#that apparently encompass my entire reason for being

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I am extremely sad and miserable and angry today, and I want to do something stupid, but I almost certainly won't, because I think I am mature enough now not to do something stupid, but I can't tell you enough how much I hate it. God I hate it. I hate life. I hate being alive. I wish I had never lived. Where is it all even going? Nothing could possibly be worth this. God damn it.

[anghraine]

Despite my occasional gripes with Tumblr Austen fandom, sometimes I get recommended or linked to something and remember what Austen fandom off Tumblr is like.

I was checking a message from my mother on another platform and immediately was recommended a group discussing what were essentially headcanons about Lady Catherine. The OP was fine; her question was interesting and she kept gently pointing out that a lot of widely-held fandom opinions are neither stated nor implied in the book. But a good 80-90% of the fairly numerous comments were the same old "Lady Catherine is lying about her relationship with her sister" "she was jealous of Lady Anne for being sweet and beautiful" "she probably wanted to marry Lady Anne's husband herself" blahblahblah.

It wasn't complete consensus, but so near to total agreement that it was kind of astounding. Especially given that, for instance, the fanon of young Lady Catherine being jealous of Lady Anne is wholly fanon with zero evidence in the book or even the major adaptations. The insistence that Anne de Bourgh was not actually in her cradle at the same time as Darcy and should be significantly younger than him, that he wasn't really intended for her from the moment of his birth, that Lady Catherine saying so is further proof that she's exaggerating and/or lying, and that Lady Anne must have been completely different in personality, so much sweeter and prettier than Lady Catherine and Lady Catherine was super jealous and mean towards her—it's all entirely manufactured by fandom.

And while Lady Catherine is a flawed, petty, snobbish, deeply obnoxious, and rather silly person, I've always found something strange and unpleasant about this propensity for inventing so many more, and worse, reasons to hate her and frame her as an antagonistic polar opposite to her sister (a sister we know very little about). And I'm especially weirded out by the kind of desperate straining to dispute the Lady Catherine-Lady Anne marital scheming backstory that is a fairly minor element of the plot that no character in the book has any difficulty believing.

Here's Elizabeth's response to Lady Catherine trying to leverage the planned engagement against her, for instance:

"But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others."

So it's like ... it's not just that I think there's no canonical basis for disputing this bit of backstory. The thing I've always found much weirder is why so many people want to dispute it. Where is all this discomfort arising from? A pair of aristocratic women married to wealthy, powerful landowners in 1770s/1780s England informally arranging the marriage of their only children is not particularly strange. Yet there is a ton of fannish discomfort around it and around the possibility that Lady Catherine and Lady Anne got on well enough to make such an arrangement.

The discomfort is even more conspicuous because we know so little about the sisters' relationship. It's like:

1) Lady Catherine's daughter and only child shares her sister's name, Anne.

2) Lady Catherine claims that she and Lady Anne planned their children's marriages when both were infants; Wickham also mentions the planned engagement in passing, apparently to reinforce his claims to special knowledge of the Darcys' concerns.

3) Lady Catherine is the only person in the novel who specifically mentions Lady Anne on more than one occasion.

4) more tenuously, Lady Catherine believes daughters, in general, are never all that important to their fathers, an opinion presumably encompassing herself and her sister wrt their father the earl.

The only other quality about Lady Anne suggested by anyone in the novel is Darcy's very carefully-phrased suggestion that his father (rather than Lady Anne) was extremely amiable and benevolent, more than his mother, though both were good people. So the idea of Lady Anne as this sweet and pure ideal mother figure who couldn't possibly have been on genuinely good terms with her awful sister or been party to dynastic scheming while Darcy's father was more reserved and standoffish like him is pretty much entirely manufactured by fandom as well.

I guess my feeling on seeing this still going at full throttle in 2024 is that the "Lady Catherine must have been mean to and jealous of her perfectly sweet sister who of course never agreed to any of this nonsense or was just trying to get her to shut up" thing is such a weird takeaway from pretty much every single thing we hear about Lady Anne and Lady Catherine. It seems completely non-intuitive as a take on what little we do know of this backstory and how the other characters react, and the version suggested in the novel is neither shocking nor central to the story, yet there's this palpable fannish discomfort about it and about Lady Anne potentially being fine with Lady Catherine and less of an idealized icon than her husband.

I know I've talked about this many times over the years, but running across it still going at full force in July 2024 was pretty surreal.

[lostlegendaerie]

Veritas Ratio and Autistic Representation

Chances are you know autistic people in your life; autism itself is a fairly recently coined term, dating back to 1911, and can encompass a wide variety of symptoms and eccentricities which have existed since the dawn of humankind. (The 'fey-touched' child or changeling in European lore shares a lot of traits with autistic children.) Autism is a spectrum, encompassing and overlapping a lot with ADHD and other neurological disorders. There are probably millions of people out there, especially from older generations, who are on the spectrum and have no idea. I did not even get my diagnosis until I was 27.

So it is entirely possible that the creators of Veritas Ratio from Honkai: Star Rail did not intend to write him as autistic and based him on people they knew in their own lives, who, diagnosed or not, are on the autistic spectrum. However, the point of this piece is to talk about the ways in which Veritas Ratio is good autistic representation (in my opinion as a autistic person), and how people who want to write characters like this can take a page out of Honkai's book in their own work.

1) SPECIAL INTEREST. Ratio shows a *staggering* amount of dedication to the pursuit of knowledge and his quest to cure the world of ignorance. This quest of his tends to supersede everything else in his life, with no mention of any friends, family connections or romantic partners in his character story. (Said as a Ratiorine shipper - not sinking any 'ships, here) His dedication to education started early, with reading college undergraduate education levels while still in middle school - seven or so years ahead of his peers. Autism is considered a disability, yes, but it does not exclude you from being smart, and the fixation on your chosen topic(s) can be extremely useful in motivating you to reach the top of your field. His path being The Hunt also outlines this dedication; he is seeking his target without rest or distraction.

2) SENSORY ISSUES. Ratio very explicitly can become distracted and disgusted by the feeling of dirt or sweat on his skin, something that tends to be more prevalent with specific clothing textures but absolutely can manifest in a need to feel clean. He also can apparently become very irritated and overwhelmed by lights and sounds, and wears his plaster mask as a way to deaden and deafen the amount of sensory input that he receives. This allows him to think better, and is a fantastic example of what it feels like to suffer from sensory overload. (If you find yourself getting stressed in crowds, try bringing earplugs and putting them in the next time you're in a noisy restaurant and see if doesn't help you out.)

3) STRONG SENSE OF MORALITY. Autistic people tend to suffer from a somewhat black-and-white feeling of right and wrong, and can hold themselves and other people to an extremely strict moral code. This does not mean that they are always correct in what they believe is right and wrong, but it means that they can be extremely passionate about following those rules. Ratio's beef with the Genius Society and their selectivity is indicative of his unwavering passion towards sharing knowledge with the masses, but the tactless way in which he wishes to cure ignorance bleeds into our fourth point.

4) DIFFICULTY WITH SOCIAL CUES. In one of his earlier conversations with Aventurine (where he is clearly irritated at how careless Aventurine seems to be about their entire mission), Ratio inadvertently insults Aventurine's his lack of education and parents. He apologizes afterwards, stating he did not intend to come across that way, but he maintains the same imperious tone of voice. Autistic people often, but not always, struggle with social cues and can often be considered rude when we are trying to be direct and easily understood; and we can especially struggle with understanding sarcasm or sounding sarcastic when we intend to be sincere.

With my reasons for believing Ratio to be Autistic coded firmly established, let's move onto why I think he is good representation. The two most important parts of representation, in my lived experience as an Autistic person, are RELATABILITY and EMPATHY.

Ratio exhibits some of the same mentalities and symptoms I've had, such as being misunderstood and accidentally offending people and becoming extremely stressed in large crowds due to overstimulation, so he checks off the first box. But the way that the other characters in the game respect him and do not ridicule him for his eccentricities marks the second. Whether in marketing material or in character dialogue options, Ratio's love of baths, his plaster bust, and his ceaseless drive to educate other people (whether they need it or not) are seen as charming and generally positive, and those attributes are not constantly brought up (and mocked) in his interactions and dialogue with other characters. Aventurine doesn't constantly ask Ratio if he needs to leave the Dream to take a bath, and the TB's text conversations with him allow you to engage with his special interests such as his requests for problems to solve and debates to wage against you. He is canonically seen and respected as a brilliant individual, and not reduced to a joke or viewed as comic relief (e.g. Sampo, who almost exclusively is given negative dialogue options for the player to use when interacting with him and who almost every character in the story openly despises.)

Some of you are going to disagree with me in the comments (which is fine, it's my opinion), but for the few of you who read this all the way through, thank you. I hope that this helps you view Ratio and Autistic people overall in a new light, and I am excited to see where else we go from here with him and the rest of the cast!

[neiptune]

IF CLARITY'S IN DEATH THEN WHY WON'T THIS DIE?

megumi x reader

a/n: angst, implied mental illness/depression. broke my own heart writing this. obviously a nod to my favorite song from midnights!

Megumi notices when you leave through the front door, jacket thrown over your shoulders and a cigarette hanging lazily from your fingers.

Of course he notices, he thinks angrily.

After all this time, his body still moves on autopilot when it comes to you. If you enter a room, the air still shifts, his head still turns. If you’re looking at him, he still feels your eyes burning holes in his very being, even if you look away right as his indigo gaze challenges yours. And fuck your voice, honestly. Still the one he hears so distinctly over any other noise, any other chatter, any possible beat of silence. He could be in the middle of the goddamn ocean, underwater, ears a second away from exploding from the pressure and he would still hear you laugh on any shore. It’s what love did to him, apparently. Each second spent together had your being carefully carved into each fiber and muscle of his.

And now, in a room filled with some of his closest friends and the beautiful woman holding his hand, he can’t breathe. Because, how dare you? Show up all of a sudden, have the audacity to appear surprised by his presence, spend half of the evening looking at him, at her, and now taking a smoke break because you’re what? Stressed? Why can’t you just leave, then?

Megumi needs a reason to follow you outside and he lets that reason be anger. It’s an anger that fades into something more complicated, something that encompasses both resentment and necessity. You don’t get to lead, he does for once. Even if leading means forcing himself to confront you.

Itadori’s porch only has two steps and sure enough you’re sitting on the first one, curled into yourself with your chin resting on your knees as the front door shuts behind you. Your back straightens up as if a shockwave was sent through your entire body and you’re only gifted with one second, just one entire second to hope for the person behind you to be Yuuta, or Maki, or even Itadori, the host himself. But he still wears the same cologne so your heart can only squeeze pathetically as he sits on the upper step behind you. A safe space, the perfect distance. A silent demand for you not to turn around but to still feel his presence, long legs stretched right next to you.

“Can you believe how old Yuuji is?” you speak casually but there’s nothing casual about the way your voice trembles.

He hums.

“Old enough to get drunk on his own birthday, apparently”

“Finally, you mean” the small laugh you let out sounds weird and you seal it by bringing the cigarette to your numb lips, inhaling as deeply as you can. Of course he doesn’t laugh.

