righteous, but had never been fond of seeing Wei Wuxian pestering his nephew.

It seems like Lan Wangji has many things he wants to say. Maybe berate him like he used to. Wei Wuxian is amazed that even though they haven’t seen each other in a long time, he has gotten better at reading Lan Wangji. Standing this close he not only sees the inner fight Lan Wangji’s seems to be having for the second time today, but how despite the diffused light his eyes are gleaming, how his long hair softly falls against his cheeks, how long his eye lashes are.

The cultivator world calling him the second most eligible bachelor really is a deserved title. Zewu-Jun might be attractive to other people, but compared to Lan Wangji he appears to be rather boring.

No mask to crack with playful banter, no smile to coax out with a teasing remark, nothing Wei Wuxian could do that would make Zewu-Jun wear the same expression of soft surprise, to have that something in his eyes that almost seems to shine through when he is looking at Wei Wuxian and that Wei Wuxian can’t seem to pin point even after 13 years.

Even after getting better at reading him.

“It’s against the law.” Lan Wangji’s voice interrupts his musings. “Well, the law is bullshit,“ he retorts pointedly. Wei Wuxian knows that what he’s doing is the right thing. They stand in silence.

The last scene of the day features the last chamber of the cave.  Wen Ning is delighted at Wei Wuxian’s invitation to join them. The crew has already set everything up for filming and Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji are politely ushered inside.

Lan Wangji halts in his tracks immediately after entering the chamber. Wei Wuxian is very much delighted at surprising him successfully. “I tried to go for a hyggelig vibe,” he says cheerily as if nothing was amiss. It is very hard to not just laugh out loud at how everything about Lan Wangji screams ‘incredulousness’.

“Wei Ying – there is a demonic blood pool – in your cave!” Wei Wuxian is very adamant on finding out how much it takes to break adult Lan Wangji, so he just hums in affirmation. “Wei Ying, too much blood,” Lan Wangji says with stronger conviction. “It does go great with Wen Nings goth attire!” That is a good enough reason to have a spring spew blood into a big pool in your home in Wei Wuxian’s books. Wen Ning pats down his black, heavy robes in satisfaction.

There is a tiny smile tugging at the corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth.

“Beautiful.”Is the only thing Wei Wuxian manages to think. 

IId 

[things-we-used-tc-share]

Summer Rain

Warnings: minor alcohol mention, Deceit is mentioned but he’s not really a bad guy, he just trips over everything a lot. I guess kinda age gap? Roman is 28, Logan is approaching 35.

Ship: Logince

Plot: Logan runs into a young man that loves to interrupt his reading time, against his will he’s managed to make a friend. Slowly as he begins to learn the boundaries of his own soul, he thinks he might see more than friendship along the way. 

The turn of pages in a book could be the symbolism for Logan’s current existential dread, but he’s paying more attention to how the pages feel under his fingertips than the reason he’d needed the book in the first place. Approaching thirty-five years old, the professor was not completely unaware of how his family talk about him, he’d been single for most of his life because he’d chosen to be, he didn’t find much interest in searching for love or finding “The One,” like his parents had been nagging him too for years. 

Unfortunately, he was thirty-four years old, single, unmarried and his parents wanted him to be. And having put down the phone less than half an hour ago he’d launched his own mind into a spiel of whether he was failing at his own life. In much more simple terms, Logan was panicking that his purpose in life was to find love and he didn’t want to. It’s his firm belief that if it truly is his purpose then it should find him because he has far more important things to do like teaching college students about the field of medicine and also drinking whiskey at 10PM whilst marking test papers. Every time a student writes something that makes him want to ask if they’d actually listened for a second, he takes another shot. 

It’s not that Logan is lonely, okay maybe he is just a little bit lonely. He’s all the way out in Florida whilst his family lives in another state and he’s never bothered to make friends but he’s thirty-four and he’s lonely. 

The kicker is that Logan isn’t sure if he does want to be not-lonely, he’s almost certain he doesn’t want to fall in love and even more certain that he doesn’t want to make friends. He blames his parents for guilting him into having emotions. 

