#the goal was to reblog them every couple weeks but it seems to be coming up perhaps a bit too often

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Pussy Eating | Kim Taehyung

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), friends to lovers

Summary: Getting high with Taehyung was a very common occurrence. Him getting jealous and eating you out while you're high off your ass is most definitely not

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Explicit use of weed, shotgunning, oral (fem receiving), mentions of alcohol maybe, overstimulation if you squint, multiple orgasms, jealousy, Jungkook is touchy when he's high

A/N: Self indulgence at its finest. Let me know what you think, reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

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Kinktober '23 Masterlist

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You didn't like parties. They were loud, and every surface was contaminated with some sort of inexplicably sticky...something. But you did like getting high, and you especially liked getting high with your favorite smoking buddy. Unfortunately for you, that generally meant crashing one of Hoseok's parties on the weekends and pushing your way through sweaty crowds and spilled drinks to find him.

So yet again, here you were, wasting a Saturday evening as you stepped through the doors of Hoseok's unreasonably large house. You knew his family had money, but was it necessary to flaunt it all the time? The music was heavy, and the haze of smoke filled the room as soon as the door swung open to welcome you in. It wasn't Hoseok that opened it, instead you found a glaringly sober Yoongi standing there with an exhausted look on his face. He didn't like these parties either, but he loved Hobi, so you supposed he ended up getting roped into them for the same reasons you did.

His expression changed to one of relief when he saw you, welcoming you inside and closing the door behind you.

"Didn't think you were coming tonight," He said, leaning closer to you to be heard over the music. He guided you through the crowd with a barely there hand on your back. You shrugged.

"Didn't plan on it, but I had a shit week and I'm out. Gonna steal some of Tae's good stuff," You said. Yoongi nodded knowingly. You tried really hard to keep your feelings to yourself. After all, Taehyung wasn't the settling down sort. He wasn't a manwhore like people seemed to think, but he made it exceedingly clear that he wasn't ready to be tied down, and as his friend first and foremost, you respected that.

"He was out back last time I saw him," Yoongi said. "Do you want me to look for him?"

You shook your head, giving Yoongi a half hug before parting ways and diving even deeper into the crowded sitting room. You could see the beer pong table set up in the corner like always, spying Seokjin and a few of his friends gathered around it, clearly a couple of rounds deep. You decided to avoid that chaos, making straight for the kitchen, and squeezing out onto the patio past the couple that decided that the doorway was the perfect place to suck face.

Even though you'd only been in the house for a matter of minutes, the warm summer air was a welcome sensation, freeing you from the stuffy, alcohol fumed house. You scanned the yard, spotting Taehyung and Jungkook with a handful of others over by the pool. You didn't want to interrupt, and fully considering saying fuck your goals of getting high off your ass in the guest bedroom and just going home. But then he saw you, and his flirty smirk turned into a full bodied grin. He waved you over, and then it was over. Your legs were moving before you could even try to argue. You'd never been good at arguing with him anyway.

He slipped out of the way, making space between himself and Jungkook for you to settle between them. The younger boy grinned, wrapping an arm around you in a half greeting, clearly having already indulged in something or other to loosen him up. Then he was back to flirting with the pretty girl beside him, arm falling to half sit on your waist. You disregarded it, knowing how he was when he was intoxicated.

"You said you weren't gonna come," Taehyung said, immediately passing you the half burnt joint he'd been puffing off of. You took a hit before answering, letting the smoke curl in your lungs and re-introducing yourself to that familiar burn before letting it out again.

"Didn't plan on it. But I'm out of weed, and you're here, so it's not like I had anything better to do." You said. You tried to pass back his joint, but he just waved it off, and you took that as permission to keep going. By the time it was gone, you could already feel your body relaxing, your mind slowing down just the way you liked.

"Well, it's a good thing you came. I was gonna be bored if you didn't. Thought I was gonna have to come to your house after this,"

You rolled your eyes.

"Like I'd let you in, high as hell at four in the damn morning." You scolded him. You could feel your body giving out on you, letting you lean slowly towards Jungkook who was so far gone he didn't even notice. But that meant Taehyung was getting further away. Or it should have, but maybe he was shifting with you, moving until your hips were pressed together, until he was slinging your legs over his lap. That was nice.

"You would. You always let me in." He said. If you were sober, maybe you would have been mad that he'd call you out on your absolutely whipped behavior, but you weren't sober, and it was so much harder to stay mad at him when you were high. He just looked so pretty through your hazy eyes, dark curls around his head like a halo, and big brown eyes that you got so lost in.

"Yeah, maybe. But only you." You confessed, a bout of giggles bursting out afterwards. When had he lit up again? You pouted. "I want some,"

He took a hit, holding out his hand. You took it and let him pull you up. Then his face was getting closer to you, and you almost started away, but his hand was behind your head, pressing you closer. His lips slotted over yours. The hand that had been steadying your head came down, stroking his fingertips along your jaw, then thumbing at your bottom lip, guiding your mouth open. You closed your eyes, letting him exhale the smoke past your lips, slowly breathing it in.

When he pulls away, it feels like all the air in your lungs has been sucked out, and you're not sure if it was from him or the smoke. You let it out again, closing your eyes and trying in your fogged up brain to process what just happened. He was touchy when he was high, overly affectionate and maybe even clingy, but you'd never shotgunned before, never been that close to tasting him. It was fucking with your head. But then he was letting you go, and you leaned back against Jungkook again and the moment had passed. You were too high to notice the way his eyes flicked to his best friend, who was too high to think much about the way he was touching you. Jungkook reached around you again, an arm around your waist, slipping against the skin where your shirt had ridden up ever so slightly. The touch made you jolt, eyes opening again before you giggled and relaxed.

Taehyung, however, couldn't relax. Well, not really. No more than the two joints were letting him. He had thought you'd been getting his hints, that you were reciprocating. But there you were, high off of his shit, and cuddled up to his best friend as if he wasn't the one who you spent all your time with. Taehyung wasn't a jealous person, not really, but sometimes it would bubble deep in his stomach, and rise in his throat and make him feel sick. Only sometimes, and always with you. He stood up, not saying a word to anyone as he headed for the house. He didn't really have a plan, maybe grab a drink? Even though he really wasn't a fan of being crossed. It didn't matter, he just needed to get away.

You felt him move beside you, heard the sound of his footsteps walking away. And as if on instinct, driven by something deeper than conscious thought, you flung yourself to your feet, knocking Jungkook's hand away. He looked at you, but he didn't say anything, just went back to his conversation. The first few steps you took felt as if the world was shifting ever so slightly under your feet, but you caught your balance fast.

"Tae," You called out to him, but he didn't look back, so you called him again. "Taehyung, wait a second."

He didn't. He was a good few strides ahead of you, being swallowed up by the crowd. You huffed, pressing back into the overheated, crushing crowd of bodies in search for him. He never left you like that, especially not at parties. He knew you hated them. Knew you only ever came for him in the first place.

The music was making your brain vibrate in your head, and you had to blink a few times to register the faces in front of you, but before you knew it, there was Yoongi, still looking sober and bored and leaned up against the wall.

"Hey, did you see Tae?" You asked, reaching out for his arm. He wordlessly pointed towards the stairs, and your questions were answered. You thanked him, or at least you thought it, and then you were hauling yourself up the stairs.

It was quieter upstairs. Most people moved towards the basement instead of the upper levels, leaving the personal rooms alone. Only your friend group tended to come up here during the parties. You knocked on Hobi's bedroom door, then opened it to find it empty. The bathroom door was wide open, and empty, so you moved on to the guest room. You knocked, but again there was no answer. You tried the door handle. Locked.

"Taehyung," You whined, knocking on the door again. You could hear the shuffle of the bedding. "Open the door. I don't wanna stand up anymore."

You could see his shadow under the door as he came over, then the lock clicked and it swung open. He had the cutest pout on his face, and you were overwhelmed by the longing to kiss it away. You gathered up all of the self control that you had to not do that.

You didn't speak, just used the weight of your body to nudge him out of the way, pressing your entire self against him until he gave way and you both stumbled in the door with a burst of stifled giggling. You flopped back onto the bed and waited for him to sit down beside you.

"Why did you run away?" You asked, closing your eyes. He didn't answer right away, just traced his fingers against the skin of your forearm. You let him, let each movement sink beneath your skin and join the quiet hum that your body always seemed to let off when he touched you.

"You were with Jungkook. Gave you space," He answered. You opened your eyes, giving him a confused glance.

"I came for you. I always do." You told him. It wasn't like he didn't know that. He must have known the power he held over you, the power he'd held for so long that you couldn't even remember when it started. No, your Taehyung wasn't stupid.

There was another long pause as he laid down beside you, arm slinging heavy over your waist and pulling you closer to him. You turned your head, your noses brushing and his big brown eyes trained on your face. You couldn't breathe then, and you weren't sure if that was the proximity or the way the weed was weighing down your entire body.

"I don't like when other people touch you," He said, shifting so he could prop himself up on his elbow, his face hovering over yours. You watched his gaze drop to your lips, then climb back up to your eyes. "And you were just letting him. Should have been me. Always should be me,"

You couldn't fight off the impulses any longer, your self control slipping through your numbed fingertips, and then you were pulling him down to kiss him. His lips were softer than you imagined, and you could taste the warmth of him under the heady layer of smoke on his tongue. He kissed you back as if it were the last thing he'd ever do. His hand gripped at your waist, pressing you closer to him as he devoured your mouth. It was hungry, but lazy, slow licks and presses of his lips and the occasional suck against your tongue or your lip until you had to pull away. Your mind was fogged up, and you felt dizzy as you tipped your head back against the pillows.

Taehyung couldn't seem to leave his mouth idle, leaning down to suck a mark into the sensitive spot under your jaw. Then he was just kissing your skin, tongue gliding against the skin and swallowing down the closeness you were sharing. His hand didn't move, anchoring you to him and keeping the both of you grounded in the moment.

"Tae," You whined, guiding his mouth back up to yours and he was happy to give you more. You moved your hands down, pushing and tugging at his shirt enough to move it up his stomach, then your hands roamed beneath it, tracing the planes of his stomach, up his chest. He hissed when your fingertips carved slow circles around his nipples.

"Sensitive," He muttered against your lips, and you hummed your acknowledgement, teasing them anyway and soaking up the low hums and moans he let out. It didn't last as long as you wanted, especially considering that feeling the way his body reacted to you was something you'd be more than happy to spend days doing. He sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and then helping you take yours off in turn. His stared at you, eyes dark and heavy as he admired you. Then he was taking your bra off, then stripping your bottom half. Despite the desperation that was so evident in his actions, every move was slow, unhurried, until you were bare underneath him.

His lips spread slow and steady into a grin, and you laughed, the sweetest sound to his ears.

"Can I touch you now?" He asked. You nodded, guiding his large hands back to your skin and letting him explore. He ran them up your stomach, then down to your hips, kneading at your thighs and pushing them open to expose your core to him. He groaned, a look of pure disbelief taking over his face for a moment before he was touching you. There was very little wind up, but he took his time once his fingers brushed against your already glistening folds.

He stroked up and down your pussy, letting his thumb press between your lips to gather more of your arousal. He dragged it over your clit, reveling in the broken sounds you made, in the way your hips pressed closer without even realizing it. He rubbed slow, steady circles on it. Not nearly fast enough, but not slow enough to stop the steadily building need.

"Taehyung," You gasped out, lost in the feeling of him familiarizing himself with your body.

"Say it again," He said, voice lower than you'd heard it and zapping through you like a shockwave. "Say my name again."

"Taehyung," You whined again, this time pressing your hips harder into his touch, rocking against his fingers and moaning at the feeling. Taehyung gave you exactly what you wanted, pinning your hips down and rubbing your clit harsher.

"Again,"

"Taehyung," This time it was a full bodied moan, louder than you really realized, not that you cared. He grinned, shifting so he was laying between your thighs.

"Gonna make you scream my name, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good, promise."

He kissed at your thighs, mouth dragging up one, then down the other while his fingers continued to build you up. You melted into the bed, year hand curling into his hair and giving it the slightest tug. He grunted softly, nipping at the skin of your thigh and then dragging his tongue over it to soothe the sting.

Then his hand was gone, and you almost had enough time to process the loss before his mouth clamped over your pussy, tongue flicking over your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed before pressing back to roll your hips against his warm mouth.

You hadn't expected this, but you probably should have. It wasn't like you'd never sat through one too many rants from Taehyung about how eating pussy was a dying art, and he was more than happy to single handedly rekindle it. But you had underestimated his skill, the way he found the most sensitive spots to poke, and prod, and suck at. You were dripping, though you couldn't tell if it was from his spit or your own arousal, probably a decent amount of both given the way he was diving into you.

His tongue dipped into your eager hole, his nose bumping against your clit. You wailed, voice too loud and echoing in the room around you, but it didn't matter when all it did was spur him on. Your fingers tugged at his hair, hips grinding into his mouth until you were practically grinding on his face, but he didn't make any move to stop you. He let you use him, let his tongue fuck into your desperate hole, slurping and moaning against you in the filthiest show of desire you'd ever seen.

"Taehyung," You gasped out again, trying to warn him, but he didn't seem to hear, or maybe he didn't care, and your body and mind felt too heavy to try over again so you let your orgasm wash over you, a cry of his name filling the room as your thighs twitched shut around his head. He kept going anyway, palms pressing on the insides of your knees and tongue working your clit in fast, sharp circles. You couldn't tell if your orgasm lasted forever, or if he was able to spiral you into another one in an instant.

His fingers joined the mix, sliding into your pussy to feel the way your walls pulsed and clenched around him, and his entire being was taken over by the taste of you on his tongue, so warm and sweet and driven home by the scent that was surrounding him.

"I can't," You sobbed out, hips wriggling away from him, but he pulled you back to his face. His tongue was slower now, more languid as he cleaned your juices from your core, easy and deliberate and not seeking your pleasure anymore, but seeking just a little more of your taste overwhelming everything else in him. Even still, with the oversensitivity, and the intoxicated, fuzzy state you were still in, it was enough to push you under the waves again. This orgasm was significantly gentler, but it left you dripping and trembling in his hold until he finally sat up.

You blinked at him, trying to see through the film that felt like it had been pulled over your vision. His hair was a mess, his already plump lips swollen from the work they'd put in and glistening with your essence. He smiled, smug and so very satisfied as he crawled up your body to press his lips to yours once, twice, then a third, much longer time. Your hand cupped his cheek, noting how he was still covered in you, until finally he pulled away. He laid down at your side, wiping his face on his arm and then tugging you against him.

"Don't leave me for someone else," He muttered, nose brushing against your neck and breath tickling your skin. You giggled, and then he giggled, and then you were dead serious again.

