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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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DEBRIS AND MISERY

SAME OLD LOKI ; PART 6 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k (oops) SUMMARY: You find yourself venturing deeper into finding the Loki variant on the loose with the help of Mobius and Loki while maintaining your temper around the God of mischief and fighting with your own demons. A/N: Downtime apparently lasted for more than a week. I had absolutely no motivation to write but I eventually came around. There’s alot going on in this. Please tell me what you think, what you love, hate and look forward to. Thank you so much for showing so much love to d&m. gif from this gifset by @sersi WARNINGS: Swearing. Imagery relating to death (i think?). You and Loki’s relationship fluctuating like the goddamn economy. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Blue. Your flight suit is blue.

Your eyes sting with worry, ticking to a pair of hands buckling the straps that lay across your chest. A man secures it tightly, forcing your back against the cockpit chair. Your gaze drifts to the concentric steel rings of yellow, red, and white that stretch overhead and around you—being suspended within a 3-axis gimbal sends another churning sensation within your abdomen.

You hear a voice. It courses through the room and vibrates within your ears like fluttering echoes in a tunnel. It’s a man. He calls out your name from below.

“You ready?”

In your periphery, you see him, tall with slicked-back hair, standing with other men that adorn similar flight suits of blue. You nod, inhaling deeply as your hands reach for the controls. Suddenly, a metallic clang echoes through the room and the machine whirrs to life. The rings begin spinning in tandem, tossing your body in all directions. Your grip tightens around the controls, clicking with every push and pull as you struggle to analyze the spin. But, the machine spins faster.

Faster and faster and faster.

The machine continues to whirr. Your hands are still shifting the controls.

Faster and faster and faster.

Your eyes begin to droop, nausea taking hold of your body.

Faster and faster and faster.

You only hear your breaths; every inhale and exhale—they're loud.

Faster and faster and faster.

Too fast.

Stop.

...

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps. Not the clicks of the controls. You hear them clicking against tile floors from afar. From darkness, your eyes meet the color brown, shiny and polished—it’s wooden. The sound of the vast building’s acoustics hum in tune with the occasional chatter and echoing thump. You recognize the ambiance and it comforts your hasty thoughts as your brain tries to wreck itself in comprehending your current surroundings.

It’s one of those dreams again. The ones that kept you awake at night since the Sakaar incident, as if reliving the memories of another life. It isn’t yours but the realism to it makes it so complex that your brain cannot even comprehend the experiences during these dreams that occur.

To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Do dreams exceed the limit of disconnection and logic? Are dreams to be so immersive that it feels more like a memory, an echo of the past?

Through the turmoil of parsing between what’s real and what’s not, a tap on your shoulder hauls you back to reality. You turn to see Mobius, looking ridiculously exhilarated. Behind him lingers an amused Loki, hands tugging into the pockets of his jacket. The analyst says your name with a tone of equal exuberance to his manner.

“I thought I’d find you here. Do you always sleep at the archives?”

You snort, seizing yourself up as you wipe your face with your palm in hopes of feeling slightly more awake and alive than you were before. “No. Sometimes, I sleep at my desk too.”

Exhausted and sarcastic. Typical you.

Mobius rounds the table to sit beside you, gesturing Loki to his previous spot before he got up and ran away from you without any explanation. He shoots you a smile, lips pressed together, almost hesitant to sit across from you. You watch him through narrowed eyes as you address him with folded arms. “And here you are, back here again.”

Loki cannot fight the growing grin upon his lips, knowing all too well that you're referring to how he led you into an unnecessary chase down the corridors of the TVA for the sake of his entertainment. Well, it was not unnecessary. Things were turning out to be a bore and with the sudden thought of a proposition to help with his case, it doesn’t mean he has to drag out the fun of irritating the hell out of everyone else.

And you are not a bore.

“Loki! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

You’re outright screaming at him but his long legs only stride faster than yours could handle, slumber still clinging to your face like a thick, waxen mask. He’s so quick, weaving through tangerine hallways, skidding across the tiled floors.

He saunters down the hall with quick feet but doesn’t sprint, clever enough not to draw any attention.

He ought to answer you. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he flashes you a cheeky smile. He swears he saw flames burning in your eyes for a moment.

As you wind another corner, you already see him making one last quick dart through the elevator doors that slide open as it dings unceremoniously. Through your wide-eyed gaze, you signal him with eyes that carry a warning.

“Don’t you dare close that fucking door.” you snarl, voice booming from down the hallway and so does the clicking of the heels of your Oxford shoes as you march towards him like you’re on the hunt for prey.

Loki jams his finger onto the button to close the doors, unable to wipe off his grin. “Don’t you trust me?” is all he says to you, sending you a wink through the closing gap of the elevator doors as he raises his palm to wave you farewell.

You decided Loki wasn’t worth the time he has already taken from your assigned paperwork. So, you returned to your desk with a trace of bitterness in your tongue while attempting to suppress the regret for actually feeling sorry for Loki. Only because you know how it is like to be alone.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. He makes you think he is capable of change, capable of compassion. He makes you think he cares from the way he looks at you with those eyes that flicker the spark of hope in you. This Loki is the same old Loki.

Well, maybe the one in Sakaar had a good chance of earning your trust. But that’s gone now.

You shift in your seat, elbows now leaning against the edge of the table. “And to answer your question, no. I do not trust you. And I never will.”

Famous last words of the variant turned analyst.

Nobody trusts you either.

Except for the grey-haired analyst with the obsession for jet skis and you never understood why. Maybe, it’s because you’re the only one who is willing to put up with his ramblings.

Mobius eyes you and Loki’s interaction as the two of you seem to fall into the rhythm of making things even more complex than it appears. It's all part of his grand plan. Mobius knows you well enough to know you are possibly enjoying Loki's company no matter how much he irritates you. And Loki, it's clear how he admires you and how you constantly surprise him every time he crosses paths with you.

“What would I ever do without your trust?” the God sneers, each articulation of every word wrapped in mockery paired with dramatically placing his hand to his heart. Your eye twitches, the spitfire of your personality ready to fire back with a probable nasty insult. Yet, Mobius places his hand on your shoulder, while the other outstretched towards Loki as if trying to keep the two of you apart.

“Okay, okay. No need to get all riled up now. We only just had a breakthrough in the case, and I’m not letting you kill each other just yet.”

Your anger seems to immediately wash away, replaced by curiosity. You blink at your colleague. “Breakthrough?”

“Yes, and it was surprisingly Loki’s theory. Now—”

“Why do I smell...sulfur?”

You cut his sentence short as a strong whiff of a reeked scent began to descend upon you, billowing in the air. You inhale deeply, brows furrowing in concentration and confusion. An overpowering scent of a decaying body, faint but strong enough to seem out of the ordinary. The archives never smell rotten, always floor polish. Mobius and Loki share a look. Mobius is the one to speak up, attempting to distract you from your sudden strong sense of smell. “Sulfur? What, like when there’s a demonic manifestation? I mean, we are in the presence of Loki—”

“You went to Pompeii, didn’t you?”

In all of the time he has spent with Mobius who had a constant laid-back and confident nature to him, he has never seen him so red in the face. As the situation unfolds, he wonders why Mobius has made it a point to hide that information with so much eagerness which now has proved to be useless. You’re not only intelligent but also quick—only in terms of the mind rather than your physical capabilities.

You can hardly run, but your brain outshines everyone else he has met in the TVA.

Mobius is now waiting for the imminent chaos and mayhem you’re about to bring. You’re going to call him insane like every other time he has suggested an out-of-the-ordinary idea. Causing a scene is one of your talents. He has his hand on your shoulder again.

“You hate Pompeii, Mobius. Why the hell would bring him—Wait.” Your eyes are wide and blinking. “You went to Pompeii. Alone. I know that from the look on your faces. Which means no reset charge...No Nexus event.” You pause, pursing your lips. Then, you avert your gaze to Loki who watches you curiously. “Are you suggesting the variant is hiding in apocalypses?”

Mobius’ laugh comes off like a puff of air. He pats you on the back like a proud uncle. “Back on the game, Agent!”

Loki is slightly impressed. Only slightly.

“Okay, you two stay here. I’ll go get the files. Great work, you two.” Mobius gestures to the both of you with an outstretched index finger, grin so wide as he scurries off. Mobius loves a good case, especially when there’s a breakthrough. And with you finally familiarizing yourself with working together with Loki, everything is finally starting to look up.

The two of you end up finding each other’s gaze and for the first time, you smile at him. It’s small but genuine.

“You know you could have told me.”

“I would have, but you don’t trust me, remember?”

You hum, raising a brow. “And running away was supposed to gain my trust?”

Loki chuckles, eyes flicking to the table. “I never said anything about gaining your trust.”

Your smile grows wider, and Loki decides how he prefers you like this—relaxed and amused.

He oddly sees his mother in you. It’s the way you look at him. Like you know him.

Right, you have met him. Once.

“What was I like? The one you met at Sakaar.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his sudden question that hasn’t got to do with insinuating you.

“The same as you—barely tolerable,” you say tightly, heaving a sharp exhale. ”Just…a lot sadder.”

You hadn’t mentioned how he willingly helped escape your execution because a part of you still believes it all to be a lie. The TVA has your complete fidelity but ever since the Sakaar incident, your trust in the way the system works has been swayed. After years of being trapped in your mind, the question of whether your capabilities in logic have been damaged due to loneliness still begs. Judge Renslayer believes in your incompetence but you believe she hides a secret about the Time Keepers.

The three beings, creator of the TVA, personally convicted you as innocent, allowing you to maintain your job. Nothing of this makes sense.

Maybe Judge Renslayer lost all her faith in you, her second-best analyst because your Nexus event relates to Loki. The one variant that has been causing havoc to the Sacred Timeline. And this Loki, the one that seems to be very curious about your place in the TVA and the Time Keepers, is no different than the others.

You find yourself feeling an uncalled sense of sadness that dwells in your chest at the thought of leaving the only friendship you secretly wished to have maintained back at Sakaar. Before you let yourself fall into the abyss of melancholic wishful thinking, you swiftly direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I’m sorry Mobius referred to you as the devil,” you say coyly. “You really aren’t.”

Loki, who seems to catch on with the sarcastic tone of your voice, leans farther into his seat. “Really?”

A smirk returns to your face. “You're worse than the devil." He snorts, noticing the vague hint of crimson growing upon your cheeks and how your eyes seem to crinkle a little more than usual.

He finds himself swallowing under your stare, fiddling his fingers in an attempt to calm his sudden erratic heartbeat. A stutter under your now kind gaze—no one ever stares at him with a smile. "You are not the first to say that."

There’s another pause; Loki’s face is set with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest in remembrance of how you’re not the first to have treated him the way you did. He’s dangerous but, there’s no reason for animosity. Yet, it all boils down to the lives he has willingly taken. It doesn’t differentiate him from the rest of the TVA.

Mysterious variant.

The devil is always in the details.

Strangely, the work of the devil may prove to be useful in times of cul-de-sacs as an idea comes to mind. “I think...I think I know where you’re at right now.” Your voice is light, distracted by your now running thoughts. You’re on your feet, chair squeaking as you push it back. Your pen is in your grasp and you wave it in the air, reflecting the gears that turn at high speed within your brain.

Frankly, you’re not making any sense. Loki furrows his brows, slowly standing. “What do you mean? I’m right here—"

“No. The other one. The variant. And it has to do with gum.”

You’re still not making sense and it’s clear that in your eyes, he is invisible. You’re the only one in that frenzied mind of yours.

“What?”

You don’t answer him, feet quickly bringing you down the passageway along the vast rows of shelves that stretch along with the floor’s pristine balcony of white and the two of you are back to playing chase and run. Only this time, the roles are reversed.

Mission Haven Hills: not successful.

Really not successful. Far from successful.

You witnessed the doom of bombing the Sacred Timeline, firsthand. Employees scramble at the controls as you watch the screen that looms over the control room. What was once a single line, running along with time has now grown like a tree with fruits of chaos, caused by Nexus events scattered across time and places.

You wished the dust would settle and this was all simply a dream but you realize this was his plan all along.

Bomb the timeline. Distract the TVA.

There is one thing you know about Loki. He is moved by revenge and resentment.

As if you possess some sort of telepsychic powers, a part of you feels that danger itself is within the vicinity of the TVA. The variant is here, you just know it.

You hope Mobius is okay.

Scurrying down the winding hallways, past the hurried time hunters, and past the time theaters, you find yourself heading towards the golden doors of the Time Keepers’ chambers. In a time of uncertainty, your gut is your only source of guidance.

At the end of the hallway, you see bodies on the ground, nearly lifeless—time hunters, either unarmed or batons missing. You plucked one of the sizzling batons from the ground as you cautiously stepped around the laying bodies. You clutch it tightly to calm the blood rushing to your head, pounding along with your heartbeat as you take on the venture into the foyer of the grand chambers with secrets not wanting to be unveiled.

You round the corner, following the wooden panels for walls laid along the entrance. The glowing end of the baton within your grasp reflects off the black porcelain tiles beneath your careful feet. You hear voices, grunts, and shouting as if in combat.

Then, you see them. Loki in his variant jacket and a woman with locks of blonde and streaks of black. She adorns a headpiece of golden horns—one broken off.

Isn't Loki supposed to be at Haven Hills?

Recognizing the presence of another, the two turn to you, daggers still held to each other's throats. Loki eyes you with wide eyes, a silent plea whether to help or stand down, you’re unsure. Your gaze shifts to the woman once more who watches you with an equal resemblance to the other.

Then, it hits you. You recognize the dark emerald cloak she wears. You know exactly who she is. You just never thought it would be a she.

“You!” Your exclamation is bitter, and it’s directed towards the woman who seems to be strangely expectant of your remark as if she already knows who you are. She is L1190, a Loki variant. The one who slashed you with the TVA’s baton, scaring your left cheek. The one who hauled you through the time door and left you stranded in Sakaar for thousands of years.

You know exactly what she has done. She knows what she has done.

“You did this to me!” you gesture to the scar on your left cheek, eyes fixated solely on her, nearing the two with caution. You’re angry. Very angry. All pent-up rage begging to be set free.

Before Loki could even perceive the current situation he landed in between two women who very much want him dead, you’re already swinging the baton to her face with full force but she blocks it with her sword but slightly staggers in her step. You glare at her. She seems a little surprised. In an instant, you take a step back and go for another strike to her rib, but she blocks you again, sliding away and dodging your hit by a mere second. You growl out of frustration, seething through your teeth, and without hesitation, you strike again. The fight goes on—strike, block, strike, dodge. And with every blow, your intensity escalates, each a little harder than the one before. Loki stands there, watching, speechless and frozen.

You strike again, the baton crackling less than an inch away from her face but she dodges just in time, swinging her sword across your face. It grazes your cheek, now a gash of crimson on top of your scar, and with the sudden blow of searing pain, you lose your balance.

The variant spins into a kick that sweeps your legs out from under, knocking you hard onto the ground. The baton rolls out from your grip. Your hand flies to the gash, trickling with blood.

“Hey!”

The brawl comes to a halt. You seize yourself up from the ground, back and head aching, turning to see Judge Renslayer accompanied by two hunters, batons held up in defense position. You were about to reach for your own that was a stretch away when suddenly, you felt a hand grip you by the collar, hauling you to your knees. Her sword held to your neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Go for it.”

Your eyes are wide in shock, all anger towards the variant now turning into this churning feeling of betrayal that resides within your abdomen. Judge Renslayer doesn’t look at you, focus fixated on the two variants—it’s like you’re not even there.

The three start to charge towards you and you involuntarily shut your eyes. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, Loki grabs the tempad hung at her waist and sends the three of you falling through the ground.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. Now, with your back landing hard on top of him, all you could think about is wanting to strangle him to death.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson imagine #loki imagine #loki series #loki spoilers #sylvie #mobius #ravonna renslayer

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jabitha-endgame · 2 years

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I've been trying really hard to tune out (and then block) the inherent and systemically racist tropes that some people in a certain corner of the fandom keep trying to assign to Tabitha while insisting her race has nothing to do with it but today despite my best efforts I had to read the words "she is not entitled to the relationship" and I just 😤🤬🤯🤮🤬 DAMN! NO WORDS

I have a few! 😂

Anyone who says Tabitha feels "entitled" to a relationship with Jughead should absolutely be ignored. A certain corner of the fandom is really pressed that Jabitha got "I Love You"s while they are currently grasping onto props in the background for validation of their ship.

Women of color, and especially black women have always been shafted in fandom (especially when they are romantically involved with the fan favorite white boy). This isn't anything new, and it's certainly nothing new for Riverdale. Certain people can try all they want to erase Jughead's clear feelings for Tabitha with their language and try to remove Jughead's agency in his own relationship, but the fact of the matter remains - Jughead loves Tabitha.

How can Tabitha feel "entitled to the relationship" when they are together and Jughead wants to be with her?? All of their arguments are based on their racist perceptions of Tabitha anyway, they use everything on screen to rationalize what they want to happen (and not to make actual valid readings/interpretations of the show because they ignore canon and strip everything of it’s original context). Some readings/interpretations of the show are flat out wrong. Period. End of discussion. Betty and Jughead saying “hey” as a greeting to each other in the school for 3 seconds did not foreshadow they would sing Hey #3 in the musical. (other characters also said hey to each other that season lolol). Betty going over to Archie’s house to ask if Jughead was there wasn’t because she wanted to see Jughead - it was because she specifically wanted him NOT to be there. Some takes are factually incorrect and not supported by canon, no matter how many gifsets and screen shots people take out of context and prescribe their own meaning to.

"Tabitha is Jughead's babysitter, she is Bughead's cheerleader, she is Jughead's mammie". All of these great Bughead "talking points" are explicitly racist and don't deserve to be validated or discussed as if they hold any merit. I'm glad everything they say makes me beyond confused, I don't ever want to understand the headspace of a bitter racist.

I don't know what show they are watching where they think Tabitha feels entitled to him and his love, she has earned that through all of her tender, sweet, and loving interactions with her bae.

Tabitha is here. She is allowed to take up space. She is allowed to be loved by Jughead. She is allowed to love Jughead back. She is allowed to run her business. She is allowed to be messy, to have feelings, to have insecurities, to have a temper, to have a voice, to discover herself. She is allowed TO. BE. A. CHARACTER.

I would continue to just block/ignore trolls, especially trolls who throw around racist tropes and terminology when talking about Tabitha. Clear that garbage out of here. Let them fester in their own delusions and unhappiness. All of their aggression online comes from being unhappy with the show. So just sit back, relax, and enjoy Riverdale (this makes them especially angry).