“Did he invite you?” there’s no harshness embedded in the question but your eyes flutter shut for a second anyway.

“Don’t be mad at him, I’ll leave in a bit”

“That’s very generous of you”

You exhale slowly, take the hit quietly. The cruel contrast between how you feel for each other cuts the air from your lungs for a moment. “I know it’s not mutual but I’m happy to see you. To see that you’re doing fine”

This time he does laugh, a dry, mocking sound that crawls out of his throat and sends a shiver down your spine.

“Give me a fucking break” he mutters and you can’t see it but he’s adamantly shaking his head, in disbelief “you mean you’re happy to see I’m dating someone? Is that why you’re here?”

“I didn’t know” the reply comes out harsher than how you intended but you can’t help it really, not as flashes of long legs, blonde hair, pretty scarlet lips curved into an adoring smile play on repeat right before your eyes, so much that you have to blink the ghostly appearances away “but I am happy. If you’re happy”

“Stop trying to be the bigger person. You’ve been staring all night”

“Yes. Yes, I’ve been staring. You know why I’ve been staring”

You hear the distinct hitch of breath.

“Don’t” he sputters out.

The corners of your eyes sting and you’re thankful you get to keep the pathetic expression taking over your features to yourself.

“You know I’m still in love with you” it’s vile, unfair, but you let those words cut through the chilly air of the evening anyway.

Megumi’s nails painfully dig into his palms and he hopes blood comes out, he hopes a meteor strikes the garden and opens the biggest crater in recorded history, he prays Gojo Satoru will jump down from the fucking roof to grab the collar of his shirt and drag him away as his inopportune, hectic, annoying self often does. But nothing happens. There’s no calamity to distract him from the rage and the pain wrecking his body from within.

“You don’t get to say that” you can tell he’s gritting his teeth but what’s worse is the agony concealed in his tone. You recognize it, of course you recognize it.

He’s right, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to hurt him more than you already have. But haven’t you always been selfish? Haven’t you always put your needs right before his, up until the very end?

“You left me. No, even worse, you forced me to leave you. I begged, I waited at your door, you never even opened. You don’t know what love is”

With a shaky breath, you extinguish the cigarette on the same step you’re sitting on, then press your thumbs onto your eyelids in a weak attempt to stop the tears. It doesn’t work.

“I’m sorry” you murmur “you know it wasn’t because I stopped loving you. I just wanted to—”

“I don’t give a shit. Who gave you the right to make that choice on your own, for the both of us? Why didn’t I get to have a say in the matter?”

“Megumi…”

“Oh, I know why. You get off to that. You get a kick out of things going wrong, of the worst possible scenarios, you bask in any goddamn disappointment because it gives you the chance to think you were right. Something was eventually going to happen. And that’s how you always leave”

“You’re being cruel” it’s barely a whisper but it’s met with a sarcastic smirk nonetheless.

“Well, you broke my fucking heart, so maybe I get to be cruel”

You turn around at last and he can’t help the wince as he takes in the sight of your tear stained cheeks.

“You think I enjoy being like this? You think I like being so scared, never laying the armor down, no matter how much I love and trust someone? You think I get a kick out of being so broken?” you wonder if a person can even cry as much as you are as you speak angrily, conscious of how undeserving of that feeling you actually are. Why should you get to be upset when he’s the one who’s been hurting all this time?

Megumi almost, almost gives in to the impulse of gently wiping away your tears. He’s on the verge of doing what he’s done a million times: take you in his arms and hope it’s enough to keep you from falling apart right in front of his eyes. But years of trying and the end of your relationship have taught him that this is not something anyone else can do for you. You have to figure it out on your own, it hurts too much to keep trying only to keep failing and he’s still so worn out from all the useless love he has for you. Doesn’t even know what to do with it now, where to put it. No point in giving it to you, unthinkable to give it to someone else. It’ll just stay in his body, he believes, slowly eating him alive from within for god knows how much more time.

“I would’ve been there” he speaks slowly, eyes never leaving yours, not even attempting to control the desperation in his voice anymore “through the worst, I would’ve been there. You didn’t want me”

He'd been there so many times, after all. On the days you couldn't bring yourself to pull your head out from beneath covers, let alone leave the bed. Limbs as heavy as wool soaked with water, so inert he'd have to lift your arm himself whenever he'd slip onto the mattress right next to you, to hug and press you to his chest, a useless attempt to give you some sort of solidity. He'd been there on the days sobs would exhaust your body to the point of a numbness that scared him. He'd been there on the days he'd have to gently cradle you in his arms and shower with you, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear as his hands massaged body wash and shampoo and hair masks, not wanting to miss a single step. He'd hoped his love would be enough to fill you, whenever you transformed into an empty shell.

“It’s not the love you deserve” you beg him to understand, not to forgive. Living without him is hard enough but living knowing that he hates you? It’s excruciating. Possibly the worst pain you’ve ever experienced and man, did you experience pain. “You deserve someone healthy, someone who won’t be a burden. You deserve a love that’s bright and soothing, it’s all I ever wanted for you. It’s just unfortunate that I was never able to provide”

It’s been so long since he’s seen you in person, since he’s heard your voice. He shuts his eyes for a moment and there you are, an image burned into his retina so perfectly, so limpid even behind closed eyelids. You’re always there.

“I wanted it to be you” he whispers “I wanted it to be you so badly” and he doesn’t add the I still want it to be you that’s clawing inside his chest, begging to be let out.

You smile a broken smile as you sniffle and offer a shrug. “I wanted it to be me, too. We sure were something, huh?”

We were, Megumi thinks. We are, he mentally adds, picturing all the mornings he’d still spend in bed with you, the coffee cup left untouched in his cupboard, the hydrating tangerine hand soap he keeps buying just because it reminds him of you.

He gets up carefully, not fully trusting the steadiness of his legs. There’s not an ounce of anger left to keep him pieced together, stable. There’s nothing left to ground him.

“When it gets bad, you know you can still come to me, right?” it takes everything in him to let the words out and not because he’s too proud to still direct any form of affection your way. It’s because he knows you won’t do it. You’ve made up your mind a long time ago and Megumi knows you’ve decided to figure it out on your own, without the risk of hurting someone else in the process. He’s now the last person you’ll ever go to, when it gets bad.

“I know. I will” you’re considerate enough to lie and the only victory he gets is given by the sight of your shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, as if an invisible burden has been suddenly taken off your back. How many times can a heart actually break? Why does he survive the process each time?

You wipe your cheek with your sleeve, chest heavy from the realization that you stand defeated. Megumi is still your person. Even if you’ve pushed him away, even if you’ve given up on the love of your life to protect it, he only allows himself to let go to some extent.

He registers the same, painful feeling: it’s not permanent, it’s never goodbye, and your resolve alone has certainly never been strong enough to kill whatever is left of a love so stubborn. 

Sometimes Megumi finds himself missing the person he was all his life, up until you became part of it. He wonders if that version of him still exists somewhere, the one still foreign to the intensity of love, a boy content with spending his days hanging out with classmates, playing baseball after school and focusing on his exams the first years in college. Megumi misses the person who still thought love was a magical, exciting feeling sprinkled over shared strawberry ice cream dates, awkward first kisses and late night drives.

Then, just as suddenly as it comes, the feeling goes away and he wants to kick himself over it. Because yeah, it may hurt like hell right now but the time spent with you has given him so much the pain might even be worth it. If he could go back in time, he’d still choose to fall in love with you just as desperately. Even if he’s doomed, even if the tomb won’t close, even if he’ll never be who he used to be again. You’ll always be worth it.

“No matter where I am, who I am with. Come to me” Megumi insists, knuckles white in his pockets from how tight his fists are.

You offer a gentle nod and, as the front door opens and a tender voice calls for him to come back inside, he knows he’ll wait. As pointless as it is, he’ll wait.

[thebestofoneshots]

I have been summoned :D

Hello!! Thank you for tagging me because I love analyzing so much 😊

First, I’d like to say and warn you that my predictions may be too far-fetched/detailed. Quite literally researched so much to double check my facts and opened a word document to for out my analysis and to plan and space out my thoughts (Get it? Because constellations and all are in space…? Anyway-)

1) We gon’ analyze this from top to bottom. The top two corners of the cover have the same sigil, just inverted. A crescent moon, a star, and a girl. Now, if we were to just scrap the surface of the meaning; The crescent moon is Remus, the star (of the show) is Sirius and of course, the girl is the reader.

But what I find interesting is how you chose the waning crescent moon to represent Remus, instead of the full moon like most people do. The waning crescent moon symbolizes ‘the perfect time to rest and regenerate’. Ironically, the waning crescent moon is one of the first few stages of the moon before it turns full once more.

I’d like to think that you’re representing Remus as his own person. He is a werewolf, yes. However, it doesn’t define him as a whole. That is not all who he is. Not to mention, I love how the moon partially encompasses both the girl and the star.

The latter two are positioned in a way that makes it seem like they find comfort with the moon. The moon has a small opening; it doesn’t confine the star or the girl. Rather, it encourages freedom and independence.

Ergo, Sirius and Reader find comfort with Remus and Remus protects and shelters them in a way (reference example: when Remus calmed Sirius and Reader down from causing trouble with Barty Crouch Jr.). Remus doesn’t restrict neither Sirius nor Reader to be with him. They can come and go as they please, and Remus wouldn’t mind. But the positioning of the girl and the star make it quite obvious that they choose to be with the moon. They want and are drawn to it.

I also want to highlight the fact that the star is practically clinging to the middle of the curve of the crescent moon. Referencing Remus and Sirius’ good relationship (platonically or romantically, take it as you please) and how Sirius is connected to the moon, only because of Remus. However, the girl is sat towards the edge of the crescent moon. Almost as if she’s looking at the moon and the stars. Referencing that Remus and Sirius are not the only reason why she has this connection with the galaxy.

The Reader being a fairy already made that connection and helped her have a natural inclination towards subjects like Divination and Astronomy. I think her being drawn towards our two boys just amplifies it. Moving on!!!

2) The Sun. It’s partially filled in. Maybe it’s nothing. But I feel like it’s something. So I thought, ‘What could possibly block out the Sun?’. Short answer; the Moon. When do the Moon and Sun align together? During a lunar eclipse, werewolves don’t transform apparently. So, perhaps there will be a lunar eclipse to come within the next three remaining chapters? Perhaps a really soft Moony too 🤭.

Suns – There are suns scattered every on the cover. There’s a sun on the crescent of the moon, suns at each corner of the book title. Suns at the bottom. But that’s not just the Sun, but it shows Earth and Mars too. I’m not entirely too sure about the science behind this, but I do know that there will come a point in time the Sun, Earth, Moon and Mars will align together in a straight line, creating the total lunar eclipse. So perhaps, we wouldn’t get a regular eclipse, rather a total one.