"I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to. I'm all yours, Tae. For good."

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[pearbunny]

the bucket list ✘ [one]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was. 

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings:  tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: ~3.6k 

chapter content: mentions of food, excessive lip biting as a nervous habit, cafe employee!seungmin, stranger danger tbh don’t be like o/c, Lee Know mentioned, but not present. 

author’s note: I've never written for stray kids and most of what i write is typically on the sadder side so fluff isn't my strongest point but i've had this in my head for awhile. feedback, reblogs, likes, v much appreciated. :) updates will be sporadic, but i'm aiming for once every two weeks.

You shield your eyes from the beating sun above, pupils unadjusted from being on a plane for the past 12 plus hours with the window shut. You let go of the suitcase you had been dragging along behind you to fish your phone out of your back pocket. Humming to yourself, you check the map, trying to find your way to Seoul. “Ah!” You say into the air, which grants you a couple of curious and annoyed stares. You duck your head in an attempt to be unseen, embarrassed by the attention. You make your way to the train station and purchase a ticket. It doesn’t take long for the train to arrive, and soon you’re sitting with your backpack in your lap and your suitcase between your legs.

According to the tourist guide you had pulled up on your phone, the train ride would take around 40 minutes. In the meantime, you rummage through your backpack to look for an old loosely bound book. You find it after digging past your makeup bag and some snacks you had saved from the flight. With a hum, you search through the pages, and after some flipping, you land on the correct one. Your index finger traces down a list, and randomly you stop it. “Buy a bouquet for a stranger.” 

You chew on your lip, a habit you picked up whenever you found yourself feeling uneasy. You may not bethe most outgoing person, but you aren't completely against socializing. 

It’s just … going up to a stranger in a town– let alone country– you’ve never been in was 1000% terrifying. 

Before you know it, the intercom announces your stop and you're scrambling to gather your belongings. You make your way out of the station and suddenly, you hold your breath in awe at the scene in front of you. There were so many people, walking in every direction. You hear little tidbits of their conversations: where they were planning to go for lunch, the new restaurant that opened up in Itaewon, what someone’s boyfriend had given them for their 100 days. The sounds of a city fill your ears. 

If you're being honest, it was a little overwhelming. For a moment, you have doubts of why you had gotten on that plane. You shut your eyes and count down from 7. There, your breathing is even, your head’s a little clearer, and you realize that you had a goal to accomplish. You couldn't back out now, you refuse to be stuck in your old ways.

‘Flowers first,’ you think to yourself. 

After a couple of blocks of lugging your suitcase behind you, you find a quaint little flower stand. A young woman and what seem to be her grandfather were the owners of the stall. You stand there, staring at all the options. The young woman approaches you, her hands placed inside the pockets of her green apron, “Hi, do you need help picking something out?” 

“Hi, yes!” you quickly blurt out. “I just wanted a bouquet that would make someone’s day.” You give the woman a meek smile. You recognize the characters on her apron to read Minji.

“Is this for anyone special? Your mom, maybe?” She starts to pull at a couple of arrangements, one bouquet made of mostly carnations. 

You shake your head, “No…” You hesitate as you wondered to yourself, ‘Do I tell her it’s for someone I don’t even know?’ You chuckle at the thought absentmindedly.

Minji takes that to mean something else, “A boy perhaps then?” There's something a little suggestive in her tone, complemented by the raise of her brow in your direction. 

“Oh, no no!” You shake your head for emphasis, furiously denying it. “Absolutely nothing like that.” You find yourself laughing at the predicament. “I’m actually going to give the flowers to a stranger.”

“Oh–” Minji looks pleasantly surprised, “That’s very kind of you. I have just the thing then.” 

You stay in place while Minji goes to the other side of the flower stall to wrap up the bouquet she hand picked. Soon, she comes back and you make an expression of gratitude. “Minji, you really didn’t have to do that! I could have just gotten one of the premade ones.” You pout, looking through the flowers as you take the bouquet from her. It was very simple, three medium sunflowers, some Queen Anne’s lace, and a few branches of baby blue eucalyptus.

“No, don’t worry about it. What was your name again?”

“Y/N”, You give her the appropriate amount of money. 

“Well, Y/N, I hope you brighten someone’s day!” Minji smiles at you and bids you farewell as you turn and leave. 

“Now who do I give this to?” You hold the bouquet in one hand while you pull your luggage, the sound of its wheels on the concrete trailing behind you. 

You stop at an intersection, scanning the crowd for someone that seems approachable. Will it be the middle aged woman holding the hand of a small boy while they cross the street? Maybe it would be the man in a suit that was on the phone, oh he was looking in your direction. He glared at you. 

Okay, so not that guy. 

You were about to give up until you spot a young man, about your age give or take a few, walking in your direction. He was still crossing the street, but he had a certain pep to his step, like he was listening to a really good song in his headphones– which given the fact that he did have headphones on, he probably was. He seems approachable, even down to his outfit: white tee loosely tucked into black jeans a black belt to match his shoes, and gold metal thinly rimmed glasses. 

“Um, excuse me!” You step towards him, holding the bouquet of flowers to your chest at first. 

“Yes?” The man stops in front of you and stretches one side of his headphones away from his ear to hear you better. 

“These are for you.” You extend the sunflowers towards him. 

He looks around, a bit confused, then takes his headphones off fully, letting them hang around his neck. He takes a step towards the side, which you follow, so you’re out of the way of the traffic of people. “F-For me?!” He seems surprised. You can't blame him, you’re a total stranger. He gestures to himself, placing his palm on his chest. “I think you have the wrong guy!” 

You shake your head, the corners of your lips turn up in a slight smile, mostly out of embarrassment. “No, definitely for you”. 

The stranger takes the bouquet in his hand, examining it. “Who put you up to this? Was it Lee Know Hyung?” He looked back at you, raising a brow. 

 “I don’t even know who that is, I promise they’re for you!” 

You notice his shoulders relaxing and he pinches at one of the blue eucalyptus leaves, feeling its texture. “But… why?” 

You also relax and release the breath inside your lungs you didn’t know you were holding. He seems to at least be open to accepting the gift now. “It’s just something I wanted to cross off my bucket list: give a bouquet of flowers to a stranger.” You smile up at him and you hope that the man in front of you can sense how sincere you are and didn’t think you were an absolute lunatic. 

“Well, thanks.” He slowly starts to smile and suddenly his eyes notice your bag and your suitcase. “Oh, are you visiting?” 

You nod your head yes, “I am! I’m actually here because visiting Korea is also on my bucket list!” 

His eyes grow wide, surprised by your seemingly adventurous personality. “You must have come a long way then, your accent is definitely not from around here.” He motions over to a bench a short walk away and the both of you make your way there. 

“I will take that as a compliment.” Momentarily, you check your phone for the time. He must have noticed you doing so, because he motions to get up. 

“Oh no, did I keep you?” 

“Not at all, I’m just realizing what time it is back home.”  

“Oh, you must be jet lagged, do you need help getting to your hotel?” 

“I don’t have to check in until later,” you lie. You don't even have a hotel yet.

Oops.

"Well, in that case...." He seems nervous as he stands up, very subtly back and forth on the tips of his toes to the back of his heels. If that isn't enough, he rubs the back of his neck before he clears his throat and looks down at your sitting form. You look up at him as if you hadn’t been watching him the entire time. “Is grabbing coffee with a stranger on your bucket list too, then?” 

You can't help but smile, a smile that pulled at your lips wide enough that it made the corner of your eyes crinkle. “It’s not, but I’m sure I could add it in.” 

“Great, then I’ll make sure it’s an extra good café with instagrammable latte art!”  He extends out his hand to help you up. 

Once you stand up, you reach for your suitcase, but he beats you to it. Instead, he places the bouquet of flowers into your hands.  “You carry that, and I’ll take these.” He slings your backpack over his shoulder. 

“No, please let me. It’s really no problem for me!” You hold the bouquet of flowers to him, as if it's a trade off. 

“It might be no problem for you, but what about me? You’re gonna slow us down carrying these things and the café spot gets busy in the afternoon!” He starts to walk away, looking back at you with a smirk after a couple of large strides. 

Well, at least the stranger you picked had a sense of humor and wasn’t some asshole who would have rejected the flowers. Snapping out of your thoughts, you realize he really isn't going to wait for you and hurry after him. 

The stranger— you still don't know his name, by the way; you've had no opportunity to ask—wasn’t kidding when he said that the café got busy. You were both lucky to grab a table on the outside of the establishment all thanks to your hovering and his remarkably subtle ability to place your suitcase in the way of other hopeful individuals looking for a seat.  

Your eyes wander around the place, looking for a waiter or waitress to come and take your order. You desperately don't want to be the one to start conversation. You feel a little awkward sitting down with a guy you just met.

“I’m Han Jisung, by the way.” His voice cuts through the clinking of mugs, the soft hum of the people waiting for a table, and the occasional sound of the cars driving past. 

You bring your eyes back to him, a little caught off guard. He smiles in a way that shows the gums and it's kind of cute, while his eyes crinkle into half crescents. You can't help but smile right back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

Jisung leans forward, into the table with his arms crossed. “So, what brings you to Korea, Y/N?” 

You reach for the old beaten notebook in your bag and place it on the table. “I have this bucket list,” you open the pages and start flipping through it. There were a bunch of pages with cursive scrawls in paragraphs, some doodles, and eventually you stop on the page with the bucket list on it. “Just a bunch of things I wanna do before I die…” You give him a lopsided smile. 

Jisung’s eyes look through the list, then he point at one half way down the page. “Well, you can now cross going to Korea off. “ His index finger drags across the page at another item, “And the bouquet one.” 

“You’re right, thanks.” You take a pen from the front pouch of your backpack and cross those off. 

“How long is your visit?” 

You peer up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. He has an innocently curious expression on his face and you can't help but thank whoever's in charge of fate. Jisung is nice and welcoming, which is just what you need in a country you had never been to before. “About two weeks.” 

“Do you plan on doing more of those here?” 

You nod with a smile. “I do! As many as I can anyway.”  Talking to him isn't as awkward as you think it would be. He's definitely to thank for carrying the conversation so naturally.

“Hi can I take yo—“ a young man, probably around Jisung’s age comes to your table with a small notepad in hand. He has medium brown hair pushed back, a wide smile, and kind eyes. He's wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a nicely pressed dress shirt underneath his navy blue apron. “Oh, Hannie! Hey!” 

Jisung stands and pulls the newcomer into a short hug. “Seungmin!” Jisung motions to you at the table. “This is Y/N. A new friend of mine.” 

You smile at Seungmin and stand, bowing your head slightly. “Hi, nice to meet you.” 

Seungmin motions for you both to sit back down after introductions. “Ah, order whatever you guys want, it’s on the house! I hope you guys didn’t wait too long for a table.” 

Jisung shook his head, sitting back down only after you did. “It didn’t take too long, but this place is crowded! You guys must be doing really well lately.” 

Seungmin nodded with a sort of  crooked grin, “Yeah, well ever since those KPOP idols were seen here, this place has been swamped.” He raised his brows up and down mischievously, looking at the both of you together. “We’re looking for help!” 

Jisung scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “No thanks. Y/N is just visiting.” He leaned closer to you, as if the next part was only meant to be heard by you, though he was definitely talking loud enough for Seungmin to hear. “Besides, the last time I helped out he yelled at me for eating a pastry.” 

Seungmin playfully hit Jisung’s arm with his notepad. “It wasn’t a pastry, it was your seventh one of the day.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what will you be ordering?”

You looked around, unsure of what was good there. You wanted to get an idea from what others had ordered around you. Everyone seemed to have an iced drink… and they were all really dark coffees “A vanilla iced latte?” Your sweet tooth would never let you have coffee without some kind of creamer in it. 

Seungmin nodded and scribbled it down. Then, without looking at Jisung, he said, “Americano, iced. And a slice of cheesecake.” 

Jisung feigned a look of offense. “Am I that predictable?” 

Seungmin laughed. “Honestly, no. But your orders are.” Seungmin placed his notepad in his apron pocket and went back into the cafe to fetch your orders. 

“Ah, that was Seungmin. He and I go way back. Now he helps run this place!” 

“That must be difficult, but this place looks great.” 

“Yea, he’s always been a caffeine addict. One day, he decided that if he was going to be making coffee everyday, he might as well make money off of it.” Jisung chuckled to himself, then glanced your way from across the table. “Are you staying close by? I could walk you to your hotel after If you’d like” 

You laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact, “Well.. actually…” your voice trailed off, catching a glimpse at his expression before spitting it out, “I don’t have one… yet.” 

“You don’t have one?!” He had raised his voice slightly, startling a couple of people at nearby tables. 

“Yet! I said yet!” You nervously played with the pen in your hands. 

“You came to Korea without a place to stay!?” 

“I literally bought my tickets two hours before the flight took off!” 

Seungmin came back with your orders, just in time to catch the last bit of your conversation. His eyes widened in shock. 

“TWO HOURS?” Both Jisung and Seungmin echoed you simultaneously. 

You grabbed your iced vanilla latte and started chewing on the straw. “I mean… it probably sounds a lot worse than it is...” 

Seungmin bent down at his knees to rest his arms on the table, head tilted. In that position, he really reminded you of a puppy. “Are you rich?” 

“Umm, definitely not." You placed your free drink on the table and chuckled at the thought.

Jisung raised a brow in your direction, “So you’re broke.”  

You grabbed your phone and checked your bank app. There was a silence that passed, the boys watching you carefully. You exhaled slowly and put your phone on the table, screen down. “Not like broke broke.”

Seungmin stood back up and forcefully put his hands on Jisung’s shoulders from behind him, giving them a squeeze for emphasis, “Well it’s a good thing that Hannie has a spare room, yea?” 

The two of you exchanged looks until he finally said something, “I mean… Yeah… I guess I do.” 

Jisung shot Seungmin a glare as he went back into the cafe then looked back you. You were still staring at him blankly, not saying a word. You were going through the logistics of it all in your head. It would be a free place to stay, but he was a complete stranger. This whole thing was a spontaneous trip, it was supposed to be a way for to come out of your comfortable way of living. You had been complacent, and quite honestly, staying in one place wasn’t going to help your mental health. But neither was staying with a stranger. 

“It’s not like I’m an ax murderer or anything.” 

Your silence was met with Jisung shrugging and grabbing his pastry off the plate in front of him. He broke it up into smaller pieces before stuffing it into his cheeks. He looked a little silly, reminding you of a squirrel with puffed up cheeks. “Or you can find a hotel room with all the money you still have saved up.” 