#riverdale #jabitha #jughead jones #tabitha tate #ask tag #racists don't get a voice #JUGHEAD LOVES TABITHA #TABITHA LOVES JUGHEAD #when the Jabitha sex scene happens I just know they are going to lose their minds

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matan4il · 3 years

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I am in so much awe of @captain-flint! Not only did she create this incredible gifset for my Buddie meta (up on AO3), she expanded on it with parallels from s3 and I love it so much! Thank you for being so brilliant, darling! xoxoxox

Something interesting about ep 210 is how much of the Shannon-related action is stuff that happens with Buck involved. Did he have to be present? In ep 207, all the developments related to her happened without any connection to Buck, yet here, he’s involved repeatedly. He happens to be one of two 118 members who overhear Shannon confronting Eddie and mentioning the sex they’re having. More than that, he can’t stop thinking about it, we see Buck talking about this to Chim even when they’re off work and Eddie’s not around to trigger this talk. And he’s not idly mentioning how he’s happy for his friend or commenting on the awkward situation earlier at the station, he’s saying how weird Eddie’s attitude on this is, he’s pointing out that something is off, which shows he’s really putting thought into this, while Chim’s not a bit interested, making it clear this fascination is unique to Buck.

Now, remember how up until now, the guys didn’t really talk to each other about their current respective romantic partners, even when they did talk to other people about them? Almost like it’s too weird to bring the other guy into this specifically, so they end up talking about this stuff to people who matter less than their best friend does and who know them less, like Eddie talked to Carla in 207... But in this ep, the public drama created by Shannon forces Eddie to confront the topic. And he doesn’t go explaining himself to Chim, it’s Buck that he talks to about this.

He’s apologetic, he tries to explain why he’d even go there again with Shannon. It’s almost like he’s apologizing that he’s with someone else. Almost. Buck doesn’t react with full sincerity, which is unusual for him. We know he thinks something’s not quite right there, but he doesn’t say that to Eddie. In fact, he gives his friend every out not to speak about this if he doesn’t want to. Yet Eddie does. And once Eddie actually opens up to him, all Buck does it try to be as supportive and understanding as he can be. All of this emotional intimacy is taking place while they’re also more physically intimate than they have to be. Their knees are touching throughout this talk despite the fact that there’s enough space for them to sit fully bodily separated.

Then the talk turns to Chris and why Eddie felt the need to keep him from seeing Shannon. Eddie opens up about his own guilt and sense of having abandoned his son, and I find it telling that he shares this with Buck, but we never see him doing the same with the woman he may be getting back together with, he never see him explaining these things to her. Meanwhile, the whole scene with the conversation about how much Eddie doesn’t know whether to trust her and let her see her son, it all starts and ends with Buck being there and acting like more of a proud and loving co-parent to Chris and a trusted part of the Diaz family unit than we’ve seen so far (special shoutout to the Elf lady for being the voice of us all. Also, to Buck for not only avoiding going into gay panic at her comment and so continuing to be an icon of non-toxic masculinity, but also seeming kinda happy over what she said, actually freaking skipping away after simply thanking her). The contrast with Shannon in this scene (for example, she’s the one who suggests they take Chris to see Santa, but it’s Buck who Eddie takes with him to do that) is yet another one in a long line that shows how much Eddie already has more with Buck, in terms of closeness and intimacy, than he ever does with anyone else.

You can find more of my meta on AO3 or on Tumblr.

#9-1-1 #911 meta #911meta #buddie #buddie meta #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #and this is no disrespect to shannon #i just don't think they ever managed to be on the same page at the same time #mbm #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 15

(Masterpost)(Other Canary Content)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

This rewatch is going to fit into a single post, because a third of the episode is just crying and yelling on a very slow boat. If you want to learn the Chinese words for “Mother” and “Father” this is your episode.

Captain Blowhard

Clan Leader Yao shows up, having barely survived the massacre of his clan, along with two disciples who aren't too excited about their unwilling promotion to top targets. Jiang Cheng tells his dad that the Wens are systematically exterminating the smaller clans, and have said anyone who helps the survivors is going to be punished.

Jiang Fengmian tells Yao that the Jiang Clan will protect him. Which is why Wei Wuxian is responsible for the massacre of the Jiang Clan.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both think that taking Yao to the Jin clan is the best way to keep him safe. Wei Wuxian was wrong to help the heirs of the powerfullest richest clans, but sure, let's save this asshole.

Road Tripping

The boys go down to the dock to send Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian off, saying a formal goodbye with a bunch of disciples and showing off how extremely good they look in these close-fitted, simply cut robes with cool belts.

Yu Ziyuan comes down to say goodbye to Yanli and give her some medicine, covering by saying it's for Jiang Fengmian, because being sick is bad for marriage prospects, probably.

Later the boys will mention their hope that YZY will be mollified by the time JFM returns, which means this possibly isn't the usual state of their relationship. The dislike and jealousy seem to be constant, but perhaps being openly at war with each other is not.

(more after the cut!)

Club Ruohan

At Club Ruohan, Wen Ruohan is tired of sitting on his big uncomfortable throne so he's sitting on the floor next to it, instead. He's suffering the embarrassing problem of black smoke leakage, and needs Wen Qing to give him acupuncture to fix it, but she's not around. Wen Ruohan has an awful lot of trouble containing resentful energy, possibly because he is controlling a bunch of zombies 24x7 instead of letting them take a break. Wei Wuxian is mostly able to control it--except when he, you know, totally isn't--without ever needing an attractive acupuncturist to give him a poke.

WRH learns from Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian 1. killed a boss-level monster on nightmare level difficulty without his sword 2. took whatever thing had been suppressing the nightmare monster for the previous really long time. WRH wants whatever it is.

Boys in Charge

When the boys get back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why they couldn't all go to the Lins together, and Wei Wuxian explains it to him. Wei Wuxian is the one seeing the big picture, and he wants to plan how to handle the Wen forces when they, inevitably, arrive.

Jiang Cheng would rather talk big than actually plan, showing how--at this age--his anger management problem is an issue on a strategic level, not just a personal one. As a clan leader he will eventually master this aspect, for the most part, and learn to keep a cool head in regard to martial matters, while continuing to feed his interpersonal rage problem.

The brothers supervise the archery practice of the Jiang disciples, having their last nice time together, and still without a plan. Wei Wuxian is bored and calls practice early so he can go be bored on the porch or in his room, since he isn't allowed out. In fact he's so bored by lockdown that he starts an irreverent niche blog.

(he’s kidding! keep your mask on, don’t go to wine houses)

Knowing that the Wen Clan is gunning for enemy cultivators, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng send the whole group of disciples, including children, outside the compound walls to retrieve their kites. This is what happens when you don't have a plan.

Wen the Levee Breaks

Wen Chao’s girlfriend Wang Lingjiao finds a kite with a hole in it and uses it as a pretext to snatch up the youngest disciple.

The other disciples come running back and tell WWX and JC what happened. Wei Wuxian calmly gets all of the information from them and starts figuring out what to do, while Jiang Cheng freaks out.

Jiang Cheng is a good fighter, and matures into an excellent one after a core upgrade and war experience. But Wei Wuxian is a born battle leader, developing strategies on the fly and staying cool under pressure.

Madame Yu is as brave as a barrel full of bears and Yinzhu and Jinzhu chase lions down the stairs

Yu Ziyuan and the murder twins show up and all of the disciples line up behind them, relieved to have someone scary in charge.. Yu Ziyuan is also a natural leader and an awesome fighter, but her judgement is terrible, as we're about to discover.

Bitchfest

Wang Lingjiao strolls in to the main hall and has the nerve to comment on the interior decorating, because it doesn't have enough rough-hewn black rock and lava pits, apparently.

She shows them all the kite and says that because it looks (kind of) like the sun, using it for target practice is an attack on the Wen Clan. Bitch, everything your clan wears and uses has fire on it and is red. The sun is not your emblem, no matter what the text says. This kite situation is presumably where the anti-Wen campaign gets its name of "Sunshot," however, which sounds pretty cool.

Wang Lingjiao moves along to her main point, which is that Wei Wuxian needs his ass kicked, and she'd like Yu Ziyuan to do the kicking. To goad her, she starts talking about the rumors about Wei Wuxian's parentage.

Let it Whip

So let it whip (let's whip it, baby) Get a grip (let's whip it baby) Well, what's your trip? (Oh no)

Yu Ziyuan takes the bait, and proceeds to whip the shit out of her strongest battle asset, in a sequence that's either horrifying or completely fucking awesome, depending on how you feel about whump.

There are a lot of bad effects in this show and a lot of questionable fighting, but any time Zidian flies, I am HERE for it. I gave this beatdown its own gifset over here.

Jiang Cheng is devastated and tries again and again to protect Wei Wuxian, but his mother and her lieutenants keep moving him out of the way so the beating can continue.

Yu Ziyuan hits Wei Wuxian at least 5 times, until he is totally unable to get up off the floor. Wang Lingjiao has succeeded in eliminating him as a threat for the moment.

Gotta Hand It To You

Wang Lingjiao isn't satisfied with the brutal whipping, however; she wants his right hand as a trophy, and for him to be unable to recover. Yu Ziyuan tells Jinzhu and Yinzhu to close the doors because some blood is going to fly.

I'd like to think this is when Yu Ziyuan decides to kill the Wens, rather than maiming WWX, but I'm not certain. Because she doesn't start attacking until after Wang Lingjiao says the Wens are taking Lotus Pier, and tells her to discipline Jiang Cheng. So maybe she is okay with taking WWX’s hand, but draws the line at giving up her house.

Through all of this, Wei Wuxian doesn't once protest, even when he thinks they're getting ready to take his hand off. He'll do whatever it takes to make peace. THIS is the core of his heroism; he will sacrifice anything to do what he thinks is right. He's not "playing the hero;" not doing this for fame or kudos, but for a clear conscience.

It’s a Murder Party

Wang Lingjiao explains the new Wen World order, and Yu Ziyuan smacks her to the floor and then takes out all 8 of the Wen soldiers in one elegant move.

Can we talk about how incredibly effective a fighter Yu Ziyuan is, without a sword? With her first-class spiritual tool as her only weapon? Nobody is telling her she needs to carry a sword. She shows she can use one, after she gives Zidian to Jiang Cheng, but she's absolutely devastating without one.

Having defied Wang Lingjiao, Yu Ziyuan...doesn't kill her. She chokes her, slaps her and yells at her. Then she insults her clan and sticks her FOOT on her FACE.

She sics the murder twins on the guards in the room, and they shank all of them at super speed while the boys watch with alarm.

Then she has them sloooowly advance on Wang Lingjiao, giving her plenty of time to holler for Wen Zhuliu before they can kill her.

Het Heat

Wen Zhuliu comes flying in, literally, kicking both murder twins across the room at the same time. This is followed by Core-Melting Hand x Violet Spider suddenly becoming the most shippable M/F couple in this thing, because wow, they have some serious chemistry.

I never saw a pretty girl look so tough

Actor Feng Mingjing continues to do an awful lot with almost no lines, in his portrayal of Wen Zhuliu. WZL politely apologizes to Yu Ziyuan. Is he offering to withdraw, or is he just being polite before getting down to the killy bit? Either way, Yu Ziyuan is ready to rumble, and doesn't even consider de-escalating.

You know who was able to rein in his temper, after fighting with this same extremely dangerous dude, and therefore lived to fight another day? Fucking Nie Mingjue, that's who, who has a generational CURSE making him angry. While Yu Ziyuan, is like, "fuck the safety of my clan, this is Wei Wuxian's fault anyway" and throws down.

Wen Zhuliu and Yu Ziyuan proceed to have an epic, sexy fight, where he catches her whip and she dodges his attempt to feel up her core.

He's a magic man, mama, he's got the magic hands.

Wei Wuxian, still incapacitated, tells Jiang Cheng to stop Wang Lingjiao from calling for help, but JC gets distracted by the threat to his mom, and goes to engage with Wen Zhuliu.

Jiang Cheng takes a horrifying smack in the chest, which injures him and takes him out, while Wang Lingjiao sends the signal that seals the fate of Lotus Pier.

It’s All Over Except for the Crying

Yu Ziyuan immediately sees that she's lost the battle, and has the murder twins divert Wen Zhuliu while she brings the two boys to the pier.

She verifies that Jiang Cheng's core is still intact, showing the viewers, for future reference, that it's possible to tell by touch if someone's core is missing, although a casual touch won't do it.

Then she re-codes the Zidian so that it recognizes Jiang Cheng and puts it on his wrist. She follows this with a display of maternal affection for Jiang Cheng unlike anything we've seen so far, which super fails to reassure him.

She follows this up with screaming at Wei Wuxian and telling him how much she hates him, and blaming him for the multiple shitty choices she just made..

With a heart full of rage, she reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

She binds the boys with Zidian and then sends the boat on its way....

...with a frickin' TALISMAN, holeee shit. As toxic as she is for Wei Wuxian, there is a direct line from her cultivation skills to his.

Dad To The Rescue...sort of

The last third of the episode is basically yelling and crying punctuated by a couple of interactions out on the water. The extreme emotions go on for long enough that I eventually stop feeling bad for the characters and start feeling bad for the actors, who had to maintain this level of feeling for probably days of shooting.

The boys eventually meet up with Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli. JFM discovers that Zidian responds to his control, which tells him something is very, very wrong, since it probably knows how his wife feels about him.

This thing isn’t biting me; your mom is in serious trouble.

Here Jiang Fengmian decides to do the heroic, totally futile thing, which is exactly his style. He tosses Jiang Yanli in with the boys and takes his leave so he can go die with his wife while the children survive.

He has to know that Yu Ziyuan is the stronger fighter of the two of them, and that he's not going back to rescue her. He's just going to stand with her and die together, which is the most romantic thing you can do in a C-drama, after all.

How Much Do You Owe the Jiang Clan?

Jiang Fengmian tells his two children not to cry, making them and the viewer cry extra hard. (specially ouchy gifset here).

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian and, with a heart full of tenderness, reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

Next episode: Is going to be even more horrible!

Soundtrack: 1. When The Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin 2. The Tale of Custard the Dragon (poem) by Ogden Nash 3. Let it Whip by the Dazz Band 4. U Got the Look by Prince & Sheena Easton 5. Magic Man by Heart

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #yi ziyuan #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed spoilers #tw: crying #omg this episode

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

House Calls (2/2 )

Hannibal (TV)

This part took much longer than the first. The muse eluded me for quite some time but it has finally returned! And the fact that this beautiful gifset from the show is making the rounds again certainly helped. ❤❤ Shoutout to @mongooseblues for inspiration for and assistance with this fic! A small note for those that read part 1, I'm retconning the fact that Hannibal had a digital thermometer that beeps. He would definitely have a mercury one.

Read part 1 here. (Recommended, it is referenced quite a few times in part 2)

Read my other works here (works best on desktop) (Also on AO3)

My asks are always open for prompts!

For the second time in one week, Will Graham was awoken by the phone ringing. Granted, a week ago it had woken him because it rang at an unusually early hour. This time it woke him because he was still getting over the godawful bug he'd caught, and he was going to bed earlier and sleeping in later.

He fumbled for the device and picked it up with a groggy " H'llo?"

"Will, it's Hannibal." The doctor paused to clear his throat roughly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have a favor to ask of you, if you're up to it." There was a strange noise on the other end of the line, a kind of shuffling noise-- or perhaps a sniffle?

"Sure," Will said with a yawn and a sniffle of his own, rubbing his eyes. "I've been feeling pretty good since yesterday. I can help with whatever you need."

"That's very promising. As to the favor... It appears I've left my medical bag at my office." Here he had to stop to clear his throat again and cough before he continued. "I was wondering if you would be able to collect it for me and bring it to my home. I'm… well, it seems I've caught your illness and I don't believe it would be wise for me to leave the house."

By this time, Will had slid to sit on the edge of the bed as he listened, stifling further yawns. The damn flu still had him feeling so unbelievably tired and groggy.

"I'll head out right away," Will replied, rubbing his face. "And… I'm really sorry to have put you in this position, Dr. Leh--Hannibal. I never meant to get you sick."

"Occupational hazard, and I don't regret any of my actions concerning your care. But I appreciate your assistance in getting my bag. I will see you soon I hope."

"See you soon." Will ended the call with a small sigh. Now he felt guilty *and* tired. He was almost glad there was something he could do for the doctor to help assuage his own conscience.

Less than an hour later, Will arrived at Hannibal's stately house. It had been no problem to retrieve the black leather medical bag from Hannibal's office. Due to the late hour of their therapy sessions, Will always arrived after the office front entrance was locked, so he knew the code to the building’s back door. The bag had been hidden behind a table leg and it was easy to see how Hannibal had overlooked it Now it was simply a matter of delivering it.

Already a bit overwhelmed to be approaching such a house, Will hesitated after mounting the porch steps. Hannibal hadn't told him what to do when he arrived. If the doctor was sleeping he didn't want to rouse him out of bed, but he didn't want to just walk in either. However, the safest option seemed to be to bite the bullet and knock. As he raised his hand to do so though, he realized the door was slightly ajar. A man like Dr. Lecter wouldn't accidentally leave a door open, no matter how ill he was. It stood to reason, then, that it had been left open for him. With more than a little trepidation, Will pushed the door open and stepped in.

The house was dim and still, and just as stately and pristine as everything else of Hannibal's. Will heard the sound of a harpsichord from somewhere inside. Hannibal was awake, then. At least that was something.

Will followed the sounds of the music, which led him into the cavernous kitchen. The stainless steel appliances were silent and eerie without Hannibal's bustling presence giving them life. The music was louder now, seemingly coming from the next room, and echoing slightly against the polished surfaces. A strange sixth sense kept Will from calling out that he had arrived, as if there was a spell on the house that didn't want to be broken. Will paused before he approached the corner that turned into the next room. As he did, the music stopped abruptly, and instead a different noise punctuated the air:

"HrrrrRRISHyuu! ErrrrRREISH-shooo! ISSSHH-chuhh! Hh'rrrsshh'CHHOOF!"

It was of course Hannibal who had sneezed. Logically Will knew this was to be expected when a person was sick. Yet it seemed so strange to hear such a mundane noise from such an extraordinary person. It was as if he'd accidentally witnessed something exceedingly private.

Still, the sneezing had broken the spell. The doctor said something in Lithuanian that sounded suspiciously like swearing, then began to blow his nose. As he did this, Will retreated several steps and reentered the kitchen more noisily:

"Dr. Lecter! I'm here! I've got your bag!"

"I'm in the study," came the congested reply, annexed by a chesty cough.

Will found the man where he said, seated in front of the instrument as he tended to his nose. Yet still, the doctor tried to smile warmly upon seeing him, though his shoulders had a limp sag to them, and he shivered as he sniffled into his handkerchief. He was wearing a fine blue silk robe with a plain white tee shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, neat but still a far cry from his usual suits. His hair was combed but lacked the crisp, styled look it usually had, hanging more naturally around his face. His eyes were fever-bright, and his cheeks were flushed from the same. He looked overall rundown and quite unwell.

Will handed him the black leather bag right away. Hannibal took it, looking grateful.

"Thank you so much for coming, Will. I didn't know who else to call." His voice was husky and thick, more than hinting at a miserable sore throat.

"No problem. But what are you doing out here? I thought the reason I fetched this was because you were too sick to get out of bed."

"I'm really not very ill. I was merely trying to avoid getting anyone else ill by my going out. But you've already had this illness, so you are safe from infection, which is why I thought to call you."

"That's logical I suppose," said Will wryly. "You look pretty sick to me, though."