Also, the Sun represents life, light, warmth, power, and divinity. This somewhat correlates with the symbolism of the fox. Perhaps this hints that the Reader is the biggest star among the three. Because if the Reader has some sort of correlation with the Milky Way, which contains so many suns, technically that would make her brighter than the brightest star of Canis Major and the moon put together ;)

Not to mention, moonlight is just reflected light from the Sun. Without the light, we wouldn’t be able to see the moon. (I actually have no idea where I’m going with this last paragraph 💀)

3) The constellations; (from left, right then center) Canis Major, Lupus and Vulpecula. All of which represent different animals.

Canis Major is a dog = Sirius

Lupus is a wolf = Remus

Vulpecula is a fox = Reader

Now the first two correlating with each other makes sense. Considering Sirius’ animagus and patronus is a dog, while Remus turns into a werewolf and his patronus is a wolf. (Remus never actually casts a corporeal patronus as to not make people suspicious of him. Poor Moony).

Now the link between the Reader and foxes interests me. My biggest hunch I have right now is that Reader is also an illegal animagus like Sirius. Which would make sense considering a fox is a symbol of spirituality, creation, omens, afterlife, offering wisdom, guidance, protection, nobility, and a sign of good luck to those they encounter them.

And the Reader has proven to show a majority of these traits naturally. How did the Reader become an animagus? In the earliest chapters of this book, I recall that young Reader and Sirius bought a book about animagi. I also faintly recall Reader copying some important pages off the book (most probably the process and preparation for the potion and all).

Next, there is something behind each constellation that represents our beloved main characters. Canis Major and Lupus have the marauders map behind them, representing their involvement with the famous Marauders, the four boys sharing their shared tendency to spread and cause mischief.

The same can be said about Vulpecula, however there is the faint sigil of the Milky Way. The Milky Way symbolizes coming of age and afterlife. Look at that, Vulpecula and the Milky Way share one thing in common in terms of symbolism. The afterlife. I think this correlates back to Reader being a fairy. One of the theories of fairy origins is that they are a representation of the spirits of ancestral dead. ✨ A f T e R l I f E ✨. Reader is about to pull out some serious powers >:D

That’s the suspicion anyway.

4) The moon cycle on the bottom. Initially I thought that it was a regular-degular moon cycle. Then it didn’t make sense because there were some stages that did not make sense. Why choose only certain stages of the moon? And they seemed slightly out of order. That’s when I realized, it was the blood moon cycle. Not a regular one. Plus, with the latest chapter being on the night of the blood moon, it makes sense. According to some resources, werewolves are most dangerous during these blood moons. So, assuming we get a chapter with a lunar eclipse, we would have witness different intensities of Remus’ transformations. I’ll end this here.

Whoever reads this, bless you and your patient soul for sticking through this long with (1230 words if you end at ‘with’). Also I just read the comments and realized that @starchaser-lily also made some points that make me look like I’m copying them… I swear I didn’t read it until I looked at the comments 😭 😭 😭 But you have really good points! Great minds think alike? Idk if I’m helping my case 💀

Have a lovely day and lots of love! ~

I cannot confirm or deny anything but, can I just say….

I freaking love my readers?!? I mean look at this 1k words worth of theories over a single poster that’s so freaking amazing! And son well thought out of and so detailed and ingenious. Like man, this is university worth quality analysis, and for my poster??!? I feel so freaking honored!

And the ATTENTION TO DETAIL holly mother of Merlin so freaking precious. Like all of your freaking theories, you guys are brilliant *cries*!

I literally have the cleverest readers of the whole cosmos! I’m so freaking lucky!

Side note: not sure why you think it’s only three chapters left?? It’s a whole lot more than that, like I’m already working on chapter 26 and the end toll is borderline going to be like 40 chapters so you guys are in for the long run.

I did say it was going to be slow burn, didn’t I?

For those who have no clue what this entire thing it’s about, some of you guys ( @cometsghost @starchaser-lily @moonyunebi and a certain little annon ) were theorizing over on this post about a poster/cover for Gilded Constellations!

[vodika-vibes]

Hi! I'm pretty shy when it comes to asks but I love your writing and I was wondering if you'd be able to write a fluff piece for Atin Skirata with the prompt "i know you can't believe it yet, but i promise you can trust me. whenever you're ready to rely on me, i'll be here for you. i swear it." With him saying it?

Hihi! And I'm happy to write this request for you!

Trust Me

Summary: Atin Skirata wants to earn your trust, more than anything.

Pairing: Atin Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 998

Warnings: Badly depicted mentions of a panic attack

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: So, while I have had panic attacks before, I realized today that I can't quite put into words what I feel, so I am sorry if this doesn't feel quite right. Also, I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted.

Divider by Saradika

War sucks. You know this. You’ve known this since you were a child trying to survive a civil war on your home planet. You’ve known this since you were forced into military service when you were a teenager.

You thought- hoped- that when you finally escaped your home planet that you would never have to deal with another war ever again.

And then an intergalactic war broke out that encompassed the entire galaxy.

It was like the gods or the force or whatever divine entity ruled the galaxy took one look at you, and said “fuck you in particular”.

At least you weren’t fighting in this war. No one was pressuring you into joining the military and fighting for the cause. Because, yeah, no. Not happening.

The downside, of course, is that the planet you now call home is home to a military garrison. A military garrison home to hundreds of soldiers, or more. And it’s not like you can just leave and find a planet without a military presence. Because apparently it doesn’t exist.

And it’s not like you hate the clones. Because you don’t. You don’t even hate soldiers.

It’s just that seeing men in armor carrying weapons sends a stab of panic through your very being, and you know that this is a trauma response to being a child soldier, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely terrified of the Republic Army.

Or, well, their armor?

You glance up when the bell hanging on the door to the shop chimes, and you grimace when you see several men in armor enter the shop. You send a mental curse to whichever deity hates you so much, and then you duck your head so you don’t have to look at them.

If you can’t see the armor, you probably won’t freak out. Maybe.

“Ah, there you are mesh’la,” You mentally release another curse as one of the clones steps over to you. There’s only one person who calls you that, and that’s only because you’ve been adamant about not telling him your name.

“I’m working,” You say to Atin bluntly.

“I can see that.” He sounds amused, “You’re not even going to look at me when I make today’s guess about your name?”

“Unless you have my datapad taped to your face, I really don’t see any reason to look up.” You reply.

“Wow, that must be some interesting work you’ve got there,” Atin jokes quietly.

“It’s work, it keeps me fed and a roof over my head.” You say lightly. It’s not so bad, talking to him when you can’t see his armor. Too bad he’s always wearing his armor.

And then there’s a crash from the back of the store and your head snaps up. A child in the back of the store bumped into an empty rack and knocked it over, but that’s not what caught your attention.

Your gaze is locked on the black armor standing right in front of you. Your ears are ringing. Your vision starts going gray around the edges as it becomes hard to breathe-

You stumble back away from the counter, “Have to go,” you gasp out to no one, or maybe to Atin, you’re not sure, and you stumble out the side door and into the alleyway, where you lean your head against the cool concrete. 

The sound of blaster fire and explosives echo faintly in your ears, and your hands curl into fists as you try to ground yourself by dragging your knuckles against the bricks.

“Mesh’la?” A gloved hand sets on your back, between your shoulder blades, and you jerk in surprise and alarm.

You see black armor and several ugly curses fall from your lips as the panic increases to the point where you fear that you’re going to just stop breathing. You press your hand against the chest plate and push, and you’re momentarily surprised when the plate actually moves away.

You spin back against the wall, dragging your knuckles even more roughly down the bricks. The pain wasn’t grounding you like it normally did.

“Mesh’la?”

“Not helping,” You manage to ground out.

“How can I help?” Atin asks.

“Away. Just…Go.”

You’re vaguely aware of him moving away, but then you’re too focused on keeping yourself on your feet, and breathing, and not throwing up.

And then something warm presses against the back of your neck and something cold presses against your lips, “Open.”

An order, easy to follow, and you part your lips for the cold thing. 

And then you realize that there’s ice in your mouth, the biting cold snapping you back to yourself faster than anything ever before. Atin is standing next to you, his hand on the back of your neck, and he’s…not wearing his armor?

You shoot him a puzzled look, and a wry smile crosses his face, “I realized that my armor was making things worse, mesh’la. So I took off the chest plate.”

You eye him suspiciously for a moment. You don’t hate him, but you also don’t trust him. 

And Atin’s smile becomes even more wry, as he pulls his hand away from your neck and presses a cup full of ice into your hands, “I know you can't believe it yet, but I promise you can trust me. Whenever you're ready to rely on me, I'll be here for you. I swear it.”

“Why?” You ask, bewildered.

Atin shrugs, “Under all that armor, I’m just a guy, mesh’la. Is it so weird that I want you to look at me?”

You look even more puzzled, and he smiles at you, “You should go back inside, I pulled my brothers out. No one will go inside in armor anymore, I promise.”

“Oh…thank you.”

“I want you to like me, love. If that means making all of my brothers' lives a little more complicated…well, I’m happy to do it.” Atin smiles and guides you back to the door, “I’ll come and see you later.”

[jayteacups]

Okay so this is the last I’m going to say on my opinion on this recent discourse for now (probably) but for people who don’t know what’s happening (because I certainly didn’t and thought someone was shitting on x reader as a whole instead of what actually happened): Someone on Tumblr made a post complaining about certain x reader fics, and essentially pissing on reader insert that are apparently too specific to enjoy (by this they meant readers with a personality and/or background etc.) Specifically what they said was along the lines of: if a reader insert is too specific and not relatable, it is no longer an x reader. Because apparently the moment a character differs in some way from you, you can no longer enjoy the story and it has no more merit. 🙄 Never mind the fact that it is impossible to create a reader that encompasses the entire human population. Kind of a fucking tall order if you ask me, or literally any other x reader fic writer, but they clearly didn’t, so here we are. :///

They also claimed that writing more fleshed out readers with backstories and personalities is essentially tricking people into reading canon x OC fics (personally I did not like their tone with that because canon x OC already gets a lot of shit from other parts of fandom but that might just be me) and that more ambiguous/vague (aka personality-less blobs) readers are more popular and therefore implying they are inherently better. Nothing wrong with those who read and write these types of reader characters, but to imply that it is better is just… wrong lol. That person also pointed out that these types of readers are more present in short form content, which imo is the actual reason these posts do better on Tumblr because this app just favours shorter form stand-alone works. They completely ignore that AO3 has a lot more long form reader fics, many of which are very popular, and that readers in these longer stories need a personality and backstory and character arc, otherwise it’s just not going to work.

They also beg people to tag and warn their content properly (aka if the reader is POC coded or white coded, whether or not reader is fem or gender neutral etc) - which, okay, fair enough. I myself am not white so I get that particular frustration, but it’s incredibly hypocritical of them when this person misused the tags themself by obnoxiously tagging a shitload of fandoms and characters x reader tags to boost their unwarranted criticism. They clearly just wanted attention (which they certainly fucking got because they got so much backlash that they backtracked, removed the x reader tags and then edited their post a bunch of times and I don’t buy that they feel sorry because they still seem super defensive), it was never about curating their own experience, let’s be real 🙄

I also saw a point they made about fics being subject to criticism because it’s available to the public and being consumed by readers etc. etc. I’ve already talked a bunch about this and why that take is utter shit so I’m not doing it again. And then later they turn around in one of their addendums to the post and say that they don’t like entitled readers, which, ha. Yeah, okay. Sure, the entitled reader doesn’t like entitled readers. I actually laughed at that one.