You were quickly reminded of the lack of money in your bank account. “Okay yea,” you mumbled under your breath, “lead the way.” 

Jisung gave you a short tour of his place. It was on the seventh floor, two bedrooms, one bathroom. A small kitchen with an equally as small island, enough for two people to eat at. He had a black couch facing a TV that was hooked up to a play station, probably the newest one. 

You came out of the bathroom after showering in an over sized gray shirt and navy blue shorts underneath. You were towel drying your hair when you noticed he was at the sink. You sat at the island, his back to you.  “Thanks for letting me stay with you.” 

He seemed busy with something, but he looked over his shoulder at you. “Yea, no problem. Don’t worry about it.” 

Seeing as he was a bit busy, you went into the spare room you were staying in and grabbed your notebook. You decided to bring it back to the island; if you were going to stay with Jisung for at least a couple of days, you were going to get to know him. He definitely seemed and had proven himself nice enough.

“Is that the list again?” Jisung asked you when you sat back down, still focused on whatever it was he was doing. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Cool!” He threw something away in the trash under the sink. Whatever it was he was working on, he placed it in the counter next to the sink. 

“What kind of stuff do you think you could cross off?” He turned around and leaned on the island across from you. His head tilted, curious as he looked at you with warm round brown eyes. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Let’s see.” You opened up to the page, looking over the list and reading off a few at random.

“Paint a portrait. Sing at a karaoke bar. Fall asleep under the stars. Watch the sun rise—“

“Those are easy! You traveled all the way to korea for that? Where are the fun spontaneous ones?” 

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. “I have those too, but they’re embarrassing!” 

“Try me.” 

You held your head in your hands, looking down at the book to avoid looking at him. “Crash a wedding.” 

“Ooo that sounds fun. What else you got?” 

“I booked a flight to Korea in two hours isn't that spontaneous enough?!” 

He shook his head, still smiling. 

You looked back down. “Goskinnydipping...” You mumbled very quietly and quickly, then cleared your throat trying to glaze over that bit, hoping he didn’t hear. When he didn't react, you continued. “Get a tattoo.” Slowly, you looked at him through your damp hair that fell over your eyes. 

“Okay. Let’s do it.” He smiled at you, mischievous one. 

“Get a tattoo?” You panicked and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Had he heard you? 

“Let’s accomplish as many things on your list as we can while you’re here.” 

You looked at him with a brow raised. You didn’t even know what to say. “Like… together?” 

Jisung nodded simply. “Yes. Together. Why not?” 

“More like why? Why would you do that with someone you just met?” 

He mimicked your raised brow, but the smirk remained. “You bought me flowers, remember? We’re basically dating now.” 

Huh? He was joking, right? 

“Just kidding. But come on, think about it! It’ll be fun! Plus… do you know how to get around Seoul?” 

Again, he had a point. 

You bit your lower lip and scanned the room trying to avoid eye contact. It was then you noticed that the thing he was working on was the bouquet of flowers that you bought, stems cut and placed in a tall glass. 

You smiled and finally nodded, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” He looked at you with wide eyes, smirk growing into a smile, excited that you had agreed. 

“Yea. Let’s do this.” 

author's notes: if for whatever you want to be added to a taglist, let me know :)

taglist

@burningchaosdeer

[blazingstaro]

DotS: MMM update! (genuine)

I'm aware of the date I'm posting this, and I hope you guys have enjoyed the boop reblogs!! I've been enjoying the boop thing a ton, and I hope Tumblr keeps something akin to this as a fun little interaction thing in the future <3

Quick update for today!

I'm 2 weeks into my new job and about to enter my 3rd, and so far I'm loving this job, my co-workers, and my bosses! It's a fun, kind environment, and the customers are almost always very pleasant (I've only dealt with one genuinely unpleasant character so far, and that was nothing to me LOL). I just got my first paycheck too, and celebrated with it!

I'm still settling into this job, so a lot of my script work and comic stuff in general has been on a grand pause as I get into the rhythm of this new life change of mine. It might take me a while to fully settle into it. I'm still in shock and disbelief that I have this job, since I've been unemployed for so long! I still reel in bewilderment that this is my reality now. I'm grateful for it!

DotS:MMM is still under reconstruction in the background as I settle into this job and figure out how my energy is going to be. I've been mega busy for the past couple of weeks, and this following month is gonna be mega busy as well. I have a music gig to perform at, and I have an expo to attend later in this month on top of the job, so don't expect anything new throughout April for now!

I should be fully settling into things into May and June. Honestly I fell into one heck of a slump because of how dull my life had gotten, but now suddenly it's active and busy!

Again I'm grateful for this job, I really needed my life shaken up and a fulfilling job to serve at. I genuinely love my new job, and I look forward to serving them for the years to come <3

Thank you for your continued patience with me! This seems to be a recurring thing for me whenever I hit page 20 of every comic of mine, but hopefully things will be better going forward

Once I resume posting pages, I will have a one page per month schedule until I have a fully established routine. I probably won't resume a page a week schedule mainly because it drains my reserves so fast and I don't have the same amount of free time as I once did to restore said reserves. At most I'll post two pages a month— that's my goal 👍

[melodygatesauthor]

Weekly Update

09/17/2023 (Yeah I'm a day late, so what, wanna fight about it?)

Announcements/Reminders

Just a little reminder that I've slowed down production as far as writing goes. I'm still writing daily. Sometimes it's a sentence, sometimes it's 3k words, but I'm trying to be kinder to myself and remember that it's a hobby, not a job. I also really want to start my novel and stop pressuring myself to finish fics FIRST so I'm doing that.

Updates will still be happening for all my WIPS - see a comprehensive list of my current WIPs here - but I'm just not pressuring myself by setting deadlines. Thank you for still being supportive <3

ART ANNOUNCEMENTS

I'm taking art commissions! - Pricing - Follow my art blog: @melodymakesart

I did my first full color NSFW drawing! It can be seen HERE. It's a series, so there will be two more drawings coming out over the next couple weeks!

Fic Updates

So after taking last week off from working on my WIPs all together - (Note: I spent the week working on a Basil fic and also working on my Duke Leto fic) - I'm feeling a bit more refreshed and ready to get back into working on them again.

Fic Updates

Disclaimer - I never know which way the winds of inspiration will blow. Timeframes aren’t a promise/guarantee, they’re a goal.

Fic Updates Legend:

Blue - Update this week

Pink - Update in progress

Red - Backburner Fic (not currently working on. See WIP list for status)

You can find my current WIP list here

Chaptered Fic Updates

Always Yours, Never Mine - Chapter 4 is in progress, hoping to have the next update out either next week or the week after!

The Fractured Moon - Chapter 4 is in progress for this one as well. I'm not going to promise an update for next week but I'm actively working on it.

Mini-series Updates

Feeling You Can’t Fight - Okay, I've been putting off editing this one for so long and idk why but I'm going to get it done and posted on Wednesday 09/20/2023 this week!

Worth the Risk - That's right, babygirl is making her way back into my scope. You guys voted on this poll to give me an idea of what you wanted me to work on (not including TFM and AYNM) so I put this back in my field of view since you all seemed to want it so bad!

Remember to look at my WIP list for other backburner fics - There are many not included above lol).

AI Character Bot Updates

I currently have the following bots on my list that I’m working on. If you have any suggestions or additions you’d like, please feel free to ask! I won’t make every single one I get asked for but I’ll make some of them as I get time!

DBF Jake and Steven (I already did Marc...did I ever post him? I thought I did but maybe not)

Patient Steven and Marc

Moon Knight Rescue scenario

Am I missing any? Don't see one on the list that you want to add? Send me an inbox or private message! No promises, but if I like the idea I'll make an AI bot.

Note: Yes it's taking me forever to make them SHUT UP

I think that's all for now! Much love!

Don't forget to follow my other blogs:

@melodymakesart - My art blog

@lockandkeynovel - The blog for my original fiction novel, Lock & Key

@melodyreadsfanfiction - The blog where I reblog works I intend to read, a good place for fanfic readers to follow!

@melodygatesupdates - This is where I'll reblog any chapter updates for my fics and whatnot. This is what I use instead of a tag list!

[princessslut6969]

I'm not gonna invite ppl already on that post to come crucify me, & it's a quote already, so.

.

[“A secret about lesbian sex that I don’t think I have ever seen written about before is that lesbians appreciate different things about the vulva and vagina than do straight men. If popular culture and the rise of vaginal tightening and rejuvenation procedures are any indication, straight men value a “tight” vagina. But this is incomprehensible to me as a dyke. If I only had a nickel for every time I have heard queer people brag about being size queens with capacious vaginas and/or anuses that welcome fists and giant dildos, I’d be a rich woman! In queer space, what makes an orifice “good” is not how it feels to the person going inside it (for whom it might make sense for the emphasis to be on tightness) but how the orifice feels about itself: what it wants, what it can do, what it can enjoy. For many humans, the capacity to take something very large into one’s body is extremely pleasurable, and this is much more difficult when one has been told that the goal is to keep all orifices small and tight. It is fine, of course, if size is not one’s thing, but the point here is that it makes queer people—like my comrades quoted above—quite sad that in straight culture, a vagina is evaluated according to its capacity to please men and not its capacity to experience pleasure.”]

-- Jane Ward, The Tragedy of Heterosexuality

.

...That... is also incomprehensible to me? I guess, marry a man who's written by a woman?

& despite anything else I write or reblog, Hunny is straight, deadset against anything anal for him, & super masculine. Picture bodybuilder-dadbod, absolutely covered in hair.

.

Just a few hours ago, we had basically non-penetrative sex. His idea, even. Both came sooo hard.

We finally had one of our only two nights a week together, so when I seemed restless...

"What's the matter?"

"I'm horny..."

I'm still on my period, so I still have my cup in. Well, he wasn't about to let that stop him. He wasn't even horny himself, yet, lol. He pulled me into spooning me & fingered me til I came. It didn't take much, but it also simply wasn't a wild one I had brewing. Ah, sated enough to sleep, & not enough energy to do anything else. Sleepy. 🥰

But he wasn't happy with how not-crazy my orgasm was. ��� He had other suggestions.

"Nah... I am sleepy now... It's okay."

"Can I rub my dick on your clit?" 😈

😳 "YES."

He wasn't even hard yet so not like he was trying to deal with taking care of that. Just missed me. Just in missionary, just spit-wetted dick between labia, just the pressure between us. (And a couple of his other tricks. 😏) But, clinically, no ~vaginal penetration. I have no idea how many times I came even, since he just never stopped, til I literally had to push him away & ride out my own freak out, practically crying (good) & almost screaming (good). 🤤

I finished sucking him off - as he fingered me again. No mercy. 😫 Made me go so wild on him. Back thigh pulling, ball squeezing, back-of-throat, moaning -- He came sooo hard, & twice as long as usual.

.

So, no, I don't know what it's like, to ever have a guy even come close to ignoring my pleasure.

True, I've only had full-on sex with 2 other guys besides Hunny. Both also straight to the best of my knowledge. But 1 had an oral fixation. The other 1 was only a few times, but also wonderful.

.

Yeah, "tight" pressure feels good to them. That's not bad in & of itself? How the... That's like saying you shouldn't care about getting pressure on your clit. 🙄

There's still wetness to take into account even. And, speaking of "size queens" or whatever, anyone even- we like to feel filled! Girth is more important than length! We like the other side of that pressure, hello???

.

She's just complaining about her partners ignoring what feels good to her. That may be a very widespread, mainstream, common problem, but that's not *because* the guy is straight. 🙄 What decent guy doesn't care about the girl feeling good? That's a requirement.

And, maybe she doesn't know this from never getting this far, but ever see a guy's reaction to your vagina climaxing and orgasming all around his dick? 🤨

[violetsystems]

#personal

It is most certainly cold outside. The shower is very hot. I don't have any plans for the holidays until a late Christmas next week. It feels like I kicked off the final piece of an iceberg socially sometimes. That can feel good looking back at your past and watching it float off into the distance. The relevance of it has passed. And yet I don't necessarily feel irrelevant at all. Just adrift. Been focused on getting things together around my apartment. This seems like for years now. But I'm sure there's things I've been cleaning up emotionally over time. I'm frustrated with the job process just as I'm frustrated with the creative pursuit. It doesn't really feel I matter all that much other than keeping the peace. And it's something I've grown to focus more on lately than confronting the problems out there I didn't create. I've lived where I live now for over a decade. I vibe with what I vibe with and try to ignore what I don't. Organically over time, I think the right pieces of the puzzle have come together. Or at least the right catalysts of people to make it seem like where I'm currently at in life is the most worthwhile. I would love to incur more income. The most obvious way I thought to do this was to apply for jobs; a relentless process which leaves you wondering if you are worth anything at all. Everybody needs to make money at some point to survive. I think I've been brainstorming about this in varying degrees over the last couple of years. But the most frustrating part is wondering if you are either doing too much or not enough in a situation where the goal posts keep changing. I have rely on this unspoken vibe with everything. And there are no absolutes really other than winter is long and spring comes eventually. Spending Christmas alone is kind of grueling. I used to hang out in Japan and Korea years ago alone around this time. So as far as getting away from it all I don't know really what complaining about. Damaging your life so badly that you've disconnected from everything seems a little extreme. But if the past wasn't particularly helpful or constructive I'd rather it stay buried. It isn't like anything has changed much on here other than the tone of what I keep writing about. That seems enough for me in terms of visibility at this point. Going live to hang out in an empty chat room doesn't seem like the right way to go.

It's not that I really care or have an opinion about it. I'm happy that such a dead website continues to stay relevant in strange new ways. But thankfully this website is not part of a publicly tradable shit show so maybe I worry less about the direction. Again everyone has to make money to pay to the bills. Writing here doesn't do that. But then again, writing here is a different story. A little insight to those who still want to peer into the empty head of somebody who just goes apeshit with the reblog button on an array of weird shit. I don't know if I really use this site that way much anymore. I simply am hanging out flipping through a magazine of sorts with my friends. Every time I try to go visible people start asking the wrong sort of questions. So lurking down here is like hanging out in the backroom of some party. Maybe a little like getting locked in the freezer at a corporate catered political gala. I can't seem to find a way to bust this door open. I keep making it my own way and stay positive. But sometimes it gets to me how subconsciously mean it all is. It makes me angry less when I think about it these days. So nothing really changes other than my softening over time to the bitterness I feel about where it all went wrong. It feels like growing up in America is something you never were meant to escape. And however it worked out, I live in a city with a roof over my head and decent water pressure. I genuinely hope the holidays are restful for people. But for myself I find them enormously exhausting if I don't focus on something. And being barricaded in alone like this sometimes has you worrying about the wrong stuff. Which sends me into loops just thinking about. That I worry about the same things every normal American does with a twenty two year resume and a college degree. Less about debt than I ever did. But my goals to stay out of it are still the same. Sure, people could just buy my discography for twenty dollars and be done with it. But I've never really been able to garner enough attention to make a living doing any of that. Neither do I really think it's possible. Which is why working in a sushi restaurant in the neighborhood in the very worst case scenario doesn't seem too horrible of an option. But here I am on Christmas Eve thinking about my options and feeling like I have none. I'd be worried more if I hadn't planned for absolute hell. But that is what this all has been for me. Ho, Ho, Ho. I hope I slayed the process either way.