"I assure you I'm fie- fine…. '' Hannibal quickly disappeared behind the handkerchief again, his breath hitching to sneeze. His shoulders leapt violently several times, and the motion made his hair fall across his forehead. However, any other sneeze side effects were thoroughly stifled into silence. After finishing the fit, Hannibal wiped his nose and flipped his hair back again with a toss of his head. Noting how familiar the doctor seemed to be with the gesture, Will could only guess at the number of sneezing fits he had had prior to this one.

Seeing the poor man’s sinuses take such abuse from the forceful stifles though made Will's own still-congested sinuses start dripping in sympathy. He hastily pulled out a tissue and wiped his nose.

"Ah, but you are still ill yourself. Where are my manners? I'll make us both tea." Hannibal quickly stood, but staggered before he could take a step, a hand going to his temple.

"Dr. Lecter--!" Will was at his side in a moment to steady him, one hand on the doctor's arm and the other at his back, just as Hannibal had steadied him earlier in the week. Will was prepared to do whatever was needed to keep Hannibal upright, though his swaying made Will more than a little nervous, for Hannibal was much taller than he, and would more than likely take them both down if he fell.

Thankfully, the doctor quickly righted himself, pulling away from Will's grasp. "Forgive me, I stood up too quickly." Dr. Lecter cleared his throat harshly, rubbing a palm across his eyes.

"Are you sure you--"

"I'm fine, Will. Now, tea." He strode away to the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation, as was his talent.

Will held his tongue for the time being and silently followed, sitting at the kitchen island while Hannibal puttered around making tea. The silence was companionable, only broken by the doctor's soft sniffles and coughs. At one point though, the doctor was overcome with a nasty coughing fit that bent him over at the waist as he grasped the countertop for balance. When the barking coughs subsided and he could breathe relatively normally once more, he flipped his hair back into place yet again and proceeded with what he was doing as if nothing had happened. Will noted all of this without comment.

Once the tea was poured, Hannibal seated himself beside Will, and they sipped together in continued silence. Will found it odd, though not unpleasant, to be sitting next to Hannibal without speaking, for their usual interactions dictated that conversation was necessary. Will found the quiet enjoyable. Yet Hannibal could not relax, for he was forced to tend to another harsh bout of coughing, turned away from Will and muffled into his elbow. His lungs sounded as if they were trying to tear their way out of his chest. Will could only look on in concern, and it was several long moments before he quieted.

"My apologies, Will," the doctor rasped as soon as he was able, the exertion having turned his face an even deeper shade of red.

"You don’t need to apologize. But you sound sick. And you look like you're running a fever. You should be in bed."

"I rest better down here with my music and my cooking. I couldn't lie in bed all day."

"I don't think you should do any cooking. You're shaking."

The doctor quickly hid his hands, which were indeed trembling with chills. "Even so. I find it hard to rest in bed during the day. I have trouble getting settled. It's too… quiet I suppose." He sniffled wetly, and was forced to dab at his nose with his handkerchief.

"Hmm." Will thought for a moment, studying his own hands, currently wrapped around his mug. "I suppose I have the same problem. And it's worse when you're not feeling well. But you helped alleviate that for me when I was sick." Will met the doctor's eyes, reddening slightly. "You should lie down after we're done with tea… and if you want, I'll stay with you for a while... If you think it'll help, I mean."

Hannibal regarded him in his penetrating way. "Are you that worried about my health, Will?"

"You're sick, Dr. Leh-- Hannibal. And I know how bad this flu is. I don't want to see you get worse."

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, aside from another moist sniffle. "That is very kind of you to offer. I suppose you are right. Some rest would perhaps do me good."

Will nodded. "When we're finished, I'll stay here and do these dishes while you go get settled. I'll come see you as soon as I'm done. But let me know if there's anything else you need."

Hannibal gave a tiny smile. "Thank you, Will." With that, he obediently swallowed the last few gulps of tea and stood, moving toward the back of the house.

"Hannibal?"

The doctor turned.

"You don't… have to keep pretending you're fine. If you are pretending, I mean. I know how badly you're probably feeling better than anyone. You don't need to fake anything for my sake."

Will watched as Hannibal's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly--a thin crack in the veneer. The sick man gave the barest of nods, then proceeded on to what Will assumed was his bedroom.

Will felt quite out of his element in more ways than one as he cleaned the dishes from their tea. Having no idea where anything went, he left it all out on a towel to dry. Once the kitchen was as clean as he could make it, he steeled himself to go check on his therapist.

The master bedroom was as luxurious as the rest of the house, and Will did his best not to gawk or make comparisons between this and his own tiny house. Hannibal had hung up his robe and was huddled in bed. He wasn't fully lying down, but was propped up against a stack of pillows, his breathing noticeably thick and raspy in the silent room. As Will expected, lying down evidently made the doctor feel the full impact of his symptoms (or perhaps he was simply done pretending). Hearing Will enter, he turned his head, lethargically opening heavy-lidded eyes. Against the cream sheets, the contrast between his pallor and fever flush was even more striking.

"It seems I'm more unwell than I thought," Hannibal murmured with a cough. "This is why I wanted to avoid lying down."

Will made a sympathetic sound. "That means you *need* to be lying down then. Have you taken your temperature recently? If not, we should."

Hannibal glanced at the medical bag he'd brought up with him. "The only thermometer I own is in there, so I have been unable to."

"A doctor that doesn't own a thermometer?" Will chuckled, moving to the bag. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"I do own one. I've never seen the need to own two."

Will deigned not to reply as he rummaged through the bag, quickly finding what he needed. He shook down the mercury as he returned to Hannibal's side. Hannibal held out his hand to take it, then shakily inserted it under his tongue. He leaned back to stare at the ceiling while Will stared at the floor, hands in his pockets.

Will waited what felt like an awkwardly long time before he finally shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "How long does it take to get a reading? I've never--"

Hannibal held up a hand and waited a bit longer, then removed the device from his mouth, glanced at it, and handed it to Will without comment.

Seeing the reading, Will gave a low whistle. 104.1… that's high, Hannibal."

"My body temperature is always above average. This is more pronounced when I'm ill."

"Do you have some medicine? You should probably take something. Or do you want a cool rag?"

"I have just taken medication." The doctor gestured to his nightstand with a thick sniffle where there was a small collection of unmarked pill bottles. "And there's no need for cooling methods. A fever is a natural physiological response to infection. Nothing to be alarmed about." He swiped at his nose with his handkerchief, stifling a cough.

Will was skeptical, but before he could respond, Hannibal jerked forward at the waist, pressing the handkerchief to his face again:

"Gghnxt! Kppshht!"

The expression on the doctor’s face indicated that he could have (and maybe should have) kept sneezing, but he harshly pinched his nose with a wet squelch and blew, forcing the tickle to subside.

Will sighed and shook his head, then made a face upon noticing the state of the handkerchief Hannibal was using.

"That handkerchief is...sodden. It's practically dripping. I'll get you a fresh one. Where do you keep them?"

"I only have 3 others and they are in worse shape than this one. I've rather been running through them."

Will chuckled. "I can't imagine why." He rummaged through his pockets, finally producing a nearly full, cellophane-wrapped travel pack of Kleenex which he handed to the doctor.

Hannibal made a face. "I despise using these."

"I'm not sure you have an option right now. These have to be better than your soaking wet cloth ones."

"Debatable," Hannibal muttered. Still, he shook one out and gingerly brought it to his face. He gave several thick, gurgling blows, productive to the point of starting to disintegrate the tissue. Seeing this, Hannibal made another face.

"You really need to use 2 or 3 of those at a time," Will said, trying not to laugh. "But let me get you a trash can."

"There is one in the master bathroom," Hannibal croaked, looking peeved and sounding more congested than ever.

Will quickly fetched the bin while Hannibal tried again to blow his nose, using 4 Kleenex this time. The 2nd round of blowing was equally productive. When he was finished, Will held the bin out and Hannibal tossed the tissues in as if he were tossing in a dead rat.

"This is most unsanitary Will," Hannibal muttered with a slushy sniffle, yet still pulling out more to continue wiping his streaming nostrils.

Will only chuckled. Hannibal was breathing slightly easier now, but his eyes were heavier than ever.

"You should sleep, Dr--Hannibal. You don't have to stay awake for my sake. I'll be here when you wake up."

The doctor nodded, obediently closing his eyes with a sigh.

Will didn't expect such a quick response, and for a moment he watched the doctor to ensure he was truly going to sleep. When it appeared he was, Will perched on a nearby chair, unsure what else to do. It seemed he was to be staying with Hannibal in the most literal sense, for he wasn’t about to go wandering around this house by himself.

Half an hour passed, the minutes dragging slowly. The doctor lay perfectly still the entire time, but Will knew he wasn't sleeping. His frame was too alert. Meanwhile Will, with nothing to do except scroll through his phone and listen to Hannibal's deep breathing, was struggling to stay awake and wishing he too had a bed. Killing time was only making him more groggy, and his head was beginning to ache.

Getting fed up with it, Will went with his instincts and tried something else. Swallowing a yawn and rubbing his eyes, he navigated to the e-reader app on his phone and pulled up one of his favorite novels. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud: "The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten…."

As soon as there was another sound in the room, Hannibal began to visibly relax, angling his face toward Will even as he got more comfortable in the bed, though his eyes never opened. Slowly, slowly he sank deeper into the pillows as Will read on. Will sensed he was trying to follow the story, but it seemed the doctor's fatigue was overwhelming, especially since Will was trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. Within another 30 minutes, Hannibal's hand had gone limp around the Kleenex he was holding as he softly snored, sleeping at last.

Will finished the chapter he was on, just to be sure the sick man wouldn't wake again, before he finally closed the book. His mouth was very dry and he needed a glass of water. Before he left the room though, he turned on the white noise machine he'd noted near the bed (he had a similar one in his own room), hoping some kind of continued noise would help Hannibal sleep longer. Will then tiptoed to the kitchen, pouring himself a huge glass of water right away. As he sat and drank it, he thought about what else he should do, for he didn't want to just continue sitting around.

"What do you do for someone when they're sick?" he murmured to himself. Another moment later, he answered himself: "Make them soup, I guess."

Hannibal's soup had been wonderful, but Will was no chef. He could prepare many basic things, but spices and seasonings, and thus soups, eluded him. He cringed at the thought of preparing something from scratch for a culinary master like Dr. Lecter.

However, another idea occurred to him, and he smiled to himself as he considered it. It might work, but he would need to run an errand. He stood right away and strode to the front door, wanting to go and be back as quickly as possible. He only hoped Hannibal would sleep the whole time he was gone, for Will had promised to be there when he woke, and he intended to keep that promise.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hannibal didn't wake until many hours later, and Will was indeed at his side when he did. It was Hannibal's treacherous nose that did it. Will had noted subtle signs of him nearing consciousness again for a while, but the final straw was an uncontainable volley of sneezes:

"HRRIIZZSHH-uh! HhURRSHH-shuh! hrrRIIIZZSHHD! Hhh-KKRRCHHSSHHooo!"

The sighed exhale that followed bordered on a groan as that doctor shakily grabbed the tissues at his side and tended to his cherry-red nose yet again with several gurgling blows. Will had been at his side from the first sound, looking for any way to be useful. Eventually Hannibal met his gaze, taking a moment to survey the younger man.

"You look tired, Will."

Will huffed a cheerless laugh. "You haven't doctored me enough yet this week?"

"A physician's nature doesn't change just because he's ill," Hannibal sniffled. "And you've also been ill. I don't want you to overtax yourself on my account."

"I'm fine. But you look tired too. How are you feeling?"

Hannibal didn't reply immediately, seemingly taking inventory. A shaky breath caused him to cough harshly before he could speak, and Will winced in sympathy.

"I feel thoroughly disgusting. And ill," Hannibal mumbled through congested-sounding consonants. "My head and chest feel achingly thick. Heavy." He put his own wrist to his forehead for a moment. "Feverish."

"Here, you need to drink." Will handed the doctor a tall glass of ice water. Hannibal took it and drank it down with a grateful look, but the chill from the ice immediately caused him to cough into his fist yet again.

Will watched all of this, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm still sorry I got you sick, Hannibal. I hate seeing you like this."

Though Hannibal's eyes shone with fever, he eyed Will keenly. "This is not your fault. Illness is an expected part of the human experience. You must not blame yourself." It occurred to Will that congestion was not the only thing making Hannibal more difficult to understand--his Lithuanian accent was also far more pronounced than usual.

"I still feel terrible."

The doctor quirked an eyebrow at him, looking faintly amused. "What a coincidence. As I've just told you, so do I."

Will couldn't think how to respond, so they merely shared a wry smile. Then, without warning, Hannibal's torso whipped forward, and he exploded into another pair of thick, spraying sneezes:

"Hhht-KNNXT! hhnnxxt-CHUUHG!" Evidently his ability to stifle was weakening as his symptoms worsened. The sick doctor stayed hunched forward, blowing and wiping his raw nose for the hundredth time, looking utterly miserable as he shook the last few Kleenex from the package.

"At least that's something I can help you with," Will said, nodding at the empty wrapper. He bent down and came back up with 2 new boxes of tissues. He opened one and handed it over. Hannibal took it reluctantly.

"Those are the best ones you can get. They should be almost like real cloth."

"I rather doubt that," Hannibal muttered. "But I thank you nonetheless. They are sorely needed."

"And I plan to take your cloth ones home and wash them and bring them back tomorrow. Including the one I still have. So you'll only have to deal with these for a bit longer," Will said with a little grin.

The doctor's eyes lit up in pleasure. "I would be most grateful for that."

"Is there anything else you'd like? Either now or tomorrow?"

Hannibal again coughed into his first before he spoke, sounding thoroughly phlegmy. "I should likely take some food. I'm feeling weaker than I ought to."

It was Will's turn to light up. "There's another coincidence… I have food ready for you. Some soup and stuff."

"I thought I smelled something simmering, even through this dreadful congestion. That explains why I'm suddenly hungry," Hannibal said with a thick sniffle, leaning back into his pillows. "Thank you for thinking of it. Though I would hardly call your predicting my needs a coincidence, but rather proof of your capabilities as a caretaker. Just something to think on.” The doctor gave him a pointed look even as he sniffled again.

Will was now embarrassed and quickly moved to the doorway. "I'll go bring some for you now."

Hannibal let the subject drop and nodded weakly, closing his eyes as he massaged the bridge of his nose. Will hurried to the kitchen and ladled a bowl of chicken soup from the pot warming on the stove. He had the ingredients for grilled cheese ready as well, and a hot griddle waiting, so it was only a matter of minutes before he had a fresh, hot sandwich to accompany the soup. As a final touch, he peeled an orange and placed it on the plate with the sandwich, then grabbed the bottle of soda he'd bought, and transported it all to the sick room on a large tray.

Hannibal was clearly a bit taken aback upon seeing it all. "This is quite the spread, Will," he croaked. "Did you make all of this?"

"Define 'make', Will chuckled. "I turned the stove on, yes."

"The soup isn't yours then?"

"It's Campbell's chicken noodle, fresh from the can. The genuine, original sick day food. Grilled cheese made with the finest Kraft singles of course. An orange for the Vitamin C, no seeds. For the drink, we have ginger ale, the beverage that can cure any ailment. And for dessert, if you so desire, we also have hot chocolate."

Hannibal was speechless for a moment. Then, a tiny smile began to play across his features. "This is ...really something, Will. I haven't been served a meal quite like this in a very long time. I can't even remember the last time I had a cola."

"Only the finest. Or at least the finest I could manage on short notice."

"You bought all of this just today?"

Will nodded. "This is what I used to like when I was sick. I figured I couldn't go wrong with classic comfort foods. I'm sorry I couldn't give you something higher quality. But I hope it still helps."

"Indeed." The doctor chuckled hoarsely. "This is quite satisfactory. I'm sure it will help. Thank you once again." Without further ado, the doctor dug into his feast.

To Will's surprise, the doctor easily finished not only the orange, but the soup and the sandwich as well, and seemed to enjoy them as much as could be expected. He was most skeptical of the ginger ale, but he finished half of that as well, pronouncing it "very interesting." Will also made sure he drank plenty of water to round it all out. Finally Hannibal pushed the tray away with a contented sound.

"In a practical sense, I always knew the restorative properties of chicken soup, but it's been many years since I experienced them first-hand," Hannibal managed, after blowing his streaming nose several times. "My throat and sinuses feel significantly better. As does my headache. Perhaps we should save the hot chocolate for tomorrow however, for I am comfortably full now."

Will thought he was going to say more, for he paused oddly. Instead the doctor's breath hitched violently:

"Gihh-chuuh! Chnnggh!..."

Only the first two in the fit were audible. He seemingly sneezed several more times, but he stifled them into oblivion, with only the movement of his head to indicate what was happening. Watching such forceful suppression was still painful, but it heartened Will slightly to know that Hannibal was feeling well enough after some food to worry about his dignity once more.

Finally the doctor ended his fit and fell back against the pillows with a weary sigh and a weak cough, flipping the hair off of his forehead yet again.

"That looked exhausting."

"Perhaps it would have been if I weren't exhausted to begin with," Hannibal mumbled, an arm over his face.

"Then you should sleep more."

Hannibal uncovered his eyes to meet Will's. "It would be terribly rude of me to sleep again while you are here."

Then I'll get ready to go. I'll clean up all of this then head out. Let you have some peace. But like I said, I'll be back tomorrow with your handkerchiefs." Will grabbed the tray, preparing to carry it to the kitchen.

"Will?"

Will paused, turning around.

Hannibal looked slightly imploring. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind reading a bit more before you go? I was quite enjoying the story."

Will couldn't help but smile. "It would be my pleasure."

#Sickness #sickfic #sicknario #snzfic #snzblr #snzario #snz #Hann/bal Lec/ter #Wi/ll Gra/ham #everyone is hotter with a fever #fanfic #fandom

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sugarandspace · 3 years

Text

Some of us are human (Sterek)

(posted on AO3 under the pseud aconitum)

Summary: While researching the newest threat with Stiles, Derek comes across a box under Stiles' bed. The box has the words "open when I'm dead" written on it and for a moment Derek forgets how to breathe.

Word count: 2,446

Warnings: for a moment Derek thinks Stiles might be suicidal (he's not), there's also talk about death (but no one dies) and a mention of the nogitsune and the darkness inside Stiles

A/N: check out this beautiful gifset made by my talented friend @sparkandwolf who also helped me with the fic!! 💙

Read on AO3

Stiles’ desk lamp is a little too bright for Derek’s liking and he’s sure it’s going to give him a headache soon. Maybe Stiles would be okay with switching places. Derek looks at the bed where Stiles has been sitting with his laptop. The bed is full of printed out articles and notes Stiles has been taking and Derek doesn’t dare touch them in fear that he’s going to mess up the other man’s organized chaos. He’s going to have to ask him once he comes back from the bathroom.

Stiles is back in Beacon Hills for the winter break and they are at Stiles’ researching the newest creature that has arrived in the town. The amount of books and notebooks and other sources Stiles has on his bookshelf is honestly impressive, and they hope they can find something that could tell them what they are up against.

One of the scrolls - yes scrolls, Derek has no idea where Stiles has found scrolls - falls from the desk when Derek turns to face it again. It rolls under Stiles’ bed and Derek gets up from the desk chair to kneel on the floor so he can see under the bed and can see where it rolled. It’s not far and he can easily reach it.