Even though I myself didn’t see the post at first or witness the fallout in the first few hours, it’s still really disheartening to see really dumb discourse like this because if OP took one minute to utilise utilise the very important organ between their ears and employ something called ‘empathy’ to see from a writers perspective, we wouldn’t be here. But again, they didn’t, and so here we are.

[lazykurocat]

Why I think the "progress" flag is actually regressive.

apparently it's time for me to get mad about the "progress" flag again…

I've always had major problems with the "progress" flag, it if anything is separating us further as a community whereas the regular Rainbow as it was is all encompassing.

As a brown person I just find the flag sickening... what does skin colour or illness have to do with my Queerness? NOTHING. I know some will try to say "well it's because we're all discriminated against!" but the reasons for discrimination are completely none related... and I see the flag as discriminating... having Black and Brown represent AIDS and HIV aswell as Skin colour, on a flag meant for queer people further make it out like it's the "Gay/Brown people virus" which... is fucked up. I am saying this as a brown disabled gay trans man... I do not like this damn flag and never will.

it doesn't help that the creator, Daniel Quasar, is a white person (at least as far as I know)... this is a form of what is known as "positive racism" Virtue signalling and white guilt. I am sick of it all and have faced it my entire life… do people not realise by being this way they dehumanise people like me? they treat me like I'm another species they can't properly comprehend because they're white and I'm not. I don't know who needs to hear this but you are not a bad person just because you are white!... you are also being racist to yourselves through your white guilt and it makes me sad… we're all just people on a tiny space rock. quit trying to appease us by being racist! just treat me like a person!

mmm Pride month Am I right fellas?

[underforeversgrace]

A Guiding Hand

I had a random ADHD moment of a short story stuck in my hand and *vague gestures* this is what it became. Note: this is not fanfic. It is technically original short fiction.

Word Count: 1,134

~~

I forget how old I must have been the first time I felt them. Maybe five or six? Just a young child.

My mother had taken me to the mall, I know. Everything was too loud. There were too many people, and they walked around me as if I wasn’t there, as if I wasn’t real. I don’t know where my mother went or how she lost me – to this day I haven’t a clue. It’s a blur of legs and loud voices, a cacophony of humanity I couldn’t escape. I think I screamed for my mother. I think I cried.

I have vague memories of being curled into a ball near the bathrooms – a long hallway with a single flickering lightbulb, that occasionally cast the window-less path into a darkness that struck me with terror. It was in one of those periods of darkness when they came.

My hand felt like it’d been plunged into ice water. Or perhaps boiling water? It burned me with its cold.

“Come, little one,” they had whispered, tugging me to my feet. “It is not yet your time.”

Despite the pain from their touch, their voice brought me only comfort. When the lights flickered back on, their touch seemed to grow… lighter. Like something that had been torn from the plane of reality but was fighting to stay there, to stay as my guide, even as tears clouded my vision so entirely I couldn’t see them.

Yet for some reason, I remember the woman in white, who had begun to approach the hallway I’d hidden in. I remember her sky blue eyes that spoke of sunshine, and the frown that did not.

Perhaps it is simply a child’s memory, fleeting and faint? I simply do not believe this is true, however, because I remember growing to fear the flickers of light. The one helping me was in the darkness, after all. The light brought a suffocating loneliness. Still, they kept tight hold of me, even when we reentered the main atrium of the shopping center, even when there was no darkness left for them to hide in. They helped me find a room with a big, orange sign on it, though white decorations in seemingly random patterns disrupted the pretty orange.

I’d later learn this sign said MALL SECURITY.

Men in stiff blue uniforms sat me down in a stiff, plastic chair, and then a screech echoed through the mall, my name belted for all to hear.

My father came quickly from there, checking me over for injury. I remember tears of relief slipping from red eyes before he scolded me from wandering off from him. I remember asking what happened to the person who’d given me their hand and guided me.

I remember being told I’d walked there on my own, gentle smiles on the faces of the adults as they attributed it to a child’s overactive imagination.

I remember the way my father looked at me.

I’d grow up, but I never forgot the hand that burned me as it led to me safety.

Who’s hand had I held? Who had guided me?

~~

I was seventeen the next time it aided me. A party I had lied to attend, full of drinks I was too young to have. And apparently one drink with a little extra something in it, just for me. The world had begun to spin and I wasn’t sure if the nausea I felt was from the way everything was upside down or the alcohol I’d consumed.

I had stumbled outside, away from the one behind me, collapsed behind a bush. It was the dead of night and I’d found the all-encompassing darkness – the place that hid me from the light’s revealing glare as I was pursued.

The burning cold was a welcome agony as they again grasped my hand. It was the first time in a decade I’d felt them, but it brought me a peace no one else had. “You are not ready,” they hissed. While I heard the anger, I knew it wasn’t directed at me. I tried to look at them, but the blur of the spiked drink and the dark hid them from my view. “I will guide you.”

And so they did, slow and steady as I tripped over bramble and brush, though I never fell, they kept me on my feet. When we reached the sidewalk, we avoided the dim light cast by the street post. I couldn’t deny my relief, even in my drugged haze. Their hand meant safety, and that was what I craved in that moment. More than once, I heard twigs being snapped underfoot and the whisper of distant voices, but I remained safe, clutched close by the figure I couldn’t see.

When the house I shared with my grandfather came into sight, I breathed a sigh of relief, though I paused as I saw the porchlight. My safety, my guide, pulled me onto the porch, and the distinct feeling of their hand being not-quite-real as we crossed the light’s threshold made me ache with loss.

They didn’t release me until I had gone inside my home, casting a wary eye out for the man who’d first grabbed for me, the sparkle of the gold rings upon his fingers an unpleasant memory.

“You are protected here,” they said – and then they were gone.

It wouldn’t be until I trekked my way upstairs, collapsed onto my bed, that I realized – even in the light, I had seen nothing in my hand, despite the pressure of their grip.

What had held my hand?

~~

I’d feel them again several times over the next fifteen years, but I never saw them. Each time, they kept me safe, kept me protected from people who wished me harm.

And when they time came, they saved me from my own ignorance.

I stood at the balcony of the castle, watching the fires burn in the distance. How hot they must be, I wondered, for me to feel the heat against my cheeks? Were the people down there hurting, screaming?

The thought brought a smile to my face.

Cold shot through my right shoulder as they placed their hand on me. “It is nearly time, my love,” they said, another rush of pain as they stroked my cheek. “Are you ready for the ascension?”

My smile only grew as I nodded, and I looked over my shoulder at the empty space behind me, but where I could imagine a human’s head would be. It was time for the heralded end – the thing I’d been born to do, the destiny so many had tried to steal from me.

“Thank you,” they whispered in my ear, and the last thing I knew was the knife slid between my ribs.

[one-winged-dreams]

Gloss

ship: written in the stars source: Final Fantasy XIV words: 1034 spoilers for shadowbringers

finished a fic that’s been in my WIP folder for a while

Urianger admires the Warrior of Light’s new asset.

It had become a habit at this point.

Ever since the confrontation with Il Mheg's Lightwarden, the subsequent side effects had come with a new behavioral pattern.

Where the slaying of Lakeland's Lightwarden had turned the ends of A'driel's long ebon hair a brilliant gold, now so, had his lips been permanently glossed with the same, though more subtle, glittering color.

Tugging at his hair had turned to rubbing at his lips as though he could physically feel the color against his fingertips. Idly as he practiced this new habit, he was unaware of the attention it wrought, if only from one.

It was difficult not to stare, Urianger truly didn't mean to, and he certainly didn't do it on purpose. But here again, did he find himself watching the way A'driel's fingertip pressed against his lower lip, pulling it down slightly before following along the edge of it. The gloss of it glittered in the sunlight, the subtle tinge of gold was practically pearlescent. He had practically memorized the way it was less vibrant, practically non-existent, towards the corners of his mouth as it became more defined towards the center of those heart-shaped lips. And the luster-

"Careful, you'll burn a hole right through him at this rate," came Thancred's voice, startling him into awareness.

"I- I was just-" Urianger floundered for words as he turned, mortified by how easily his face burned with shame.

Thancred merely raised an eyebrow at him, though after a moment it was accompanied by an amused huff and a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"No need to explain yourself, you've been utterly transparent since your touching reunion," he borderline teased as he raised a hand.

"Transparent?" Urianger questioned in a hushed tone, taking another glance back at A'driel, who was staring idly into the distance, content with just tapping his finger against his lips.

He was met with a sigh from Thancred, who shook his head. "Listen, you've both always been anything but straightforward about your relationship with each other. Far be it from me to push labels but we can all see there is, indeed, something substantial between the both of you."

Urianger was a bit taken aback at this. "Whatever thou dost see eludes mine own perception," as he spoke, he couldn't help but feel dishonest.

Thancred nodded silently for a moment, arms crossed. "I see. Tell me - what type of feeling, exactly, did it bring you to see him again after all these years? If you don't mind my asking?"

Urianger balked as he stared at the other man, dumbstruck. "Mine- Mine feelings?" he paused, Thancred offering him a nod and a gesture for him to go on. He paused, staring down at the ground. How impossible it was to answer such a question, to put into words the emotions that had been invoked upon seeing that face after everything that had happened. His eyes beholding the living, breathing incarnation after his being told of the Warrior of Light's impending end in the face of the calamity he so desperately fought to prevent.

And then there he was, come to him once more and unaware of the years that had passed since Urianger had last seen him. How was he to even begin to describe what came with the warm feeling of his small form encompassed in his arms so soon after so much as laying his eyes upon him?

"Alright, you've made your point," Thancred broke the silence that apparently drummed on longer than Urianger had thought, "Gods, the idea of you at a loss for words is almost unthinkable."

Urianger felt heat flush his cheeks again. Was he truly being so uncharacteristic? Is what he thought was a simple reunion really vexing him to such severity? For some reason or another, he chanced another look back at A'driel. He wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to divine by doing so, but as luck would have it, his gaze was met directly with the miqo'te's.

It didn't register to Urianger that A'driel had probably been staring at him as he himself had been doing prior, just as A'driel was unaware that Urianger had been doing so.

In the background, Thancred sighed at how oblivious the two were, "So much for divination..." he muttered.

The two only seemed surprised for less than a second, A'driel being the first to offer a bashful smile. Urianger followed with a cordial nod, their gazes lingering as if they were reluctant to part but eventually doing so anyway.

As Urianger returned his attention to Thancred, he was met with crossed arms and an expression that was akin to a mix of disappointment and exasperation. He blinked and opened his mouth to defend himself, but was stopped as Thancred held up a hand and shook his head with a sigh.