By the third paragraph, you can tell I can only think about how sore my muscles are from shoveling. That isn't real work. But the transactional value around here is still the same. Which is to say that there are some things out there more valuable than money and how much you hoard of it. I can't say I'm anywhere close to a billionaire. But the dirty tricks I've seen makes me wonder just how dirty you have to be to make that much at the expense of your fellow earth people. Sometimes I think it's best to salvage your dignity and move forward than to humor an old joke with no real punchline. If I were to be really honest I have no clue what to do except move forward. Even when I really don't feel like it. It does frustrate me that I often just feel like I'm not even there. Or worse. People never really liked me to begin with and just humored me. That's what it feels like to get ghosted that hard. I also don't think the entire world is like that. I just think growing up America forced a lot of people together under false pretenses. Dumb music scenes over run with hidden agendas. Things that seemed so liberated but were really just little boxes and clubs for people to isolate themselves in. I don't think it stops. It just morphs into what we see now with people arguing the world on little cage matches like twitter and whatever. I prefer to keep it low key after all has been said and done. And I think I've grown to communicate that I understand the way it goes without having to be told. So much so that I don't really have any fear of missing out. I do have a fear of inviting somebody over for a lukewarm shower. And this I would never do unless it was you. But for the record, how I finessed that shower head is exactly how I approach difficult situations. With patience and timing. Sure it probably took ten years. I hope the career thing doesn't take that long. But I'll get through as long as I don't compare my journey to the rest of what's going on out there. Which is a perfect way to wrap this up for the rest of you. Whatever goes on at surface level doesn't really change the depths to which people like me have sunk. It's literal SpongeBob leagues I exist in down here. I'd have something catchier to say if I actually watched the show. Maybe that's what they'll end up paying me for. That and being a trophy husband. <3 Tim

[sudoscience]

i am fascinated by you're complete adoration of the "as real" asriel comic

There's just so much to love about it. The terrible pun. Asriel's face as he waits for a response. Toriel showing up to say, "That's my boy!" Asgore threatening to turn him back into a flower. The art style is really clean.

When I first saw it a couple years ago, I tagged it "posts I can't stop thinking about", but then I realized that wasn't doing it justice. I was already queueing the "Lancer swearing" comic, so I figured I might as well do the same. They both really do make me smile every time I see them.

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

[sunkaashi]

— OVERTIME

↬ Pairing. College!Atsumu x Manager!Reader

↬ Genre. Fluff. A hint of enemies to lovers if you look really closely.

↬ Warnings. Mentions of alcohol. I guess nothing else? Let me know if you think I'm wrong!

↬ Summary.  Atsumu Miya is hopelessly in love with you, but how could he ever catch your attention if all you do is ignore him? Well, maybe his plan starts to work out when he finds out that whenever he stays longer for practice, you have to stay too.

↬ Word count. 1.7k

↬ tris' note: I wrote this in the spur of the moment, but I had so much fun! feedbacks are extremely appreciated! if you wanna be added to my general taglist, fill out this form.

anyways, did you know that only hot people reblog the works they like? NO? well, now you do ;) jk, but reblogs help me tons and I'm very grateful for them <3

Sweat dripped down the back of ATSUMU's neck as he jogged around the college tracks for the nth time that afternoon.

"Just one more lap." He kept telling himself over and over again as if repeating it would make it any less of a lie.

But who could blame him when this was the only moment of the day that he could spend with you? When he just knew that, by the end of that turn, you'd be there to receive him, water bottle and towel in hand? If anything, that just drove him more and more motivated to get to the finish line.

Those seconds in which your hands slightly brushed off against each other's; the way you laughed whenever he tripped over himself, too tired to carry on; the sarcastic sneer on your face every time you scolded him for wasting your time, but still wouldn't leave. To Atsumu, that was his reward, better than any shining trophy.

"Oi! Miya!" Your voice woke him up from his trance as the blonde boy finally shot up a glance at you. He rested with his hands on his knees, chest going up and down in strong and unsteady motions, legs still trembling a bit from the training. "We've been here for almost two hours! Everybody has left already, and I want to go home for God's sake!"

Atsumu snickered at the way your voice got higher with each word, deflecting from his gaze while you said you wanted to leave. He also didn't miss how you knitted your eyebrows together just before going off at him, carefully scanning his shaky body.

"Ya could've left, ya know? I never asked ya to stay!" He replied, smirking a little while making sure to stare right into your pupils.

If eyes are the windows to the soul, that must be the reason yours were so beautiful to him. As he tried to get an answer through them, he also delighted himself in such a vision. That's why he was quick to notice their slight tremble at his remark.

"And leave you to die?!" Your voice, once again, cut him off of his daydreams. "You've been running for more than an hour after a pretty rough practice, if you go into cardiac arrest who's gonna call an ambulance?! I'm the team manager, I don't want any deaths on my back!"

In his defense, he was only there because of you, but — obviously — he wouldn't tell you that. He decided to just laugh it off.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day!" He teased.

"What?!"

"Yer’ worried ‘bout me!" Atsumu said, trying to suppress the smile forming in the corner of his mouth.

Even though his tone was playful, he knew something was off when his words were left hanging in the air, no snarky comments added to the back-and-forth banter you were both so used to.

Seeing your widened eyes, he started to question if he was right or, worse, if he had crossed a line.

You gulped down as if this would prevent you from spilling something you shouldn't say. Atsumu was dying to know what it was.

This had become a little routine of yours. Staying for a couple more hours after practice as you helped him out for a while. At first, he knew you're just doing your job, after all, you were there to assist the boys, it didn't matter who they were. Still, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, something had changed as the months went by.

He remembered it perfectly. It wasn't that long before that you used to curse him for making you lose such precious time of your day. He knew you had your reasons! Staying overtime underneath the unforgiving sun, having to catch up on your studies while sitting beside the filthy running tracks, surrounded by sweaty and dirty athletes.

Even so, it wasn't pleasant for him either. Jogging for endless hours, the summer heat consuming him as if hell were just around the corner.

Usually, he would run only half of those miles. But how could he stop? How could he stop knowing that the minute he did, you'd have to go home, and he would only see you the next day? No, he needed more time to win you over. He needed those small talks in between his breaks. He needed every single one of the few glances you exchanged every time he ran past you. He needed to hear you giggling at his jokes at least once more.

What once felt like dragging insufferable after hours, began to seem like less and less time over the weeks. Those little details were what made it all worth it. They were his private entrance to heaven.

And he believed that you might've been starting to feel the same way too.

He'd caught the way your lips curled up into a shy smile the last time he'd offered to walk you home. He also had noticed how your irises shined a bit brighter whenever he bought you food, worried because he knew you'd be there with him for those extra periods. He'd seen the way you laughed at his childhood stories just a tad too hard, always asking for another one.

Atsumu had always been aware of how he comes off to people: the arrogant self-centered jock. He never really cared about any of those things, but he did care about how you perceived him. The man just hoped that soon enough, you'd learn he was more than what others wanted him to be. Not a pretentious athlete, albeit a normal guy as any other, just with an ambitious goal set to his mind. And whenever you shared one of those intimate moments, he thought that, perhaps, you were one of the few people that actually saw him for who he was.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to admit the feelings he'd developed for you.

"Oi! Are ya alright?" Atsumu said, trying to catch your attention, a delicate expression laying on his countenance. "I'm sorry if I overstepped in any way, ‘kay? It was a joke, I promise." You didn't answer him just yet.

"Hey!" He proceeded, lifting your chin up so you'd look at him. "Now I'm the one getting worried 'bout ya! Snap out of it and get back to hating on me before ya realize I might have a heart!" Atsumu mocked himself, but shied away from your glare while doing so.

At least he'd made you chuckle.

“I always knew you had one, Miya." You said, rolling your eyes at the man. “I just didn’t know it worked!”

“Oya! That was mean!”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” You asked, arching your brows.

“Well, maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt if ya were a little nicer to me once in a while!”

“Yeah? How so?” The words slipped past your lips without missing a beat, and Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if the flirtatious undertone was something he had only imagined. He decided to take the bait.

“For starters...” Atsumu began, slowly making his way closer to where you were standing. “Ya could buy me a beer after we’re done here.” Was he crazy or did he really see your shoulders relaxing at his words?

“Oh, is that easy?” You responded in the same toying manner.

“Hold up!” He said, raising his hands to the air. “That’s just the first step!”

“And then what?”

“And then…” Atsumu continued, moving further towards your figure. “Then ya could let me hear that beautiful laugh of yers a few more times.” He completed, stealing a giggle out of you. “Just like that.”

“Great, so I’m halfway through it.” Your tone may have been monotonous, but your eyes told him otherwise. “Anything else or can we get this over with?”

“Maybe, while yer’ laughing, ya could finally realize that I’m not as bad as ya think I am.” He pondered, moving a loose strand of hair out of your features, clearing the view to your gaze.

“Now you wanna tell me what to think?” You scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Is just a suggestion! Take it as ya wish!” He winked at you.

“And what if I told you that I already did?”

“Ya did?” This time, he sounded soft, breaking out of the teasy character for a second.

“You’re not bad, Miya... Far from that.” 

“Well, that’s a shock.”

“You don’t look surprised.” You stated, pointing out the crescent grin on his face.

“Too much wishful thinking made me ready for this moment.”

“And what exactly is this moment… Atsumu?” The way you said his name, in a hushed voice, almost like a secret meant to be shared by only the both of you, gave him the green light he needed to go on.

“It’s when I finally kiss ya.” 

Atsumu was quick to grab your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, and finally closing the gap between you two. His gawk rapidly traveled from your mouth to your eyes, longing for a confirmation. It didn’t take a second after your subtle nod for him to merge your lips together, your body melting at his touch. His grasp was gentle, but firm, like you were something he treasured, something that he never wanted to let go of. And by the way you gripped onto his neck, the boy could tell he wasn’t alone in this.

Atsumu moved his palms all the way up your back, briefly running his fingers through your hair, but resting them upon finding your face. His tender touch cupped your cheeks in between his hands, pushing away just when he inevitably ran out of breath. 

"Do I still have to buy you that beer or is this nice enough for you?" You said, unable to repress a smile.

“Hm, I’m not sure… Why don’t you kiss me again and we'll see?"

© sunkaashi — 2021.  all rights reserved. do not repost, plagiarise it, translate it nor reproduce this post as your own.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

My loves, this is the end of AFA & I can't tell you how sad I am for this little story to be over :( There are a couple of people I need to thank so bear with me...Amy (@footballffbarbiex) for making me believe I could write this and that people will want to read it, thank you forever. Em (@emwritesfootball) for being my fabulous proof reader and always being there for me to bounce ideas off of, thank you. And to allllllllllll of you who read, like, reblog and message me - THANK YOU I LOVE YOU!!! Ok enough with my Oscar's speech, please enjoy la parte finale. Love always, Steph xx

Part 12 | la parte finale

warnings; none - except maybe tears because this is the final part :( word count; 2367 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

The end of the international break had approached both squads with rapid speed, before they knew it the 3 weeks was up and it was time for their final friendly match before returning to club duties. It was a rematch of the European final from just a few months earlier, only this time - it was being played in Rome. Preparing her team to meet their opponents had been a bit trickier than last time. Of course, the boys were fired up and raring to go, but the bitterness and anger that drove her to push them harder last time wasn’t there. They were now going up against some of her closest friends as well as her family.

In a strange moment of deja vu, Amelia looked down the tunnel as both teams lined up side by side to walk out onto the pitch together. Just like the last time, her father passed her and gave her a reassuring rub to the back of her neck and made his way down through the centre aisle with his staff. Following him, and just like last time, she made her way down whilst pressing a kiss to both cheeks of her Italian men. Reaching her brother, she pressed a kiss to his cheek also, however unlike the last time he gave her a wink back. The atmosphere was different this time, it was a friendly game and there was no title at stake here - only pride. This time, however, as she passed the Three Lions Number 21, her right hand found his left one for just a moment, before giving it a gentle squeeze and continuing down her own line. He had maintained his focus forward, didn’t even blink at the girl’s actions, and by the time she got to Fede who had been watching the encounter she had made her mind up that he wanted nothing to do with her.

This friendly-match had Amelia in a bundle of nerves, dissimilar to the euro final, Amelia was confident in her ability purely due to the fact that she was well prepared. This time however, whilst she was just as well-prepared as last time, she also knew that a fair few English players had adopted her playing style as their own and knew the kind of tactic required to stop the Italian attack and penetrate the great wall of Rome: Chiellini and Bonucci. This, coupled with the fact that both sides seemed to be playing with a touch more aggression than she expected, led to her being on the edge of her seat for most of the game. A late first half goal from Jorginho had her up out of her seat, cheering for the midfield maestro. However, it was a late second half goal that had her smiling from ear to ear, whilst trying to remember to keep her bum in her chair - she wasn’t supposed to be cheering for the enemy after all. How could she not though? Ben Chilwell had scored the equaliser. Using the play they had spent so many hours perfecting, just the two of them out on the pitch at Cobham. Scoring his goal, celebrating with his team and the away fans, she had clapped with an appropriate level of enthusiasm until she noticed him look her way, pull the centre of his jersey toward his face and give it a kiss. She moved her hand to touch that spot on her own jersey. Fingers running over the embroidery that she had stitched into every one of her official matchday tops, a memento to keep her family close to her heart - the embroidery featured the word ‘WHITE’ followed by the colours of the italian flag. For this match however, she had something extra added. Did Ben know about her newest addition?

After the match.

“Chilwell! Wait Up!” Federico Bernardeschi called down the tunnel whilst jogging to catch up with his opposition player.

“Can I give you some advice? Don’t let her go. I did, and whilst it was the right thing for me to do, it's something I regret deeply. You don’t realise just how much she adds to your life until she's gone. You’ll come to realise that she is the sunshine after any storm, but she is also the storm itself. Any day without her is a little less bright.”

In a moment of vulnerability, Ben decided to open up to the man that he didn’t know more than a bar of soap, who was coincidentally the same man who knew all there was to know about Amelia.