Just as he’s about to get back up, he notices an old shoe box under Stiles’ bed. It’s not what catches his attention, there are plenty of things under the younger man’s bed, but what makes him stop and stare at the box are the words written on the side of it, bold black letters in Stiles’ handwriting:

OPEN WHEN I’M DEAD

Derek stares at the box for a moment, feeling like his whole world has come to a halt. When he’s able to move he pulls the box from under the bed and sits more comfortably on the floor, bringing the box to his lap. He doesn’t even stop to think if it’s okay before he opens the lid and looks into the box.

Privacy be damned, if Stiles is planning on dying he needs to know everything.

Derek knows that some darkness still lingers inside of Stiles from when he, Scott, and Allison died for a moment a few years ago when they were trying to save their parents. The same darkness that made him vulnerable to the nogitsune. A darkness that will never completely go away.

But Derek didn’t know that it was affecting him this deeply. Was Stiles suicidal? The thought makes his heart race in panic.

What he finds from the box makes his eyebrows furrow. The box has three light blue envelopes in it, each of them addressed to someone. The first one is for the Sheriff, the second one for Scott, and the third one is for... Derek?

It’s in that moment that Stiles walks back to the room. Derek had been so distracted by the box he hadn’t even heard him walk up the stairs. Derek looks up from the envelope he’s holding - the one with his name written on in Stiles’ handwriting - and can easily see the moment Stiles realises what he’s holding.

Stiles’ hand goes to the back of his neck in a nervous manner and he tries to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“So you found those,” he says. “Neat.”

The situation is very far from neat and Derek doesn’t know what to say. He’s not good with serious conversations and to be honest the flippant tone Stiles is going for grates Derek’s nerves, because this is a serious topic and Stiles’ isn’t allowed to make fun of it.

“What are these?” his tone comes out accusing now that he’s gotten over the shock of finding the letters.

“Listen,” Stiles starts and lets out a deep sigh as he leans against the doorframe, giving up instead of trying to argue. “I’ve seen things - I’ve done things no 20-year-old should ever have to have done. Is it really so unreasonable for me to be prepared for the unfortunate but very possible situation where some supernatural creature will eventually shoot me or maim me or cast me under a curse that no one will be able to break? I don’t have supernatural healing properties. Let’s be real, I’m lucky to still be alive.”

At some point during his speech Stiles had gotten defensive and even though he’s wrapped his arms around his chest in a protective manner Derek can hear his heart beat faster than normal beneath his ribs. Derek can smell hints of embarrassment in the air, but it’s paired with determination. Stiles really does believe in what he’s saying.

And it breaks Derek’s heart.

He’s gone through his own share (and a little more) of bad things in his life, and he knows very well how dangerous the supernatural world can be. But it still hurts somewhere deep in his chest to hear the words Stiles is saying. In no small part because he knows it’s true. Stiles’ mind and soul might be as tough as that of a strong werewolf, but his human body is fragile.

“And I’m part of the reason you’re a part of this world,” Derek says. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud but he can’t help it when the realisation comes to him.

Stiles walks over to him and sits on the floor as well, taking the letter from Derek’s hands and putting it back to the box, which he pushes back under the bed. Derek wants to say that it’s a bit too late for the whole “out of sight, out of mind” thing and that box is probably going to come to haunt Derek’s dreams in the following nights, but he stays quiet.

“No,” Stiles says. It’s short and sure and he makes sure Derek is looking him in the eyes before he continues. “You stop that right now. I won’t let you blame yourself for this. You know what got me into this world? My curiosity. It was my choice to go looking for a body in the woods in the middle of the night, my choice to keep hanging with Scott when he became a werewolf. It’s been, and always will be, my choice to accompany you all to your battles. My choice. I’m aware of all the risks. I don’t regret learning about the supernatural. Ignorance might be bliss but knowledge keeps me safe. That way I can protect myself and the people I care about.”

Derek doesn't know what to say to that. He’s suddenly hit with how much Stiles has grown in the past few years. He’s gone through a lot and he’s not as carefree as he used to be, but this life hasn’t turned him cold. There’s humor and sarcasm in hard places but there’s also wisdom and strength.

“Do you understand me?” Stiles asks. His voice has gone softer now, the determination has made room for gentleness, for the need to be understood.

“Yeah,” Derek replies. He does.

“Those letters are just in case,” Stiles says and looks towards the bed where the box is once again hidden beneath it. “I don’t want anything to be left unsaid if I’m taken from here too soon.”

That sparks a question in Derek, one he’s not sure if he should voice. He understands the letter for the sheriff and he understands the one for Scott. The sheriff is Stiles’ father and Scott is like a brother to him. But Derek? They’ve gotten far from when Stiles accused him of murder and he mainly communicated with threats and glares. They’ve become good friends. But Derek doesn’t see a letter for Lydia or Liam or Isaac. There’s something Stiles wants to tell him that he feels like he can’t say to his face. Something important. In the end the curiosity wins and he asks, “What do you want to say to me?”

Stiles’ eyes widen.

“I think I’d rather wait until I’m dead,” he says and goes to get up but Derek takes a hold of his wrist.

“I want to know now,” he says gently. He feels nervous and he hopes Stiles doesn’t notice that his hands are sweating a little.

Stiles looks uncomfortable when he sits back down.

“Don’t make me wrestle you to get to that letter,” Derek threatens, only half-serious.

“You wouldn’t,” Stiles says and narrows his eyes at Derek. Still, Derek notices how he angles himself slightly more between Derek and the box.

He wouldn’t. Stiles is allowed to have secrets, no matter how much Derek would want to know.

“Obviously you don’t have to,” Derek says. “But I’d really like to know. It’s clearly something important if you’d want me to know in case you died.”

Just saying that - of talking about the possibility that Stiles might die anytime soon - makes Derek’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He cares about the other man more than he’s cared about anyone in a while, more than is probably acceptable to care about someone who’s only supposed to be your friend, even if said friend is also your packmate.

“It might ruin everything,” Stiles warns, but Derek can see that he’s warming up to telling him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” Stiles says and tries to laugh, but it comes out flat.

It might be unfair but Derek uses his senses to get a better read on Stiles. When he breathes in the other man’s scent, among the nervousness he can smell a hint of longing, and a little bit of hope finds its way to Derek’s heart.

Could it be possible that the feelings he has for Stiles were reciprocated? Derek tries not to let the hope grow too much. He’s tried so hard to keep those feelings buried as deep as he could, knowing that Stiles deserves better than him. It’s easier to do that when he imagines that Stiles would never want to be more than friends with him.

“I won’t force you,” Derek tells him honestly. “But I’d like to know.”

Stiles looks at him for a long time, probably weighing his options. It’s clear that he wants to tell Derek, wants to believe that nothing would change, but the fear is persistent.

“Can you honestly say that you’ll be okay with never hearing my answer?” Derek tries, and that seems to do it for Stiles.

“I like you,” he blurts out in a similar way Stiles often blurts things, only this time instead of rushing to talk more Stiles freezes in fear like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

Derek doesn’t know what to say because Stiles’ words leave room for interpretation. Derek can’t know for sure if Stiles means it the way Derek hopes or if he means it in a way he does when he talks about the fries from the local diner. Though, as Derek thinks about it, Stiles wouldn’t be so scared to admit it if his feelings were platonic.

Stiles has been brave and he’s meeting Derek half-way, it’s only fair Derek takes the remaining step to meet him there.

“I like you too,” he says.

Stiles, it turns out, doesn’t hesitate to ask refining questions.

“You mean like… like-like, don’t you?” He asks, not giving Derek time to reply before he’s rambling on, obviously nervous. “Because otherwise this is embarrassing. Oh god, I should have waited until after I die. Is it too late for that? Because Derek if you’re not going to say anything anytime soon I might really die. Death by embarrassment, a new way to go but I bet no one who knows me would be surprised to hear that Stiles Stilinski was the first one to die of embarrassment. I can already see the headstone. Here lies Stiles Sti-”

Stiles doesn’t get to finish because Derek leans in and kisses him. Derek’s been dreaming about this moment many times, has hoped that he could stop the other man from rambling by kissing him speechless, and now he finally can.

It’s better than he dreamed.

Stiles’ lips are soft and he returns the kiss as soon as his brain catches up with the situation. The kiss is tentative, just a touch of lips, but somehow it feels like something huge.

“Oh wow,” Stiles says when they pull away from each other.

When Derek opens his eyes Stiles is still really close, and he smiles when Stiles’ hand comes up to gingerly touch his jaw. Derek wants to tell him that he’s not going to break, but he doesn’t remember the last time someone has touched him so gently. He leans into the touch and smiles.

“Oh wow,” Stiles repeats. “I think you broke me.”

“I’m sorry?” Derek says, to which Stiles snorts.

“You’re forgiven,” he says and leans in to kiss Derek again. This time the kiss turns deeper, more sure now that they both know to expect it.

The hand Stiles has on his jaw turns surer while the other one comes up to Derek’s shoulder. Derek crosses another thing from his list-of-things-he’s-dreamt-of-doing and buries one of his hands into Stiles’ hair and yes - it’s just as soft as he’s imagined. The other hand rests on Stiles’ thigh for balance.

“ Back to what I said earlier ,” Stiles says when they pull away for air. “ Learning about the supernatural side of the world has brought a lot of danger and bad things in my life. But it has also brought you into my life, and I’m really grateful for that. I wouldn’t change anything. If I were to be given a time machine, I wouldn’t go back. Or maybe I would, just a little, so I could do this sooner and we could spend more time kissing because holy hell if I’d known how you reply I would have spoken so much earlier .”

Derek rolls his eyes and takes Stiles by the chin to drag him to another kiss which effectively shuts him up.

“Is this going to be a new thing?” Stiles asks when he pulls back. “You shutting me up with your kisses?”

Derek doesn’t reply with words, but he does kiss Stiles again and that is a reply in itself.

“Okay no talking,” Stiles says when Derek lets his lips go.

“You are talking,” Derek points out as he gets closer again, unable to get enough of kissing Stiles now that he can finally do it.

“Shutting up now,” Stiles says, the words brushing against Derek’s lips before they are kissing again.

This time Stiles really does stay quiet. They get lost in each other, their crazy world and research forgotten around them.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterek fanfiction #my writing #i'm slowly but surely posting these in here too

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anthonycrowley · 3 years

Note

this is a genuine question, but if the spnhater blog was part of a sociology project would it even be ethical to use the data gathered from it?

okay, i do actually feel qualified to answer this, because i was actually a soc major in college (and i would like to maybe eventually get my phd, although admittedly right now i am working a 9 to 5 where i don't really use that part of my degree) just please note that while i have done a couple of (minor) qualitative studies, i was always more into quantitative research, which doesn't have the same issues with consent that qualitative does.

would it be ethical? short answer: maybe. depends on what they were planning to do with it, mainly, and how the data was presented, and, depending on how long the 'study' goes on for, if you continue to keep your identity a secret.

long answer: i think the real question is whether or not the data would even be usable for sociology, actually.

for the couple of qualitative observations i've done, i find that consent can get a bit. murky. and when you think about it, it makes sense, and i don't think it's even really unethical - sometimes, sociological observations take place in big, open, public spaces. i've done an observation in a public park, once. two problems arise from this: 1. how could a researcher possibly get informed consent from every single person who happens to be in a public space, every time, and 2. if they did, that would inevitably change how people acted, rendering data useless. you want to see how people act in a situation. think about how you act when you know someone is watching you compared to when you're just doing whatever. it changes, right? in a discipline where you are studying a group and how they behave naturally, this knowledge will likely skew how people behave. you should get consent, when you can, but that's simply not always possible.

the main aspect of consent in sociology when it comes to observational studies is more geared toward anonymity of participants, to the point where someone cannot identify them later, and not outright lying about who you are. (informed consent comes more into play once you've already gotten some of your observational data and perhaps start interviewing people in the group you're observing - at that point you have to identify yourself as a researcher, say what the study is on, talk about how their identity will not be revealed, etc. and actually get consent from the participant). if you're doing a long term ethnographical study, yes, you will probably have to tell residents of the area why you're there - if i wasn't joking about observing people since november 5th, for example, that probably would have been an ethical dilemma in terms of, maybe, people i was following directly, because i would have gotten A Lot Of Data from people who didn't consent or know they were being observed, but if i went to my local grocery store and observed the meat counter for an hour, taking down notes about how people spoke and how they acted, i probably would need permission from the business, but not necessarily the individual people as long as i didn't identify them in any way that could be traced back to them.

the best way i can think of to explain what makes for problems in consent in observational data for sociology is a book from the 1960s called Tearoom Trade by Laud Humphreys, which if you're interested in knowing more about the modern day ethics of sociological research, is basically a manual on what not to do. Humphreys wanted to do research into 'tearooms,' which at the time were a slang term for men's bathrooms where men would meet up and have homosexual sex. problem number one with this is that, well, at the time he was married to a woman and was by all accounts heterosexual*, so he didn't actually have a way to get into these spaces to study participants. what he did was presented himself as a voyeur, so he was allowed entry, and would then observe how these men acted around each other.** that isn't really the main issue with the study though - the real ethical problem came later, because Humphreys would, under false pretenses, interview participants, and he would then record the participants' license plate numbers, find their home addresses, and interview their family members. i hope i don't have to explain to you why that's wrong for like, a bunch of reasons. but his actual observations weren't the problem in and of itself - it was the deception of who he was and the complete disregard of privacy for participants, whether they were a large part of the study conducted by Humphreys (ie a participant who was interviewed) or not.

anyway, circling back. really, the main way that blog (or frankly, any sociological researcher), would be breaching ethics when it comes to observing the tumblr community as a group is if they identified specific people, either through urls or through content. i would argue it may not be wise to directly quote a post, because google exists and the text will be online, but i think as long as you sit back, watch, and discuss what happens around you, you're good, at least until you get to the interview stage. maybe you could argue that if the blog was active for more than like, a couple of hours, they may have needed to get consent of people they were following, but other than that i think the observation aspect is pretty above board. the biggest ethical problem with that blog is more that the blog was deceptive in who they were, which is a problem, but hell, it's a public platform and who's to say the person running the blog doesn't enjoy supernatural? that they're a supernatural blog? i joked about how i was observing supernatural fans since november 5th, and i do enjoy supernatural. if it just went that far, if i just started a separate blog and just. observed for a short period of time, maybe reblogged a few gifsets so people didn't think i was a bot. would that be unethical? i'm not completely sure one way or another.

but i would argue that, if that blog actually were for a sociological study, even if we could determine it was 100% by the books ethical, the data gathered would be completely fucking useless - and for that matter, if i was telling the truth about studying people, that data would probably be largely useless as well. the reason is because both that blog and me actually impacted the community we were quote unquote researching. the blog is now a variable. obviously there is more than one blog, but would those specific people have said those specific things if that specific researcher wasn't there? in general, sociological studies don't have varibles in the same way as psych studies or scientific studies or whatever, because we're studying a group, not the effect a researcher has on a group by doing something the group would not otherwise have done. it's bad research. now, if someone not running the blog observed that, it would probably be fine, but that wasn't the implication. it would be like me sitting in a park and happening to witness a fistfight break out, rather than me doing something to cause the fistfight.

anyway, if it wasn't clear the person who runs that blog (who is not me) is not actually a researcher, and neither am i, currently. but if we were, we probably would have had to be a bit more sound, morally, but there are ways you can get data from an event like that without it being unethical if you don't get informed consent from everyone involved - but you probably would have to be very lucky when it comes to timing. but the person running the blog or their friend certainly could not be the people doing that research. hope that kind of answers the question, if people disagree feel free to discuss.

*this is worded as such because wikipedia just told me, interestingly, Humphreys came out as a gay man in the mid 70s , separated from his wife, and had a male partner from 1980 until his death in 1988. he actually later did a lot of research into gay communities - presumably now from the perspective of a gay man - but, frankly, i think his lasting impact in sociology is still unfortunately on ethics and protecting research participants.

**i suppose it's worth noting, probably because of the above asterisk, that i had heard (yes, before i had heard he came out as gay) that there are theories that the voyeur thing was a front and he was participating to gain entry into these spaces, which he obviously didn't want to disclose, because it was the 1960s and he was married. i only bring this up because, if this were the case, i'd argue that at least the deception to gain entry into the space is no longer really an ethical issue, although the study is still obviously riddled with problems.

#this is a novel also #tw homophobia discussion #kind of tearoom trade sure is A Book #fandom:spn

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

hi i have some continued thoughts about the gif set i made earlier but i’m just thinking about like baby boys writing nothing personal and jack just like feeling really down on himself one day bc he doesn’t know what he’s contributing and alex tells him he named this song for him bc he is so important i don’t know there are so many THOUGHTS TO BE HAD why are they like this

hi paige i don’t know if this was supposed to be a prompt but i took it as one because i’m me hope that’s okay <3 (also here is the gifset in question, warning for max damage)

read it here on ao3

“Hey, where’d Jack go?”

Flyzik looks up from his laptop and glances around the control room. “I dunno,” he says. “I thought he was here.”

“I leave for two minutes,” Alex says, sighing exasperatedly. “We need to put a bell on that kid.”

“Believe me, if I could, I would,” says Flyzik, returning to the all-important task of probably talking shit on Twitter or whatever he does when he’s taking up studio space.

Squire, whose playing had been arrested upon Alex’s re-entry, starts the guitar line from the top. The unfinished track fills the small room. Alex considers handcuffing him just so he’ll stop playing that one fucking guitar part.

At this rate, he’ll be sick of the song before it’s even released.

“I’m going to find Jack,” he announces, not that anyone cares. In a halfway attempt at defiance, or being annoying, or whatever, he snatches Flyzik’s coffee mug off the table.

“Hey,” Flyzik says half-heartedly without looking up. “Give that back.”

“You’re fired,” Alex informs him.

“Joke’s on you, I quit this morning,” says Flyzik.

Alex rolls his eyes and leaves the control room.

There’s really only one place Jack is likely to be (okay, two places, but Alex has just come from the bathroom and he’d been the only one in there). Alex heads for the lounge. The TV is on, playing a commercial for mattresses. Occupying the entire length of the couch:

“Jack,” Alex says. “Where’d you go, man, I thought we were working on the song.”

Jack makes no indication that he's heard Alex at all.

“Dude,” Alex says, coming into the room and facing Jack. The way Jack is slumped into the cushions, it looks like he’s been lying here all day, not for two minutes. “Were you just waiting for me to go to the bathroom so you could bail?”

Jack shoots him a glare, but again says nothing. Alex frowns.

“Are you good?” he asks, sinking to the floor with his legs crossed. He sets Flyzik’s coffee on the table at his side. “Is something wrong?”

Jack groans. “Can you leave me alone?”

“Hey,” Alex says, hurt. “What —” He breaks off. Obviously Jack doesn’t want company — or at least not Alex’s company, which stings — and if Alex doesn’t want to be a dick, he should leave.

Except Jack is already kind of being a dick. So.

“Dude,” Alex says again. Jack keeps his eyes on the TV over Alex’s head. “Can you at least look at me?”