A cup of coffee is placed down in front of him and he uncrosses his legs on the comfortable cafe seat before looking up to thank the man who placed it down. He frequents this cafe so often that he knows everyone by name and face. There’s Virgil, a skinny young man who looked like a teenager going through a quarter-life crisis, despite being twenty-five. There’s Patton, who runs the cafe, who smiles and everyone and gives out free homemade cookies to children. Then Declan, a man who was terrible at lying when Logan asks him “Did you put milk in this?” and trips over his own feet every five minutes. 

But this face was new. He had long brown hair pulled back into a bun, dark brown eyes and was possibly the only person of the workers of the cafe that A) Was wearing glitter and B) didn’t look like they had a Vitamin D Deficiency. That’s to say that he had a tan and wasn’t so pale he was translucent (Virgil) or looked like he hadn’t been outside in about four weeks (Patton, Declan). 

And he was talking. 

“...I hope that’s okay for you, I was told no milk so I thought I should ask if you wanted a milk replacement because we have Soya, Almond and Coconut milk and...” He was talking a lot. Logan was wondering if there’s a socially acceptable, or kinder way, to say shut up before he stops. 

“I just like my coffee black,” His tone sounds a lot harsher than intended but the waiter only smiles in return, Logan supposes he’s had ruder patrons in this cafe. 

“That’s also fine! I just wanted to make sure,” The ebony haired man finds the name tag that reads ‘Roman’ and decides to make up for his rudeness. 

“Thank you...Roman, I appreciate your willingness to make your customers feel comfortable,” He offers a tight smile before looking down at his book, with every intention to continue reading. Roman, however, seems to have other ideas. 

“What’re you reading?” It’s rare that anyone willingly talks to Logan, even (especially) people who know him, even Patton, the happy go lucky owner of the sho understood that the man was not one for bounds of conversation. It seemed that Roman had not quite grasped this yet but Logan was sure in due time he would. 

“It’s a study of how psychological effects of the mind can cause illness in the body, IE why people who are mentally ill can be more prone to physical illness, the short answer is stress lowers the immune system, but I’m a Doctor so I find everything behind it more fascinating,”

“You’re a Doctor? Woah that’s so cool,” The blue-eyed man blinks, having never quite received that response as the man looks like overly excited by the information. “I’m a student, a little late on the uptake but I study Performing Arts, that’s not quite as important as what you do though,” Logan takes a moment to consider the other’s words before he decides he does actually have something to say about that.

“I think you’re undermining the value of Performing Arts if you think that, whilst yes I train people who will go on to save lives, art as a medium can do more than perhaps you realize, in my line of work I had met many people who have been through times that medication could not save them, but art had,” He takes a breath as Roman waits patiently for him to continue “In fact it’s something mentioned in this book, mental illness, and art is quite often linked, many people who pursue art as a career or hobby find it greatly improves their mental health to have an outlet, plus a world without performance would be rather drab, don’t you think?” 

“I...uh...yeah,” Roman replies quietly, looking down at his hands before turning his head towards the counter “I’d love to talk some more but I should probably get back to my work,” He pulls on his bright smile again, “Enjoy your coffee!” Logan watches him walk away and he would be lying to himself if Roman, albeit initially irritating, hadn’t intrigued him a little. 

By the end of the day he’d forgotten all about him, however. 

“Mind if I join you?” Logan peers over his book  to the newcomer, who was dusting flour off his apron “This ones on the house,” A cup of coffee was placed in front of him with a caramel cookie “Consider it a peace offering for interrupting your reading but I’ve got a break and you’re...handsome,” He wonders if he physically recoiled from the statement as he lowers the book because Roman smirks at him. Oh, he’s blushing, that’s why he’s smirking. Logan internally groans but accepts the cookie. 