“She really is sunshine personified, isn’t she?” Ben smiled at the thought of the girl, thinking back on all of the laughs that they shared together in Mykonos.

“Normally yes, but these past few weeks that she has been without you she has been a little less bright. You complete her, whether she has realised yet I’m not sure but I am sure that she misses you. I think more than she ever missed me.”

“Ben, there are two kinds of compliments you can give a woman. The first, something she already thinks about herself but needs reconfirmed. The second, the things she doesn’t think anyone else notices about her. The second kind matters more.”

“You like because, and you love despite. Think about that Ben.”

“I don’t know if I love her, yet.”

“I think you do know. Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked the kitman for a little something extra on tonight's jersey.”

“What are you talking about? How do you know?”

“Ah, Benjamin, a good spy never tells his secrets” With that, Federico continued his walk back to the changerooms. “She’s out on the pitch, Ben.” He called without looking back, confident that the player was already making his way out there.

Walking up to the centre circle, where Amelia was currently sitting down on the pitch with her arms behind her and her legs stretched out in front. Taking in the atmosphere of Stadio Olympico in Rome, her favourite stadium in the world. What surprised her the most was just how quickly Stamford Bridge had crept itself up the ranks and into the second spot of her heart.

Without wanting to startle her, Ben started talking to her from a few meters away - not bothered about the few lingering souls out and about. This was his time to make her his, and nothing was going to get in his way.

“You know, a wise person once said to me that you like someone because, but you love them despite” He called out to her.

Turning around, she was surprised to see him. After the cold shoulder she received earlier she hadn’t imagined she would have the opportunity to talk to the blue-eyed beauty any time soon.

“What person was that?” She asked back, softly, not wanting to spook him off.

“Fede”

She tried to hide the shock on her face, what on earth had told her ex-lover she wanted him to talk to her current lover...if you could even call Ben that. Maybe it was more appropriate for him to be referred to as Amelia’s almost-until-she-fucked-it-lover. That was a bit long winded...maybe-lover should suffice. Whilst she was having this internal struggle, all thoughts swirling around her head, Ben had reached the centre circle and sat to the left of the girl, close enough that she could see the calmness behind his eyes.

“He’s right you know, he’s not always right but this time he definitely is. For example, he was wrong to let you go. There would be no chance in hell that I would let you slip away from me as easily as he did.

“I like you because you’re smart, so unbelievably beautiful and just as confident as anyone I've ever met. But I love you, despite the fact that you drive me mad with just how brilliant you are even if you don’t acknowledge yourself. You are destined for greatness, Amelia White. And I just hope that when you do get to where you want to be, that I'm still right there with you.”

Looking at him with tears in her eyes whilst his own were telling her that there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation behind his words. He loved her. And that's all she needed. Standing up, she pulled him up by his hands and pulled him in so close that she could feel the muscles in his back contract as he wrapped her up in a hug of his own, these were the hugs that she wished could be reserved for her. No one else needed to know the power behind these hugs, they could make her fall for him over and over again. One hand across her shoulders, the other palming the back of her head and pushing her into his chest so she could feel his heart beat - after all it beats just for her.

“Ben, why did you kiss your shirt today after you scored?” She asked the taller man as he continued to enjoy the feeling of having her back in his arms, where she belonged for all of this time.

“I wanted to feel close to you, and I thought maybe you were onto something with your superstitions”. Regrettably pulling himself away from her, he pulled off his shirt to reveal the toned skin of his chest, but also the small embroidery on the inside fabric that resembled her own...except this time it read MILS with a small Italian flag. Feeling her heart swell inside her chest, she beamed up at the man who was patiently waiting for her reaction to the gesture of love.

“I think it worked Ben” Pulling her shirt away from her chest enough that she could stretch it and show the inside fabric to him, hers reading WHITE with the Italian flag, but also a small BENJ with the British flag next to it. Her way of keeping him, and her family, close to her heart where she felt them the most.

He could only imagine that Amelia felt when reading his shirt was only a fraction of what he was feeling at that moment, for it was impossible for anyone to love someone the way that he loved her. His mum always told him not to fall for the girl who gives him butterflies, because he would be addicted to the feeling and would constantly be on the chase for it, but to fall for the girl who calmed him down, made him feel secure and like he needed her air to breathe. Butterflies were warning signs, but the sight of Amelia reminded him of seeing the light on in the hall after an away match - he was home. She was his home.

Pulling her back to his chest, except this time he was shirtless. Amelia ran her hands down his back whilst his hands settled at the base of her spine, she rested her chin on his chest and stared up at the man that her heart had grown to love. Ben moved his hands upwards until he tangled them in her wavy hair, moving his lips to cover her own. The kiss said everything they needed to share with each other. I miss you. I love you. Never leave me again.

“Oi! You two! Break it up! There are kids here!” A quick yell broke the two out of their bliss, looking over to see none other than Kyle Walker standing at the end of the tunnel, looking towards them with a mischievous look on his face.

“Kyle, cover your eyes, you’re too pure to be exposed to such adult behaviour!” And just as though God had been listening, from behind him walked out Federico, to cover the eyes of Kyle Walker. Amelia and Ben didn’t realise that the two were even remotely friendly, however they had found a mutual interest - annoying their two friends that had finally admitted their feelings to each other.

“Pipe down you two” Ben joked as the pair of them walked hand in hand towards the jokesters, Ben eventually lifting his left hand to move their entwined hands to Amelia’s left shoulder, her own right arm moving to wrap around his waist. A way he could bring her physically closer to him. Amelia not resisting the gesture, anything to feel his smooth skin against her own.

“Fede, I hope you know that I'm going to be Amelia’s maid of honor at the wedding. That's not going to be a problem for you is it?” Kyle began to seriously discuss the future event with his new Italian partner in crime.

“No Kyle, that's fine - I'm the flower boy though. Jorgi is going to pull me down the aisle in a red cart while I throw rose petals at everyone” Fede joked back, the two of them pretending that the new couple couldn’t hear them as they walked down the tunnel back to the changerooms.

“What are they like?” Ben laughed into the top of Amelia’s hair, still maintaining his grip on the girl he had been without for 3 weeks. With a grin from ear to ear, and an overwhelming feeling of love about her, Amelia stopped Ben in his tracks before the two had to go their separate ways to rejoin their respective teams.

“Just so you’re aware, I love you too. And I am so sorry for everything that I put us through these past weeks. I want you to know that i’m all in, and i’m all yours...if you’ll have me”

“Stop being a silly muppet, of course I'll have you, all of you. Even the parts that drive me insane. There is no way I am letting anyone else have you. You’re all mine, Mils”

“Glad to know the feelings mutual, Chilly”

“Oi, what did I say about that! Only friends call me Chilly...and you are not my friend”

Bursting into laughter as she tried to pull away from him, only to be pulled back and wrapped up into his arms, her head against his chest.

“I love you, Benj”

“I love you right back, Mils”

finito.

BONUS #BAMELIA MOMENT - Champions Again | di nuovo campioni

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Always wanted to ask for : Wesker x his SO in first few months of relationship at Umbrella (trying to hide work romance because of Albert's dumb work rules, but fails miserably) :D

Note: I gotta admit, it did occur in my mind at some point but never put it on paper. Thank you so much for being patient💜 It would also help me a lot if you can drop a comment or reblog 🤗

Pairing: Albert Wesker x F!Reader

Warnings: none.

-> Wesker is a calculated man who prefers logical thinking over feelings, so he doesn’t believe in romance or in the concept of relationship. For him, a partner is that person who you rely on to satisfy your needs and then move on with your life and goals. When they first met, his soon-to-be partner was aware of his ways, yet it was a surprise for both when things evolved into a separate direction, one that seemed like a traditional relationship. They would often meet after work, with Wesker coming to check on y/n for foolish reasons or y/n coming to ask Wesker silly questions. They yearned for each other attention and y/n was the first to initiate a serious talk about their feelings. Wesker enjoyed her company and he didn’t lie to himself when admitting that there was a slight sense of competition between them. Not that it bothered him, in fact, he liked a more competitive partner because it would push him to work harder on his skills.

-> And so they began dating, a weird territory for both of them since they have a deeper connection with their work rather than their personal life. Since Wesker is a strict and organized man, he’ll try to set boundaries between them so things won’t get out of control. He’ll focus more on what the outside world sees, meaning he won’t be comfortable expressing their affection in public. Mostly he will be the now to push her away every time she wants to be affectionate with him. Albert doesn’t want useless rumors circulating around. Not that he cares about what others think, he just doesn’t like people barging into his personal life or make assumptions about it. He tries to keep it professional and he can’t with y/n beside him because he melts the second that woman touches him. Because of this calming effect, he cannot think straight and he can’t risk mixing the wrong chemicals. So, the fewer interactions, the better. In their privacy, they both act like normal couples with no trouble expressing themselves.

->Speaking of public, one of his greatest fear is Annette, William’s wife, because she won’t hesitate to tease the poor man. She knows him as an incurable bachelor and finally having someone will be a premier of her mocking show. She has a liking for mocking Albert and it's not due to some hidden friendship, but more to an antipathy between them. She claims to be a bad influence on her family, but she doesn’t realize is that the only bad influence in William’s life is his own work. Next in line would be his sister, Alex, who has great satisfaction in teasing him due to their sibling rivalry. She is a mean queen and will show no mercy to her adoptive brother. His significant other is no exception. Alex would gladly run to her and tell her all these embarrassing secrets about Wesker, like his emo phase, the time he dreamed to be in a band and practice his growl ending up woking an entire institution one night, and the list goes on. What she enjoys the most is the picture she has of him from when he was in the army and was forced to have a crew cut. William wouldn’t care as he is too preoccupied with his research. How many juicy secrets slipped through William’s ear, secrets many would die to know (literally). He would just nod and keep starring throughout the small lenses of the microscope. It’s not the first time Wesker tells him about his amorous life, so his brain switches to autopilot mode. Sherry would be the most awkward and she will ask if y/n is her new aunt.

-> It works great. Wesker managed to keep the situation under control until he started to lose control over himself. He feels so better and confident in this relationship with y/n that he can’t resist not praising this woman for the good she makes him feel. So, he will kiss her while gently whispering a “thank you” whenever she would help him with his work. He will hold her hand in the cafeteria and leave small presents on her desk whenever he would arrive earlier (chocolate, flowers, samples).

-> It’s obvious he had plenty relationship in the past, some in the traditional way, some modern ones, wither were visible for the public eye or not.

-> One of the main reasons he was afraid of opening up at the beginning was to protect himself. He can’t possibly tell how it will evolve so it’s easier to set boundaries. He has enough experience to know that everything is sweet at the beginning, that both fake it, and that it can turn out very bad. He wants to get to know his s/o before displaying their affection to the public or to get more emotionally involved. However, Y/N doesn’t seem to be bothered by this. She wants to take it slow as well, even if she wants to jump on him whenever she sees him. What can’t you love at him? He’s smart, handsome, responsible, and had a stable job. Sure he can be weird but y/n can see past that.

Wesker was meticulously watching the cells moving through the microscope lenses. It was a normal human blood sample that was about to be infected with the T-virus. Without moving from his position, he greeted his s/o who just made her way in the lab searching for some samples as well. He can’t get enough of her. He’s been breaking his stupid rules for weeks now. First, he held her hand in the cafeteria while waiting in line, then subtle hugs or shoulder massages while she was working, then small kisses that he didn’t care they turned out to be more passionate for the public eye. The relationship turned out to be better than expected and he sees it as a success. Besides, as the relationship advanced, Wesker became more aware of the other male coworkers who flirted with y/n (unaware of their relationship at that time), so he had to mark his belongings. Everyone knows about them, yet they know better than to be intrusive. As expected, Annette and Alex had their fun in teasing the couple and y/n had her fun in seeing Albert in a crew cut. He was adorable.

Once she got her samples, she went next to Albert without disturbing him.

Her fingers gently slid between his large ones while the other hand put down the samples and grabbed his arm. He squeezed gently her hand not taking his eyes from the microscope.

“Can you pass me the T-virus sample?”

“The blue one?”

“Mhm” he nodded.

Without breaking the hold, she passed him what he asked for.

Once the substance made contact with the blood Albert muttered under his breath “It’s working.” He said as the cell rapidly moved.

“What’s working?”

“The virus becomes more efficient.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Albert couldn’t tell. He didn’t understand Spencer’s intentions so he couldn’t really have a proper reaction.

“I guess.” He stood up taking y/n in a proper hug. Her head was resting on his chest and she could hear his racing heartbeat. Something troubled him but she didn’t know why.

“You know can talk to me.” She lifted her head so she can look at him but he looked down at her with a worried gaze.

“It’s nothing, relax.” His hands moved to her shoulder and he pressed his lips on her forehead staying like that for a few seconds. The sound his lips made when he pulled away echoed in the room. They’ve been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes in each other’s embrace until Albert finally calmed down. He really needs to learn how to express his feelings.

[thechekhov]

sorry if the question seems stupid, but my family keeps on saying it's the protesters that started the fights and that it's wrong of them to use violence against police and steal from stores. they completly ignore police brutality and tell me that i can't say all cops are racist and violent. but wasn't it the police that turned peaceful protests into riots? i read that on social media, but i have no evidence and idk where to look. i want to explain the situation properly so they understand.

I’ll preface this with saying that if you expect to change anyone’s opinion, you must first lower your expectations.

Unfortunately, direct debate RARELY changes anyone’s mind. RARELY. Most of the time, it just gets people to dig their heels in more and refuse to listen and stick to their guns. The truth is, human beings HATE to lose face and look like they were wrong. This natural phobia often prevents even level-headed, intelligent individuals from coming to logical conclusions. 

So what you need to do first is just take a step back, breathe deep, and form a strategy. 

First of all, your goal is not to change your parents’ minds - the first step is EXPOSURE. You just need to get them to at least CONSIDER other avenues - get them to look at other sources. 

I can’t believe you’ve got me quoting My Big Fat Greek Wedding but there’s a lot of truth in the tactic of ‘you’ve gotta make it seem like it’s their own idea’. People are a lot more likely to change if they do it on their own, so you have to just give them the information and take your time and ask leading questions

Let’s start gentle:

THIS THREAD has a TON of examples and videos of police using violence and directly attacking media - who have every right to be at the protests! If you want to change the framing, you can make it easier for your parents - slide into their narrative! Ask questions instead of forcing your own opinions. ‘Wow, I think the tensions are making them act quite irrationally. Don’t they WANT the media to see what a good job they’re doing? Why would they hurt media reporters?’ 

Now, if you want to go further, here is a full list of some direct videos related to the brutality - and links to them!

Warning - some of these are more graphic than others. I’ve tried to provide descriptions as much as I remember the content. If you reblog, please tag appropriately!