“I’m just taking a break, what’s the big deal?” Jack mutters.

“The big deal is you were fine five minutes ago when we were tracking the guitar,” Alex says irritably. “I leave for two seconds and when I come back you’re gone? ‘Taking a break’?”

“Yes, Alex, I came to jerk off in peace,” Jack snaps. “So can you piss off?”

Alex huffs. “Stop being an asshole when I’m just trying to understand what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong, dude!” Jack finally looks at him, though it’s clear he would rather not be. “You don’t need me to finish the song, okay? You have Squire to do the guitar, and if he can’t do it then you will, so I’m just gonna sit this one out, alright?”

Alex stares at him. “The fuck do you mean, we don’t need you to finish the song? You need to learn it. And Squire’s just doing the demo track anyway. Meaning technically he doesn’t need me for it, either.”

“Alex, you wrote the fucking song.” Jack crosses his arms. “It wouldn’t exist without you. Unlike me.”

“You…would exist without me?”

Jack glares at him, again. “No, the song would still exist without me. And it would have a guitar part, without me. I know my role in the band, Alex, I’m not getting any ideas, okay? I’m the one who makes inappropriate jokes on Twitter and collects bras during shows. I don’t contribute in the studio.”

The gears in Alex’s brain grind loudly to a halt. “You don’t — what? What?”

Jack draws his knees up to his chest and looks back up at the TV. “Am I wrong?”

“Uh, yes?!” Alex says emphatically. “Extremely wrong, what the fuck? Since when is this a thing? You really feel this way?”

“Oh my God, it’s not a big deal,” Jack grumbles.

“It’s a big deal to me,” Alex retorts. “You think you don’t contribute when we’re in the studio? You’re, like, the reason most of these songs get made. If you weren’t here we’d still be on our first record.”

“You don’t need to therapy me,” Jack says dully. “I’m fine with it.”

Which is obviously not true. Jack’s shuttered expression and bitchy attitude don’t exactly communicate ‘fine.’

“I’m not trying to ‘therapy’ you,” Alex says, making air quotes. “Whatever the fuck that means. I’m trying to tell you something you should already know.”

Jack sighs wearily. Somehow he seems to sink deeper into the couch, like whatever’s weighing him down is only getting heavier. “Alex, it’s fine.”

“Stop saying it’s fine,” Alex says sharply. “It’s not fine. Did someone say something when I left? Is that why the mood whiplash?” There’s no way. Squire would never, and Flyzik hadn’t even been on the same planet. Not that Flyzik ever would, either, but then again, they make a lot of fucking jokes around here. Sometimes the kind of joke that hits a little too close to home. Call it an occupational hazard of living and working with a bunch of guys in their early twenties; none of them really know when to stop.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

Jack’s gaze flits between Alex and the TV, which has really been playing commercials for far too long. He seems to realize he’s not going to escape this conversation, and with an almighty sigh grabs the remote and hits mute.

“No one said anything, okay?” There’s a pause. Alex waits patiently while Jack gathers his thoughts. “It was just that, like, you were there, and we were joking around, and then you left, and like…Squire kept playing the part, Flyzik was still on fucking MySpace or whatever, and, like, I don’t know. It just felt like if I left it wouldn’t matter, so I did.” He barks a humorless laugh. “And I was right. It didn’t matter.”

“It mattered to me,” Alex says. “I came back and you had abandoned me with Squire and Flyzik. You think I want to be stuck with them?”

One corner of Jack’s mouth pulls up, barely, then drops down again. “I’m fine,” he says a third time. “You can go back and finish tracking the lead. Just call me when you need me for something.”

Alex considers this. “You know, I could use a break, while I’m here.” He takes a sip of Flyzik’s coffee, which is absolutely disgusting and also room temperature at this point. Jack frowns at him.

“You’re in the middle of demo-ing a song,” he says flatly. “‘Best Friend Knows,’ right?”

“Well, as you so eloquently pointed out, Squire can track the guitar,” Alex says. “And in fact is tracking the guitar. And has been for half an hour. He doesn’t need me for it, either.”

“But that’s not the fucking same and you know it. You wrote the song.”

“Yeah, so what? It’s not that great of a song. Anyone could have written it. I bet Andrew has fifty better songs in his back pocket.”

“But Andrew isn’t in the band,” Jack says. “The whole point is they’re your lyrics that you write for your band.”

“And you play the guitar,” Alex counters, raising his eyebrows at Jack. “Yeah, there are a billion songwriters and guitarists in the world. Anyone can play guitar, but there’s only one All Time Low guitarist, and it’s you. You’re our guy, Jack. You brought the band together, you keep it together, and you keep us moving forward. So what if you’re not writing lyrics? There’s way more to being in a band than writing the fucking lyrics. I promise you, man, without you we’d still be playing the fucking Dulaney Talent Show. We’d be fucking nowhere. We definitely wouldn’t be in L.A. recording our second full-length studio album.”

Silence falls as Alex’s words hang in the air. They’re both quiet for a moment. The Red Bull fridge buzzes in the background, and even more faintly comes the sound of Squire relentlessly playing the same lead part for what has to be the millionth time.

“If you say so,” Jack finally says, although he doesn’t really seem to believe it.

“I do,” Alex says firmly. Jack is the heart of the band more than anyone else, the beating pulse that keeps them alive no matter what shit gets thrown their way. When they were traveling from venue to venue in a shitty van, Jack was the one who kept spirits high. In their earliest days, Jack had held them together like glue, as if he could tell that something really special would happen as long as he didn’t let them go.

And he’d been right. There’s no All Time Low without Jack. That’s always been obvious to Alex.

“I think it’s an awesome song,” Jack quietly adds, as an afterthought. “No one else could’ve written it, so take that shit back.”

“Mediocre at best,” Alex says. “But there’s still time to make it better.”

“I like it,” Jack insists. “It’s cool. You’re a good songwriter.”

Alex waves a hand. “All the good lines are from Squire.”

“Well, I don’t know any of the words,” Jack says, a hint of his usual dry humor making a comeback. “But I bet that’s not true. All the best lines always come from you.”

“They’re meh. There’s not even a good line for a title. ‘What Your Best Friend Knows’ is just the most repeated line, but like, I don’t know. It’s boring.”

“So just call it something else,” Jack says. “The title doesn’t have to come from the song. You might have heard of a little album called From Under The Cork Tree? It’s by this super underground band, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of them.”

Alex laughs a little. “Yeah, okay. I guess.”

Another pause fills the room. Finally Jack says, “If you want to hang out, you can, but stop trying to therapy me.”

“I’m not trying to therapy you! It’s called being your friend, you dumbass.”

“Well, cut it out,” Jack deadpans. There’s the Jack Alex knows.

Alex smiles at him, even though he knows it makes him look very sincere, more sincere than Jack probably wants from him. “You made your band bed,” he says. “Now you have to lie in it.” He half-stands and clambers onto the couch, and Jack stretches his legs over Alex’s lap. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says, reaching for the remote. “It’s been commercials since I got here.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t these people have anything better to do than advertise all day every day?” Jack unmutes the TV. An episode of a show neither of them know is playing. Alex rolls his eyes. “Which channel is playing Lost reruns, do you think?”

“Only one way to find out,” Jack says, raising the remote like a wand. “Hope you brought a board ‘cause it’s time for some channel surfing.”

“Oh my God, you’re so lame.”

Jack snickers. “Maybe there’ll be a line you can use for the song title. Like a ‘Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner’-type thing.”

“In Lost?” Alex says skeptically.

“Maybe, you don’t know.”

Alex highly doubts Lost will have any cool one-liners that could double as song titles, but it’s not a bad idea, pulling an iconic movie quote the way Fall Out Boy did on Cork Tree. The gimmick isn’t really the All Time Low style, but there’s a first time for everything.

Besides, Alex thinks, glancing over at Jack, whose attention is trained on the TV, I think I know the perfect movie.

—

“What?”

They’re back in the studio the following day. After yesterday’s minor emotional hurdle, Jack seems to be doing much better. Right now his eyes are wide in surprise as he stares at Alex.

“‘Keep The Change’ —”

“I know the quote,” Jack interrupts, a smile stretching over his face. “That’s the name? Of the song?”

Alex grins. “Has a cool ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? This is the best day of my life,” Jack enthuses, beaming.

Alex shrugs. “Well, someone gave me the great idea to use a movie quote for a title. This felt fair.”

“Alex, I literally love you so much, you don’t even know,” Jack says. “Just for this, I’m giving you my firstborn.”

“If you ever have children, God save us all,” Flyzik says dryly from the far side of the room. He’s not wrong, but Jack doesn’t even act offended, still caught up in the excitement of the song title.

“Hey,” Alex says in a low voice, kicking lightly at Jack’s leg. “For the record, I’d never in a million years have thought to use a movie quote title.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Jack says.

Alex gives him a meaningful look. “That’s my point, man. Next time you think you’re not contributing, just remember this, alright?”

The shadow of realization passes over Jack’s face, and he shakes his head incredulously. “You are such a piece of shit,” he says, although he doesn’t seem upset. “This was just to make a point?”

“I didn’t do it to make a point,” Alex says. “I did it because it was a good idea. But it does make a point, because you thought you weren’t contributing in the studio, and this is proof that you are.”

Jack sighs. “Point taken.” A little bit of humility colors his expression. “Thanks.”

Alex gives him a cheeky smile. “You are welcome,” he says airily, and throws an arm over Jack’s shoulders. “And now I think we both have some guitar parts to learn, am I right?”

“Yup,” says Squire, as if he’d just been waiting for his cue. “Jack, you wanna track this?”

Jack glances over at Alex, who grins. “Yeah,” he says, stepping forward and taking the guitar out of Squire’s hands. “I’d love to.”

#jack barakat #alex gaskarth #jalex #jalex fic #all time low #atl fic #fic #my fic #yeah this is a little emo and? what about it?#i feel like this is pretty conceptually emo there wasn't much i could do #mukeaf #ask #answered #sam said post this one so i'm posting this one

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fytheuntamed · 4 years

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I used to see WWX as sunshine incarnated and how it hurt me when I realized that it's mostly just fake and he's really not. I thought he was such a genuine person and when I realized that he hides so much of himself that he's not very genuine at all my heart broke a little and I needed to share my feelings. I still love him though, but it was a huge shock to me that everything I initially fell in love with was actually wrong. I hope this little ramble wasn't a bother.

Hello, anon! First off, you’re not bothering me at all; even if I can’t reply to all of them, I read and appreciate every ask I get. I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling a bit disillusioned with WWX; I know some would say he’s just a fictional character, but I think all of us here can attest to the power fictional characters have in impacting the lives of real people. Your ask made me think a lot about who WWX is, so I hope you don’t mind me sharing my own thoughts on the matter! Just a few disclaimers before I get into it: all analysis is based off of drama!WWX, as that is the adaption I know best, so keep this in mind as you read because I know his characterization varies a bit from adaption to adaption. WWX also happens to be my favorite character from the show, so this could will get long :’) I’m also going to continue on with the assumption that you’ve seen the show in its entirety!

I think one of the most important things to understand about people, fictional or real, is that we, like ogres, have layers. This is just what happens when you exist in a world where different settings with different people bring out different sides of us as dictated by societal norms. Does this make someone fake? I would say no, mainly because I think there’s a difference between acting “fake” and being fake. Anytime I speak on the phone with a stranger I automatically assume my “telephone voice,” which sounds quite different from my talking-with-friends-and-family-voice. I don’t leave such phone calls thinking to myself, “wow, I’m such a fake,” because I know that when speaking with strangers, being more polite than I would be around close friends and family is respectful. I think what it comes down to for me is, regardless of how I am presenting myself, am I staying true to my beliefs and values? This is why I think WWX is in fact very genuine, and I would also argue that it is his genuine nature (once revealed) that attracts LWJ to WWX.

Returning to the idea of people having layers, we must recognize that people are not static; we are constantly reacting to our settings and thus our moods fluctuate accordingly. WWX is sunshine incarnate, but he is also someone who has suffered a great deal over the course of his life. To expect him to smile no matter what is a cruel burden to impose on him, and I believe it is a burden he feels in canon. Because both Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu impress upon WWX that he must keep Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng safe, that they are the priority, WWX feels compelled to smile and put on a strong facade so that he doesn’t crumble and fall apart, thus “failing” his adoptive parents and siblings. So while these smiles may simply be masks to hide his pain, thus not “real” smiles, they do not make WWX himself fake, but rather (imo) reinforce his genuine nature because his motives are genuine, even if his smiles may not always be.

There are also times when he smiles and acts extremely cocky in front of others, only for this facade to immediately fall away the moment he is alone/out of the public eye. One of my favorite examples of this is in episode 26 when he questions Jin Zixun about the whereabouts of Wen Ning. The entire time he is there, he exudes a cocky disregard for formality and the established hierarchy, even going so far as to say, “If I, Wei Wuxian, want to kill someone, who can stop me? Who would dare to stop me?!” Once he has the information he needs and turns to leave, however, we immediately see the cockiness fall from his face to be replaced by one of...remorse? I’ll let you guys decide for yourselves.

[gif credit]

I think it is worth noting that his facade fades once he looks at LWJ, because LWJ is one of the few people at this point in time who WWX respects, and whose opinion of WWX still holds value to WWX. And so again we see that WWX’s outward behavior does not seem to align with his inner feelings. Look at the situation that WWX is in, though. He is just one man, albeit a powerful one, going against the biggest, most powerful clans. If he shows an ounce of weakness, they’ll eat him alive. And so in order to stay true to his beliefs, WWX puts on a show. In episode 25 we also see WWX put on a show of shooting many arrows simultaneously while blindfolded. @cal3ris made an excellent post on here stating that WWX was not just doing this to show off, but that he was ensuring the temporary safety of the Wen prisoners by pulling off such a feat so as to ensure no other cultivator would attempt the challenge after him. In situations such as this one, it works in WWX’s favor that the vast majority of the cultivation world believes him to be nothing but a showoff with a big mouth. And of course, there is a part of WWX that does enjoy being in the spotlight! Especially if someone he wants to impress is watching~

At the beginning of the Gusu days flashback (ep 3), we see WWX before everything goes to hell. He’s constantly smiling, goofing around, and is a genuine gremlin of a lad. This is real! He’s a teenager in the flush of his youth, he’s with his beloved siblings, he’s smart and talented, the list goes on and on. For people who don’t know WWX, he comes off as a shallow person with no real depth who thinks of nothing but goofing around all day. For those who know WWX intimately, like Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng (though he’s less vocal about it), they know this is not the case. The point is, WWX doesn’t care what people think about him. He doesn’t care because he knows who he is and what he stands for. This is a huge part of who WWX is as a person: “I don’t care if they slander me, as long as I have a clear conscience.” It is also one of the defining things that connect Wangxian to one another, which brings me to the point of LWJ being someone whom WWX hates to deceive, because he greatly values LWJ’s good opinion of him. We see how much it pains WWX to put distance between himself and LWJ, but we also see that WWX is willing to do so if he believes it is for the best. In episode 20, after being reunited with Jiang Cheng and LWJ, we see WWX purposefully push LWJ away with cold precision. Once more he plays his role with practiced ease, but we see his mask fall as he watches LWJ walk away.

WWX goes from this:

[gif credit]

to this as soon as LWJ isn’t looking at him:

[gif credit]

Having just returned from the Burial Mounds, WWX is very unstable, both physically and mentally. For the past months that he’s spent in the Burial Mounds, survival has been his priority. We see this instability and the signs of PTSD manifest quite a bit throughout the Sunshot episodes. In episode 20 Jiang Cheng hugs WWX, who honestly seems at a loss as to how to respond. In episode 20 we see LWJ step towards WWX, who immediately steps back. We also see WWX shrink away from Nie Huaisang’s touch. This is incredibly telling because WWX is someone who likes physical touch and proximity. He’s constantly putting his arms around Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang and constantly puts himself in LWJ’s personal space (much to LWJ’s initial chagrin). I believe WWX’s behavior post Burial Mounds comes from a desire to protect himself from those around him as well as those around him from himself. [apt gifset here] Nothing about this WWX is fake to me. He is acting differently here because he is different. Trauma does not define a person, but it does change a person. Post Burial Mounds WWX is a different person, but he has not lost what makes him him, which is his strong commitment to his beliefs and morals. For WWX during this time, I don’t believe he has the emotional strength to relive his trauma to those closest to him, so he settles for brushing them off with excuses and yes, fake smiles. This also ties into WWX’s habit of internalizing his own struggles so as not to burden those around him. Hopefully at this point a clear pattern has revealed itself: no matter how WWX presents himself on the outside, he never compromises his beliefs.

After being resurrected in Mo Xuanyu’s body, we see a WWX who is far more reminiscent of the carefree teenager back in Gusu. We see WWX slowly heal from the traumas of his past life and we see him begin to smile again, not because he needs to, but because he can’t help it. We might be tempted to look at this WWX and think, “ah, this is the real him,” but I think this does a disservice to the complexity of his character. The point is, it’s all WWX. The pranks, the smiles that crinkle the corners of his eyes, the creativity, the cockiness, the way his laughter bursts out of his body at times and at other times comes out like a sigh or an afterthought, the way he looks out for the juniors, and both his quiet and loud rage are all what makes him who he is. Certain aspects may be muted at times, but that’s to be expected. WWX is by no means perfect, but I would say he is painfully genuine. Just think, would LWJ feel so strongly about him if he weren’t?

As I feared, this got way too long and I probably rambled and repeated myself and got off track, but it’s fine…..

#the untamed #wwx #wei wuxian #wei ying #ask #anon #Anonymous #does this count as meta? pretty sure it's just me blabbing about how valid wwx is lmao #also DUDE why is tumblr putting the read more in the ask and not where i want it???

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himbeaux-on-ice · 3 years

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(You don't have to respond to this) I just wanted to say I agree 100% with you. I think fans of any sport, fans of tv/movie actors & actresses, and any other celebrity fall into this trap of believing that every famous person is our friend. Like they tend not to care about unless it for publicity and even if they do actually care about important issues, they cant or wont speak up due to the chance of being outcasted. And on the fans side we do get way to invasive into celebrity private lives

I think there are plenty of famous people who do a lot of good work for marginalized communities and do show up as allies in meaningful, genuine ways, and we shouldn’t assume that all shows of activism are purely performative! But in general I agree with you here.

We need to remember that the NHL in particular is a notably conservative-cultured sports league in just about all aspects (including conservative as in “unwilling to try new things” lol). Just as importantly we need to remember that, as with any celebrity, the versions of these players we are talking about and being fans about are not real. They are by and large characters that are crafted (with varying degrees of finesse lol) by PR teams and managers and media, and beneath all that is a flawed human person who is capable of all the same mistakes and harms as any of us. They are fallible.

In engaging with them as characters, we are going to project a lot of our own values and beliefs into the blank spots of what we don’t know about them, which is a natural human thing to do. And that isn’t inherently harmful. I think we all want to believe that most people hold the same moral codes as we do until proven otherwise. But especially in a league where many players lean conservative, it’s important not to conflate that projection with somehow “knowing” that they’re “one of the good ones” without them every actually making that clear. You are setting yourself up for heartbreak that way.