“Be my guest, it doesn't look like I’ve much say in the matter,” It would, after all, be rude after he’s just bought him a coffee and a cookie. Roman isn’t that irritating after all, he looks permanently like a lost puppy but his voice isn’t unpleasant to listen too (By the end of the hour-long break, Logan might have something else to say on the matter). 

He absently listens to the other talk which is mostly complaining, but Logan finds himself chuckling as the other man talks, despite his concentration being predominantly on his book. He doesn’t reply, but Roman can tell he’s listening with the small half-smiles and nods of his head, and honestly, that was enough for him. 

It becomes a habit, Logan’s reading time interrupted with Roman collapsing in the chair opposite with a cup of coffee and a cookie. Somewhere along the line, Patton had simply put a cookie aside for Roman to gift the other man, with a shake of his head and a wide smile (”Roman you’re not wasting two dollars a day for a cookie I’m happy to give you for free,”). 

Somewhere along the line, Logan actually stopped being mildly irritated by the other’s presence. He wondered absently if this is what friendship felt like. 

“It’s raining, in August!” Roman doesn’t even ask anymore as he places down the coffee and the cookie and flops into the chair opposite him “It’s Summer Logan! It shouldn’t be raining, what’s worse is that it’s still unbelievably humid,” Logan snorts and lowers the book. 

“Nice to see you too Roman,” He reaches over for his coffee and takes a sip before he looks out the window. It was indeed raining, it pattered against the window gently like a wave ‘hello’ from a stranger. Logan’s attention turns to the rain as he watches it slide down the windows and turn into silver by the sunlight that hits the streets. “It’s hardly unsurprising, currently climates all around the world are displaying unusual and worrying habits, however, a little bit of rain on a Friday evening will not do you any harm,”

“It’ll do my flawless hair some harm,” The other mutters before pulling the bobble out of his hair and letting it unravel from where it had been held captive. He runs a hand through it before pushing it to one side. “My hair gets so frizzy in wet weather it’s not even remotely funny,” He sighs dramatically, letting out a ‘humph’ as he rests his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Your reaction is certainly amusing,” Despite himself, Roman smiles. The elder takes a moment to look at the man, sporting a white shirt rolled up and tucked into black skinny jeans, a pastel pink apron tied around his waist. Logan catches himself smiling just a little as the other falls into quiet and watches the summer rain, hair falling over his shoulders and sunlight highlighting his tanned skin. 

It’s scary how Logan actually acknowledges this man is attractive. He’s scared, he doesn’t like that situation, he doesn’t particularly like that unbeknownst to himself he’d started to enjoy Roman’s company and genuinely look forward to him plopping down on the chair opposite him and ranting about how clumsy Declan is. He doesn’t like it because it’s new and scary but he’s also not the sort of person who's ever let fear stop him from doing completely irrational things. “Roman?” The other looks up and meets cerulean eyes with a tired smile “What time does your shift finish?”

Logan’s idea of a date is not something Roman has ever recieved. For one he didn’t think he’d ever enjoy sitting in a museum until Logan starts talking. And then he doesn’t stop talking. In fact, Roman is 100% sure he’d never heard the blue-eyed man talk so much and so fast and so...alive. It’s like he held in the keys to the Universe and now he was spilling them out. Roman understood that this was important to him. 

So he listened to him talk about the things there, about the history and interesting, Logan talked about the impact of these machines and how they worked, with the art industry. It dawned on Roman that Logan had brought him here to learn more about his own craft and it’s history, as well as showcasing just how much Logan loved how things worked. 

They were both treading on new territories here. Logan, having never really experienced a need to move into a more romantic area of his life was for one, finding this all very disorientating but exciting. Roman, who’d never met a man actually willing to try and ‘woo’ him so to speak, was completely enthralled and hanging off every word that left the elder man’s mouth. 

Logan gave him flowers. 

Roman hugged him. 