. . .

A family trying to protect their store was attempting to flag down a police car driving by to get their help - the police turned around, came back.... and arrested them instead. 

This one just speaks for itself really.

Protesters kneeling and chanting DON’T SHOOT - and the subsequent firing on them immediately afterwards. 

Video of a side by side comparison of the full clip of police vehicles accelerating into unarmed civilians vs the one aired on television that decidedly CUTS that clip short to paint the police in a better light.

More general videos of police being completely unable to tolerate it when people are protesting without instigation - and immediately breaking the crowd violently and swinging at unarmed civilians. 

This is the couple that were recorded being violently pulled from their car. They were returning home and were right behind another car with a white couple - which was ignored by the 5+ officers who instead surrounded the couple’s car and began screaming at them to get out all the while clocking them inside the car. They tazed them several times before bodily dragging them from the car with no provocation.

Yes another example of excessive force - man approaches the line - immediately gets maced. He turns AWAY from the police, does not instigate and immediately gets a tear gas canister fired short-range at his HEAD. 

There are several videos of this but the clearest one is the virds-eye view where the protestors are once again NOT instigating - just holding the line. Police begin to suddenly fire tear gas canisters into the crowd.

Police have been targeting medical treatment areas and places where people stockpile water- and destroying water bottles! 

Not explicit violence but this is one of the MANY examples of police trapping people with no way to escape BEFORE curfew even takes effect and then effectively waiting until curfew hits and then doing mass arrests. 

People were protesting on the highway, not obstructing traffic, when police came at them and without warning or demands to disperse began to fire tear gas and flash bangs. They trapped them against a fence and continued to fire despite there being absolutely no way for the protesters to escape. 

Recent video that was on the news - the boy standing in the top right corner is a 16 year old. He is standing with his hands in his pockets not moving, and suddenly is shot by 3 different police officers unprompted.

Old video, time-stampted about 2 years ago, but nonetheless important - police taze and drag a disabled man from his vehicle even after he clearly offers himself to be cuffed and states clearly several times that he cannot get out because he’s paralyzed. 

Police fake kneeling for protestors, so the protestors approach and start clapping - and using this to their advantage, the police fire tear gas.

And as a dessert, THIS ENTIRE THREAD! It’s a compilation of police violence and excessive force from this week alone. 

[aprilsrant]

Lay all your love on me | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s been crushing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for over three years. Now, in their seventh and last year of Hogwarts, her friends are determined to get them together.

WORD COUNT: 2,833.

WARNINGS: underage drinking. (If there are more and I didn’t put them, let me know).

NEXT PARTS:

Honey Honey! (part two)

When I kissed the teacher (part three).

A/N: so, this came out because of a random idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. For some reason, I like to imagine wizards dancing to ABBA, of course it’s the muggleborns and maybe halfbloods that know about them. This was written while I listened to Lay all your love on me, slowed down, on repeat. I algo gave the reader’s friends name because it was easier, and I may or mat not based their personality on my own close friends…

English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry! Reblog if you can, and if you have any suggestions or requests just DM!

Masterlist.

tags: @peeves-a-legend​ (thank you for everything).

The Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match had ended with a win for the eagle’s house, although the other team did not make it easy for them. The Hufflepuffs were known for their patience and hard working nature, giving up easily was not one of their traits and that’s exactly what everyone had seen on the match this afternoon. They knew their opponent’s Seeker, Cho Chang was getting better with each game  she played, so the Captain of the Hufflepuff Team decided their best chance was, if he wasn’t fast enough to catch the snitch that is, to lash out against the poor Keeper. 

And so they did. 

The Chasers, Preece, Macavoy and Applebee, were unstoppable. On the occasion the Quaffle landed in their hands, which had been like seventy percent of the time, they would use many different strategies to confuse the other players, including the Keeper, and score a goal.

Even after their brilliant performance, Ravenclaw still won by twenty points ahead when Cho Chang caught the snitch. A small distraction from the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain had cost them the victory, but that didn’t discourage the badgers, hell, (Y/N) thought nothing could after how well they had played. She had never felt so much respect for the usually overlooked House. 

That was pretty much the reason why the Ravenclaws were so eager to celebrate their win and had invited the whole school, or at least everyone up to the age of fifteen, to their Common Room. Many people believed they weren’t capable of throwing a good party since they were supposed to be smart and have their head on a book every minute, but (Y/N) never doubted them. One of her best friends was a Ravenclaw and that girl sure knew how to have fun, school and good grades being the last thing on her mind whenever she got sight of the Firewhisky. 

If you had asked for (Y/N)’s opinion, she would tell you Ravenclaws were the seconds best at Hogwarts on the matter of hosting parties, Slytherins right up to them. Albeit that may have been biased, she herself was a Slytherin and, thinking about it, she never went to any Gryffindor parties because, well, no one except her other friend wanted a Slytherin there. Many of them thought they were some kind of saints just because they were brave and didn’t realise they were, instead, a bunch of reckless and prejudiced twats. The remaining house, Hufflepuff, took parties to a whole other level and sometimes it became all a little too much. She wasn’t much of a party person but she still enjoyed them from time to time, but they went insane any time alcohol was in the room and started to come up with crazy ideas that would, with no doubt, get them expelled. 

After waiting ten minutes for a member of the house to step out and answer the riddle for her, which (Y/N) knew you didn’t need to be part of the house to reply but even as a Slytherin and having, supposedly, a cunning and intelligent mind she sucked at those kind of questions; she, and twenty others,  finally entered the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was completely renovated since the last time she had visited it.

The circular and wide room was filled with students from all the four houses making it seem smaller than it actually was. The moon shone, filtering through the arched windows, barely illuminated but some flickering and colour changing lights on the ceiling made it work. The furniture was against the wall on the left side so people could dance freely in the middle, while the tables on the right bursted with food and bottles of alcohol. A muggle radio had been placed on one of the large table’s corner and to (Y/N)’s delight, it wasn’t playing any songs by the Weird Sisters. She loathed that band since last year when some students, presumably Gryffindors, enchanted the speakers on the hallways to repeatedly play one of the group’s songs. 

The girl started to move towards the left side of the room, avoiding the crowd growing larger and larger. Trying to catch some familiar faces, she stood on her tiptoes and observed the room, but the lack of light and her problem with seeing things from afar, made her search harder. A couple of minutes had passed when she recognized the trio she was friends with. They were waving and screaming her name, trying to catch her attention, right beside the door that led to the dormitories.  

(Y/N) grinned at them while walking in their direction. Once she settled on Isla’s side, her best friend since childhood, some of her nerves were washed away a little. It was easier for her to be in a place packed with people if she had her close friends as company. Dorian, the last one to join the group in their fifth year, offered her a black cup with, judging by the smell, Quintin Black, her favourite. The corners of her mouth quirking up as a way of saying thanks without having to shout at him to make herself be heard through the loud music.

The Multicolour Quartet — name they all despised but stood with it because it was one of Dorian’s drunk comments when he realised how they were all from different houses; (Y/N) was the Slytherin, he was the Gryffindor, and the other two, Isla and Ethan, were both Ravenclaws — easily fell in a conversation about Isla’s brilliant performance as Chaser for her House’s Team, the other three complimenting her whenever she started to list all the errors that almost allowed the Hufflepuffs to win.

Spacing out of her friend’s chat, (Y/N)’s eyes peer round the room looking, nearly in a desperate way, for someone in particular. Answering the comments the other three made with a simple nod of her head or a yes to seem like she was paying attention, her eyes fixated in a figure directly across from them, supporting it’s body’s weight on a wall. He was surrounded by some of his classmates and friends from the same house, but she could still see, albeit with great trouble, his short brown hair and his right hand holding a black cup, equal to the one she had. 

She failed to realise that her friends had noticed where her attention travelled to. Sharing knowing glances and smirks they knew it was time for (Y/N) to talk to the boy she’d been crushing on for three years now. Isla and Ethan left saying some people were starting to cause trouble, not that (Y/N) had actually listened to them, too lost in attempting to catch another glimpse of the boy. That ended on Dorian, the most chaotic of the four, finding the way to make them, at least, share two or three words.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her left arm dragging her along the room and pushing people on the way. That belonged to Dorian and it didn’t take long for her to understand what he was doing, his mischievous smile betraying him. Her eyes widened and she shook her head while planting her feet on the floor, putting all her strength on them so he wouldn’t move her. She didn’t succeed. Obviously because of his friend’s stronger hands. 

A chant of pleas and several no exited from her mouth, but it was useless. If something got inside Dorian’s head, then nothing could stop him from doing it. A trait they both shared and the cause of a few of their arguments, neither of them knew when to back the hell down. Not even the promise of (Y/N) doing his Arithmancy homework for two weeks made him stop on his tracks. Dorian had really compromised to the cause because she knew how much he detested that subject, only taking it to please his father. 

Before she could raise the offer to a month, they were already in front of him and the group he was chatting with. 

Oliver Wood smiled at the two friends, recognizing only one of them but still being kind and inviting towards her, whose heart was about to jump out of her chest from how fast it was beating. 

“Hey, Wood, how’re you doing?,” Dorian greeted him first and then nodded at the others as if he was saying hi, “preparing for the Quidditch match next week?”

(Y/N) stood awkwardly by Dorian’s side, looking and smiling shyly at people she had never interacted with. She was going to cut this boy’s head of the minute everyone left.

“Yeah, the Hufflepuffs played like hell today.” She heard Oliver say. His words tumbling with each other. Was he already starting to get drunk? “I think I’ll need to book more practices if we want to win next week”.

Luckily, or not, Dorian noticed he hadn’t introduced his friend to the group yet. And even if she didn’t like to just stand there like a rigid stick, she hated the new attention.

“This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way,” he announced while placing his right hand on the upper side of her back and pushing her body to the front. And the shy smile made an appearance on her face once more. 

She whispered a small hello, looking at everyone but Oliver, and instantly felt the need to jump off the Astronomy Tower, not long after making Dorian the next designated Gryffindor Ghost. 

“What house are you in? I’ve never seen you before,” questioned one of the boys next to Oliver with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a lost look on his eyes, as if he was trying to place her and remember the colours of the tie she used daily.

“She’s not a Gryffindor, maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her much,” Dorian answered before she had the chance to, “she’s actually a Slytherin.” A new expression on his face now, intimidating the others to see if they dared to express some kind of negative or stupid comment to his friend about the house she belonged to. No one said anything. She saw Dorian smiling proudly from the corner of her eye, but in that moment (Y/N) had the weird sensation she was some kind of prey to starving lions.

The group began to talk to each again, like nothing happened, all except Oliver, who was looking at her with his eyebrows raised and an intriguing sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

Dorian spoked once more.

Does he ever shut up?

“Remember the other day you said you were falling behind in Potions and Transfiguration?” Oliver nodded at him, signalising her friend to keep talking. “Well, I have the perfect person to help you with that. (Y/N) tutors me from time to time in those subjects too.”

Forget the Astronomy Tower, she desperately needed some kind of magical earthquake that could crack the floor beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

It’s not like Dorian was lying, she had helped him, and still did sometimes, to study for an important test, not only in Potions and Transfiguration, but also in the rest of the subjects they shared. Merlin knew that boy was a disaster when talking about paying attention to classes. But that didn’t mean she was good enough to tutor Oliver freaking Wood. (Y/N) could treat Dorian how she wanted if he wasn’t trying to, at least, know what she was talking about, they were friends and most of their time together was spent hitting each other, but how was she supposed to act around the precious Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?

“Great!,” Oliver exclaimed quickly. A sudden blush crept all the way from below his turtle neck to his cheeks, but she couldn’t identify if it happened because of the alcohol or embarrassment from sounding “too enthusiastic”. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I was about to start looking for one. McGonagall said that if I don’t get my grades up to an Exceeds Expectations, I won’t be able to play the rest of the matches.”

“That sucks, but you’d found one already so you two can start immediately with the tutoring sessions”, Dorian commented slily while looking at her with the smile of a champion adorning his face.

He was trying exceptionally hard, she had to give him that.

In a swift movement, she drank the whole content of her cup to see if the knot that had formed on her stomach would go away. The blonde girl, perhaps a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, beside (Y/N) noticed her drink was missing and offered her to reach out for one of the bottles of the table across. The Slytherin nodded and asked for the bottle of Quintin Black if there was still one.

“So you like Scottish things?” Oliver observed, with his eyes lighted up and his bottom lip stuck beneath his teeth, when he saw her grab the bottle of alcohol filled to the middle with onyx liquid. 

“She sure does.” She heard Dorian mumble, he had tried to hide the smirk burying his face on his cup but (Y/N) took notice of that too. After giving him a pointed look, she turned her head towards Oliver, who, hopefully, hadn’t heard her friend’s remark; if he had, he was good at concealing it.

Her response was interrupted by the starting melody of “Lay all your love on me”, one of her favourite songs, and a voice that could only belong to her best friend, screaming her name. Out of nowhere, Isla took her hand, said something to Oliver and Dorian about returning her to them later, and yanked (Y/N) to the direction of the made up dance floor, making her almost drop the cup she was holding.

It was an unspoken rule between them, whenever one of their favourite songs was on the radio, they would stop what they were doing, important or not, and start to dance and sing, without caring about other people’s opinion. It was something like a ritual that had become a safe space and a signature of their friendship for both of the girls.

A few seconds through the song had played when Celine stopped dancing and approached her friend, whispering something in her ear.

“Okay, don’t look and don’t freak out, but Oliver hot stuff Wood is staring at you.”

“What? What do I do?” 

“Just keep dancing, I guess, maybe he likes it.”

“I don’t know how to dance, why would he like it?” 

Confusion and panic in her eyes, (Y/N) tried to think about all the logical reasons Oliver Wood, one of the most attractive guys in the school, could be watching her dance. The girl knew she wasn’t beautiful, even if her best friend repeatedly said so, she wasn’t funny or interesting and, on top of all, she belonged in Slytherin, the House with the worst reputation. 

“No idea, but whatever it is, keep doing it.” 

Her best friend winked at her, a large and contagious smile spreading over her face. Grabbing one of (Y/N)’s hands, she made her twirl around following the fast beat of the song. Seizing the opportunity, (Y/N) glanced at Oliver and discovered that he was, indeed, staring at her while he drank from his black cup.

A random and unexpected laugh flew out of her mouth. Her best friend, carefree as always, began to giggle with her while dancing around the room. She had never felt more alive, and some people would think she was ridiculous for actually thinking it, but singing her favourite song at the top of her lungs, dancing and laughing and just having fun with her best friend. Excitement running through her veins uniting with the nerves Oliver’s attention towards her had provoked; a slight headache caused by the alcohol mixing with the new confidence coming from the same thing. 