I think it’s okay to be an enthusiastic fan of players as long as you on some level recognize the difference between the persona and the person. It’s similar to how a lot of RPF fandom operates on the premise of like, discussing a slightly alternate universe where we politely remove the players wives and families (who are typically not celebrities or public figures and thus did not consent to be involved in these narratives) from the picture in order to write about romances between the public characters of the players, with the implicit understanding that most of do not us believe what we’re writing is real in a conspiracy theory sense. The particular type of fandom we do here is a peculiar kind of multi-layered thing, where we both focus primarily in our works and discussions on those fictionalized personas, while also trying to hold the real people behind them to account to improve the fucked-up culture of this sport. Those two things have to be held in tension, with nuance and a constant need to make judgement calls.

Like, a good example of this two-layers fandom approach is how when I talk about/cheer on Ovi, I’m talking about the character that he is in hockey culture and the hockey narrative and in fanon, not the actual man who is married with children and gets chummy with dictators. I don’t actually think that Ovechkin and Bäckström are in love or that he’s even a person I would get along with or find tolerable in real life. I’m engaging with a character. I engage with pretty much all other NHL-ers the same.

With Ovi and the whole Putin+Trump thing, I don’t find it as necessary for me to personally address or consider as, say, Jamie Benn’s transphobia, because I don’t think the fact of whether I personally (via absolutely no financial support at all) enjoy the persona of a famous Russian hockey player is anywhere NEAR an influential factor in the power those dictators hold. We’re at like six degrees of separation at that point. My five posts a week from watching a pirated Caps stream are such a drop in the bucket in Ovi’s influence and Putin’s that it doesn’t even matter at all whether I do it or not. Putin will continue to be a dictator regardless of whether or not I post gifsets of this hockey player.

But I also recognize that there are times and situations when dealing just with the fictionalization of a player isn’t enough, when it is necessary to step back and make commentary and critique about the flawed human person underneath because they are in a position of visibility and power, and their actions have great influence.

Setting that Ovi example aside, I think there’s an important, nuanced difference when it comes to players who are unapologetically and unreformedly racist, homophobic, transphobic, violent, etc. Because those players are harming people, directly. I’m not talking about players who just support awful politicians, I’m talking about those who explicitly express harmful, bigoted personal opinions from their own platforms or enact direct harm on others personally. When they do this, they are making people less safe, they are making this sport less safe for fans and for other athletes. This cannot be separated from the fame and praise given to their fictionalized personas, because continuing to laud and support and cheer for them directly enables their ability to be in a position of power and influence where they can personally harm people, with actions or with words.

So again, it is important to understand that the version of your favourite player you engage with in the act of most fandom is not a real person, but a character. It is also important to make principled judgement calls, based on your own moral code, as to when is the point at which you can no longer justify promoting and/or financially supporting that character because it means feeding into the influence and ability to commit harms of the real person behind it all. You need to know where the lines between it all are, and where you personally draw a line in the sand you won’t cross. Making the hockey community safer and more welcoming should always be your first priority, because getting to not prioritize that and instead “focus on just having fun” is a privilege only afforded to those who are already safe here.

Support those figures in the league and the sport who choose to use their massively influential platform in this league to go to bat for marginalized people, because you’re right, there is a risk of backlash that comes with that choice, and we (as in the broader many-faceted community of hockey fans) should try to positively reward and reinforce them taking that risk if we want to see more of it! It’s an important part of making this sport something that everyone (except bigots and abusers) can be a part of.

But yeah, it isn’t healthy to pretend that you have a knowing personal relationship with these famous people, or to put responsibility/trust for your emotional well-being into their hands when they don’t even know they’ve been given it. Parasocial relationships like that can really fuck you up if you get sucked too deep into them. Understand that you don’t know these people, and be prepared in advance to make some difficult choices if you don’t like it when they show you who they really are.

(And feel free to grieve privately about the outlet or fun thing or favourite character you lose if you decide you cannot support them anymore. That feeling of betrayal is real for you, and it is okay to feel it and work through it as long as you understand that it might not always be appropriate to focus on doing so publicly (an example of it being inappropriate to focus publicly on your feelings would be a white fan lamenting how sad it is for you personally that your fav turned out to be racist).)

Take care, anon. 💜

#ok to reblog #long post #asks #anon #change hockey culture #I hope this makes sense it’s a little bit rambly and deals with some complex ideas

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Neverending Story

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N met her husband unexpectedly, and their subsequent relationship has been anything but predictable. But Changbin has always agreed to give Y/N whatever she wanted, but that is suddenly put to the test when Y/N takes things a step too far.

Note: The Holy Trinity of 3racha Married AUs is complete. @lordseochangbin I hope you don’t mind that I tagged you, but this is the fic inspired by that gifset from earlier this week.

Han Jisung had promised me a substantial raise, but after looking out over the podium to appraise the crowd of rich businessmen, I suddenly regretted ever agreeing to work for him in the first place. Because my boss was currently lying in his fancy upstate apartment dying of the flu while I was standing in his place with cue cards in hand to deliver an eloquent speech to a bunch of men who would probably laugh at my expense. But let’s also not forget to mention the fact that I’ve always been extremely introverted which meant that public speaking equated to sweat-drenched palms and the nervous sway to my gait as I rocked back and forth on my feet with hands behind my back.

“Hello,” I spoke into the microphone, wincing when my voice echoed over the speakers. Apparently, the audio feedback in this ballroom was something out of the early 20th century before people had figured out how to work a sound system. “On behalf of Mr. Han,” I said, resisting the urge to lick away the last remnants of my cheap lipstick. “He would like to thank everyone for their support with his new summer project.”

A light smattering of applause, probably from those arrogant benefactors who liked to come into the office to kiss Jisung’s ass and compliment him on all of his successes. They didn’t mean a single word of the bullshit spewing from their mouths, especially the women who openly gaped at him right in front of my desk. “In regards to the company’s s-stocks,” I said, stuttering over the word while fumbling with my notecards. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this nervous, mind working a mile a minute as I tried to desperately compose myself.

And because everything was already progressing this poorly, I started to lose my grip on the stack of notecards aiding my speech, watching as they fell to the ground and spread completely out of order. I immediately dropped to my knees, hurriedly gathering the notecards back into my grasp before inwardly cursing Han Jisung for what had to be the hundredth time that evening. I managed to collect the notecards together on top of the podium before gazing out into the unamused collection of wealthy aristocrats. “I’m sure it had something to do with fourth-quarter profits,” I said while clearing my throat. “Thank you for coming.”

I rushed off the stage without another word, drenched in sweat and failure, determined to make it out of the building before someone else could comment on the unfortunate incident. It reminded me of a similar calamity involving my asshole of an ex-boyfriend who had left me high and dry at one of his seminars to apologize to the people who paid to see his lecture. Why were the men in my life always determined to embarrass me?

With rapid steps, I was nearly out the door before an unfamiliar hand wrapped itself around my wrist. I paused with a wince, turning around to look at the rather handsome gentleman who was waiting patiently behind me. “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly, assuming he must have something to do with the event. I’m sure he was not pleased with my humiliating display, especially when tonight's proceedings had been touted as a professional gathering. “Mr. Han couldn’t make it tonight and I was trying to fill in for him. Please don’t let this reflect badly on the company.”

A smirk graced his sharp features. “Don’t apologize. I thought it was great.”

“Excuse me?”

“The speech was great,” the man continued, dark hair falling into his eyes like a curtain. He let go of my wrist before offering me a more professional greeting. “Seo Changbin.”

“Seo?” I repeated, searching my mind for any mention of that name. I dealt with a lot of rich men when it came to scouring the city for potential leads, sorting through dozens of profiles every day I walked into the office. Usually with a cup of coffee in hand because Jisung wouldn’t be able to function otherwise.

“I own a line of hotel chains,” Changbin nodded. “Does that sound more familiar?”

His tone was teasing. “I do remember now, Mr. Seo.”

“Ah, don’t call me that,” he insisted. “You don’t have to put on an act like the others.”

I smiled at his easy-going nature. “Well, I’m glad you were at least entertained by my speech.”

Changbin glanced up at the door behind me. “Were you leaving already?”

I followed his gaze, albeit more hesitantly now. “I was planning to.”

“Good,” Changbin said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leaned in closer. “Mind if I join you?”

I was flushed for an entirely new reason now. “I would be honored.”

Han Jisung was the greatest employer in the world, and I would do everything in my power to serve as his PA in the future. Because I would owe Jisung a million heartfelt expressions of gratitude for asking me to deliver a speech in his absence. Leading me to one of the most gorgeous men I had ever met since the insanely attractive graduate student who served as a TA for my college writing seminar.

But it was hard to think about Jisung, or anything rational for that matter when my legs were practically bent at my chest, lungs devoid of oxygen while Seo Changbin proceeded to fuck me into the mattress. It was a really nice mattress too, compliments of the fancy hotel suite he had reserved for the weekend. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Changbin was a very wealthy man who had way too many muscles and a cock that stretched the sensitive walls of my pussy with every subsequent thrust deep inside to the point where it felt like he was spearing me against the bed.

Not that I minded in the slightest as I ran my hands down the smooth contours of his back, moaning loudly against his shoulder. It was completely unfair for someone to look this good, and I had nearly lost my mind when he had crawled between my legs, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt to reveal an upper-body straight out of the Men’s Health magazine. Because fate had deemed me fortunate enough to have the opportunity to fuck someone who belonged in my erotic fantasies, dick heavy on my tongue as I blew him under the desk in his office.

“Changbin,” I groaned, thighs trembling from their current position.

“You’re cumming, aren’t you, Y/N?” he asked in a raspy voice thick with lust and an irresistible baritone.

“Yes,” I managed around a gasp because Changbin had started to thumb across my clit with practiced movements, intentions perfectly clear as he leaned back to watch the way my back arched towards the ceiling. It had been a long time since someone had made me cum like that and I was still high from the effects of my orgasm while Changbin chased his release with several more slow grinds in exaggerated succession before filling the condom with a grunt.

I was fighting for air, sweat dripping from my bangs as Changbin fell onto the bed next to me. “How long have you been working out?”

Changbin chuckled. “Since high school.”

“It really shows,” I said, twisting my head to the side because I couldn't get enough of his firm biceps.

Changbin reached across the bed, fingers sliding through his cum dripping from the folds of my labia. “I haven’t asked for your number yet, Y/N.”

My entire body lit with excitement at his words because there was a very obvious intention in such an innocent comment. It meant that Changbin wanted to see me again, and I would give absolutely anything to feel his cock sliding in and out at his own luxury. Of course, there would be a lot of things he would come to ask me for in the future and very rarely would I ever tell him no, especially once he slipped a gorgeous diamond ring onto my finger.

I would also come to learn that there are few things my husband cannot resist in this world and the opportunity to fuck me over the kitchen counter was definitely one of them. I rarely woke up early enough to cook breakfast, so on the rare chance that I managed to obey my alarm clock, I would trudge into the kitchen wearing nothing but one of Changbin’s college t-shirts to pull out a carton of eggs from the fridge. It was the least I could do for my husband since he was always the more romantic one in our relationship.

Lured by the smell of coffee and bacon, Changbin found me in the kitchen, twisting my shirt around my waist to push his cock deep inside. Bracing my elbows against the rough marble of the countertop, I did my best to spread my legs wide for him because nothing felt better in the morning than Changbin fucking me from behind, fingers digging bruises into the skin of my hip bones. “Where did this come from?” I gasped because Changbin had figured out how to roll his hips just right to grind my clit against the side of the worn surface.

“When you walk around the apartment wearing nothing but a shirt,” Changbin said, growling at my ear. “I have to fuck you like the little slut you want to be.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” I smirked, receiving a firm smack on my ass for my sarcastic question.

“Is that what you want?” Changbin asked, encouraged by my loud moans.

“What if I showed up to your office dressed like this?”

“You better not,” he grumbled, hands sliding up my shirt to squeeze my breasts. “These are for my eyes only.”

“Greedy,” I moaned, pushing back against him because I was desperately chasing a good orgasm.

“It’s your fault,” Changbin said, picking up the pace once he started detecting the familiar signs of my impending release. But at this point in time, we knew everything about one another’s bodies. And Changbin always managed to hit even deeper, reaching further and further inside with every aggressive meeting of our hips, the lewd sounds mingling with our moans.

“I was feeling particularly horny this morning,” I replied, finally letting go after a strategic thrust that snapped the chord anchoring me to reality. Changbin followed soon after, grinding his cock as he rode out his own orgasm. And despite my oversensitivity, Changbin ignored my whines and shoved his cum back where it belonged.

“Alright, Mrs. Seo,” he said, chuckling at the sluggish way I pulled myself back onto my feet, shirt falling back into place. “Will you shower with me before I go to work?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I guess I’ll just have you instead,” he said and I grimaced at the cheesy comment.

Jisung was always late in the mornings, but he could get away with it because nobody would criticize the CEO. But his status didn’t mean that Minho, Jisung’s closest advisor, was any less of a nuisance when he complained to anyone who would listen. Which was often me because my desk was located right next to Jisung’s office. “It’s like he doesn’t care,” Minho whined.

I nodded my head slowly, focused on responding to the emails flooding my inbox. “He’s got a lot on his mind.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Minho immediately opposed. “He’s just lazy! I get up every morning at the crack of dawn to come into the office. Why can’t he do the same?”

I glanced up wearily to reply because Minho was probably expecting me to agree with everything he was saying. Graciously, I was relieved of that unnecessary burden when I saw Seungmin walking in our direction. “Minnie!”

I waved him down desperately and he offered me a smile with his cell phone in hand. “Y/N,” he said, handing me the device from over the counter, blatantly ignoring a sour Minho. “My dog had her puppies.”

I immediately cooed at the sight of the tiny little Dalmations, squealing at the sight of their tiny ears. “Seungmin, they’re adorable!”

The younger boy grinned. “You know you’d be the first person on my list since I’m looking for new homes.”

“I don’t know, Seungmin,” I said, reluctantly returning his phone. “Changbin would be really mad if I brought home a dog.”

“Changbin? Mad at you?” Seungmin scoffed. “That’s impossible, Y/N.”

“Changbin gives you whatever you want,” Minho added as if unable to resist jumping into our conversation.

“But not this,” I said. “One time, I thought it might be nice to bring home a fish for the apartment, but when Changbin saw it on the coffee table, he complained for hours about how gross they were. If I even mention a dog, Changbin immediately changes the subject.”

“Well, I guess it never hurts to ask,” Seungmin said with a shrug. “But they really do need new homes. They’ll be old enough in a few weeks to leave their mother.”

“Don’t try to talk me into this,” I said, shooting him a glare. “You know I have a weak resolve.”

“What if you at least come over this afternoon to see them?” Seungmin asked as if blatantly ignoring my last demand.

“Can I come too?” Minho asked. “You know how boring it gets around here.”

“As long as you can at least pretend you might take one,” Seungmin said. “I’m sure your cats would be thrilled.”

“My cats are angels,” Minho said. “They would love a new friend.”

“To torment,” I said. “Won’t they get jealous when you give the puppy all of your attention?”

“My babies know how to share,” Minho replied. “They were taught well.”

“I’d hate to see you as a teacher,” Seungmin said, receiving a glare in response.

The conversation ended there, but the subject remained a heavy point of focus for the remainder of the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about the puppies, finding myself distracted during the most menial of tasks. I even managed to completely ignore Jisung’s greeting because I was so lost in my thoughts. Subsequently, my boss had stood at the front of my desk to snap his fingers in my line of vision. “Y/N?”

“Sorry, sir,” I apologized immediately, blushing because I knew I should be focused on my work.

And I knew that agreeing to visit Seungmin’s puppies would definitely be a horrible idea. The minute they looked at me with adorable button noses and innocent eyes, I would be breaking down and demanding to have one for myself. I knew this would happen, but I still tortured myself and drove with Seungmin back to his apartment, falling in love a dozen times over with each and every single puppy who subsequently chewed on my frayed sandals or plopped themselves right in the middle of my lap. “You’ve ruined me,” I told Seungmin because there was no way I wasn’t bringing home a puppy and that only meant trouble.

Changbin absolutely hated the idea of pets and had repeatedly denied me every time we walked past a pet shelter or saw a dog during our walks through the park. I could never understand why he was so adamantly opposed, but I figured it had something to do with the fact that he was an obsessive clean freak who liked everything in his life to be controlled. Puppies were a factor one simply couldn’t plan for and they tended to possess destructive tendencies, especially when it came to the things they really believed were toys instead of expensive shoes.

“I’ll call you when you can pick one up,” Seungmin said, following me to the door of his apartment.

“What am I doing?” I groaned loudly, pointing an accusing finger in Seungmin’s direction. “I’m holding you personally accountable.”

Seungmin offered me a grin. “Tell Changbin to call me.”

Eight weeks later, I chose a strategic day when I knew Changbin would be coming home late from work because of a board meeting. Subsequently, I snuck the small Dalmatian puppy upstairs into our apartment, holding tight to its wriggling body before she immediately made her presence known the moment I put her down on the floor. “Don’t pee there,” I said, ushering her away from the pricey carpet Changbin had bought for the foyer.

My plan was to hide her in the guest bathroom, praying that she would keep from barking too loudly when Changbin came home. “Changbin’s going to kill me,” I thought to myself while opening the door for the excited puppy who ran inside to smell the low hanging duvet with curiosity.

Changbin rarely raised his voice around me, and I could only think of a few incidents where Changbin and I had truly fought. Most of the time, it was because of his mother who quite simply hated the idea of her son being with someone who didn’t come from money. There was also the issue of me working for Jisung because Changbin would prefer it if I stayed at home, but that definitely wasn’t happening. I stood my ground against him, making my case until he had reluctantly relented, muttering something about how he had enough money to take care of both of us.

However, in neither of those cases had I ever went behind Changbin’s back to do something that I knew he would hate. Of course, I had also never wanted something as bad as the adorable puppy who had stolen my heart the minute she first wagged her tail while I carefully stroked the soft fur of her ears. “Changbin will understand,” I said to the puppy who cocked her head to the side as she watched me. “For now you can stay in here until I think of a better way to introduce you.”

Bang Chan was one of those people who never acted like he had enough money to buy the entire city of New York. He was funny and laid back, laughing with everyone despite whether or not they were a big donor or just an employee. He was one of Changbin’s best friends and he always invited the two of us to his parties at his extravagant condo. As an invitation-only affair, Chan’s parties had become the envy of anyone who was denied the opportunity to attend. More often than not, the parties became a friendly get-together which meant that some of Changbin’s other friends would also be attending. But Hyunjin and Felix always drank way too much beer to be considered appropriate for what was deemed a “suit and tie only” event.

“You look gorgeous,” Changbin said as we waited outside the door.

“Well, it’s hard not to look good in this dress,” I said because, despite my refusal, Changbin had insisted on buying it for me. Then again, I still wasn’t quite used to watching Changbin pull out his credit card for something that cost nearly half a million dollars.

“Aren’t you glad I bought it?” Changbin asked, reaching over to finger the delicate lace outlining the dress’ neckline.

“I’ll be even more satisfied when you take it off later,” I said casually, smirking at his sharp inhale as the door suddenly opened to reveal Chan standing on the other side.