Then they parted ways at the end of the night, knowing that Roman would be interrupting Logan’s Friday morning reading before he goes off to work. (Logan had noticed that Roman’s breaks were not consistent anymore, they weren’t at the same time, he was literally taking these breaks at those times so that he could interrupt his reading. He can’t tell if he’s endeared or whether he should be reprimanding the other for not being more sensible)

Logan is invited, along with Patton, Virgil and Declan to attend Roman’s performance at the end of year showcase for the University he attends. He spends an hour trying to understand what he’s supposed to where and even goes as far as Googling “What do you wear to attend performances?” In the end, he settles on a dark blue shirt and black slacks, hoping for the best. He meets the other three in the most awkward and longest amount of time they’ve spent together. Virgil is wearing the hoodie he constantly refuses to take off, but has exchanged his usual black t-shirt for a black dress shirt, with his eyeliner a little bit neater than usual. 

Declan was wearing green, in a variety of shades and Logan is no Art Historian, but he was sure the industry didn't go through centuries of adaptation for Declan to wear that. He decides to bites his tongue on the matter however as the boy is already pre-occupied trying to balance two large drink cartons and the biggest bucket of popcorn any of them had ever seen.

Patton was the only one that seemed to have tried to dress up for the occasion, wearing a blue dress that fanned out around his knees and his curly brown hair pinned back from his face. Logan wondered how he managed to get the confidence to wear it, and honestly, he’s a little bit jealous even if in day to day life it wasn’t really a practical garment that he would wear. “Hey, Logan!” Patton exclaims “Are you excited? I’m excited!” 

“Thrilled,” Virgil mutters under his breath “I’m mostly here for the food, not gonna lie,” Logan bites back a smirk, well aware from the constant bickering he hears between the two that Roman and Virgil do not often get along. Patton pouts and Virgil sighs “Fine! I’m a little excited to see tall dark and annoying perform,”

Declan is eating popcorn straight from the bucket and simply looking between the three of them “D! Are you eating the popcorn,?” The bubbly young man finally frowns and the atrociously dressed young man blinks like a deer caught in the headlights, mouth full of popcorn. 

“...No?” 

The three of them bicker a little and Logan simply sips his drink and watches with an amused smirk. Despite being colleagues they appeared more like a slightly mismatched family or strays that Patton had picked up off the street. 

“Come on guys, we’re gonna miss it!” Virgil finally says exasperatedly. “And now I have a migraine, I’ve not even seen him perform yet,” (It turns out, Virgil had actually bought aspirin along, and somehow this act of pre-meditated annoyance, amused Logan more than anything else thus far in the evening).

Logan’s glad he didn’t miss it. 

Roman as a person was enigmatic, full of life, he followed his heart and his dreams and these were all things Logan didn’t particularly understand but he admired anyway. Roman on stage? Performing? It wasn’t often that the elder man came across situations where he was emotionally charged, but he almost forgot how to breathe the moment Roman opened his mouth and sang. 

Patton had noticed the other’s expression, lips parted in shock and eyebrows furrowed, but it wasn’t until Roman had reached a song so full of sadness and Logan’s eyes welled up with tears that he reached over to place a comforting hand on the other’s arm. “He’s really good isn’t he?” The elder nods and wipes his eyes, wondering why he’d never heard Roman sing before. He wishes he could listen to him sing all day every day. 

 (One day he might get that wish)

After the performance, Roman greets them and Patton hugs him, tells him he was wonderful but he really has to go now because his husband has just got home. Virgil tells Roman he “Did alright, I guess,” but smiles before he’s dragging Declan out (Who still hasn’t finished his popcorn). Which left the two of them. 

“Have you been crying?” Roman asks, a worried look on his face as his hands come up to Logan’s face and slides his glasses up slowly. It’s a strange form of intimacy that the ebony haired man is unsure he’s ever experienced before. He nods anyway and his hand comes up to Roman’s as it’s falling. 

“Don’t ever give up Roman, you’re so unbelievably talented,” And the younger has heard those words so many times from so many different people with when Logan says it, it sounds real. Maybe it’s the way his eyes are so full of emotion, or the way he’s holding his hand but his words make Roman feel stronger than ever. 