Aware of the dark brown eyes focusing on her, she turned around once more, but this time she didn’t look away. She kept singing, beaming at him from the middle of the dance floor, and maintaining eye contact. A sudden thought appeared on her mind, if she’d had maybe one more full cup of Quintin Black, perhaps she would’ve been confident enough to ask him on a date. 

Don’t go wasting your emotions, lay all your love on me.

Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.

(Y/N) didn’t think that he would take that as an invitation when she whispered the words while looking at him, it wasn’t even meant to be one, but Oliver Wood had left his cup on the table next to him and was now walking towards her.

A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck. 

I still don’t know what you’ve done with me.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

bright lights and baseless worries - q. hughes

When ya girl is finally on a monthlong break from school, she’s able to get in more than one piece a week. I knew I wanted to do some holiday piece for Quinn, and 100% got this idea in the shower the other day and just sat down and got to writing. In my totally unbiased opinion, it’s very cute, and I’d love to hear what you think - I love reading the tags on reblogs and having y’all in my inbox!

word count: 3.3k+

“Do you want to meet my parents?” 

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth, the spaghetti threatening to fall off the end. “Do I want to what?”

Quinn laughed, taking a sip of water as he sat across from you at his dining room table. “Do you want to meet my parents? They’re flying in after the next roadie, in a week and a half or so. They really want to meet you, but I get if you don’t want to, or you feel like it’s too soon. I’ll make up an excuse for you, say you were called into work for some big project or something that you can’t get away from.” 

You weren’t sure if there was some unspoken protocol for when was too soon to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you were pretty sure six months wasn’t pushing it. “Quinn, I’m still in university,” you said with a laugh. “There’s no work for me to get called into. And I’d love to meet them, if you’re sure that’s what you want. I don’t want you feeling like you have to because your parents want to meet me. I want it to be because you want it too.”

“Of course I want you to meet them,” he said, smiling softly at you. “Almost more than that, I want them to meet you. Sure, you’ve seen each other over FaceTime and they know what I’ve told them about you—”

“All good things, I hope?” You quipped.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Nothing but the best. But you’re incredible, and I want them to be able to meet  you, so they get to see how amazing you are in person and don’t think I’m crazy any more for how much I talk about you, So there’s that.” 

You ducked your head, tapping your fingers against the dark grain of the table. “Well, I’d love to meet them, Q. Anyone who’s spent any length of time around you knows how much you love your family, and I’m so excited to finally get to know the people who raised you into the incredible man you are today.”

Quinn blushed shyly. “It’s going to be great.”

---

Vancouver in December had always been one of your favorite things. Vancouver any time, really, but the holiday season really let your hometown shine something special. Literally. From the first of the month, all of downtown was decked out from tree to storefront to lamppost in yards of bright, sparkling lights. And then there was the massive, hundred-foot tall Christmas tree that lit up the square in front of the art gallery, throngs of couples and little kids running up to its branches in a bid to get their picture taken. It had finally started to snow a few weeks ago, so a light dusting covered the sidewalks, giving way to the shoe prints of the hundreds of passersby. 

Downtown was where you found yourself now, wandering around on a Wednesday afternoon after you had been let out of your final, your purse on your shoulder and nothing but sheer worry in your heart. Quinn had come back from the road trip that morning; his parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning. His parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning, well under 24 hours away, and you had no clue what to get them. You had been in clothing stores, homegoods stores, souvenir shops, but were no closer to figuring out what to buy. You had been about to buy a nice bottle of wine, one of yours and Quinn’s favorites, but then you wondered if maybe it was weird to give wine at a first meeting, or if they’d look at you funny for gifting a bottle of pinot grigio when you were only 21. And it had to be something they could bring back on the plane, so nothing that was too fragile or something that might spill or anything with over 3.4 ounces of liquid. You should have thought about that before considering the wine. 

You had texted your roommates in a panic, but letting them know that i’m meeting quinn’s parents tomorrow and I have no idea what the FUCK to get them please help hadn’t yielded any particularly useful suggestions. Aliya had suggested a tie for his dad, which Sara had vetoed immediately, saying that a tie was both far too formal and far too strange a gift to extend. Sara, who was the apartment’s resident caffeine addict, had recommended a few of her recent favorite types of “artisan, hand-roasted coffee.” It had seemed like a good idea at first, with everyone and their mother getting into craft versions of every drink imaginable, but then you started overthinking it, thinking that maybe they wouldn’t like the roast, or the undertones, or it would be too bitter and they’d drink it and hate it and then they’d hate you and — 

You huffed, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and leaning up against the column of some storefront you had spent less than five minutes in. Quinn chose that exact moment to call, and his timing couldn’t have been any more welcome. “God, I’m such a mess right now,” you said by way of greeting. 

“Everything good?” He asked lightly, but you could hear the concern laced under his voice. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, “but I’ve been to at least a half-dozen stores in downtown and I’m starting to get worried because I still have absolutely no clue what to get your parents tomorrow and nobody seems to have any good ideas.”

“You realize you don’t have to get them anything, right?” Quinn asked. “Seriously, they’re not expecting it, and I promise they won’t think any less of you if you don’t.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Q, my mom’s going to skin me alive if she heard I showed up empty-handed to meet your parents, but that’s besides the point. I want to make a good impression.” Your voice cracked. “I really want to make a good impression.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “I know you do, babe, but I guarantee that no matter if you buy my dad a Rolex or show up in your pyjamas, they’re going to love you.”

“But how do you know that?”

“They’ll love you because I love you.” He spent a few more minutes on the phone with you, trying his damndest to reassure you that Jim and Ellen weren’t nearly as scary as you somehow thought they were, that they’d welcome you with open hearts and open arms just like his brothers had. The Devils had played in Vancouver the month prior, and much to Quinn’s delight, you and Jack had gotten along like a house on fire. Jack had made good on a promise he had made while he was in British Columbia, sending you a cache of Quinn’s baby photos as soon as he got back to his apartment in New Jersey. 

You slid your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, feeling marginally more reassured that his parents wouldn’t immediately demand you break up with their son if you didn’t spend the equivalent of a year’s tuition on welcome gifts for them, but nervous nonetheless and no closer to your goal than when you drove into downtown hours before. 

---

You tapped your heel nervously on the floor of Quinn’s living room, fingers nervously twisting your rings around as Quinn leaned up against the couch, glancing between you and his phone. “Mom says they’re almost here.” Quinn would have picked them up from the airport himself, but he had had a morning practice, and then they decided to get settled into their hotel room, so them coming over to his apartment before you were all set to go out to dinner was the first time either of you were going to see them. He looked at you, your brow still furrowed from overthinking. “I know you’re still worried, and I get that, babe. I was terrified when I met your parents for the first time. But you’re going to do amazing.” Your parents lived in Surrey, forty minutes away in the same house you’d grown up in, so it was a much less formal affair when they had asked to meet Quinn. You went over to their house for brunch one weekend, and that was it; Quinn was right, though. That hadn’t meant he was any less nervous. If anything, it only amplified his worries because if he wasn’t able to make a good first impression in one of the most low-stress environments a person could think of, what would that say about him? What would your parents think? But just like he said, it had been such a non-issue that by the end, he was wondering what he had been worried about in the first place. 

“I know it’ll be fine,” you conceded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “It just seems different, somehow. Like, I’ve met people’s parents before, friends and exes and people at school, and of course I wanted them to like me. I think it’s just…” You paused, looking up at the ceiling and trying to gather your words, “I think it’s because I see this, us, going somewhere. I see it lasting. So if you’re going to be in my life for the foreseeable future, then so are they, so it just seems that much more important that I like them and that they like me.” 

Quinn bent over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Don’t worry.” The doorbell rung, and you took the thirty seconds it took for Quinn to go over and open it to turn your phone on, checking in the camera to make sure you didn’t have a piece of kale stuck in your teeth. You didn’t, but you really should have known better. Quinn would have told you. 

You stood up, plastering a smile on your face as he pulled the door open and his parents stepped into the entryway. His dad had just hugged him when his mom pulled him in, rubbing his back as she greeted him. “So good to see you, Quinn, Chag sameach.”

“Chag sameach, Mom,” Quinn said back, before stepping back and nodding to you. You stepped forward hesitantly, Quinn’s warm hand on the small of your back quelling your fears as much as he could. 

He had barely opened his mouth to introduce you before his mom burst forward. “Is this her?” 

You relaxed slightly, nodding. “In the flesh. So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Weinberg-Hughes.”

She waved you off. “Ellen, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’s so nice to finally get to see you in person!” She pulled you into a hug that looked just as heartfelt as the one she had given her son, and it only took a few seconds for you to relax into her touch. 

“Jim,” his dad greeted you with a warm handshake. 

You turned back towards the coffee table. “I, uh, got these for you two when I was downtown the other day.” You handed his mom a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and his dad a potted succulent, something you originally hadn’t been too sure about but Quinn had assured you his dad would love. “It’s got a travel-safe box that came with it, so it’ll be good to go on the plane ride back,” you said. 

His dad smiled. “Quinn told you I’m not much of a green thumb, hm?” Quinn’s eyes widened; his dad laughed. “It’s true, I love plants but I seem to somehow kill everything I touch, so this really is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” 

“Did you light the candles yet?” His mom asked. 

Quinn shook his head, nodding to where his menorah sat on the sideboard. “I wanted to wait for you.” If his mom was going to be there for the first night of Hanukkah, he was going to wait for her if he valued his own well-being. The candles were already in a box off to the side; Ellen opened them and placed first the shamash, then the first candle all the way to the right as Quinn went into the kitchen for a lighter, coming out a second later. You made to move out of the room, unsure if it was disrespectful to stay. You got your answer quickly. 

“Stay,” Quinn said. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“It’s part of the tradition that the whole family — whoever’s around, obviously, stays for the lighting. That’s you, now,” Ellen explained. Your cheeks burned, but not out of embarrassment. Out of the fact that Quinn had been exactly right, just like you knew he would be, just like he had told you he would be. His parents welcomed you quicker than your own best friend’s had, and five minutes after meeting them in person for the first time his mom had already all but called you family. You were giddy inside. You perched on the couch as she and Quinn recited the Hebrew blessings, a soft smile on your face as you watched the interaction. You knew your boyfriend loved his mom. That much was clear, from the times you were both on FaceTime to the phone conversations you overheard to the way that he spoke about her with Brock, or Elias, or really anyone who would listen. But it was something special. 

You gathered in the living room after the menorah was lit, your heels abandoned by the door and your body curled into Quinn’s as the four of you waited for the candles to burn down. Ellen and Jim supplemented Jack’s childhood stories of Quinn with some of their own, one of which had your boyfriend groaning into your shoulder, asking his dad if you really needed to know that story in particular. Jim just laughed, clapping his son on the back, telling him that the embarrassing anecdotes were really a litmus test of sorts. “If she doesn’t run after hearing this one, you’ll know that she’s a keeper,” he said while winking at you. You stayed. 

You had a 6:30 reservation at a restaurant downtown, some place one of the other guys’ girlfriends had recommended when you sent a message in the group chat earlier asking where to take Quinn’s parents because I def don’t want to seem pretentious but like they also need to know that I have taste. He drove with his dad in the passenger’s seat, leaving you and his mom to share the second row. “Have you ever seen his freshman year roster photo from Michigan?” she asked, pulling out her phone. 

Quinn groaned from the driver’s seat. “Mom, do you really need to show her?”

“You’re so young, it’s cute!” Ellen protested.

“I was 17 and didn’t know how to do my hair yet and was so nervous for the photographer to take it that my smile looks like it was frozen onto my face.”

You ducked your head, poorly concealing a snort of laughter. “Okay, if it’s half as good as Quinn makes it seem, I’ve got to see this one.” Ellen handed her phone to you just as Quinn pulled into the parking lot; you handed it back a minute later, the grin on your face still evident as he parked the car, walking around to your side to open your door. 

Picture didn’t scare you off?” he asked jokingly. 

You stood up quickly, pressing a brief kiss against his cheek. “Not at all.”

The food was incredible, not like you had expected any less. The salmon was maybe the best you had ever had, and the crème brûlée you and Quinn shared was nothing short of spectacular. You had left the last bite for him, knowing how much he loved the dessert, but he shook his head with a small smile, gently pushing the bowl back to you. The gesture hadn’t been missed by his mom, who had poorly concealed her happiness at her son’s kindness. You headed back to Quinn’s apartment after a walk by the harbor with his parents, a little after nine. “We got you two a little something,” his dad said as his mom reached into her purse. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you said quickly as Ellen pulled out a small, flat wrapped package.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Just something we thought would look nice in here,” she gestured around the living room with her spare hand., holding it out to you. “Happy Hanukkah.”

Your face burst into a grin as Quinn looked over at the photo, his thumb moving absentmindedly over your shoulder. “Happy Hanukkah, Ellen.” You ran your thumb carefully under the seams, popping open the paper with as much precision as the moment was affording you. You unfolded it, looking up at your boyfriend. “Hang on. Is this…?” 

He nodded. “I think so.” You were looking down at a picture, set in a silver frame that shone so much you could see your reflection. But it wasn’t a normal picture, one that you’d throw up on your Instagram story or delete from your camera roll without a second thought. It was from that September, a few months after you and Quinn had started dating and the first time he had taken you to meet the boys. You had already met Brock and Elias a few weeks earlier when they came back into town for training, but it was the first night he had really let you into his life in that way, started to take down some of his walls and trust you with every part of himself. You had been curled up with Quinn on a couch in Brock’s living room, towards the end of a party he had thrown to welcome everyone to the start of a new season. You didn’t even remember what Quinn was talking about, but as you looked down at the photo, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist and your head resting on his chest, you realized that it could have been Poptarts or Disney movies or the deepest darkest secrets from the furthest parts of your soul, because it was you, and it was him, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t even realize you had started to tear up until Quinn handed you a tissue. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You looked back up at his parents, crumbling it in your hand. “Seriously, Jim, Ellen, thank you for this. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this, but thank you for getting it. It means a lot.” 

His dad gave you a hug as his mom moved over to Quinn’s kitchen, plucking her bouquet out of a vase and walking back over to hug first her son, then you. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re half the woman Quinn says you are, and I think you’re more, then you deserve the world.” 

Your cheeks heated as they walked through the front door. Quinn gently took the picture from you, admiring it as he padded over to the sideboard and placed it next to the menorah, whose candles had long since burnt down. He walked back over towards you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulled back, a wry smile on his face as your foreheads pressed together. “Do you finally believe me?”