“You’re late!” he lightly chastised us, pulling Changbin inside by the hand with more force than necessary. I grinned at the affectionate display, removing my jacket for the server who waited next to the entryway adorned in an elegant suit. “How was the meeting?” Chan asked, making easy conversation as he led us to a nearby waiter holding a tray of flutes filled with champagne.

“They liked the presentation,” Changbin replied, handing me a glass. “I think some of the new trustees favored the last approach.”

“Of course they do,” Chan nodded. “But you know that you can do whatever you want. It’s impossible to satisfy everyone.”

“I know,” Changbin said, curling an arm around my waist to keep me close to his side. Not that I minded considering the sea of unfamiliar faces who all swarmed to Changbin like he was a celebrity. I guess in their world he was, but it might be funny to tell them about how soft he got after I jerked him off under the sheets.

You see, Chan was the general manager of Changbin’s largest hotel and he always did his best to ease the burden that Changbin took responsibility for as he oversaw dozens of hotels and thousands of employees. Felix and Hyunjin also helped where they could, not just as friends but as personal assistants to Changbin at the main office. And I happen to know from experience that nobody made a better cup of coffee than Hwang Hyunjin.

Felix was also dating one of my best friends who I had introduced him to while Changbin and I were still dating, inviting a plus one for the grand opening of his very first hotel expansion. I was surprised when Felix demonstrated just how loving he could be because Changbin often told me horror stories of Felix’s more play boyish tendencies back when they went to college together. However, Felix had been nothing but polite and loving towards my friend since the moment the two first met over a few too many glasses of wine.

“Rina,” I smiled warmly, graciously accepting her invitation to talk outside on Chan’s balcony because the party was suffocating inside.

“Let me see the pictures!” my friend squealed, practically jerking the cell phone from my grasp. “Cute!” Rina declared, scrolling through my camera roll. “And Changbin doesn’t know? I really do admire you.”

“Well, if you were any louder, he might find out,” I said, checking over my shoulder to ensure that Changbin was still in deep conversation with Felix. “I heard you visited Felix’s parents the other day.”

Rina groaned, handing me back my phone. “I’m pretty sure they hate me. I made the worst impression possible.”

“What did you do?” I asked, rolling my eyes because Rina had a tendency to go overboard.

“Well, for one thing, when his mother asked for help with the food, I may have accidentally started a small kitchen fire.”

“You know, it really doesn’t matter if the fire is small or not.”

“Yeah,” Rina agreed sheepishly.

“Does that mean things are okay with between you and Felix?” I took a sip of my wine, thinking my question innocent enough until I heard Rina let out a shaky breath. “What is it?”

Rina shook her head, leaning out over the balcony. “Felix is acting weird these days. He comes home late now and he doesn’t bother paying me much attention.”

“Felix?” I immediately questioned because I wanted to make sure we were talking about the same boy who bought every single bouquet of roses in the flower shop on Main Street for their anniversary.

Rina suddenly moved in closer, eyes carefully ensuring that no voices were potentially listening. “I think Felix is cheating on me.”

“Rina,” I gasped because the accusation was incredibly serious. “Why would you think that? After he just took you home to his parents?”

“I think he just did that because I kept insisting,” Rina huffed. “I’m serious here, Y/N. There’s something going on with him.”

I wracked my brain for any indication that Felix might have said something to offer justification for Rina’s claim. “But how can you be sure?”

“I can’t,” Rina said. “That’s why I’m going into the office tomorrow night.”

“The office?”

“He’s probably meeting her there.”

“Who?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Rina hissed. “Felix comes home really late all of a sudden and he doesn’t talk to me about why?”

“That’s just how Felix is.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Rina said, dismissing my comment. “I’m planning to follow him. See what he’s really doing.”

“Rina, this sounds like a horrible idea.”

“As bad as sneaking a dog into Changbin’s apartment?”

“They can’t even be compared,” I exclaimed. “And I plan to tell Changbin about the dog.”

“Good luck with that,” Rina sneered, fingers tapping the side of her wine glass. “Can you at least come with me tomorrow?”

“To spy on Felix?”

“As a precaution,” Rina said as if that improved the situation.

“Rina, you need to trust Felix. I don’t think he would do anything like this to hurt you.”

“Please, Y/N,” Rina said, reaching out for my hand. “Best friends are supposed to come before boys.”

“Don’t use that against me,” I said. “Besides, how do you expect us to just sneak into the office?”

“Leave that to me,” Rina said, patting my shoulder as if to show her appreciation. “Just tell your man that we’re going out for the night.”

“Fine, but you owe me big time.”

Nevertheless, why did it have to be so cold for our impromptu spy mission?

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you,” I commented dryly, gazing out at Changbin’s office building from across the street. “We’re definitely going to get caught.”

“Not with that attitude,” Rina said. “Are you ready?”

“I suppose I have no choice,” I grumbled.

“Felix didn’t respond to my last message,” Rina said, already making her way out of the car. “But I saw that he was parked in the garage.”

“Changbin’s still here too,” I said with a shiver because I had been desperately hoping that my husband would leave on time for once. However, the moment he found out that I was going out with Rina, he called up Hyunjin and told him that tonight would make a great time to work on their new project. “At least he won’t accidentally wander into the guest bedroom and find Jane in the bathroom.”

“Wouldn’t that be hilarious though?” Rina giggled. “Changbin is going to throw a fit when he finds that dog.”

“He hasn’t noticed anything so far,” I said, although he came very close to suspicion in bed the other night when he realized that something that sounded a lot like barking was emanating through the walls.

“Y/N, you can’t hide that dog forever, but I need your full attention tonight,” Rina said, snapping her fingers while she pointed at the office near the top where Felix worked. “I have someone on the inside who’s gonna help us.”

I had a bad feeling about this mysterious insider that was only confirmed the moment Jeongin stepped outside to greet us at the front. “That figures,” I muttered because Jeongin practically idolized Rina who always showered him in affection. If Rina and Felix weren’t so obviously in love, Jeongin would be the first person to show up on Rina’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Changbin and Hyunjin are in a meeting,” Jeongin explained as he led us to the elevators. “Felix should still be in his office, but he mentioned something about leaving before I came downstairs.”

Jeongin was also Felix’s intern and I highly doubted that he would appreciate the younger’s blatant participation in Rina’s witch hunt. “Perfect,” Rina nodded. “Now tell Y/N about that woman that Felix keeps meeting with.”

Jeongin turned to me with a gasp. “I have no idea who she is, Y/N, but she’s showed up every day this week!”

“See!” Rina exclaimed, waving her hands around like she had suddenly solved the world’s greatest crisis.

“I don’t see anything,” I told her, stoically unmoved when we arrived at our designated floor. “Felix meets with a lot of people. I don’t know if you’re aware, but he kinda works for a pretty big business.”

“We’ll see about that,” Rina declared, heels loudly clicking against the floor as we followed our newly appointed Jeongin tour guide. He led us to one of the desks outside of Felix’s office, searching through some reports until he found what he was looking for, handing it to Rina. “This is the last spreadsheet for all the transactions from Felix’s company credit card.”

“They’re from the same restaurant,” Rina said, reading over the list with narrowed eyes.

“Business meetings,” I said.

“Or, he’s treating this homewrecker to sushi and bad soju,” Rina said. “What else do you have, Jeongin?”

The younger boy obediently knelt down to open another drawer, but let out a little gasp when he jerked on Rina’s arm and forced the two of them on the floor. “Get down!” he hissed, but I reacted late to his sudden warning, realizing my mistake a moment too late when Changbin was already calling my name from somewhere to my right.

“Distract him,” Rina whispered urgently, tugging on my jeans.

I rolled my eyes but tried to put on my best smile when Changbin stopped on the other side of Jeongin’s desk. “Y/N,” he said, clearly surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d visit you on my way home,” I lied smoothly, resisting the urge to kick out at Rina in her vulnerable position.

“Where’s Rina?” he asked, arms flexing enticingly in his tight-fit shirt.

“Probably at home,” I said, before trying on my best pout. “Are you not happy to see me?”

Changbin’s expression immediately softened. “Of course I am, Y/N,” he said. “I’m glad you came by. I’m leaving soon so we can ride home together.”

“Perfect,” I said, stepping away from the desk to eagerly lead Changbin further away from where my best friend was hiding. I also didn’t stop him when his strong arms encouraged me into the firm expanse of his chest, cologne heavy against his neck.

“Do you need anything?” Changbin asked while calling for the elevator.

I glanced over his shoulder at Jeongin who was trying to tell me something, but I quickly determined that he would be really bad at the whisper challenge. “I’m okay,” I said, clutching tightly to his arm as led me downstairs.

Seungmin and Minho were acceptable lunch buddies and despite their near-constant arguing, I still sat with them in the company’s cafeteria, enjoying whatever organic food they planned to serve that day. “How is the puppy, Y/N?” Seungmin asked over a mouthful of potatoes.

“She’s great,” I said, unable to resist a smile at the thought of my charming new friend.

“Does Changbin know?”

“Not yet,” I said, hesitantly poking at my salad. “But I have a plan to fix that tonight.”

“Is that so?” Minho butted in, studying me from across the table. “Maybe he could buy you a new apartment across the city.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said. “Because I plan to thoroughly convince him.”

“Sounds like an innuendo to me,” Minho said, reaching out for my hand. “Congratulations, Y/N, you’ve finally figured out the real purpose of marriage.”

“Manipulation,” Seungmin concluded.

“Stop it you two,” I groaned. “I’m not manipulating Changbin.”

“Seduction sounds like manipulation to me.”

“I’m merely encouraging him to change his mind,” I said, ignoring their unnecessary commentary.

“By dicking him down, I get it,” Minho nodded. “I’ve done the same things to my girlfriends.”

“No wonder you’re still single,” Seungmin said earning him a flick across his forehead. “Ow!”

“I’m sure Changbin has affection for animals somewhere deep down inside,” I continued. “He’ll be so much happier with a dog around the apartment.”

“Or he’ll be really furious,” Seungmin said. “I guess if you really need to return the puppy, I can always take her back.”

“No,” I whined at the thought. “We’ve already bonded.”

“Well, if it comes down between your bond with man’s best friend and the man, which would you rather choose?” Minho asked.

I really hated them both sometimes.

There were three things that Seo Changbin truly loved: 1. His family 2. His wife and 3. His wife in lingerie. Which is exactly what he was going to get the moment he stepped inside that door. Because tonight, I needed to do everything in my power to appeal to him.

I nodded in satisfaction as I studied my appearance in the floor-length mirror in our bedroom, adjusting the thin fabric of my stockings as they ran up the expanse of my thighs, attached to the garter belt Changbin had bought me for my birthday. Once I was satisfied, I tugged on a silky black robe, loosely tying the belt around the middle. “Perfect,” I declared.

Next, I made sure that Changbin’s favorite food was ready, table set with our finest cutlery. I also pulled out his favorite wine, filling two glasses while keeping the bottle cool in a bucket of ice. Finally, I lit a few candles around the table and the perimeter of the dining room, trying for a romantic mood since Changbin was secretly a huge fun of those extravagances.

“Do it for Jane, Y/N,” I whispered to myself, flinching when I heard the sound of Changbin’s key in the lock.

My husband called out my name and I directed him to the dining room, pleased when his eyes immediately froze on my attire. “Y/N?”

“Binnie,” I grinned, taking a seat on the edge of the table, kicking out one of the chairs as an invitation. “I made your favorite.”

Changbin tugged at the tie messily wrapped around his collar, taking my hint and planting himself down next to me. One hand caressed my exposed leg through the fabric of my robe while he looked up at me with dark eyes. “What’s all this for?”

“For you, of course,” I smiled, reaching back to grab a strawberry, holding it up to his lips.

Changbin took the offered fruit, eyes never leaving mine. “Is there something you want, Y/N?”

Changbin knew me too well, but I kept up the act, sliding down the table and into his lap. My thighs were planted on either side of his body and Changbin delicately traced the lace lining of my stockings to the place where they disappeared beneath fabric. “Does there have to be a reason?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“No,” Changbin agreed, eager hands working the belt of my robe. “But there usually is.” He was silent for a moment as he drew the sleeves down my shoulders, leaving me completely on display for his eyes to leisurely explore. “You can tell me, honey.”

“I can?” I asked breathlessly, planting kisses across his forehead while his fingers dug into my ass to pull me even closer.

“Whatever you want,” Changbin agreed, hands smoothing across the skin of my stomach while he started to slowly grind his hips against mine. He was impossibly hard beneath the tight material of his fitted slacks, cock moving perfectly in time with the little moans he forced out of me. I was practically drooling at the thought of Changbin’s cock, stretching my lips across the head and tasting his precum.

“Binnie,” I gasped, jittery fingers working apart the buttons on his shirt to reveal the smooth skin of his chest, groping my hands against his defined pectoral muscles.

“Yeah, baby?” he said, reaching up to taste my lips. “You want me to fuck you on the table?”

“Please,” I whimpered, holding onto his biceps to feel his impossible strength while he practically manhandled me into place, looming over my trembling body while his eyes made a luxury trip of exploring my exposed skin. I wrapped my legs around his waist to encourage him closer, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock...

“Did you hear that?”

I froze under him, detecting resistance from Changbin whose eyes were now devoid of lust as he lifted his head in concentration. It was then that I heard it, an alarmingly loud whine from Jane in the guest bedroom which was suddenly way too close to ignore.

Changbin immediately stopped everything he was doing. “Please tell me you can hear it too?”

“Hear what?” I asked nervously, attempting to draw his attention back to me and it might have worked had Jane not decided to let out a series of playful barks and I suddenly regretted leaving her alone with a new toy.

“It’s something,” Changbin said, tone much darker as he ordered me to unwrap my legs from their vicelike grip around his waist. I obeyed hesitantly because my plan was falling apart at the seams and I had a bad feeling about what might happen next.

Slowly, I followed him as he marched to the guest bedroom, opening the door like a man on a mission. And I doubt I’ll ever forget the way Jane immediately darted from the bathroom, sniffing Changbin’s shoes before waddling in my direction, plastic bone hanging from her mouth. “Y/N,” Changbin said, watching me as I picked up Jane off the floor. “Do you mind explaining to me why there’s a dog in the guest room?”

“It’s nothing bad,” I said, holding even tighter to Jane. “I may have adopted her-”

“What!” Changbin cut me off with a sharp interrogative. “How long has it been living here?”

“She,” I corrected him, “has been living here for a week or so...”

“A week!” Changbin exclaimed. “You’ve kept a dog hidden in here for a week?”

“Well, I didn’t plan on hiding her forever,” I said, fingers moving nervously through Jane’s soft fur.

“Get rid of it,” Changbin barked, looking every bit the intimidating CEO whose annual salary easily eclipsed my entire family net worth.

“Changbin,” I said softly. “Please don’t say that.”

“This is my house,” Changbin growled. “And I will not have it trashed by that thing.”

“I thought it was my house too?” I asked with narrowed eyes.

Changbin seemed taken aback, but he was not deterred for long. “Of course it is, but you know I don’t want any animals living here.”

“But she’s really clean,” I said. “And I’m training her every day!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin snapped. “I want to see it gone tomorrow morning, do you understand?”

“Changbin,” I whimpered, eyes clouding with the promise of tears. “You said you’d give me whatever I want.”

I know it sounds selfish, but I was growing increasingly desperate as it became more and more apparent that Changbin had already made up his mind. “I meant something like clothes, Y/N,” Changbin said. “Not a living pest.”

“She’s not a pest,” I insisted. “Jane is really sweet.”

“Oh great, you’ve named it,” Changbin grumbled, reaching for his cellphone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Animal control,” Changbin muttered and I immediately reacted.

“Don’t call them!” I exclaimed. “At least give her a better home than that horrible place.”

“Then find her one,” Changbin said. “You get one week before I handle it myself.”

“What an asshole,” I snarled.

“I agree,” Rina nodded, offering Jane a few treats when my puppy clambered onto the sofa next to us. In spite of Changbin’s dismissal, I found a refugee for both myself and Jane in Rina’s shared apartment with Felix. “I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. Changbin can’t possibly be that averse to something so cute.”

“It’s not like I brought home a child,” I said, frowning at my phone screen when Changbin sent yet another text message. “I hope he knows I’m not coming home tonight. If he kicks Jane out, then I’m leaving too.”

“You can keep me company instead,” Rina said. “Felix never comes around anymore so it’s just like college again.”

“Except we have more than just ramen in the kitchen.”

“Not to mention this sweetie,” Rina added, lifting Jane into her arms. “Who needs a man around anyway?”

“At least your man is okay with Jane living here for a few days,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to ask Seungmin to take her back.”

“You shouldn’t have to, Y/N,” Rina sighed. “It’s unfortunate that Changbin hates the puppies. I’d even keep Jane for myself but I think she’d be much happier with someone who isn’t prone to forgetting to even feed herself.”

I snorted. “That would be better than the pound. Can you believe he tried to call animal control?”

“Seo Changbin?” Rina snickered. “Nothing he does surprises me. This is the same person who rented out an entire restaurant just to propose to you.”

“Don’t bring up our happy memories,” I complained. “I’m supposed to be mad at him right now.”

“Then be mad at him,” Rina shrugged. “Honestly speaking, if he can’t see how important this is to you, then he doesn’t deserve to call you his wife in the first place.”

“This isn’t a deal-breaker,” I said. “I just wish he would understand how I feel.”

“Analytical types like Changbin are incapable of empathy,” Rina said. “It’s a proven fact, Y/N. He’ll still think he’s right when the two of you are retired somewhere in a tropical paradise.”

“Ugh, he’s so stubborn.”

“Takes after his mother in that regard,” Rina said. “Remember at your wedding? She bawled her eyes out after giving that horrible speech where she basically implied that you were stealing away her only son.”

“She’s the mistress of Evil,” I nodded. “They share that characteristic. Both of them can be downright mean when they want to be.”

“I guess that’s why Changbin has been so successful,” Rina said. “Still doesn’t take away from the fact that he sometimes seems to forget you're his wife and not a stockholder.”

I let out a deep breath. “What about you and Felix?”

“Oh, he’s still distant and I’m half-way convinced that I’m being replaced by a supermodel with bigger tits.”

“I don’t think Felix would be that shallow.”

“I know,” Rina said, palming her breasts through her shirt. “They’re pretty big, right?”

“He doesn’t care about that,” I said. “And if I wasn’t so pissed at Changbin, I might ask him about this mystery girl.”

“We’ll have to go through the middle man,” she said, offering me a knowing look.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” we both agreed in perfect synchronization.

Luring Hyunjin out of the office building was as easy as promising a free lunch at his favorite restaurant. And when Hyunjin discovered that he would be meeting with both myself and Rina, he immediately jumped at the opportunity. Because Hwang Hyunjin was one of the most overdramatic people I knew and he never missed an opportunity to ensconce himself in everyone else's problems. “You know, Y/N,” he said through a sip of wine. “It would be nice if you at least pretended to like Changbin. He’s always intolerable at the office whenever the two of you fight.”