"Don't. I'm not going to pretend to understand, but if you ever end up deciding to face reality, you'll have to do so of your own accord," suddenly the hyur's head jerked toward A'driel, "In the meantime, it looks like your current luck has run out for now. Next chance you get, I suggest you take it," with a shrug and an offhanded wave, Thancred turned and took his leave.

Urianger quickly discerned what he meant as he turned just in time to see A'driel stand, his heart sinking as he watched him turn his back and walk off with Alphinaud. They appeared to be speaking animatedly, the miqo'te's attention thoroughly rerouted from himself before Urianger could so much as wave.

His hands tightened to fists in his lap, shaking his head and cursing himself. Thancred was right, totally and irrevocably. He hadn't considered his time window before, the sudden weight of his words reminding him of what was to come. All the more painful when he took into account the veil of deception that separated them. The time afforded him was finite, his window of opportunity closing quickly as he sullied his time fruitlessly pining from a distance.

Taking one last fleeting glance, he watched his starlight fade into the crowd and hoped that fate would be but kind to them both. Together.

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

[buckyownsmylife]

Say it, just say it - Harry Styles smut

The one where you and Harry hate each other.

Warnings: hate sex, use of the words bitch and whore.

Word count: 3k<

A/N: this is for an anon request that wanted hate sex with Harry Styles. This was the best I could do - apparently the idea of having sex with someone you hate isn’t something my brain can process, so here’s some really rough sex that forces two idiots to deal with their feelings. Also this somehow goes from second person to third person p.o.v. but when I tried to fix it, I didn’t like it. So 🤷‍♀️

Harry hated her.

There was no easy way to say it, no cliche that could hide the absolute honest, factual emotion that he felt towards the woman with whom he was supposed to work for the next four months. 

It had been this way for as long as he could remember. The first time you were introduced to each other, during one of those extremely boring parties the record company insisted on throwing, he’d been praying for a distraction, any type of distraction, and when you appeared, looking just as bored and so much like an angel it hurt to look at you for too long, he thought that was it.

Maybe you were it. Maybe you were the person who would finally make this entire thing make sense, remind him why he even became famous in the first place. Harry had been growing more and more disappointed about his environment with each passing day and he needed something to make him stay, to remind him why he got into this industry in the first place. 

Your face, your gentle way of being, the way you had so suddenly risen to fame and not allowed yourself to get pushed into the wrong kinds of behavior were some of the reasons why he had grown fascinated with you. Now that he had the chance to finally meet his newest idol, maybe you’d be the one to give him a reason to keep going.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. For starters, you barely gave him the time of day, smiling politely after being introduced but remaining mostly silent even though he kept trying to make conversation with you. You looked uncomfortable, and it made him uncomfortable. And when you finally snapped and told him to, “Stop trying, it’s never going to happen,” and immediately left, he decided right then and there - he hated you.

He hated you. He hated the way you made him feel, back then and every time you met since - like he’d done something fundamentally wrong just by being the way he was. He hated that he believed even for a split second that you could help him, that you could take him away from this path of nonsense he’d started walking, only to be left lost and alone. He hated how sweet your perfume was, like an intoxicating cloud trying to make sure he’d never be able to forget you. And most of all, he hated that no matter how hard he tried, he still grew hard as a rock just at the sight of you.

It all became that much harder to deal with when your record label decided you’d be having a joint tour for the next year. Of course, you tried to fight it - Harry wouldn’t be too surprised if he learned you screamed and threw a fit, although he never ever heard of you behaving in such a way… He just had to believe that you did. It was pointless, anyway. The decision had been made with your fans’ best interest - and your managers deep pockets - in mind. And if there was one thing he had to admit, it was that you truly were a professional, even when it came to doing things you didn’t want to do.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel the urge to tighten his hand around your throat every time you opened your fucking mouth to shoot one of your derogatory comments at him.

“Oh, you’re not going out to party?” You asked, barely glancing up at him from your spot on the couch when he entered the tour bus in search of his phone. Truth was, his plan most definitely had been to go out and get drunk, mostly to try to get some sleep that wasn’t filled with dreams of a very naked you riding him until he was whimpering, but now that you said that, he wanted to go directly to bed if only to prove you wrong.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?” He asked, reaching out for a bottle of vodka and quickly deciding to forgo glasses and drink directly from it. “Are you so sexually frustrated up on that high horse of yours you can’t let other people get their rocks off in peace?”

That won your attention, your gaze slipping from the television to meet his in clear annoyance. God, why do you still look so fucking cute when you have your eyes narrowed like that? “Excuse me?”

Harry could have dropped it. He very well could. Roll his eyes and make a hasty escape, either to the bar or to bed, like he’d done thousand of times before. But he was tired, and he was moody, and frankly, he was a little sexually frustrated. It didn’t matter how many girls he found to occupy himself with after a show, the second he saw you again when he got back to the bus, his cock was back to a half-mast.

“You heard me.” He decided to throw caution to the wind. At the very least, he’d get to say some things that had been swirling around his head ever since you met, and maybe that would help ease some of the tension inside of him. “You’re such a fucking prude you can’t even go out to grab a drink with your bandmates. Or maybe you don’t go because you know no one would want you. That know-it-all attitude isn’t exactly attractive, but I think you know that already.”

When you darted out of the sofa, he already knew what was going to happen. But instead of doing anything to stop it, he found himself incredibly aroused at being slapped on the face by the woman before him.

“Oh, no, you won’t.” He captured your wrist before you could walk away from him, pulling you so forcefully back to where you stood that you ended up falling over his chest. And then, after a second of tense silence where you both just stood there, staring at each other, Harry finally found the courage - or the stupidity - to do what he’d been wanting for so long.

He leaned down and connected his lips to yours.

He didn’t know what to expect - frankly, it’s not like he was thinking straight. Even though he hadn’t really drank enough to be even near buzzed, you just had that effect on him - acting like an intensifier, making every color seem brighter and every sound louder, igniting his emotions so easily there really was no point in drinking anything whenever you were around.

But still, everything was possible, from him earning another slap - one he wouldn’t feel inclined to complain about, knowing he crossed a lot of boundaries by pulling you this close and possessing you lips like he’d had - to having you run away and never speak to him again. He was prepared for every outcome, except the one where you reciprocated his kiss with just as much hunger as he felt towards your body.

It was all teeth and tongue, he swiped his over the top of your mouth, you bit down on his bottom lip, making him whine and inadvertently rub his hardened cock on your stomach. But you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you only pressed your own body tighter against his, trapping him against the counter while he got lost in your taste and then…

Then you suddenly stepped away, breathing hard while looking at him with an accusatory expression, like this was all his fault, like he’d done something against your will. “Let me go, Harry,” you ordered, pulling the arm that he still clutched, while he stared back at you with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I’m not one of your common whores, I’m not gonna just sit back and be a good girl for you.”

His entire body still tingled from being that close to her, his mind taking too long to catch up to yet another turn of events. He just stared down at her smaller frame, still confused and surprised until yet again, it all turned into anger.

“Not one of my common whores, huh?” Harry could see just how lustful she actually was. He could see it in the way her eyes glinted, how she still hadn’t been able to breathe with her mouth closed since he lost the feeling of her against his lips, and how despite her forceful words, she still hadn’t made an actual effort to step away from him. 

She could pull away if she wanted to. He didn’t have enough control of his body to hold her that tight. And to make it even clearer, he just released her arm, fingers running down her body until her hands were falling limp by her side, surprise clear on her face.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

And when that was out in the open, he leaped on her, cradling her face between his hands - so big that they could encompass her entire head - and descended upon her again, mouths connecting and a delicious whimper escaping into the tense atmosphere between them, making her so surprised at herself it gave him just enough of the upper-hand that he managed to invert their positions and have *her pressed against the counter now.

He kissed her like he wanted to leave bruises on her lips, etch this memory in her mind just like he knew he’d never be able to forget about it. He’d be damned if he didn’t show her the best lay of her life. Maybe then she wouldn’t go back to being such a fucking bitch to him.

“Look at this, you say you’re not a whore, but where’s your underwear?” Her breath hitched when Harry’s hand made its way between her legs, finding her not only bare, but wet and ready for him. “My girlfriends all wore panties, like proper ladies do, pet. Where’s yours?”

The poor thing didn’t seem to be able to speak, mostly because she had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t say something that would stop him from toying with her clit, making her pussy clench in the most delicious of ways.

“God, you’re such a fucking temptation.” The way his warm breath hit her face, before he kissed her cheek while he kept playing with her, only added to the warmth she felt exponentially grow inside her body. “You turned me on all this entire time… If I’d known you just walked around without underwear, I would have bent you over a desk and had my way with you long ago.”

At last abandoning her clit, Harry pushed two of his long fingers inside of her, immediately replicating the pace with which he’d rubbed her pussy, no sign of slow and sweet anywhere in his mind.

“But you just have to walk around being a distraction… You know, the least you could do was to play nice. Or do you just like being a bitch all the fucking time?” He nipped on her jaw as she held onto the counter behind her, eyes raised to the ceiling, begging for God to grant her a release. Unfortunately, the only one who could give her that was Harry, and he was not feeling merciful.

“At least your pussy is sweet,” he mocked when he pulled his fingers away from her pussy, right when she was about to reach her high, and wrapped his pretty pink lips around them. “Something about you had to be.”

But she was too breathless, too lost to the desire to care about his taunts. All she could do was watch with bated breath as Harry hummed with the taste of her, eyes fluttering open to meet hers before he smirked.

“Come.” He took her to the couch, not stripping her of her clothes, but fully ripping them from her trembling body. He bent her over the soft cushions, standing back only for enough time to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down, but it was enough for her to find her voice again.

“Someone can come in…” She pointed out, looking behind her to find him staring at the apex of her thighs, completely ignoring her eyes. He looked almost hypnotized by what he saw. She could only flush in embarrassment as she imagined. She *knew how wet she was, she could feel it. It dripped from her, slowly running down her thighs and making her feel weaker than she already was.

“I don’t care.” Harry’s voice broke her from her thoughts, seeing him still attentively looking at her offering. “Let them watch, if they want. Let them see how good you take it.” And that was all the warning she got before he pushed himself inside of you, stretching her like no one else had ever done before.

He didn’t give her any time to adjust, either. Immediately settling on a bruising pace, he fucked her hard, like he had decided to eliminate every single ounce of frustration he’d ever had with her right then, with the help of her body.

“Get your hands off your cunt.” He slapped her hand away, the one she’d been using to rub her little clit in the urge to reach that high again, too scared he’d take it from her once more. “It’s mine now.”

And so his thumb settled right where she’d been, swiping her nub with surprising dexterity for someone who was keeping such a steady and forceful pace as he bruised her cervix. His sneer was the only thing that warned her of the persistence of his temper.

“Don’t like following orders unless it’s for me to touch your sweet pussy, huh?” She was too immersed in the pleasure, the sounds of their rough sex making her head swirl inside the empty bus. She’d never been fucked this hard in her life, and it sated some deep desire she’d never even acknowledged she had until that very moment.