“I won’t,”

They leave together, stood outside. “It’s raining again,” Roman sighs, pulling his hair up into a bun, Logan watches and feels for the first time perhaps why people had so deeply wished for him to open his heart up a little. Oh god, I’m falling in love. Roman smiles as the rain patters against his skin, washing glitter against his cheek, under the streetlights he sparkles more than a thousand spotlights. “My flat’s just around the corner? I don’t know how far you have to go...” Logan’s panicking, for the first time in his life he’s truly scared and it shouldn’t be so scary but he doesn’t know what to do. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to read between the lines or if there’s more Roman’s asking of him, he wished he’d paid more attention to how people react in social situations. “Hey you don’t have to...come, you look like I’ve just murdered your mother,” Roman’s hand is in his and there’s a smile so warm on his lips. 

His brain quiets a little. 

“I’m not well-advised in these situations Roman, I’ve never...done this before, I've never even really had a friend before,” He pauses “I’ve never courted another man, never been in a relationship and I’m confused, because I’m unsure if you’re asking me to come back to your flat because I live on the other side of town and it’s late, or if there’s something more you’re asking of me,”

Roman goes very red when the message finally drops “Oh! No! I mean, not that I wouldn’t like too!” He lets out a squeak as he tries to organize his words “One day, it’s just right now I’d prefer to just...not, I was offering for a place for you to sleep, nothing more or less,” A sigh of relief escapes Logan and he nods. 

“Then yes, I would like to go home with you,” Roman smiles, their hands stay interlocked. Logan stays the night in an apartment filled with certificates and medals and strange costumes that are all in a mysterious wooden box. It feels cozy, but he sleeps on the couch. There are some things he needs more time before exploring. 

Logan and Roman are apparently built out of patience for each other. Most men, six months into flirting with another guy would probably have given up on a prospective relationship by now. Luckily, Roman understood that Logan needed his time and headspace to explore his feelings. Logan’s patience came from the fact sometimes Roman would not stop talking and at this point, he’s just learned to accept that this is the way he is, and honestly, he’d only be annoyed if it were anyone else. 

Patton, who is becoming their number one stan, is perpetually gossiping about the two and saying “He can’t wait for the day for his children to fall in love,” Virgil points out that that’s probably something you shouldn’t say in public around people who aren’t going to understand, and also Logan is five years older than him. Patton gives Virgil a cookie and tells him he’s smart. 

Logan comes back after work to see Roman, as the cafe is closing up he leans against the window with his book open and begins to read absently whilst waiting for the other to finish cleaning up. He feels a tap on his hand and looks up to see the long-haired man beaming at him as he allows himself to be pulled into a hug. Folding the corner of the page and sliding the book into his bag the two began to walk. And Roman talks. Logan listens. 

The two come to a stop outside the cinema after about fifteen minutes of meandering the city streets “So what film do you want to see?” And Roman is right in front of him, blinking up with wide brown eyes with a stray piece of hair falling loosely from its clip. Not for the first time, Logan’s brain short circuits but his hand moves of its own accord as it tucks the stray piece of hair behind Roman’s ears. The younger smiles the warm and soft smile that’s generally reserved for the other man. 

“I’m not sure,” he finally responds “Whatever you’d like, Roman,” They end up watching a rom-com and Logan hadn’t expected less from his friend at all. WHen they leave the cinema though, Logan thinks back to all of the similar movies he’s watched and never understood, then he looks at Roman and thinks that he finally does. The evening is well on its way as stars litter the sky and the summer rain makes it’s uses in the night time warmth. Logan meets Roman’s eyes. I am so in love. 

He kisses him. Gently, holding his hands and feelings his  fingertips intertwined with his own. He kisses him like he has no idea what he’s doing but at the same time, like he’s just discovered a secret he’d hidden from himself. Roman kisses him back with a smile on his lips and his skin soft under the other man’s hands. It’s a gentle kiss, it’s quick but it does say what Logan’s extensive vocabularly could not have done. 

“I love you,”

“I love you too, Logan,”

((This fic took me an entire day to write I shit you not))

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