“I can’t even pretend to like him right now,” I said. “And, if you feel so inclined, you can pass on the message to him that I won’t be coming home tonight.”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Hyunjin said, but it was impossible to miss the spark of mischief in his eyes. “Should I?”

“You can kick Changbin’s ass for all we care,” Rina said, already working through her third glass of chardonnay.

“But, of course, that’s not the reason we invited you here,” I said, earning me a curious look in return.

“It’s about Felix,” Rina said through gritted teeth. “And don’t bother trying to cover for him, Hyunjin, because you’re a terrible liar.”

“What did he do wrong this time?” Hyunjin scoffed, seemingly indifferent as he took a bite of his organic salad.

“That blonde he keeps meeting in the office,” Rina said, always ready to get straight to the matter at hand. “Who the hell is she?”

Hyunjin visibly blanched, choking on his current mouthful while desperately trying to wash down the rest of his glass. “What?”

“The. Blonde,” Rina repeated. “I know everything, so don’t try to hide the truth from me.”

“If you knew everything, you wouldn’t be asking me,” Hyunjin pointed out.

“Just tell me who she is!” Rina exclaimed, loud enough to attract the attention of several tables.

Hyunjin wilted under their accusatory stares. “I can’t tell you.”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Rina started, hands clasping the edge of the table. “Don’t you dare try to cover up your friend’s extracurricular affairs.”

“Felix isn’t cheating on you,” Hyunjin snapped. “I can’t believe you would even think that.”

“It’s not hard to,” Rina defended herself, “when everyone is walking on eggshells around me. I feel like I’m in the middle of something but I’m not even allowed to know what it is!”

“Rina,” Hyunjin tried again, tone visibly calmer. “Trust me on this. Felix isn’t cheating on you and everything will start to make a lot of sense.”

I studied my friend, but she seemed completely unmoved, expression fierce as she glared down at her untouched plate of food.

My mother’s house was located almost an hour away from where Changbin and I lived in the city. My visits were less frequent because of the combination of distance and my inability to leave work early because Jisung couldn’t handle the office without me. But, since I needed someone to take care of Jane, I knew my mother might be the best solution. She also didn’t hesitate when I asked to spend the night away from Changbin. However, my mother was prone to exceeding selfishness when it came to spending time with me.

In any case, it was the last time I would be able to get away with my nightly escapades because Rina had brought me an invitation that morning to join herself, Felix, and several of their friends for a getaway at the beach. I reluctantly agreed to come since Felix insisted that it was important and Rina demanded she has her “partner in crime” next to her side all weekend. But I would be expected to share a room with Changbin which meant we would either argue even more or ignore each other awkwardly at every available opportunity.

The last time Changbin and I went anywhere with Felix and Rina was back when Changbin first started the company. We ended up stuck inside our hotel because it rained endlessly for the entire week we visited the Florida Keys. On the plus side, I did manage to watch a lot of good movies at the theatre, including a horror classic that was made even better when Changbin decided to stick his hand up my skirt. I’m pretty sure the couple next to us knew exactly what we were doing, and it was worth it to watch their expressions when I accidentally moaned during an intense scene involving a ghost and a clueless teenager.

Nevertheless, I usually loved going on trips with Changbin because he always planned the best surprises. Too bad he had already ruined this one because of his, for lack of a better term, “assholish” tendencies. And poor Jane shouldn’t have to suffer along with everyone else just because my husband hated cute animals.

“Y/N,” my mother grinned brightly, encouraging me inside while I carried Jane in my arms. “Isn’t she adorable!”

“At least some people think so,” I grumbled, putting Jane on the floor so that she could make herself comfortable.

“I can’t believe Changbin told you to get rid of her.”

“Really?” I huffed, leaning against the wall. “You were the one that warned me he would be, and I quote, a pompous ass.”

“Well,” my mother grimaced, “I thought he might prove me wrong.”

“And I’ll be stuck in the same room with him all weekend,” I groaned. “Felix and Rina owe me big time.”

“Or,” my mother allowed, “maybe you should thank them. The trip is a good opportunity to put this argument to rest.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Honestly, Y/N, I know he was harsh, but you’re the one who went and got a dog behind his back. Plus, Jane can just stay here with me. It gives you a good excuse to visit more often.”

“You’re only saying that because you got a cute new puppy,” I muttered.

“Sweetheart,” my mother cooed, carefully guiding me to the counter. “I’ll always have your back, and I’d like to believe that I’m still the only person who can take care of you, but I think Changbin stole that title a long time ago.”

“He’s just infuriating sometimes,” I said.

My mother laughed. “All men are, Y/N, and you know you’ll have fights with Changbin. That’s what married couples do. The important thing is that the two of you can always come back together and forgive, even if the matter at hand is this cute.”

I grinned when my mother reached down to collect Jane into her arms. “I still don’t get how someone can hate a puppy.”

“Perhaps not hate,” my mother said. “But you should respect his opinion, even if you don’t agree with it.”

“He never asks me for anything,” I sighed. “I guess I made this into a bigger deal than it needed to be.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you definitely get that from me,” my mother said. “Now, about you spending the night...”

“Yeah, I get it,” I grumbled. “I should go back home.”

“It’s not exactly mature of you to run away from him,” my mother pointed out as if I didn’t already feel guilty enough. “And it only makes it that much harder to fix things when you keep avoiding them.”

“Fine, I’ll go home,” I said, pulling out my phone to send Changbin a brief message. “You’re all wise and old now.”

My mother frowned. “Sweetheart, I don’t consider myself old.”

“Mom, the last time we went shopping, you had me come pick you up at the mall entrance because you didn’t feel like walking to the car.”

“Well, everyone has those days,” my mother said. “In any case, I should find somewhere for Jane to stay. Her mom is certainly welcome to come over any time.”

“Pretty sure her mom is Seungmin, but I appreciate the thought,” I said, lifting Jane from the ground to bring her closer. “You won’t forget about me, right?”

Jane considered with wide eyes before cautiously offering me a small lick on the cheek. “Yeah, I think we can make this work.”

Changbin’s car was already parked in his usual spot when I pulled into the complex. I was hoping he would stay at the office longer, but he probably left the moment he received my message. Straightening the hem of my skirt, I carefully entered the apartment, inwardly groaning when I could hear the sounds of the TV from the living room. I was still quiet when I shuffled across the carpet, but apparently, Changbin had been waiting on me. “Babe,” he murmured quietly as I passed by the couch.

Whispering a curse, I turned around to look at Changbin whose eyes were struggling to open as if he had been asleep when I came home. “Sorry,” I said in return, forcing my eyes to look away from his exposed chest, firm edges made softer under the light from the LED screen.

I made my way to our bedroom, deciding to pack as efficiently as possible because I was starting to get a headache which meant I wanted nothing more than to pass out on the bed. “Y/N,” Changbin spoke up softly, lingering by the door as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “How was your mother?”

“Fine,” I answered shortly, moving around our bedroom as quickly as possible because I was determined to avoid any sort of conversation with Changbin, cramming my t-shirts into the stupid designer suitcase he had bought for me.

“Are you tired?” he asked, looking irresistible with his messy hair and puffy cheeks.

“Yeah,” I said, carefully zipping my suitcase closed. I brought it next to his at the side of our dresser.

Changbin took a few more steps into the room, pausing next to the bed while I changed clothes quickly. “Is it alright if I sleep with you tonight?”

I really wanted to tell him, no, but it was rather difficult to refuse him when he was being sweet. At least he obviously understood that he was wrong for screaming at me like I was one of his assistants instead of his wife. “You can,” I told him, already pulling back the sheets of the comforter.

And I didn’t even resist when he climbed in behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist because he liked to keep me close in bed. “Y/N,” he whispered in my ear, fingers curling with mine. “You can keep the dog when we get back.”

“Binnie,” I murmured, attempting to protest because I wasn’t expecting Changbin to give in so easily. He really does give me whatever I want.

“It’s alright,” Changbin said, tenderly squeezing my waist, breath warm against the back of my neck. “We can talk about it later.” The combination of his familiar presence and the lovely feel of his fingers pulling through my hair was enough to lure me into a much-needed sleep.

Early morning flights were a pain in the ass and I was no exception to the demonizing effects of insomnia, especially when I felt guilty because Changbin had agreed to let me keep Jane only after I avoided him for several days. We didn’t talk about it on the drive to the airport. In fact, we didn’t talk much at all as Changbin turned up the volume on the radio while he drove with tired eyes. It had probably been difficult for him to take the whole weekend off for Felix’s getaway trip, and I hadn’t bothered to ask him how he was feeling.

Felix and Rina were waiting for us at the security line when we arrived with a few minutes to spare. Apparently, Hyunjin and Chan were already at the loading gate since they had arrived much earlier than everyone else. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out of town together,” Rina remarked as she pulled me away from Changbin, leaving him to talk quietly with Felix.

“Excluding the first beach disaster?”

“Definitely,” Rina agreed, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “I convinced Felix to switch tickets with you. Now, my best friend can sit next to me instead.”

I nodded in reply since I had actually been looking forward to an opportunity to talk with Changbin on the airplane. It was probably best for both of us if we talked about what happened. Because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was a rather stupid argument that definitely could have been avoided if I had been less inconsiderate of Changbin’s feelings. They might seem irrational, but they mattered and that’s all I could think about for the entirety of our flight to the island.

And if I thought I’d get a chance to talk to him when we landed, I was proven wrong. Because Felix enforced a tight schedule, barely allowing any of us to get settled in at the resort before he was already ordering us to change into something comfortable for the beach. The hotel itself was situated right on the shoreline, busy with fellow travelers looking to enjoy what was already becoming a gorgeous afternoon. And since Changbin happened to own the place, we were treated to the best care with a constant presence of wait staff who brought us drinks and food. “You get five stars, Changbin,” Rina remarked as she sat between Felix’s legs on his beach chair. “I see why everybody makes a big deal out of your expensive hotels now.”

“You’re welcome,” Changbin grumbled from where the two of us were situated on a comfortable beach towel. Changbin had long since dismissed his t-shirt, tentatively requesting that I apply a generous amount of sunscreen to his skin. And no matter how I felt towards Changbin, I would never turn down the opportunity to run my hands against the gorgeous muscles that supplied his well-built torso.

In the meantime, Hyunjin and Chan were arguing about whether or not the hotel in New York needed the same kind of luxury swimming pool that the six of us had spotted on our way outside. “If I knew they would be this loud, I would have left them behind,” Felix said, sunglasses resting on the brim of his nose.

“It’s Hyunjin, what did you expect?” Rina said, watching the two older boys bicker.

I nodded vacantly, growing tried from the influence of the sun. “What’s this surprise all about, Felix?” Rina asked her boyfriend, eyebrow raised in question.

Changbin jumped from his spot in front of me and I was startled when I realized I had massaged over his nipples. “You’ll see,” Felix said, a proud smirk making him look just as mischievous as he had been when we first met.

I couldn’t see Rina’s reaction since her glasses obscured most of her face. “Are you really going to keep me waiting?”

“Just until tonight, love,” Felix said, reassuring her with a gentle kiss that had my heart aching in my chest for Changbin despite him being in such close proximity.

I spent most of the early evening with Rina, wasting time shopping as we waited for our dinner reservations. “What do you think?” Rina asked, holding up a sundress that barely fell below her thighs.

“No,” I said, returning my attention to the magazine in front of me.

“Changbin has made you way too conservative,” she griped before disappearing back into the changing room. “But you seemed more relaxed around him today.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think I owe him an apology.”

“What for?” Rina asked. “He’s the one who almost sent for animal control to handle an innocent puppy.”

“I never should have tried to hide Jane in the first place,” I said. “Changbin doesn’t ask for much and I should have respected his preference.”

“Wow, since when have you grown up?” Rina asked, re-emerging from the dressing room. “That’s awfully mature of you.”

“I love him,” I nodded. “And that means more to me than anything else in the world.”

“Including me?” Rina feigned hurt while dramatically falling against a nearby display of sneakers.

I rolled my eyes, checking the time on my phone. “We should probably meet the others.”

“Alright,” Rina grumbled. “But I’m afraid of what Felix might say at dinner.”

“What makes you think it’s a bad thing?” I asked.

“Where have you been, Y/N? Don’t you remember all the drama? Felix avoiding me? Coming home late? Does any of this ring a bell?”

“I thought you moved on from that.”

“Never,” Rina insisted while curling her arm through mine. “I’m still on high alert.”

“You know how Felix can get sometimes,” I said.

“Of course I do! But he’s never acted like this before,” Rina insisted.

“Well, maybe you’ll get your answers tonight,” I said, leading her into the crowded seafood restaurant on the lower level of the hotel.

It must have bee massively popular because guests were patiently waiting in large parties scrambled throughout the main lobby. Rina and I fought our way to the hostess, allowing her to check our reservation before graciously leading us further away from the rampant group of hungry customers who were all attempting to talk over one another. Instead, the hostess brought us to a private room, clearly the work of Seo Changbin, where the others were already seated.

“Finally!” Hyunjin exclaimed. “Felix wouldn’t let us order until you got here.”

Felix ignored his friend, pulling out a chair for Rina. I could tell he was visibly nervous which was certainly concerning because Felix was one of the most confident people I knew. He was the friend in Changbin’s board meetings who was never shy about speaking up. The one person you could always rely on to sweet talk an additional 5% off our coffee bill in the main lobby because he only had to smile at the poor cashier working the register.

I glanced over at Changbin who was busy scanning the menu in front of him. Changbin didn’t seem worried at all which was reassuring, although it definitely didn’t mean that Felix necessarily told Changbin what he was planning for tonight. And the longer I studied the younger boy fidgeting in his seat, the more curious I became.

“You know, Chan,” Hyunjin said. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring that girl with you. Aren’t the two of you moving in together?”

I perked up at this new information. “Chan has a serious girlfriend?”

Chan and I had known each other for several years, but I was starting to conclude that the older man was planning to stay single for the rest of his life. Not that Chan didn’t make an elegant bachelor because the combination of his appealing good-looks, charming accent, and accumulating wealth was enough to cement his status. But then again, it might be nice to see Chan in a committed relationship because he would make the best father.

“It’s not that serious,” Chan said bashfully, ears tipped in red as he glanced around for the waitress.

“Whatever,” Hyunjin huffed, glancing between Felix and Rina with a barely concealed smirk. “You guys look great together.”

Felix glared at his friend. “You’re determined to spoil everything, aren’t you?”

“What does that mean?” Rina inquired, studying Felix curiously.

“Nothing,” Hyunjin said, immediately turning to me and Changbin. “Are the two of you still fighting?”

“Hyunjin,” I growled his name, determined once and for all that Hyunjin was intentionally trying to stir up more drama for his viewing pleasure.

“We’re alright,” Changbin said in a surprisingly gentle voice, one arm coming to rest across the back of my chair. “Here,” Changbin said, pulling my plate closer so that he could cut a few pieces of steak for me. “Your favorite.”

I blushed at his kindness, stuffing my mouth full of tender meant to avoid having to say anything in return. Thankfully, Felix was more than ready to interrupt our moment, abruptly standing up from his chair with a glass of wine in hand. “Everyone,” he said, immediately silencing our small party. “I have something to announce.”

I glanced over at Rina from the corner of my eyes, watching as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. A nervous habit she picked up from countless nights of writing 10,000-word essays for our history seminar. “Rina,” Felix said, addressing my friend. “We’ve been together for a while.”

Rina nodded, seemingly frozen in place. At least until Felix dropped down onto one knee next to her, pulling out a beautiful gold-encrusted wedding band with diamonds circling the outside. “Marry me.”

My expression of shock likely mirrored Rina’s while Hyunjin clapped like a maniac from across the table. “Thank god! The secret is finally out!”

“Felix,” Rina finally managed, eyes growing cloudy with the promise of tears while she held out a shaky hand. Felix gently accepted her outstretched limb, sliding the ring into place on her finger.

“I’ll consider that a yes.”

I immediately turned to Changbin who was watching the two of them with fond eyes. It was quite obvious that he also knew about the proposal and I admired my husband’s ability to help his friend make this weekend so special. Changbin met my gaze with a beautiful smile, reaching underneath the table to take my hand without hesitation.

It was late when the six of us finally left the restaurant, listening to Rina gush over her new ring while clinging to Felix’s side persistently. Changbin and I lingered at the back, shoulders brushing with every step while keeping our pinky fingers interlocked between us. “That woman!” Rina suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a familiar blonde standing behind the concierge counter.

“She’s the hotel’s general manager,” Felix explained, sending a wave in her direction.

“Oh,” Rina said dumbly and my friend was very rarely caught off-guard. I definitely couldn’t wait to offer her a well-deserved “I told you so” when we met for breakfast in the morning. However, for the time being, I wanted nothing more than to go back to the room with Changbin.

“I can’t thank her enough,” Felix continued. “She’s been very helpful when it came to planning all of this.”

“Really?”

“She deserves a raise, Changbin,” Felix said, nudging his friend as the six of us broke off into smaller groups as we returned to our assigned rooms.

“Congratulations, Rina,” I said to my friend, watching her join Felix in the suite across from ours.

I waited until we were truly alone before I closed the door quietly, turning around to find Changbin fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “Let me,” I said quietly, gliding across the floor to handle the delicate switch with nimble fingers.

“Thanks,” Changbin said, dropping the watch on top of the nightstand.

“Changbin,” I spoke up hesitantly. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

My husband shrugged, broad shoulders tense against the fit of his shirt. “It’s alright, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, reaching out for his wrist to turn him around. “You didn’t deserve that, especially over something that was my fault to begin with.”

Changbin sighed, tugging me closer against him. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

I pressed my forehead against the center of his chest. “You never ask me for much. In fact, you’re always the one who gives the most in our relationship. I should have respected your opinion. Instead, I went behind your back and I’ve felt guilty about it for the entire trip.”

“There’s no need for that,” Changbin insisted, fingers curling through my hair. “We’ve both made mistakes, but I can never stay mad at you for long.”

“I’ll let my mom have the dog,” I said, pressing my fingers against his plush lips before he could interrupt. “I’m serious. She’s much happier with Jane. Maybe, later on, we could try something smaller? Like a hamster!”

Changbin grimaced at the thought and I laughed at his expression. “Unless you just want me all to yourself.”

“That’s not it,” Changbin sighed. “I just don’t want that responsibility. Plus, I really don’t like the idea of a dog or cat in the apartment.”

“Well, I can always visit my mom when I want to see Jane,” I said, reaching up to fix the messy strands of his hair. “See? A compromise.”

Changbin smirked, leaning down for a kiss. “You make a better negotiator than I do. Maybe you should be in charge of the board.”

“I’ll let you handle things,” I said, running my hands along his stomach to the waistband of his jeans.

“I meant it when I said I would do anything to make you happy,” Changbin whispered against my hair. “Even if that means I have to fill the apartment with dogs.”

I grinned. “I like what we have now, Changbin.”

“That’s so cheesy,” he accused me, laughing when I whined in response. “I love you, Y/N,” he said.

“I love you too,” I said. “You’re basically just a giant puppy anyway.”

Changbin grunted as his hands gripped the back of my thighs. “Please don’t say that when I’ve already started making plans to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

I shivered at his seductive promise. “Oh yeah? I guess you’ll just have to prove it to me.”

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