“I fucking knew you weren’t some precious little innocent thing,” Harry continued, still keeping up his pace. “You’re a slut, you like being fucked like a whore, isn’t that so?” He pulled her so her back would be attached to his front, and she gasped with the change of position.

“Answer me.” All she could do was nod, but that was enough for her torturer, who suddenly seemed much too interested in her jaw, on the skin of her neck, whatever part he could reach with his soft, pillowy lips.

“Admit it,” he whispered, so differently from how he’d been speaking up until then that she almost missed it. “Admit that you’ve wanted this just as much as I did.” The implications of what he meant had her tightening around him, and his groan was as delicious to hear as the first notes of his solos.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t open her mouth to say it, because it was just too much. It would make this moment more real, more burdensome than she could bear. This was supposed to be only sex. She couldn’t deal with any emotions.

“N-no,” she tried to assert, but it sounded weak and unconvincing even to her own ears. And the whine that escaped her lips when Harry pulled out of her only served to solidify that image of her.

“Yes. Say it,” he urged, having turned her around before thrusting his member back inside of her all at once. “We both know it’s the truth. You just have to say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

His thumbs brushed on her cheekbones while his cock dragged in and out of her channel and the sensations were too much for her, especially when he was looking at her like *that. “I-I can’t,” she resisted. “I can’t get closer to you.”

Harry didn’t like that. No more soft caresses, his hands left her face to grip the cushions underneath her, so he could speed up his movements once more, pounding her against the couch.

“Oh, so you prefer to touch yourself while thinking of me, and leaving me frustrated, is that it?” The way he was talking to her had her tightening around him once more, and she knew it wouldn’t belong until she cummed all over him. “Too fucking bad, the only way I can stand to be close to you now is if I’m buried in this little cunt.”

Her vision blurred and she buried her nails in his biceps, her mouth falling open right when Harry ordered her to, “Cum, fucking cum.” Her pussy clenching around him brought him to his own orgasm, and he threw his head back as he too reached his high.

They relished in the aftermath for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence that had fallen between them for the first time. But when Y/N tried to push him away so she could clean herself up, Harry lifted his head to look her in the eye and said, in the most serious voice she had ever heard him use, “You’re not going to sleep without me. I wasn’t joking.”

And she was surprisingly okay with that.

[swcetnight]

It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength."  Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he��ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n… You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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[mypoisonedvine]

Quid Pro Quo | Maria Hill x reader

summary: when Agent Hill calls you into her office, it’s the least you can do not to come running.  but either way, you’re gonna come quickly.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut!, oral sex f receiving, a touch of overstimulation, workplace relationship, subtle d/s undertones, but other than that it’s just some relatively wholesome established relationship smutty smut!

“Agent Hill needs to see you in her office,” Christine told you quickly as she stopped by your desk, making you nod in acknowledgement as you hoped your face hadn’t given away your excitement.

You didn’t want to seem too eager, too rushed, lest someone question why you were champing at the bit to do more work and realise that work wasn’t the issue at all, so you tried to finish the report you were working on first.  But of course you couldn’t finish a report when all you could think about was Maria; Maria, with all her looks that lingered, all her slanted smiles and little touches on your back and shoulders.  She knew exactly how to keep you on edge all day, until you were so close to snapping that you’d do anything she asked.

So, you just stared at your computer screen for a few moments, glancing at the clock and wondering if time had suddenly began to stand still because it had felt like hours of waiting in less than a minute, before finally jumping up and walking down the hall and into the elevator to make your way to Maria’s office.

You tried to compose yourself when you stepped out onto her floor, turning into the hall and following the familiar path as you found her door half-open, where she was standing by her desk on the other side, bent down to write down on something there.  She looked so focused, and it took a knock on her ajar door to get her attention as she promptly looked up and you waved hello.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she nodded, standing fully upright.  “Come in, and you can go ahead and shut the door behind you.”

She was so stern, so composed and frightfully stoic, that for a moment you wondered if you’d misunderstood and this was really a business call after all.  The moment the door was shut though, her entire demeanor shifted as he smiled and pushed you right back up against it, pinning you to the frosted glass and kissing you slowly yet passionate.  You hummed contentedly and kissed her back, reaching up to rest your hands on her shoulders.

“Missed you,” she mumbled against your lips before slipping her tongue into your mouth, making you moan already.  “Did you miss me?”

“Of course,” you sighed, following her when she stepped back and guided you to her desk.

“I think you should make me come first,” she grinned, “because you get way to blissed-out and sleepy after I get you off.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” you chuckled as you dropped to your knees, ever-thankful that she was wearing a skirt today so you could just push it up and pull her lacy panties down her smooth, muscular thighs.  “I’ve been dreaming about tasting you all day.”

Her cocky grin fell into a slow sigh as you instantly latched onto her bud, sucking it just enough to make her moan, but leave her wanting more.  You darted out your tongue to slide through her slick folds, gathering the taste of her that you found there and letting it coat your mouth.  “Oh, fuck, just like that,” she encouraged as she reached down to hold your head steady, rocking her hips slightly.  You loved getting her off like this, with her still standing and still dressed; you loved being reminded that she was your boss— not just your boss, but your boss’ boss— and you were on your knees in her office where someone might walk in and see you both.

She wasn’t exactly riding your face, she couldn’t really do that while standing in heels, but she was rubbing herself on your tongue and it drove you wild.

“God, I’ve been thinking about you so much,” she groaned, “thinking about you when I get off, and I have to get off pretty often if I have any chance of focusing.  You know how much it drives me crazy knowing you’re just a few floors away, how much I wanna go down there and throw you over that desk and show everybody that you’re mine?”

You moaned, the sound muffled with your mouth preoccupied, but it was every bit as needy and desperate and raw as you felt.

“I’m already close, fuck, see what you do to me?” she laughed breathlessly.  “Can’t even keep it together, shit, I’m so close... baby I’m close, I’m gonna come.”

You nodded, not as permission (because she absolutely did not need your permission) but as a plea, as an expression of how badly you wanted her to come for you.

Her legs began to shake, and if you weren’t so thoroughly aware of how strong she was, you would’ve worried she’d fall.

“Yes,” she moaned, her head falling back, “ffffuck yes, right there— I’m coming, oh my god—”

You hummed happily when you felt her pussy spasm and contract, a stronger flavor of her rushing over your tongue and lips until it even began to drip down your chin.  Looking up at her, you reveled in how lovely she looked riding your face through her peak, that cool and composed Agent suddenly reduced to loud moans and sensitive whimpers.  She sighed and stepped back, pulling up her own panties and readjusting her skirt as she admired you knelt on the floor with pretty much the entire lower half of your face covered in her arousal.

“You look good,” she grinned.  “You look ready for me to return the favor.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna stop you,” you shrugged playfully as you stood up and wiped your face, though your coy attitude was lost when she grabbed you suddenly and tossed you down onto her desk, lifting your legs and spreading them as your dress rolled up your thighs.

“How bad did you miss me?” she interrogated as she began to kiss up your legs, your hips bucking up in search of more stimulation.  

“S-so bad,” you moaned, “Maria, you’re all I think about— I need you, please.”

“Yeah?” she pressed as her grin pressed against the sensitive skin inside your thigh.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, groaning when her mouth teased you through your panties and your back arched up off of her desk.  “Please don’t make me wait anymore, I’ve been waiting so long,” you whined.

“You could stand to gain a little more patience,” she suggested.

“You could stand to gain a little more speed,” you shot back, getting what you wished for when she pulled your panties aside and spat on your pussy before devouring it, sucking and licking at you with all the vigor and intensity that you could handle (and then some).  “Fuck!” you sobbed, your body fighting the overwhelming sensations by trying to squirm away, but she grabbed your hips and held you down— your head spun to feel how much stronger she was than you.

Your eyes rolled back in your head when she slipped her tongue inside you, fucking you with it while still managing to brush up against your clit with each slide of it against you.  When she reached up and used her thumb to pull back the hood that shielded your clit, leaving your most sensitive places exposed to her, it was all you could do not to scream as your hands clawed at the mahogany desk beneath you.

She looked up at you as she took you apart, her eyes burning with that all-encompassing fire that made you feel hot everywhere, and it was nearly impossible to keep eye contact when she stared you down like that.  But you knew she wanted you to watch her do this to you, see that passion in her eyes that almost felt like it bordered on fury at times.

“F-fuck, don’t stop,” you whimpered, “Maria— I’m close.  Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

A little rumbling purr echoed from her, vibrating over your pussy enough to make you gasp.  When she did it again, it was the last thing that sent you over the edge, your walls tightening around her tongue as you bit down on your lip to keep from getting too loud; your legs quivered and clamped down around her head unintentionally, but even that wasn’t enough to deter her from fucking you right through it— and a bit past it, in fact.

“Oh god,” you whined, realizing she had no intentions of slowing down.  “M-Maria, I can’t— I can’t take anymore.”

She never stopped to respond to you in times like this; even a few words’ worth of a break was too much, apparently, and she just glared back at you with a look that said much more anyways.

“Fuuuuck,” you groaned, your hips bucking wildly as she applied more force to keep them still.  Your clit was throbbing, the sensations overloading your body and making your fingers and toes tingle with numbness for some reason.  You heard the most outrageous sounds pouring from your mouth and you could hardly believe it was you making them, your voice so wrecked and broken that it was entirely unfamiliar.  

The first orgasm hadn’t really ended when the second one began, so strong that you weren’t sure if you shut your eyes or if your vision just went black.  

Finally, finally, she let up, although she gave your swollen clit a little kiss at the very end just to see your whole body jolt in response to the gentle touch.

You sighed and fluttered your heavy eyes, melting into her arms as she helped you sit up.  “Told ya you’d get all sleepy on me,” she chuckled.

“Well yeah, but it’s your fault for making me come like that.”

“And by ‘like that,’ you mean twice?”

“I mean that hard,” you rolled your eyes, “and twice.”

“I’ll be waiting for my thank you card in the mail,” she winked.

“I have much better ways to thank you than that,” you smiled sleepily.  “Like taking you out to dinner tonight.”

“I thought the point of dating a subordinate was that I get to take you out and, you know, spoil you and stuff.”

“You’re thinking of a sugar baby,” you clarified.  “I’m not a sugar baby.”

“Then what made you so sweet, hm?” she grinned, kissing the little ticklish spot just below your ear.

“Maria,” you giggled, “I’ve gotta get back to my desk.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, lifting your chin with her finger before kissing you slowly and gently, already making you fall back into your trance as your arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer.  “Or you could just stay here and I could make you come for a few more hours.”

“Yeah, or that,” you mumbled dreamily into the kiss, feeling her smile against your lips as she leaned you back against the desk again.