He didn’t even have to explain his words, because you knew. Finally believe him that you didn’t have anything to worry about, finally believe him that his parents would love you, finally believe him that thing you had going on wasn’t one he wanted to give up on. Not now, not ever. Your head nodded before your words could catch up to you, spilling out of your mouth like they had always been there. “Yes.”

[youareinlovees]

Taylor and Joe in 2019 

January 2nd – Joe is seen leaving Taylor’s Tribeca apartment. (x)

January 6th – They both attend the Golden Globes in LA.

“While Taylor presented, Joe watched the teleprompter near him and smiled and [his The Favourite costar] Nicholas Hoult patted him on the back. After Gaga walked on stage, Joe shifted his gaze to the stage near Taylor. She was smiling at him while she walked off the stage. She looked over her shoulder and gave a sassy cute little smile at his table’s direction.” 

(via US Weekly)

January 6th – An ET reporter asks Joe if he and Taylor would ever work together. (x)

“It’s not planned at the moment but who knows.”

“Swift joined Alwyn at Fox’s party at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. The instant she entered the event, the “Gorgeous” singer made a beeline for The Favourite star, putting her head on his shoulder and hand on his chest. Swift didn’t leave Alwyn’s side, posing for photos and chatting with Alwyn’s co-star, Nicholas Hoult, as she kept her hand around Alwyn’s waist. At the end of the evening, the two exited through the back of the venue and away from the crowds.” 

(via Entertainment Tonight)

FOX Post Show Celebration was also one of the starriest, with The Favourite cast holding court at their table and having a ball throughout the night. Big winner Olivia Colman was seen taking shots with Joe Alwyn, who was accompanied by girlfriend Taylor Swift the whole night. 

The Grammy winner cheered on the cast as they took the shots and was affectionate with her beau throughout the celebration. The ultra-private couple was spotted kissing and cozying up at their table along with Alwyn’s Favourite costar Emma Stone and her Saturday Night Live writer boyfriend Dave McCary. 

(via PEOPLE)

CAA party: Alwyn and Swift made a brief appearance around 1 a.m. Security swarmed them,” the source says. “They sat in a couch at a table with their drinks in the back of the party and were talking with several people. They looked at each other a few times and it seemed like Joe was trying to make sure she was OK and gauge when she wanted to leave. They were then escorted out of a private exit together.”

(via E Online)

Video of them arriving at one of the afterparties.

February 8th – Taylor and Joe are spotted leaving The Spaniards Inn in Hampstead, London. (x)

February 9th – They’re seen walking around in Notting Hill.

February 10th – Taylor skips the Grammys and attends several BAFTA afterparties with Joe instead. (x) (x)

Taylor Swift spotted caressing Joe Alwyn after sneaking into BAFTA dinner (x)

Determined to keep a low profile, Taylor swerved the main event at the Royal Albert Hall attended by the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and headed straight to the exclusive dinner at the swanky Grosvenor Hotel on Park Lane.

“Taylor and Joe spent most of the evening in the middle of the room near the head table and based on table 68. They were chatting to colleagues but Taylor didn’t hide her affection towards Joe. She was seen caressing his back as they chatted away to a pal. It was clear they were an item but Taylor appeared conscious not to make a big deal about her appearance - she was just there for a good time rather than working like she would have to at the Grammys. Taylor didn’t leave Joe’s side all evening.”

Keen to keep a memento from the night, Taylor was seen taking home two pottery rabbit table decorations from her table. 

Taylor talked to a Grazia reporter about The Favourite and how proud she was of him. (x)

While Grazia chatted to Joe about working with Olivia Colman (‘She was amazing,’ he gushed), Taylor appeared and gave him a congratulatory squeeze. ‘I was watching the show from home,’ she told us. ‘Every time The Favourite won another award, I was just squealing! I couldn’t believe it,’ she continued. ‘It’s so great for him – and it’s his first time coming to the BAFTAs, so it’s exciting. It’s a big deal.’ The singer, who is currently filming Cats, added how ‘proud’ she was of Joe’s success. 

They were seen leaving the Vogue / Tiffany & Co afterparty. (video) (x)

February 12th – In an interview with ET, Rebel Wilson is asked whether she’s seen Joe on the set of CATS. (x)

“I haven’t! I have met him, but not on set.” 

February 22nd – Taylor and Joe attend the CAA Oscars pre-party in West Hollywood. (x)

February 23rd – The Mirror publishes an article about Olivia Colman and Taylor becoming friends through Joe. (x)

A source revealed: “After the Baftas Taylor sang up a storm with Olivia Colman, Joe and Melissa McCarthy too at a London hotel. They had their own room and Olivia and Taylor were behaving like best buddies.Taylor thinks Olivia is amazing, she loves her and the sing song wasn’t a one off.” The insider added: “They have already made plans for Oscar week. They’re going to have a rerun of the karaoke night and Olivia has even been to Taylor and Joe’s LA home too.”

February 24th – Taylor and Joe hang out with Martha, Camila Cabello and Matthew Hussey at the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty.

Video of them at the Fox afterparty.

“Taylor Swift made a surprise appearance with her boyfriend, The Favourite star Joe Alwyn. As the party wound down, Swift and Alwyn were overheard contemplating late-night karaoke with Alwyn’s co-star Nicholas Hoult.”

(via Vanity Fair)

February 25th – Joe posts a photo taken in Taylor’s LA house.

March 3rd – Taylor and Joe are seen hiking together in the Santa Monica mountains. (video) 

A picture he took of her is later included in the Lover photoshoot. (x)

March 6th – Taylor drops an ELLE article titled “30 Things I Learned Before Turning 30.″ (x)

How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships.

For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships. Whether it was the general internet consensus of who would be right for me, or what they thought was “couples goals” based on a picture I posted on Instagram. That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

April 17th – Emma Roberts and Garrett Hedlund (Joe’s Billy Lynn co-star) visit Joe and Taylor at their LA place. (x)

April 24th – Taylor sends @/daylightanna – a family friend of the Alwyns – reputation merch and a signed photo for her birthday. (x)

April 26th – Taylor posts a video of her cat Benjamin Button, and Joe’s hand is clearly visible at the start of the clip. (x)

April 30th – In the ME! behind the scenes video where Taylor meets Benji, she says she has to “get on the phone” before she can adopt him. (x)

May 1st – In an interview with iHeartRadio Canada, Taylor is asked about how she chose Benji’s name. (x)

What made you decide to go with the name Benjamin Button?

I really liked the movie Benjamin Button.

Okay, that’s a good answer.

And Benjamin Button in the movies is such a good guy, you know? He’s always doing the right thing.

May 2nd – The day after the BBMAs, Taylor leaves Las Vegas for London.

May 4th – Taylor is seen in Notting Hill (again).

May 15th – Taylor is interviewed on The Ellen Show, and at one point Ellen says to the audience, “We have to take a break, and then uh, we’re gonna come back and she’s gonna talk all about her boyfriend!” (video)

May 21st – Taylor leaves LA for London, and then she and Joe fly to France the next day.

May 24th – Taylor and Joe are seen out in Paris together. (x)

They visit the Pont Neuf Bridge and the Square du Vert-Galant, where scenes from the Begin Again music video were filmed.

They also went to the Grand Palais on the same trip.

Joe posts these photos that Taylor took. 

May 25th – In an interview with NRJ Paris, Taylor was asked what she would do if her boyfriend forgot her birthday. (x)

“Wouldn’t happen. I don’t know how to react to something that is an impossibility. I’m so loud about my birthday, you couldn’t miss it.”

May 25th – Taylor likes and reblogs this chain post.

May 26th – Taylor posts photos from her hotel room that Joe most likely took.

May 31st – Taylor and Joe go on a double date with Rob Pattinson and Suki Waterhouse at San Vicente Bungalows in LA. (x)

The San Vicente Bungalows is an exclusive members-only club and has a "no phones, no pictures, no social media, no talking about other members-policy." So it truly is the perfect place for two private couples to have a double date out.

Other people still saw Swift, Alwyn, Pattinson, and Waterhouse, and one onlooker told Us Weekly that the date happened. It was good fun. "The four were laughing and talking" all night, the onlooker said. "They were at a table, just the four of them. Rob and Taylor were across from each other."

June 12th – Katy Perry posts a photo from Taylor’s place, and a blurry polaroid of Joe and Benji can be seen in the corner.

June 19th – Taylor leaves NYC and flies to London.

June 27th – Taylor films the BBC Children In Need documentary and says she got involved because Olivia Colman reached out to Joe.

(via taylorswifth)

Olivia talks about how she managed to get Taylor to show up and surprise Shaun. (x)

“Taylor Swift goes out with a very lovely fella, Joe Alwyn, who I did a job with. And I did a very cheeky text at him and went, ‘Do you think Taylor will come along and surprise Shaun Dooley?’”

June 29th – kingkeir tweets about Taylor renting a place near London Zoo.

July 2nd – Taylor, Martha, Ashley and the HAIM sisters go on vacation to the St Thomas Virgin Islands. (x)

July 6th – Joe finishes filming A Christmas Carol, the same day Taylor and her friends are papped flying back to the US. They presumably meet up in New York the next day.

July 10th – Taylor performs at the Amazon Prime Day Concert in NYC. Throughout the show–and especially during Delicate–she kept looking and pointing at Joe, who was sitting in the soundbooth. (video)

In Ashley’s IG story, Gigi says “Taylor can’t stop looking at him!” and she replies “here text him!” (video)

July 11th – The day after the Prime Concert, they fly from NYC to London.

July 13th – Taylor and Joe were reportedly seen at Starbucks in Muswell Hill.

July 16th – In a radio interview with KIIS 1065, Katy Perry talks about ending her feud with Taylor. (x)

“I started seeing her around at like the Oscar parties when she was accompanying her boyfriend and I just went up to her and I was like 'hey, you know it's been a long time and I think we've grown up a little bit and I just wanted to say I'm sorry.”

July 18th – Taylor and Joe fly to Manchester, and it’s pretty likely that this photo (posted on July 26) was from this trip, because it was taken at the Peak District and that’s an hour long drive from Manchester.

July 20th – Joe and Taylor arrive in LA.

July 24th – Taylor likes this post. 

July 23rd – Taylor films the Lover music video in LA. Joe and Andrea are seen sitting together on set. (x)

July 25th – Riley Knoxx posts a vlog on her YouTube channel about her experience of being in the YNTCD video. She talks about her conversations with Taylor on-set, and how Taylor showed her photos of her with Joe. (x)

“We talked about everything, from whether we want kids or not, [Taylor] showed me videos of her cats and her boyfriend, who she’s rarely seen with, but she’s showing me, you know, the pictures.”

July 30th – In an interview with Cosmopolitan, Rebel Wilson is asked whether she got some dating tips from Taylor while they were filming CATS. (x)

“She’s in a pretty committed relationship now, so it didn’t really come up.”

August 2nd – London secret sessions are held.

Taylor name dropped Joe when explaining Cruel Summer, confirming that it’s about him. (x)

She also talks to theirgetawaycar about spending Christmas in Ireland, which stacks because we know she spent the holidays with Joe and their families at Glin Castle.

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Keep reading

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2016 // 2017 // 2018 // 2020 // 2021

[fisherfurbearer]

Help Grace and Her Dogs Get a Safe Home!!!! URGENT!!!!!!!!

Sharing this to hopefully gain some traction, this is NOT ME, but a really kind person who needs help ASAP. Her deadline is just a couple days away, and she's just shy of $3k out of her $15k goal. It's short notice, but ANYTHING helps!!!!!!

Quoted from the gofundme...

I have been fighting for disability since 2019 due to being too ill to work. I have a lawyer that is hopeful for my success in this endeavor, and my doctors think I will get it, too. My therapist especially is 100% sure I will get it. I have also been checked out by the doctor from Social Security and they also put I was completely disabled.

Some backstory: I left my home in South Carolina in 2018 to move in with family with my dogs - I was offered to live here, with all my pets, until I got disability and what not. My grandmother helped take care of me, and I started college immediately, using grants and loans to cover vet expenses for my dogs, living expenses, and what bills I had. I also paid my grandmother for bills, and covered all food for both of us, as well as any medical care (shots, etc.) for her own dog. This was my living agreement.

In September of 2020, my grandmother randomly up and left, telling me she was going on vacation. A long series of just family drama occurred, and eventually it came to my attention she was staying with her daughter, and wanted me kicked out of the home. This came as a complete surprise to me. My grandmother had said nothing to me and I found this out completely second hand, from her daughter. I received a court summons, that I was living here illegally, etc.

I did obtain a lawyer to fight it, and we were successful in coming to an agreement I would be out by the end of February. This was decided due to my disability hearing on November 30th, 2020. This hearing ended up rescheduled to March 16th 2021, as the judge decided, in his words, "to get the decision she wants, we need another doctor's input." and sent me to Social Security doctors.

The doctor agreed I was disabled, so March 16th seemed pretty set and go. However, when we started the phone hearing, the medical examiner wasn't present. The judge told my lawyer and I he wanted one to determine when I became disabled, and he could not decide without one. My lawyer, on the spot, offered to change my "became disabled" date to when I was diagnosed initially, and my judge agreed to it and said it was a good change. We did the paperwork that day, and my lawyer's secretary told me she suspects I'll get a decision before June 30th (my next court date).

However, that comes to the problem: I've gotten as many extensions as I am going to get at my family's home, and I absolutely must be out by April 30th. My grandmother and I no longer speak due to this incident, but I was told by another family member she is preparing to take me to court again, and this time, she absolutely will win. I have the paperwork, signed by all of us, I will be gone by May 1st, with none of my things or animals on the property.

I am tired. I do not know what else to do. I have too many dogs to rent a home, and no income, anyway. My resources say if I try to get a job now, I will not win disability, and it will destroy my chances. I am so close to the end, of finally having time to rest and focus on school, and I know I am. I got into the University of Virginia at Wise (which is free for me!), which is a dream come true. Since I have to leave this home, I figured I might as well look at homes near school.

I found this one and it's near perfect: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1708-Roda-Rd-Stonega-VA-24216/127243010_zpid/ It's obviously more than this GFM is set for, but the realtor told me the owner will be considering rent to own in the coming weeks, with 3500 down. So this is to cover that, some months of paying the bills until I get disability, and to get a car - it's in the middle of no where, so I absolutely need a car to go get groceries, and in the fall, attend school.

Any funds from this GFM will be used towards trying to get this home and a vehicle. I would love to offer more to the home owner to convince them to do Rent To Own now, for I can get out of here in time for when I must be out and not be homeless for some time.

Please reblog at the very least, or donate if you can...I don't have much traction here and I know it's short notice, but every donation helps, it adds up quickly if a lot of folks pitch in a little bit. <3