[leupagus]

"It's Not the Years, Honey, It's The Mileage"

When/if I actually write robinade's fic idea of 19-year-old-looking/130-year-old-being Thomas Nightingale who has to pretend to be his own kid in order to become a cop again, that's definitely gonna be the title, and the beginning of the story will look a little something like this:

*

Looking back, I feel kind of stupid that it took me three days working with Tommy to twig that something was off. Or at least, something was off in that direction — he’d been off since we shook hands, with an RP 'how do you do' that made me want to ask how Eliza Doolittle was getting on. But he’d seemed harmless, even if he did get huffy about being called 'Tommy.' In fact, that’d turned out all right too, since his demand that I call him 'Thomas' lead to me pointing out that I was bigger than him and the oldest sister with four brothers and played rugby in my down time. I’d meant it as an indication of my give-no-fuckedness, but he’d lit up like a kid at Christmas and talked my ear off about ruby for the rest of the patrol that night. (He’s league, because of course he is.)

I knew he was off in some direction or another because his name is Thomas Nightingale, Jr., and everyone in the Met knows who his dad was. There’s a lecture they give at Hendon on him and everything, which must’ve been weird as hell for Tommy to listen to. But for those first couple of days, it was just the poshness and him turning off his phone at weird times and the fact that he got picked up by his sugar daddy at the end of every shift, a jaw-droppingly beautiful man in a jaw-droppingly beautiful Jag. I couldn’t even be resentful about it, honestly: nice work if you can get it, and all. And it wasn’t like Tommy didn’t put in the work: we wrestled with belligerent arseholes shoulder-to-shoulder, and he got spat on even more than me. I blame the accent.

Alarm bells only started ringing on Thursday. We were proceeding along Northumberland toward Hungerford Bridge, or whatever they’re calling it these days, when someone called out from somewhere around that big statue in Whitehall Gardens that I always think is Shakespeare, but isn’t apparently. Tommy paused and cocked his head, like a dog trying to hear a high whistle, and it came again.

'Hurry up, Nightingale,' said the voice. I couldn’t see anyone, but Tommy was trotting off to the gate and slipping inside the garden, which meant I went trotting off after him. I found him climbing the bloody statue, which is definitely disorderly conduct of some subsection or other.

'Tommy, get the fuck down here,' I whisper-bellowed, because as much as I didn’t want him breaking his pretty little neck, I also didn’t want to be caught by someone else while he was in the process of possibly breaking said pretty little neck.

'Just a moment, Kay,' he said, like he was nipping off to the toilets, and plucked a little dog from off the statue. Or at least I thought it was a dog until Tommy clambered down far enough to lower it to me. I reached out to take it and set the thing on the ground and I saw the bushy tail and the face and—

'Did we just get a 10-68 from a fox?' I asked. The fox looked at me and I swear to God it was judging my shoes.

'Which one is that, again?' asked Tommy, who’s even worse than me about remembering the codes. We’d taken to quizzing each other whenever patrol got too deadly dull, but this is one reason we got two years doing this shite before anyone trusted us to do actual detective-ing.

'I think you meant 10-67,' said the fox. '"Person calling for help." 10-68 is if they do it over the phone, text or email.'

'Oh, right,' I said, remembering. 'Thanks.'

'No problem. Thank you for the assistance,' it said, sitting down and scratching an ear. 'I’m not as young as I was, unlike some people, and I wasn’t a hundred per about the jump back down.'

'You needn’t perch on statuary at all,’ said Tommy, sounding annoyed, while my brain was still caught on that 'unlike some people' comment. 'You’re the ones insisting on this nonsense.'

'The boss asked to keep an eye out,' the fox protested, 'And you know what she’s like.'

'Abigail has been like that for twenty years at least, which ought to have given you sufficient time to create countermeasures,' said Tommy. 'I do wish you’d stop indulging her.'

'She who controls the Nandos,' said the fox wisely, 'Controls the world.' And with that bit of portention, it was off, disappearing into the bushes.

'What,' I asked, waving my hands to try to encompass the fox, the statue, whoever Abigail was, and Tommy, 'The entire fuck was that?'

'That was Indigo,' said Tommy, and readjusted his helmet. 'Shall we proceed?'

[xiyao-feels]

In this post I'm going to argue that the common position that LXC did not know JGY was going to kill the Wen he had with him in episode 23 is wrong. I think the evidence that he did know is considerable, and in fact the only evidence against that position is the framing which casts JGY executing them as being extremely evil. Although LXC and JGY's exchange after the sect leader discussion (the "Am I the evil?" exchange) is often taken as additional evidence that this is JGY's moment of no return on his journey to Evil, I think this is due to a misinterpretation of the exchange, which I will also argue below.

In Part 1, I show that LXC has unambiguously agreed to a plan which involves the execution of at least some Wen, and therefore the central question is whether he was expecting the particular group of Wen JGY brings in with him to be spared; I also argue that he has plausibly agreed to have even certain non-combatants killed. In Part 2, I contrast them with the Wen Jin Zixun is killing to argue that they are not, and also present the evidence that LXC has also agreed to the killing Jin Zixun is doing. In Part 3, I consider the lack of motive JGS has for having JGY, behind LXC's back, kill Wen he explicitly agreed with LXC he would spare. In Part 4, I discuss the "am I the evil" exchange, and in particular argue that the "evil" NMJ is opposed to is not JGS, as seems to be a common assumption, but the Wen. I conclude by examining the remaining evidence and arguing that it is insufficient to overcome the rest of the evidence.

Part One: What to do with the Wen remnants?

In episode 23, as WWX and LWJ discuss things, we hear distressed cries accompanied by calls of Kill them! and Kill them all! (This starts at about 17:47.) We are told that people are capturing the remaining Wen, and it is very clear what they are doing with the Wen once they catch them.

The next scene is JGS, NMJ, and LXC discussing what to do with the remaining Wen, joined partway through by JGY. I encourage you to watch it (link); it lasts from 18:09 to about 22:40 on YouTube. I have also transcribed the dialogue (including the dialogue from the 'am I the evil?' exchange), both English and Chinese, in a post here; the post also includes my attempt at summarizing the whole conversation. However, as the conversation does encompass more than just the plan about what to do with the remaining Wen, I am now going to summarize the discussion of that particular issue below.

JGS is initially pro- the capturing, and implicitly the extermination, of all the remaining Wen. LXC argues for letting the defenseless remnants—note, not the ones who can defend themselves—go. NMJ is initially on JGS' side, but relents in the face of LXC's disappointment and also argues they should let them go. JGS counters by reminding them of the threat the remaining Wen would pose should they get hold of the Yin Iron. NMJ bows and says that "Clan Leader Jin has thought about it very thoroughly" (金宗主所虑甚详); to my eyes he appears to be prepared to concede on the matter, but I freely admit that we don't actually know, as the conversation takes a slight detour and this is not resolved. We return to the issue of the Wen when JGY enters with his captured group of Wen and LXC asks him for his opinion. JGY suggests that they confine and monitor "the old, weak, and young"* as long as they stop making trouble, while those who killed a Sunshot cultivator will be executed; at LXC's prompt he provides a possible location for such confinement. NMJ observes brusquely that JGY is "really familiar with it" (你倒熟悉) (in context I think this is about JGY's knowledge of Wen places). LXC announces that they should do as A-Yao suggests; it is somewhat ambiguous in the scene whether he gets agreement, as NMJ leaves angrily rather than reply when JGS and LXC look at him, but as subsequent events seem to follow along JGY's suggestion, we can surmise that agreement was in fact reached.

*老弱妇孺. As ever, I don't speak Chinese; however Pleco gives 'the old and weak' for 老弱 and 'women and children' for 妇孺. In context, I think it is fairly clear that 'women' would not include, say, the Wen equivalent of Madam Yu, fighting cultivators with good cultivation power, who besides would probably have killed a Sunshot cultivator and thus would be sentenced to death.

I wish to point out a few things about this exchange. First, the default plan without LXC's interference is apparently to simply kill them all. Second, at no point does anyone including LXC argue in favour of sparing the Wen who aren't defenseless; if LXC were a Wen, it seems likely that he would be on the chopping block due to his cultivation power and martial prowess. Third, the plan LXC agrees to here /very explicitly/ includes killing some of the captured Wen. There is no way I can think of to interpret the conversation in any other way. At no point does LXC agree to a plan which involves sparing all of them.

I'm hammering this point home because I think it is often overlooked. If the agreement is that all the remaining Wen are going to be spared, then obviously if any Wen are still killed this is a betrayal of that agreement. But that's clearly not the agreement that's reached! The fact that some Wen are killed is therefore not sufficient to constitute a betrayal of that agreement; the question becomes whether the Wen we see JGY kill are in a group protected by that agreement.

Before we look at these Wen, however, I want to look at the scene after JGY kills the Wen. Once again, we see LWJ and WWX discussing things. They are interrupted by cries and pleas from a group of the remaining Wen (at 26:56), who are being chased down and killed by Jin Zixun. It's hard to get a decent picture, but to my eyes they do indeed look like the old, the weak, and the young:

Moreover, WWX explicitly identifies them as such. "These are women, children, and old men. Are they also evil?" he asks, and the phrase is 老弱妇孺—the same phrase JGY used to identify those to be confined and monitored in the previous scene.

Is Jin Zixun's killing a betrayal of the agreement, then? But consider his reply:

It's Clan Leader's order that anyone who has concern with Yin Iron should not be alive. Nie-zongzhu and Lan-zongzhu also agreed. Does Jiang clan have any questions? 宗主有令 凡是跟阴铁有关的人 一个都不能留 聂宗主和蓝宗主也同意了 难道你们江氏还有什么疑问吗

Jin Zixun explicitly says that NMJ and LXC agreed to the killing of anyone who "has concern with Yin Iron," regardless, it seems, of whether they have power in themselves or no. It's not impossible Jin Zixun is lying; however, while he is certainly intent on provoking WWX, he does not seem to be worried about being caught in deceit, and indeed LWJ who is right there does not contradict him or seem to doubt him. Moreover, to the best that I can recall this does not come up again, as we might expect it to if Jin Zixun is in fact deceiving them; and while these Wen who know something about Yin Iron may be 老弱妇孺, they are nevertheless reasonably viewed as a threat, and it seems a fairly natural extension of the agreement we see the clan leaders reach. I'm not saying Jin Zixun would never lie, or anything, but there doesn't seem to be any indication that he's lying about LXC's agreement, while there is evidence that he's not.

Therefore, from the evidence available, it is entirely unambiguous that LXC has agreed to a plan that involves killing any Wen who have killed a Sunshot cultivator; I don't think there's any plausible interpretation other than 'execution' of what would happen to the old, weak, and young if they didn't stop making trouble, and again that's part of the plan we explicitly see him agree to; and it seems likely that he agreed to the killing of old, weak, and young Wen who "have concern with Yin Iron."

At this point I wish to pause to make a note. It seems likely that people will feel uncomfortable with LXC doing this and indeed perhaps with LXC in general because he did this; this is entirely understandable, and I'm not at all saying otherwise. However, I think it's important to note that LXC's intervention /is an improvement over the status quo/. If he had not intervened, the Wen would simply all have been killed. Yes, it's an awful and unjust agreement, and you could argue he should never have taken part in the discussion; but if he hadn't, the Wen would all have been killed. It is his willingness to "play the game" that saves lives.

(You could of course argue that he should have devoted himself to saving them entirely, by force if necessary. This has been discussed in other places and by many different people; for here I will simply say I do not think it was a viable option.)

Part Two: Which Wen?

It is clear, then, that LXC has agreed to the killing of at least some Wen. If we accept Jin Zixun's account, then even if the Wen JGY has executed are "the old, weak, and young," then that is not sufficient evidence to say that they were in the group that should have been spared! However, I think we can do better than that. To my eyes, they do not look like "the old, weak, and young":

While it is true that they are not all e.g. wearing Wen cultivator uniforms, from what I can see they all look like strong young men and women. Contrast Jin Zixun's group, which generally looks more elderly and contains a child! Moreover, while Jin Zixun runs his victims down with bow and arrow on the open road, the people JGY kills are heavily guarded, surrounded by men holding swords on them the whole time. I realize this is to some extent a matter of personal judgement, but honestly, especially combined with the contrast with Jin Zixun's group, they do not at all look to me like they are in the group that was agreed would be spared. If you disagree with this, I hope you will at least agree that they are not /unambiguously/ part of the group that was agreed would be spared; that is, it is open to debate.

Part Three: Motive

If the visual evidence is insufficient, let us turn to another question: why would JGY kill these people if he'd just proposed to LXC to spare them? The answer to that is in some sense obvious—he'd be doing it because his father wanted it—but that simply moves the question back another level. Why would JGS want JGY to kill these people, and in such an obvious manner, if he'd just agreed with LXC he would spare them?

I legitimately cannot think of a good explanation. His central goal is to progress on obtaining the Yin Iron, and to make sure no one else gets their hand on it—but the arrangement they agree to serves him just fine for that. We know he does in fact spare some of the Wen, so it's not the case that he is simply pretending to spare any of them while having them all killed. If he wants to reduce the number of people he's sparing for whatever reason, I suppose he might have JGY kill some of them—but we don't have any evidence he does want that, and why would he have JGY do it in such a public manner? They still haven't left Nightless City—they haven't even had the Banquet yet—and it's the middle of the day and there is blood on the steps:

So, what, he wants to come to an agreement with LXC and then betray it immediately for some random reason, and also do it in a way LXC is likely though not guaranteed to find out about??

In the interests of considering all the options, and the recognition that CQL does not always care about logistics when it's hitting emotional beats, perhaps we can say that the easily-discoverable nature of this is not meant to be taken literally. But there's still the problem of what motive JGS has to do this—and more than that, the question of the significant motive he has not to.

Consider the situation at the beginning of the discussion: NMJ is in agreement with LXC, united against JGS. By the end of it, LXC is readily agreeing with JGY, and NMJ is in some disgruntlement - and not even in a way that seems particularly directed at JGS! From JGS' perspective, it's very much a desirable outcome, and indeed we can see he appears quite pleased with it.

Endangering this gain would therefore have to bring some significant gain in return. And… what is there? NMJ might approve of killing the Wen but he wouldn't approve of telling LXC you're going to spare someone and then immediately killing them. If this were found out, it would entirely reverse the effect of the agreement, and you would have Lan and Nie together against the Jin—exactly what JGS doesn't want! And it's worth remembering that at this point they haven't even sworn the brotherhood oath yet, that's a few scenes on, so it would be an extremely stupid time to endanger LXC and JGY's rapport. JGS is absolutely an asshole, but he's specifically a power-hungry asshole, and especially in CQL a clever and focused power-hungry asshole; he's not going to randomly endanger political gain just because he wants to be Evil.

Part Four: Am I the evil?

I think that part of the reason for the belief that JGY killed the Wen is this exchange, or more specifically a common misinterpretation of this exchange. You can watch it here, from 22:39 to 23:45 (to 24:08 If you want to watch the blood on the steps); I have also transcribed the dialogue, both the Chinese and the YT English subtitles, into another post here.

In this exchange, LXC tells JGY not to take NMJ's behaviour to heart; it's simply that he "resents the evil and favours the good,"* and that he's simply worried that JGY has "made the wrong choice." It's honestly not clear to me if this is supposed to hit in English quite the way it does—is LXC talking about a specific, individual wrong choice JGY has made? However it does seem to be usually interpreted as this, and moreover, specifically as NMJ thinking JGY has made the wrong choice /in becoming JGY/, in becoming Jin Guangshan's recognized son and aligning himself with the Jin. In this understanding of events this criticism of JGY is then validated by his killing the Wen—look, he's being evil, just as NMJ said!

There is a problem with this version of events, however. NMJ dislikes JGS, to be sure, and disapproves of him and so forth, but I don't think he thinks he's evil or particularly disapproves of JGY working for his dad JGS qua JGY working for his dad JGS. It's worth noting that in MDZS, at least, NMJ releases MY from his obligation to him and sends MY to JGS with his letter of recommendation! But there is someone NMJ hates, or rather someones: the Wen. His antipathy towards JGY at present isn't based on JGY working for JGS; it's based on JGY having recently worked for WRH. Even in CQL, remember, in episode 27 NMJ speaks up against LXC and JC's defense of WQ and WN, notably aligning himself with JGS on the matter (link). Thus his displeasure that JGY is "really familiar" with Wen places. NMJ would not be impressed with JGY executing Wen he had agreed with NMJ and LXC not to execute, but killing captured prisoners, even non-combatants, is not something NMJ considers inherently evil. To be clear, I am not trying to make NMJ out as uniquely bad for this! This is true of most people in his society, and while NMJ is absolutely unusually principled, that doesn't mean his principles are the exact modern-day principles we might like him to have.

When LXC talks about "the evil," he is not talking about JGS; rather he is talking about the defeated Wen. His stutter in response to Am I the evil? makes much more sense in this light. It would be a much more obvious return from JGY, and indeed fairly close to an insult from LXC, if LXC meant that JGS—whom JGY had just aligned himself with, and who also is /JGY's dad who just recognized him/—were evil; on the other hand, if LXC is simply referring to NMJ's well-known hatred of the Wen, then JGY taking it seriously—as either a serious question about his own evil, or a question about whether NMJ now feels the same hatred towards /him/—is more understandably an unexpected conversational move.

Considering the exchange in this light, I think we should not see it as suggesting that JGY's next action is betraying LXC. If NMJ's hatred is based primarily on JGY's previous association with the Wen,† if anything to me the effect is to parallel JGY doing awful things under WRH with JGY doing awful things under JGS; in either situation, he is much constrained. I don't insist on that interpretation, of course, but I do think the "evil" here is very much the Wen and not JGS, and that this complicates the idea that this is the show telling us that JGY is Evil Now.

†There is the captain killing too, but he clearly does not wholeheartedly condemn JGY for it previous to meeting him in Sun Palace, and even expresses some concern for him in the interim; JGY's work with the Wen is much more significant here.

Conclusion

To sum up, then: LXC very explicitly agrees to a plan that involves killing some of the captured Wen; there is also evidence that he may have agreed to killing some of the non-combatants among the captured Wen, and I think it likely. Regardless of this last, I think the visual evidence (especially in contrast with the Wen Jin Zixun kills) suggests that the Wen JGY has executed are in the group LXC explicitly agreed to have killed. Moreover, I think that the common interpretation of the Am I the evil exchange as telling us that JGY is Evil now is flawed, and that it therefore doesn't suggest that JGY's next actions are evil beyond, like, the evil of executing captured prisoners even as part of an approach that saves some of them.

There is the matter of the framing of the execution; it does certainly suggest that JGY is doing something awful. My answer to this is twofold. First, that JGY is indeed doing something awful. Executing captured prisoners is bad! Like, I am not blaming him for not reforming society from the ground up, here, and I do tend to think it's the only option that he had, but that doesn't mean it's not a shitty option.

Second, that the show sometimes frames JGY's actions as Evil in a way that's not really justified by what's presented. If you consider the Burial Mounds flashback in episode 43 for example (link), then we see JGY being presented as evil when he is, objectively, being helpful and helping protect LWJ's reputation. His telling LWJ that LQR is there to pick him up is framed as worse than LQR having LWJ beaten is. I am not, to be clear, saying that framing can't be legitimate evidence; of course it can. Nevertheless, I think it's worth considering the issues around JGY's presentation in CQL more generally, and especially to consider whether the framing alone is sufficient to conclude that he is betraying an agreement with LXC, rather than simply executing captives, especially in the light of the evidence against this.

As a final note, I want to note that I suspect part of the reason for this take is the general reluctance to believe that the characters we like could be doing something bad/something we disagree with. With LXC, this very often tends to result in the belief that he didn't know JGY was doing bad things, despite the mass of evidence against this position; with NMJ in particular, I cannot count the number of times I have seen people simply assume that he is obviously against the destruction of the Wen. This falls into the intersection of both, reassigning the target of NMJ's hatred from the Wen, who have our sympathy, to JGS, who decidedly does not; and making it such that LXC is ignorant that JGY is going to have those Wen executed, because how could he speak with JGY so warmly beforehand otherwise? But NMJ hates the Wen, and will go on to position himself with JGS, against LXC!, against them; and LXC is indeed willing to treat JGY with warmth despite his doing awful things, as in CQL we will see him be warm with JGY at the Phoenix Mountain Hunt despite JGY having (due to the wishes of his father) ordered captured Wen out in front of the targets. Neither of them have, for example, CQL LWJ's exact set of beliefs.

*恩怨分明嫉恶如仇. Generally I hate to post about my thoughts on the translation, but I do think it's worth noting here that from what I can tell this seems to be two phrases, 恩怨分明 and 嫉恶如仇. For 恩怨分明, Pleco gives "know clearly to whom to show gratitude and against whom to feel resentment"; for 嫉恶如仇, however, it gives "hate evil like an enemy; abhor evil as one's deadly foes". This is the phrase that gets translated as "absolutely couldn't stand wrongdoings" in ch 30 (link), when WWX is wondering why LWJ didn't just go kill XY (ER translation):

Wei WuXian found this a bit strange. Although Lan WangJi looked as if he didn’t care about anything, from Wei WuXian’s past experiences with him, he absolutely couldn’t stand wrongdoings, possibly even more than Nie HuaiSang’s brother. Back then, the LanlingJin Sect had some dishonest ways of doing things, and Lan WangJi never bothered to be subtle about them. Even until now, he always refused to go to their sect’s Discussion Conferences. If two cruel massacres happened, the news would’ve probably spread over the entire cultivational world and Lan WangJi definitely wouldn’t have turned a blind eye to them. Why did he not go and give Xue Yang what he deserved?

Taming Wangxian gives it as "he hated evildoers to the core" (link), and MDZS Translation gives it "someone who hated evil with a vengeance" (link).

It's also 嫉恶如仇 that JGY repeats, rather than 恩怨分明. The Viki subtitles, for what it's worth translates this portion of the exchange as follows:

LXC: Brother Mingjue is precisely someone who is clear about kindness and grudges, and abhors evil as one's deadly foe. He's just worried you've gone down the wrong path.

JGY: "Abhor evil as one's deadly foe…" Am I exactly that evil then?

As ever, I am open to correction on this matter.

ETA: on the matter of Zixun, I think madtom's point is right; I replied here.